The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
banqueting-house, among certain pleasant trees, whose heads seemed
curled with the wrappings about of vine branches, the table was set
near to an excellent water-works; for, by the casting of the water in
most cunning manner, it makes, with the shining of the sun upon it, a
perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye than to the mind, so
sensibly to see the proof of the heavenly Iris. There were birds also
made so finely that they did not only deceive the sight with their
figure, but the hearing with their songs, which the watery instruments
made their gorge deliver. The table at which we sat was round, which
being fast to the floor whereon we sat, and that divided from the rest
of the buildings, with turning a vice, which Basilius at first did to
make me sport, the table, and we about the table, did all turn round
by means of water which ran under and carried it about as a mill. But
alas! what pleasure did it to me to make divers times the full circle
round about, since Philoclea, being also set, was carried still in
equal distance from me, and that only my eyes did overtake her? which,
when the table was stayed, and we began to feed, drank much more
eagerly of her beauty than my mouth did of any other liquor. And so
was my common sense deceived, being chiefly bent to her, that as I
drank the wine, and withal stole a look on her, meseemed I tasted her
deliciousness. But alas! the one thirst was much more inflamed than
the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would lay themselves open to
receive all the darts she did throw; sometimes close up with
admiration, as if with a contrary fancy, they would preserve the
riches of that sight they had gotten, or cast my lids as curtains over
the image of beauty her presence had painted in them. True it is, that
my reason, now grown a servant to passion, did yet often tell his
master that he should more moderately use his delight. But he, that of
a rebel was become a prince, disdained almost to allow him the place
of a counsellor; so that my senses’ delights being too strong for any
other resolution, I did even loose the reins unto them, hoping that,
{72} going for a woman, my looks would pass either unmarked or
unsuspected.
“Now thus I had, as methought, well played my first act, assuring
myself that under that disguisement I should find opportunity to
reveal myself to the owner of my heart. But who would think it
possible, though I feel it true, that in almost eight weeks’ space I
have lived here, having no more company but her parents, and I being a
familiar, as being a woman, and watchful, as being a lover, yet could
never find opportunity to have one minute’s leisure of private
conference: the cause whereof is as strange as the effects are to me
miserable. And (alas!) this it is.
“At the first sight that Basilius had of me, I think Cupid having
headed his arrows with my misfortune, he was stricken, taking me to be
such as I profess, with great affection towards me, which since is
grown to such a doting love that till I was fain to get this place
sometimes to retire unto freely, I was even choked with his
tediousness. You never saw four score years dance up and down more
lively in a young lover; now, as fine in his apparel, as if he would
make me in love with a cloak, and verse for verse with the
sharpest-witted lover in Arcadia. Do you not think that is a sallet of
wormwood; while mine eyes feed upon the Ambrosia of Philoclea’s
beauty? but this is not all; no, this is not the worst: for he, good
man, were easy enough to be dealt with, but, as I think, love and
mischief having made a wager which should have most power in me, have
set Gynecia also on such a fire toward me, as will never, I fear, be
quenched but with my destruction. For, she being a woman of excellent
wit and of strong working thoughts, whether she suspected me by my
over-vehement shows of affection to Philoclea (which love forced me
unwisely to utter, while hope of my mask foolishly encouraged me) or
that she hath taken some other mark of me, that I am not a woman; or
what devil it is hath revealed it unto her, I know not: but so it is,
that all her countenances, words, and gestures are even miserable
portraitures of a desperate affection. Whereby a man may learn that
these avoidings of company do but make the passions more violent when
they meet with fit subjects. Truly it were a notable dumb show of
Cupid’s kingdom, to see my eyes, languishing with over-vehement
longing, direct themselves to Philoclea; and Basilius, as busy about
me as a bee, and indeed as cumbersome, making such vehement suits to
me, who neither could if I would, nor would if I could, help him,
while the terrible wit of Gynecia, carried with the beer of violent
love, runs through us all. And so jealous is she of my love to her
daughter that I could never yet begin to open my mouth to the
unevitable Philoclea but that her unwished presence gave my tale a
conclusion before it had a beginning. And surely, if I be not {73}
deceived, I see such shows of liking, and, if I be acquainted with
passions, of almost a passionate liking in the heavenly Philoclea
towards me, that I may hope her ears would not abhor my discourse. And
for good Basilius, he thought it best to have lodged us together, but
that the eternal hatefulness of my destiny made Gynecia’s jealousy
stop that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I confess that one way
her love doth me pleasure, for since it was my foolish fortune, or
unfortunate folly, to be known by her, that keeps her from betraying
me to Basilius. And thus, my Musidorus, you have my tragedy played
unto you by myself, which I pray the gods may not indeed prove a
tragedy.” And therewith he ended, making a full point of a hearty
sigh.
Musidorus recommended to his best discourse, all which Pyrocles had
told him. But therein he found such intricateness that he could see no
way to lead him out of the maze; yet perceiving his affection so
grounded that striving against it did rather anger than heal the
wound, and rather call his friendship in question than give place to
any friendly counsel: “Well,” said he, “dear cousin! since it hath
pleased the gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humour of
love, yet happy it is, that your love is employed upon so rare a
woman: for certainly a noble cause doth ease much a grievous case. But
as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I cannot see wherein I
can be serviceable unto you.” “I desire no greater service of you,”
answered Pyrocles, “than that you remain secretly in this country, and
sometimes come to this place, either late in the night or early in the
morning, where you shall have my key to enter, because as my fortune
either amends or impairs, I may declare it unto you, and have your
counsel and furtherance: and hereby I will of purpose lead her, that
is the praise, and yet the stain of all womankind, that you may have
so good a view, as to allow my judgment; and as I can get the most
convenient time, I will come unto you; for, though by reason of yonder
wood you cannot see the lodge, it is hard at hand. But now,” said she,
“it is time for me to leave you, and towards evening we will walk out
of purpose hitherward, therefore keep yourself close till that time.”
But Musidorus, bethinking himself that his horse might happen to
betray him, thought it best to return for that day to a village not
far off, and dispatching his horse in some sort, the next day early to
come afoot thither, and so to keep that course afterward which
Pyrocles very well liked of. “Now farewell, dear cousin,” said he,
“from me, no more Pyrocles nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane: Zelmane is
my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the only hope of my
advancement.” And with that word going out, and seeing that the coast
was clear, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus, who {74} departed as full of
care to help his friend as before he was to dissuade him.
Zelmane returned to the lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea, watched
by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a horse desirous to
run, and miserably spurred, but so short reined as he cannot stir
forward. Zelmane sought occasion to speak with Philoclea; Basilius
with Zelmane; and Gynecia hindered them all. If Philoclea happened to
sigh, and sigh she did often, as if that sigh were to be waited on,
Zelmane sighed also, whereto Basilius and Gynecia soon made up four
parts of sorrow. Their affection increased their conversation, and
their conversation increased their affection. The respect borne bred
due ceremonies, but the affection shined so through them, that the
ceremonies seemed not ceremonies. Zelmane’s eyes were (like children
before sweetmeat) eager, but fearful of their ill-pleasing governors.
Time, in one instant, seeming both short and long unto them: short, in
the pleasingness of such presence; long, in the stay of their desires.
But Zelmane failed not to entice them all many times abroad because
she was desirous her friend Musidorus, near whom of purpose she led
them, might have full sight of them. Sometimes angling to a little
river near hand, which, for the moisture it bestowed upon the roots of
flourishing trees, was rewarded with their shadow. There would they
sit down, and pretty wagers be made between Pamela and Philoclea,
which could soonest beguile silly fishes, while Zelmane protested that
the fit prey for them was hearts of princes. She also had an angle in
her hand, but the taker was so taken that she had forgotten taking.
Basilius in the meantime would be the cook himself of what was so
caught, and Gynecia sit still, but with no still pensiveness. Now she
brought them to see a seeled dove, who, the blinder she was, the
higher she strove. Another time a kite, which having a gut cunningly
pulled out of her, and so let fly, caused all the kites in that
quarter, who, as oftentimes the world is deceived, thinking her
prosperous when indeed she was wounded, made the poor kite find that
opinion of riches may well be dangerous.
But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more gallant
show; for one evening, as Basilius returned from having forced his
thoughts to please themselves in such small conquest, there came a
shepherd who brought him word that a gentleman desired leave to do a
message from his lord unto him. Basilius granted, whereupon the
gentleman came, and after the dutiful ceremonies observed in his
master’s name, told him that he was sent from Phalantus of Corinth to
crave licence that, as he had done in many other courts, so he might
in his presence defy all Arcadian knights in the behalf of his
mistress’s beauty who would {75} besides herself in person be present
to give evident proof what his lance should affirm. The conditions of
his challenge were that the defendant should bring his mistress’s
picture, which being set by the image of Artesia, so was the mistress
of Phalantus named, who in six courses should have the better of the
other in the judgment of Basilius, with him both the honours and the
pictures should remain. Basilius (though he had retired himself into
that solitary dwelling, with intention to avoid, rather than to accept
any matters of drawing company, yet because he would entertain Zelmane
that she might not think the time so gainful to him loss to her)
granted him to pitch his tent for three days not far from the lodge,
and to proclaim his challenge that what Arcadian knight, for none else
but upon his peril was licensed to come, would defend what he honoured
against Phalantus, should have the like freedom of access and return.
This obtained and published, Zelmane being desirous to learn what this
Phalantus was, having never known him further than by report of his
good jousting, in so much as he was commonly called, “The fair man of