The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
that wishing himself in the bottom of the earth, he went his way,
leaving Zelmane no less angry with his loss than she would have been
with his victory. For if she though before a rival’s praise would have
angered her, her lady’s disgrace did make her much more forget what
she then thought, while that passion reigned so much the more as she
saw a pretty blush in Philoclea’s cheeks betray a modest
discontentment. But the night commanded truce for those sports, and
Phalantus, though entreated, would not leave Artesia, who in no case
would come into the house, having, as it were, sucked of Cecropia’s
breath a mortal mislike against Basilius.
But the night, measured by the short ell of sleep, was soon passed
over, and the next morning had given the watchful stars leave to take
their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius to play his judge’s part,
which he did, taking his wife and daughters with him; Zelmane having
locked her door, so as they could not trouble her for that time: for
already there was a knight in the field, ready to prove Helen of
Corinth had received great injury, both by the {84} erring judgment of
the challenger, and the unlucky weakness of her former defender. The
new knight was quickly known to be Clitophon, Kalander’s son of
Basilius’s sister, by his armour which, all gilt, was so well handled
that it showed like a glittering sand and gravel interlaced with
silver rivers. His device he had put in the picture of Helen which he
defended; it was the Ermion with a speech that signified, “Rather dead
than spotted.” But in that armour since he had parted from Helen, who
would no longer his company, finding him to enter into terms of
affection, he had performed so honourable actions, still seeking for
his two friends by the names of Palladius and Daiphantus, that though
his face were covered, his being was discovered, which yet Basilius,
who had brought him up in his court, would not seem to do, but glad to
see the trial of him, of whom he had heard very well, he commanded the
trumpets to sound, to which the two brave knights obeying, they
performed their courses, breaking their six staves, with so good, both
skill in the hitting and grace in the manner, that it bred some
difficulty in the judgment. But Basilius in the end gave sentence
against Clitophon, because Phalantus had broken more staves, upon the
head, and that once Clitophon had received such a blow that he had
lost the reins of his horse with his head well-nigh touching the
crupper of the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the judgment,
wherein he thought he had received wrong, that he omitted his duty to
his prince, and uncle, and suddenly went his way still in the quest of
them, whom as then he had left seeking, and so yielded the field to
the next comer.
Who, coming in about two hours after, was no less marked than all the
rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking. For he had
neither picture nor device, his armour of as old a fashion, besides
the rusty poorness, that it might better seem a monument of his
grandfather’s courage: about his middle he had, instead of bases, a
long cloak of silk, which as unhandsomely, as it needs must, became
the wearer, so that all that looked on, measured his length on the
earth already, since he had to meet one who had been victorious of so
many gallants. But he went on towards the shield, and with a sober
grace struck it, but as he let his sword fall upon it, another knight,
all in black, came rustling in, who struck the shield almost as soon
as he, and so strongly that he broke the shield in two: the
ill-apparelled knight, for so the beholders called him, angry with
that, as he accounted, insolent injury to himself, hit him such a
sound blow that they that looked on said it well became a rude arm.
The other answered him again in the same case, so that lances were put
to silence, the swords were so busy.
{85}
But Phalantus, angry of this defacing shield, came upon the black
knight, and with the pommel of his sword set fire to his eyes, which
presently was revenged, not only by the black, but the ill-apparelled
knight, who disdained another should enter into his quarrel, so as,
who ever saw a matachin dance to imitate fighting, this was a fight
that did imitate the matachin: for they being but three that fought,
everyone had two adversaries, striking him, who struck the third, and
revenging perhaps that of him which he had received of the other. But
Basilius rising himself came to part them, the stickler’s authority
scarcely able to persuade choleric hearers; and part them he did.
But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, halting on foot, who
complained to Basilius, demanding justice on the black knight, for
having by force taken away the picture of Pamela from him, which in
little form he wore in a tablet, and covered with silk had fastened it
to his helmet, purposing, for want of a bigger, to paragon the little
one with Artesia’s length, not doubting but even in that little
quantity, the excellency of that would shine through the weakness of
the other, as the smallest star doth through the whole element of
fire. And by the way he had met with this black knight, who had, as he
said, robbed him of it. The injury seemed grievous, but when it came
fully to be examined, it was found that the halting knight meeting the
other, asking the cause of his going thitherward, and finding it was
to defend Pamela’s divine beauty against Artesia’s, with a proud
jollity commanded him to leave that quarrel only for him, who was only
worthy to enter into it. But the black knight obeying no such
commandments, they fell to such a bickering that he got a halting, and
lost his picture. This understood by Basilius, he told him he was now
fitter to look to his own body than another’s picture, and so,
uncomforted therein, sent him away to learn of Aesculapius that he was
not fit for Venus. But then the question arising, who should be the
former against Phalantus, of the black or the ill-apparelled knight,
who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy lout, he had so well
defended himself; of the one side, was alleged the having a picture
which the other wanted; of the other side, the first striking the
shield, but the conclusion was, that the ill-apparelled knight should
have the precedence, if he delivered the figure of his mistress to
Phalantus, who asking him for it, “Certainly,” said he, “her liveliest
picture, if you could see it, is in my heart, and the best comparison
I could make of her is of the sun and all the other heavenly beauties.
But because perhaps all eyes cannot taste the divinity of her beauty,
and would rather be dazzled than taught by the light, if it be not
clouded by some meaner thing, know ye then, that I defend that same
lady, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost {86} yesternight, and,
instead of another, if you overcome me, you shall have me your slave
to carry that image in your mistress’ triumph.” Phalantus easily
agreed to the bargain, which readily he made his own.
But when it came to the trial, the ill-apparelled knight, choosing out
the greatest staves in all the store, at the first course gave his
head such a remembrance that he lost almost his remembrance, he
himself receiving the encounter of Phalantus, without any
extraordinary motion; and at the second, gave him such a counterbuff,
that because Phalantus was so perfect a horseman, as not to be driven
from the saddle, the saddle with broken girths was driven from the
horse; Phalantus remaining angry and amazed, because now being come
almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace befell
him, which he had never before known.
But the victory being by the judges given, and the trumpets witnessed
to the ill-apparelled knight; Phalantus’ disgrace was ingrieved in
lieu of comfort of Artesia, who telling him she never looked for
other, bade him seek some other mistress. He excusing himself, and
turning over the fault to fortune, “Then let that be your ill fortune
too,” said she, “that you have lost me.”
“Nay, truly madam,” said Phalantus, “it shall not be so, for I think
the loss of such a mistress will prove a great gain,” and so
concluded, to the sport of Basilius, to see young folks’ love, that
came in masked with so great pomp, go out with so little constancy.
But Phalantus first professing great service to Basilius for his
courteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet
conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whither she desired to go,
vowing in himself that neither heart nor mouth love should ever any
more entangle him, and with that resolution he left the company.
Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black knight went away
repining at his luck that had kept him from winning the honour, as he
knew he should have done to the picture of Pamela) the ill-apparelled
knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to show
him to Zelmane) pull’d off his helmet, and then was known himself to
be Zelmane, who that morning, as she told, while the others were busy,
had stolen out of the prince’s stable, which was a mile off from the
lodge, had gotten a horse, they knowing it was Basilius’s pleasure she
should be obeyed, and borrowing that homely armour for want of a
better, had come upon the spur to redeem Philoclea’s picture, which,
she said, she could not bear, being one of that little
wilderness-company, should be in captivity, if the cunning she had
learned in her country of the noble Amazons, could withstand it; and
under that pretext fain she would have given a secret passport to her
affection. But this act painted at one instant redness in Philoclea’s
face, and paleness {87} in Gynecia’s, but brought forth no other
countenances but of admiration, no speeches but of commendations: all
those few, besides love, thinking they honoured themselves in
honouring so accomplished a person as Zelmane, whom daily they fought
with some or other sports to delight; for which purpose Basilius had,
in a house not far off, servants, who though they came not uncalled,
yet at call were ready.
And so many days were spent, and many ways used, while Zelmane was
like one that stood in a tree waiting a good occasion to shoot, and
Gynecia a blancher, which kept the dearest deer from her. But the day
being come, on which according to an appointed course, the shepherds
were to assemble and make their pastoral sports before Basilius,
Zelmane, fearing lest many eyes, and coming divers ways, might hap to
espy Musidorus, went out to warn him thereof.
But before she could come to the arbour, she saw walking from
her-ward, a man in shepherdish apparel, who being in the sight of the
lodge, it might seem he was allowed there. A long cloak he had on, but
that cast under his right arm, wherein he held a sheep hook so finely
wrought, that it gave a bravery to poverty, and his raiments though
they were mean, yet received they handsomeness by the grace of the
wearer, though he himself went but a kind of languishing pace, with
his eyes sometimes cast up to heaven as though his fancies strove to
mount higher; sometimes thrown down to the ground, as if the earth
could not bear the burden of his sorrows; at length, with a lamentable
tune, he sung those few verses.
Come shepherd’s weeds, become your master’s mind:
Yield outward show, what inward change he tries:
Nor be abash’d, since such a guest you find,
Whose strongest hope in your weak comfort lies.
Come shepherd’s weeds, attend my woeful cries:
Disuse yourselves from sweet Menalcas’ voice:
For other be those tunes which sorrow ties,
From those clear notes which freely may rejoice.
Then pour out plaint, and in one word say this:
Helpless is plaint, who spoils himself of bliss.