The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
brought to receive the favour of acquaintance with the Queen
Andromana, whom the princess Pamela did in so lively colours describe
the last day, as still methinks the figure thereof possesseth mine
eyes, confirmed by the knowledge myself had.
“And therefore I shall need the less to make you know what kind of
woman she was; but this only, that first with the reins of affection,
and after with the very use of directing, she had made herself so
absolute a master of her husband’s mind, that a while he would not,
and after, he could not tell how to govern without being governed by
her: but finding an ease in not understanding, let loose his thoughts
wholly to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his
royal affairs. A thing that may luckily fall out to him that hath the
blessing to match with some heroical-minded lady. But in him it was
neither guided by wisdom, nor followed by fortune, but thereby was
slipped insensibly into such an estate that he lived at her indiscreet
discretion: all his subjects having by some years learned so to hope
for good, and fear of harm, only from her, that it should have needed
a stronger virtue than his to have unwound so deeply an entered vice.
So that either not striving, because he was contented, or contented
because he would not strive, he scarcely knew what was done in his own
chamber, but as it pleased her instruments to frame the relation.
“Now we being brought known unto her, the time that we spent in curing
some very dangerous wounds, after once we were acquainted, and
acquainted we were sooner than ourselves expected, she continually
almost haunted us, till, and it was not long a doing, we discovered a
most violent bent of affection, and that so strangely that we might
well see an evil mind in authority doth not only follow the sway of
the desires already within it, but frames to itself new desires, not
before thought of. For, with equal ardour she affected us both; and so
did her greatness disdain shamefacedness that she was content to
acknowledge it to both. For, having many times torn the veil of
modesty, it seemed, for a last delight, that she delighted in infamy,
which often she had used to her husband’s shame, filling all men’s
ears, but his, with his reproach; while he, hoodwinked with kindness,
least of all men knew who struck him. But her first decree was, by
setting forth her beauties, truly in nature not to be misliked, but as
much advanced to the eye as abased to the judgment by art, thereby to
{229} bring us, as willingly caught fishes, to bite at her bait. And
thereto had she that scutcheon of her desires supported by certain
badly diligent ministers, who often cloyed our ears with her praises,
and would needs teach us a way of felicity by seeking her favour. But
when she found that we were as deaf to them as dumb to her, then she
listed no longer stay in the suburbs of her foolish desires, but
directly entered upon them, making herself an impudent suitor,
authorizing herself very much with making us see that all favour and
power in that realm so depended upon her, as now, being in her hands,
we were either to keep or lose our liberty at her discretion; which
yet awhile she so tempered, as that we might rather suspect than she
threaten. But when our wounds grew so as that they gave us leave to
travel, and that she found we were purposed to use all means we could
to depart thence, she, with more and more importunateness, craved,
which in all good manners was either of us to be desired, or not
granted. Truly, most fair and every way excellent lady, you would have
wondered to have seen how before us she would confess the contention
in her own mind between that lovely, indeed most lovely brownness of
Musidorus’s face, and this colour of mine, which she, in the
deceivable style of affection would entitle beautiful: but her eyes
wandered like a glutton at a feast, from the one to the other; and how
her words would begin half of the sentence to Musidorus, and end the
other half to Pyrocles, not ashamed, seeing the friendship between us,
to desire either of us to be a mediator to the other, as if we should
have played one request at tennis between us: and often wishing that
she might be the angle where the lines of our friendship might meet,
and be the knot which might tie our hearts together. Which proceeding
of hers I do the more largely set before you, most dear lady, because
by the foil thereof, you may see the nobleness of my desire to you and
the warrantableness of your favour to me.”
At that Philoclea smiled with a little nod. “But,” said Pyrocles,
“when she perceived no hope by suit to prevail, then, persuaded by the
rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to do anything, she found
means to have us accused to the King, as though we went about some
practice to overthrow him in his own state, which, because of the
strange successes we had had in the kingdoms of Phrygia, Pontus and
Galatia, seemed not unlikely to him, who, but skimming anything that
came before him, was disciplined to leave the thorough-handling of all
to his gentle wife, who forthwith caused us to be put in prison,
having, while we slept, deprived us of our arms: a prison, indeed
injurious, because a prison, but else well testifying affection,
because in all respects as commodious as a prison might be: and indeed
so placed, as she might at all hours, {230} not seen by many, though
she cared not much how many had seen her, come unto us. Then fell she
to sauce her desires with threatenings, so that we were in a great
perplexity, restrained to so unworthy a bondage, and yet restrained by
love, which I cannot tell how, in noble minds, by a certain duty,
claims an answering. And how much that love might move us, so much,
and more that faultiness of her mind removed us; her beauty being
balanced by her shamelessness. But that which did, as it were, tie us
in a captivity, was, that to grant had been wickedly injurious to him
that had saved our lives; and to accuse a lady that loved us, of her
love unto us, we esteemed almost as dishonourable: and but by one of
those ways we saw no likelihood of going out of that place, where the
words would be injurious to your ears, which would express the manner
of her suit: while yet many times earnestness dyed her cheeks with the
colour of shamefacedness, and wanton languishing borrowed of her eyes
the down-cast look of modesty. But we in the meantime far from loving
her, and often assuring her that we would not so recompense her
husband’s saving of our lives; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting
her, she had brought him, that she caused him to send us word, that
upon our lives we should do whatsoever she commanded us: good man not
knowing any other but that all her pleasures were directed to the
preservation of his estate. But when that made us rather pity than
obey his folly, then fell she to servile entreating us, as though
force could have been the school of love, or that an honest courage
would not rather strive against, than yield to injury. All which yet
could not make us accuse her, though it made us almost pine away for
spite to lose any of our time in so troublesome an idleness.
“But while we were thus full of weariness of what was past, and doubt
of what was to follow, love, that I think in the course of my life
hath a sport sometimes to poison me with roses, sometimes to heal me
with wormwood, brought forth a remedy unto us: which though it helped
me out of that distress, alas, the conclusion was such that I must
ever while I live think it worse than a wreck so to have been
preserved. This king by his queen had a son of tender age, but of
great expectation, brought up in the hope of themselves, and already
acceptation of the inconstant people, as successor of his father’s
crown, whereof he was as worthy, considering his parts, as unworthy in
respect of the wrong was thereby done against the most noble Plangus,
whose great deserts now either forgotten, or ungratefully remembered;
all men set their sails with the favourable wind, which blew on the
fortune of this young prince, perchance not in their hearts, but
surely in their mouths, now giving Plangus, {231} who some years
before was their only champion, the poor comfort of calamity, pity.
This youth therefore accounted prince of that region, by name
Palladius, did with vehement affection love a young lady brought up in
his father’s court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischievously
unhappy prince Plexirtus, of whom already I have, and sometimes must
make, but never honourable mention, left there by her father, because
of the intricate changeableness of his estate, he, by the mother’s
side, being half brother to this queen Andromana, and therefore the
willinger committing her to her care. But as love, alas! doth not
always reflect itself, so fell it out that this Zelmane, though truly
reason there was enough to love Palladius, yet could not ever persuade
her heart to yield thereunto: with that pain to Palladius, as they
feel that feel an unloved love. Yet loving indeed, and therefore
constant, he used still the intercession of diligence and faith, ever
hoping, because he would not put himself into that hell to be
hopeless: until the time of our being come, and captived there,
brought forth this end, which truly deserves of me a further degree of
sorrow than tears.
“Such was therein my ill destiny, that this young lady Zelmane, like
some unwisely liberal, that more delight to give presents than pay
debts, she chose, alas more the pity, rather to bestow her love, so
much undeserved as not desired, upon me, than to recompense him, whose
love, besides many other things, might seem, even in the court of
honour, justly to claim it of her. But so it was; alas that so it was!
whereby it came to pass, that as nothing doth more naturally follow
this cause than care to preserve, and benefit doth follow unfeigned
affection, she felt with me what I felt of my captivity, and straight
laboured to redress my pain, which was her pain; which she could do by
no better means than by using the help therein of Palladius, who, true
lover considering what, and not why, in all her commandments; and
indeed she concealing from him her affection, which she entitled,
compassion, immediately obeyed to employ his uttermost credit to
relieve us; which though as great as a beloved son with a mother,
faulty otherwise, but not hard-hearted toward him, yet it could not
prevail to procure us liberty. Wherefore he sought to have that by
practice which he could not by prayer. And so being allowed often to
visit us, for indeed our restraints were more or less, according as
the ague of her passion was either in the fit or intermission, he used
the opportunity of a fit time thus to deliver us.
“The time of the marrying that queen was, every year, by the extreme
love of her husband, and the serviceable love of the courtiers, made
notable by some public honours, which did, as it were, proclaim to the
world, how dear she was to that people. {232} Among other, none was
either more grateful to the beholders, or more noble in itself, than
jousts, both with sword and lance, maintained for seven nights
together; wherein that nation doth so excel, both for comeliness and
ableness, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarily come, some to
strive, some to learn, some to behold.
“This day it happened that divers famous knights came thither from the
court of Helen Queen of Corinth; a lady whom fame at that time was so
desirous to honour that she borrowed all men’s mouths to join with the
sound of her trumpet. For as her beauty hath won the prize from all
women that stand in degree of comparison, for as for the two sisters
of Arcadia, they are far beyond all conceit of comparison, so hath her