The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia

our laws are the executioners of men which murder our prince, which must decide this question with you. Yet see so far had my zeal to my beloved prince transported me that I had almost forgotten my second part, and his second abomination, I mean his violence offered to the Lady Philoclea: wherewith as if it had well become his womanhood, he came braving to the judgment-seat: indeed our laws appoint not so cruel a death, although death too, for this fact as for the other. But whosoever well weighs it shall find it sprung out of the same fountain of mischievous naughtiness, the killing of the father, dishonouring the mother, and ravishing the child. Alas, could not so many benefits received of my prince, the justice of nature, the sign of hospitality be a bridle to thy lust, if not to thy cruelty? or if thou hadst, as surely thou hast, a heart recompensing goodness with hatred, could not his death, which is {609} the last of revenges, satisfy thy malice, but thou must heap upon it the shame of his daughter? Were thy eyes so stony, thy breast so tigerish, that the sweet and beautiful shows of Philoclea’s virtue did not astonish thee? O woeful Arcadia, to whom the name of this mankind courtesan shall ever be remembered as a procurer of thy greatest loss! But too far I find my passion, yet honest passion hath guided me; the cause is every way too, too much unanswerable. It resteth in you, O excellent protector, to pronounce judgment, which if there be hope that such a young man may prove profitable to the world, who in the first exercise of his own determination, far passed the arrantest strumpet in luxuriousness, the cunningest forger in falsehood, a player in disguising, a tiger in cruelty, a dragon in ungratefulness, let him be preserved like a jewel to do greater mischief. If his youth be not more defiled with treachery than the eldest man’s age, let, I say, his youth be some cause of compassion. If he have not every way sought the overthrow of human society, if he have done anything like a prince, let his naming himself a prince breed a reverence of his base wickedness. If he have not broken all the laws of hospitality, and broken them in the most detestable degree that can be, let his being a guest be a sacred protection of his more than savage doings: or if his whorish beauty, have not been as the high way of his wickedness, let the picture drawn upon so poisonous a wood, be reserved to show how greatly colours can please us. But if it is as it is, what should I say more, a very spirit of hellish naughtiness; if his act be to be punished, and his defiled person not to be pitied, then restore unto us our prince by duly punishing his murderers, for then we shall think him and his name to live when we shall see his killers to die. Restore to the excellent Philoclea her honour, by taking out of the world her dishonour, and think that at this day, in this matter, are the eyes of the world upon you, whether anything can sway your mind from a true administration of justice. Alas! though I have much more to say, I can say no more, for my tears and sighs interrupt my speech, and force me to give myself over to my private sorrow.” Thus when Philanax had uttered the uttermost of his malice, he made sorrow the cause of his conclusion. But while Philanax was in the course of his speech, and did with such bitter reproaches defame the princely Pyrocles, it was well to be seen, his heart was unused to bear such injuries, and his thoughts such as could arm themselves better against anything than shame. For sometimes blushing, his blood with divers motions coming and going, sometimes closing his eyes, and laying his hand over them, sometimes giving such a look to Philanax, as might show he assured himself he durst not so have spoken if they had been {610} in an indifferent place: with some impatiency he bare the length of his oration; which being ended, with as much modest humbleness to the judge, as despiteful scorn to the accuser, with words to this purpose he defended his honour. “My accuser’s tale may well bear witness with me, most rightful judge, in how hard a case, and environed with how many troubles, I may esteem myself. For if he who shows his tongue is not unacquainted with railing, was in an agony in the beginning of his speech with the multitude of the matters he had to lay unto me, wherein notwithstanding the most evil could fall unto him was that he should not do so much evil as he would, how cumbered do you think may I acknowledge myself, who, in things no less importing than my life, must be mine own advocate, without leisure to answer, or foreknowledge what should be objected? in things, I say, promoted with so cunning confusion, as having mingled truths with falsehoods, surmises with certainties, causes of no moment with matters capital, scolding with complaining, I can absolutely neither grant nor deny, neither can I tell whether I come hither to be judged, or before judgment to be punished, being compelled to hear such unworthy words, far more grievous than any death unto me. But since the form of this government allows such tongue-liberty unto him, I will pick as well as I can out of his invective speech those few points which may seem of some purpose in the touching of me, hoping that by your easy hearing of me, you will show that though you hate evil, yet you wish men may prove themselves not evil; so in that he hath said, you will not weigh so much what he hath said as what he hath proved, remembering that truth is simple and naked, and that if he had guided himself under that banner, he needed not out of the way have sought so vile and false disgracing of me, enough to make the untruest accusation believed. I will therefore, using truth as my best eloquence, repeat unto you as much as I know in this matter, and then, by the only clearness of the discourse, your wisdom I know will find the difference between cavilling supposition, and direct declaration. This Prince Palladius and I being inflamed with love, a passion far more easily reprehended than refrained, to the two peerless daughters of Basilius, and understanding how he had secluded himself from the world, that, like princes, there was no access unto him, we disguised ourselves, in such forms as might soonest bring us to the revealing our affections. The Prince Palladius had such event of his doings that, with Pamela’s consent, he was to convey her out of the thraldom she lived in, to receive the subjection of a greater people than her own, until her father’s consent might be obtained. My fortune was more hard, for I bare no more love to the chaste {611} Philoclea, than Basilius, deceived in my sex, showed to me, insomuch that by his importunacy, I could have no time to obtain the like favour of the pure Philoclea, till this policy I found, taking under colour of some devotions, my lodging, to draw Basilius thither, with hope to enjoy me; which likewise I revealed to the queen, that she might keep my place, and so make her husband see his error. While I in the meantime, being delivered of them both, and having locked so the doors as I hoped, if the immaculate Philoclea would condescend to go with me, there should be none to hinder our going, I was made prisoner there, I know not by what means, when being repelled by her divine virtue, I would fainest have escaped. Here you have the thread to guide you in the labyrinth, this man of his tongue, had made so monstrous. Here you see the true discourse, which he mountebank-fashion doth make so wide a mouth over. Here may you conceive the reason why the queen had my garment, because in her going to the cave, in the moon-shine night, she might be taken for me, which he useth as the knot of all his wise assertions: so that as this double-minded fellow’s accusation was double, double likewise my answer must perforce be, to the murder of Basilius, and violence offered to the inviolate Philoclea. For the first, O heavenly gods, who would have thought any mouth could have been found so mercenary as to have opened so slight proofs of so horrible matters! His first argument is a question, who would imagine that Gynecia would accomplish such an act, without some accessories? and if any, who but I? truly I am so far from imagining anything, that till I saw these mourning tokens, and heard Gynecia’s confession, I never imagined the king was dead. And for my part so vehemently, and more like the manner of passionate than guilty folk, I see the queen persecute herself, that I think condemnation may go too hastily over her, considering the unlikelihood, if not impossibility, her wisdom and virtue so long nourished, should in one moment throw down itself to the uttermost end of wickedness. But whatsoever she hath done, which, as I say, I never believed, yet how unjustly should that aggravate my fault? she found abroad, I within doors, for as for the wearing my garment I have told you the cause, she seeking, as you say, to escape, I locking myself in a house: without perchance the conspiracy of one poor stranger, might greatly enable her attempt, or the fortification of the lodge, as the trim man alleged, might make me hope to resist all Arcadia. And see how treacherously he seeks to draw from me my chiefest clearing, by preventing the credit of her words, wherewith she had wholly taken the fault upon herself. An honest and impartial examiner: her words may condemn her, but may not absolve me. Thus, {612} void of all probable allegation, the craven crows upon my affliction, not leaving out any evil that ever he hath felt in his own soul, to charge my youth withal. But who can look for a sweet breath out of such a stomach? or for honey from so filthy a spider? What should I say more? if in so inhuman a matter, which he himself confesseth, sincerest judgments are lothest to believe, and in the severest laws proofs clearer than the sun are required, his reasons are only the scum of a base malice, my answers most manifest, shining in their own truth, there remain any doubt of it, because it stands betwixt his affirming and my denial, I offer, nay I desire, and humbly desire I may be granted the trial by combat, wherein let him be armed, and me in my shirt, I doubt not justice will be my shield, and his heart will show itself as faint as it is false. “Now come I to the second part of my offence towards the young lady, which, howsoever you term it, so far forth as I have told you, I confess, and for her sake heartily lament. But if herein I offered force to her, love offered more force to me. Let her beauty be compared to my years, and such effects will be found no miracles. But since it is thus as it is, and that justice teacheth us not to love punishment, but to fly to it for necessity: the salve of her honour, I mean as the world will take it, for else in truth it is most untouched, must be my marriage and not my death, since the one stops all mouths, the other becomes a doubtful fable. This matter requires no more words, and your experience, I hope, in these cases shall need no more; for myself methinks I have showed already too much love of my life to bestow so many. But certainly it hath been love of truth, which could not bear so unworthy falsehood, and love of justice that would brook no wrong to myself nor other, and makes me now, even in that respect to desire you to be moved rather with pity at a just cause of tears, than with the bloody tears this crocodile spends, who weeps to procure death, and not to lament death. It will be no honour to Basilius’s tomb to have guiltless blood sprinkled upon it, and much more may a judge over-weigh himself in cruelty than in clemency. It is hard, but it is excellent where it is found, a right knowledge when