The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
wise to remember that hardly they both will go together, being of so
contrary a making; for the ground of pardon is an evil, neither any
man pardons but remembers an evil done: the cause of reward is the
opinion of some good act, and whoso rewardeth, that holds the chief
place of his fancy. Now one man of one company, to have the same
consideration of good and evil, but that the conceit of pardoning, if
it be pardoned, will take away the mind of rewarding, is very hard, if
not impossible. For either even in justice will he punish the fault,
as well as reward the desert, or else in mercy balance the one by the
other: so that the not chastising shall be a sufficient satisfying.
Thus then you may see that in your own purpose rests great
uncertainty. But I will grant that by this your deed you shall obtain
your double purpose. Yet consider, I pray you, whether by another
means that may not better be obtained, and then I doubt not your
wisdom will teach you to take hold of the better. I am sure you know,
anybody were better have no need of a pardon than enjoy a pardon; for
as it carries with it the surety of a preserved life, so bears it a
continual note of a deserved death. This therefore, besides the danger
you may run into, my Lady {561} Pamela being the undoubted inheritrix
of this state, if she shall hereafter seek to revenge the wrong done
her shall be continually cast in your teeth, as men dead by the law:
the honester sort will disdain your company, and your children shall
be the more basely reputed of, and you yourselves in every slight
fault hereafter, as men once condemned, aptest to be overthrown. Now
if you will, I doubt not but you will, for you are wise, turn your
course, and guard my Lady Pamela thitherward, whither she was going:
first, you need not doubt to adventure your fortune where she goes,
and there shall you be assured in a country as good and rich as this
is, of the same manners and language to be so far from the conceit of
a pardon, as we both shall be forced to acknowledge we have received
by your means whatsoever we hold dear in this life. And so for reward,
judge you whether it be not more likely, you shall there receive it
where you have done no evil, but singular and undeserved goodness; or
here, where this service of yours shall be diminished by your duty,
and blemished by your former fault. Yes I protest and swear unto you,
by the fair eyes of that lady, there shall no gentleman in all that
country be preferred: you shall have riches, ease, pleasure, and that
which is best to such worthy minds, you shall not be forced to cry
mercy for a good fact. You only, of all the Arcadians shall have the
praise, in continuing in your late valiant attempt, and not be basely
brought under a halter for seeking the liberty of Arcadia.”
These words in their minds, who did nothing for any love of goodness,
but only as their senses presented greater shows of profit, began to
make them waver, and some to clap their hands and scratch their heads,
and swear it was the best way. Others that would seem wiser than the
rest, to capitulate what tenements they should have, what subsidies
they should pay; others to talk of their wives, in doubt whether it
were best to send for them, or to take new where they went: most, like
fools, not readily thinking what was next to be done, but imagining
what cheer they would make when they came there, one or two of the
last discoursers beginning to turn their faces towards the woods which
they had left. But being now come within the plain, near to the
lodges, unhappily they espied a troop of horsemen. But then their
false hearts had quickly, for the present fear, forsaken their last
hopes: and therefore keeping on the way toward the lodge, with songs
and cries of joy, the horsemen, who were some of them Philanax had
sent out to the search of Pamela, came galloping unto them, marvelling
who they were that in such a general mourning durst sing joyful tunes,
and in so public a ruin wear the laurel token of victory. And that
which seemed strangest, they might see two among them unarmed like
prisoners, but riding like captains. {562} But when they came nearer,
they perceived the one was a lady, and the Lady Pamela. Then glad they
had by hap found that which they so little hoped to meet withal,
taking these clowns, who first resisted them, for the desire they had
to be the deliverers of the two excellent prisoners, learning that
they were of those rebels which had made the dangerous uproar, as well
under colour to punish that, as this their last withstanding them, but
indeed their principal cause being, because they themselves would have
the only praise of their own quest, they suffered not one of them to
live. Marry three of the stubbornest of them they left their bodies
hanging upon the trees, because their doing might carry the likelier
form of judgment. Such an unlooked-for end did the life of justice
work for the naughty-minded wretches, by subjects to be executed, that
would have executed princes: and to suffer that without law, which by
law they had deserved. And thus these young folks twice prisoners,
before any due arrest, delivered of their jailors, but not of their
jail, had rather change than respite of misery; these soldiers that
took them with very few words of entertainment, hasting to carry them
to their lord Philanax, to whom they came, even as he, going out of
the Lady Philoclea’s chamber, had overtaken Pyrocles, whom before he
had delivered to the custody of a nobleman of that country. When
Pyrocles, led towards his prison, saw his friend Musidorus, with the
noble Lady Pamela in that unexpected sort returned, his grief, if any
grief were in a mind which had placed everything according to his
natural worth, was very much augmented; for besides some small hope he
had, if Musidorus had once been clear of Arcadia, by his dealing and
authority to have brought his only gladsome desires to a good issue:
the hard estate of his friend did no less, nay rather more vex him
than his own. For so indeed it is ever found, where valour and
friendship are perfectly coupled in one heart; the reason being that
the resolute man having once digested in his judgment the worst
extremity of his own case, and having either quite expelled or at
least repelled all passion which ordinarily follows an overthrown
fortune, not knowing his friend’s mind so well as his own, nor with
what patience he brooks his case, which as it were the material cause
of making a man happy or unhappy, doubts whether his friend accounts
not himself more miserable, and so indeed be more lamentable. But as
soon as Musidorus was brought by the soldiers near unto Philanax,
Pyrocles not knowing whether ever after he should be suffered to see
his friend, and determining there could be no advantage by dissembling
a not-knowing of him, leaped suddenly from their hands that held him,
and passing, with a strength strengthened with a true affection,
through them that encompassed Musidorus, he embraced {563} him as fast
as he could in his arms. And kissing his cheeks, “O my Palladius,”
said he, “let not our virtue now abandon us; let us prove our minds
are no slaves to fortune, but in adversity can triumph over
adversity.” “Dear Daiphantus,” answered Musidorus, seeing by his
apparel his being a man was revealed, “I thank you for this best care
of my best part: but fear not, I have kept too long company with you
to want now a thorough determination of these things; I well know,
there is nothing evil but within us, the rest is either natural or
accidental.” Philanax, finding them of so near acquaintance, began
presently to examine them apart: but such resolution he met with in
them, that by no such means he could learn further than it pleased
them to deliver. So that he thought best to put them both in one
place, with espial of their words and behaviour, that way to sift out
the more of these surpassed mischiefs. And for that purpose gave them
both unto the nobleman, who before had the custody of Pyrocles, by
name Sympathus, leaving a trusty servant of his own to give diligent
watch to what might pass betwixt them. No man that hath ever passed
through the school of affection, needs doubt what a tormenting grief
it was to the noble Pamela, to have the company of him taken from her,
to whose virtuous company she had bound her life. But weighing with
herself, it was fit for her honour, till her doings were clearly
manifested, that they should remain separate, kept down the rising
tokens of grief; showing passion in nothing but her eyes, which
accompanied Musidorus even unto the tent, whither he and Pyrocles were
led. Then, with a countenance more princely than she was wont,
according to the wont of highest hearts, like the palm tree striving
most upwards, when he is most burdened, she commanded Philanax to
bring her to her father and mother, that she might render them an
account of her doings. Philanax showing a sullen kind of reverence
unto her, as a man that honoured her as his master’s heir, but much
misliked her for her, in his conceit, dishonourable proceedings, told
her what was past, rather to answer her, than that he thought she was
ignorant of it. But her good spirit did presently suffer a true
compassionate affliction of those hard adventures, which, with
crossing her arms, looking a great while upon the ground, with those
eyes which let fall many tears, she well declared. But in the end,
remembering how necessary it was for her, not to lose herself in such
an extremity, she strengthened her well-created heart, and stoutly
demanded Philanax, what authority then they had to lay hands on her
person, who being the undoubted heir, was then the lawful princess of
that kingdom? Philanax answered, her grace knew the ancient laws of
Arcadia bare, she was to have no sway of government till she came to
one and twenty years of {564} age, or were married. “And married I
am,” replied the wise princess, “therefore I demand your due
allegiance.” “The gods forbid,” said Philanax, “Arcadia should be a
dowry of such marriages.” Besides, he told her all the states of her
country were evil satisfied touching her father’s death, which
likewise according to the statutes of Arcadia, was even that day to be
judged of, before the body were removed to receive his princely
funeral. After that passed, she should have such obedience, as by the
laws were due unto her, desiring God she would show herself better in
public government than she had done in private. She would have spoken
to the gentlemen and people gathered about her, but Philanax fearing
lest thereby some commotion might arise, or at least a hinderance of
executing his master’s murderers, which he longed after more than
anything, hasted her up to the lodge, where her sister was, and there
was a chosen company of soldiers to guard the place, left her with
Philoclea, Pamela protesting they laid violent hands on her, and that
they entered into rebellious attempts against her. But high time it
was for Philanax so to do, for already was all the whole multitude
fallen into confused and dangerous divisions.
There was a notable example, how great dissipations monarchical
government is subject unto. For now their prince and guide had left
them, they had not experience to rule, and had not whom to obey.
Public matters had ever been privately governed, so that they had no
lively taste what was good for themselves. But everything was either
vehemently desireful, or extremely terrible. Neighbours’ invasions,
civil dissention, cruelty of the coming prince, and whatsoever in
common sense carries a dreadful show, was in all men’s heads, but in
few how to prevent: hearkening on every rumour, suspecting everything,
condemning them whom before they had honoured, making strange and