The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
make a notorious testimony how deeply her brother’s death was engraven
in her breast, he assembled good numbers of friends, whom his virtue,
though a stranger, had tied unto him by force, to give her liberty.
Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom anger gave more courage than her sex
did fear, used her regal authority, the most she could, to suppress
that sedition, and have her will, which, she thought, is the most
princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who indeed, as all men
witness, is one of the best captains, both for policy and valour, that
are trained in the school of Mars, in a conflict overthrew Artaxia’s
power, though of far greater number; and there took prisoner a base
son of her brother’s whom she dearly affected, and then sent her word,
that he should run the same race of fortune, whatsoever it was, that
Erona did; and happy was that threatening for her, for else Artaxia
had hastened the day of her death, in respect of those tumults.
“But now, some principal noblemen of that country interposing
themselves, it was agreed that all persons else fully pardoned, and
all prisoners, except Erona, delivered, she should be put into the
hands of a principal nobleman, who had a castle of great strength, by
oath, if by the day two years from Tiridates’s death, Pyrocles and
Musidorus did not in person combat and overcome two knights, whom she
appointed to maintain her quarrel against Erona and them, of having by
treason destroyed her brother, that then Erona should be that same day
burned to ashes: but if they came, and had the victory, she should be
delivered; but upon no occasion neither freed nor executed till that
day. And hereto of both sides, all took solemn oath, and so the peace
was concluded; they of Plangus’s party partly forcing him to agree,
though he himself the sooner condescended, knowing the courtesy of
those two excellent princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrel, and
their power such, as two more, like the other two, were not able to
resist. But Artaxia was more, and upon better ground, pleased with
this action; for she had even newly received news from Plexirtus that
upon the sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held
herself sure of the match.
“But poor Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his {275}
party, as most times it falls out in like case, hungry of any
conditions of peace, accepted them: and then obtained leave of the
lord that indifferently kept her to visit Erona, whom he found full of
desperate sorrow, suffering neither his unworthiness, nor his wrongs,
nor his death, which is the natural conclusion of all worldly acts,
either to cover with forgetfulness, or diminish with consideration,
the affection she had borne him: but even glorying in affliction, and
shunning all comfort, she seemed to have no delight but in making
herself the picture of misery. So that when Plangus came to her, she
fell in deadly trances, as if in him she had seen the death of
Antiphilus, because he had not succoured him: and yet, her virtue
striving, she did at one time acknowledge herself bound, and profess
herself injured; instead of allowing the conclusion they had made, or
writing to the princes, as he wished her to do, craving nothing but
some speedy death to follow her, in spite of just hate, beloved
Antiphilus.
“So that Plangus having nothing but a ravished kiss from her hand at
their parting, went away toward Greece; whitherward he understood the
princes were embarked. But by the way it was his fortune to intercept
letters, written by Artaxia to Plexirtus, wherein she signified her
accepting him to her husband, whom she had ever favoured, so much the
rather, as he had performed the conditions of her marriage, in
bringing to their deserved end her greatest enemies: withal thanking
the sea, in such terms as he might well perceive it was by some
treason wrought in Plexirtus’s ship. Whereupon, to make more diligent
search, he took ship himself, and came into Laconia, inquiring, and by
his inquiry finding that such a ship was indeed with fight and fire
perished, none, almost, escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus, it
was assuredly determined that they were cast away: for the name of
such princes, especially in Greece, would quickly else have been a
large witness to the contrary. Full of grief with that, for the loss
of such who left the world poor of perfection, but more sorry for
Erona’s sake, who now by them could not be relieved, a new
advertisement from Armenia overtook him, which multiplied the force of
his anguish. It was a message from the nobleman who had Erona in ward,
giving him to understand that since his departure, Artaxia, using the
benefit of time, had beseiged him in his castle, demanding present
delivery of her, whom yet for his faith given, he would not before the
day appointed, if possibly, he could resist; which he foresaw, long he
should not do for want of victual, which he had not so wisely
provided, because he trusted upon the general oath taken for two
years’ space: and therefore willed him to make haste to his succour,
and come with no small forces, for all they that were of his side in
Armenia were consumed, {276} and Artaxia had increased her might by
marriage of Plexirtus, who now crowned king there, sticked not to
glory in the murder of Pyrocles and Musidorus, as having just cause
thereto, in respect of the deaths of his sister Andromana, her son,
his nephew and his own daughter Zelmane: all whose loss he unjustly
charged them withal, and now openly sticked not to confess what a
revenge his wit had brought forth, Plangus much astonished herewith,
bethought himself what to do, for to return to Armenia was vain, since
his friends there were utterly overthrown. Then thought he of going to
his father; but he had already, even since the death of his stepmother
and brother, attempted the recovering of his favour, but all in vain.
For they that had before joined with Andromana to do him the wrong,
thought now no life for them if he returned; and therefore kept him
still, with new forged suspicions, odious to his father. So that
Plangus reserving that for a work of longer time, than the saving of
Erona could bear, determined to go to the mighty and good king
Euarchus; who lately having, to his eternal fame, fully, not only
conquered his enemies, but established good government in their
countries, he hoped he might have present succour of him, both for the
justness of the cause, and revenge of his children’s death, by so
heinous a treason murdered. Therefore with diligence he went to him,
and by the way (passing through my country) it was my hap to find him,
the most overthrown man with grief that ever I hope to see again. For
still it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eyes, such an
apprehension he had taken of her danger, which in despite of all the
comfort I could give him, he poured out in such lamentations that I
was moved not to let him pass till he had made a full declaration,
which by pieces my daughters and I have delivered unto you. Fain he
would have had succour of myself, but the course of my life being
otherwise bent, I only accommodated him with some that might safely
guide him to the great Euarchus. For my part having had some of his
speeches so feelingly in my memory, that at an idle time, as I told
you, I set them down dialogue-wise, in such manner as you have seen.
And thus, excellent lady, I have obeyed you in this story; wherein if
it will please you to consider what is the strange power of love, and
what is due to his authority, you shall exercise therein the true
nobleness of your judgment, and do the more right to the unfortunate
historian.” Zelmane, sighing for Erona’s sake, yet inwardly comforted
in that she assured herself Euarchus would not spare to take in hand
the just delivering of her, joined with the just revenge of his
children’s loss, having now what she desired of Basilius, to avoid his
further discourses of affection, encouraged the shepherds to begin,
whom she saw already ready for them.
THE SECOND ECLOGUES
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The rude tumult of the Enispians gave occasion to the honest
shepherds to begin their pastoral this day with a dance, which they
called the skirmish betwixt reason and passion. For seven shepherds,
which were named the reasonable shepherds, joined themselves, four of
them making a square, and other two going a little wide of either
side, like wings for the main battle, and the seventh man foremost,
like the forlorn hope, to begin the skirmish. In like order came out
the seven appassionated shepherds, all keeping the pace of their foot
by their voice, and sundry consorted instruments they held in their
arms. And first, the foremost of the reasonable side began to sing:
Reason. Thou rebel vile, come, to thy master yield.
And the other that met him answered:
Passion. No, tyrant, no; mine, mine shall be the field.
R. Can Reason then a tyrant counted be?
P. If Reason will that Passions be not free.
R. But Reason will, that Reason govern most.
P. And Passion will, that Passion rule the roast.
R. Your will is will, but Reason reason is.
P. Will hath his will, when Reason’s will doth miss.
R. Whom Passion leads, unto his death is bent.
P. And let him die, so that he die content.
R. By nature you to Reason faith have sworn.
P. Not so but fellow like together born.
R. Who Passion doth ensue, lives in annoy.
P. Who Passion doth forsake, lives void of joy.
R. Passion is blind, and treads an unknown trace.
P. Reason hath eyes to see his own ill case.
Then as they approached nearer, the two of reason’s side, as if they
shot at the other, thus sang:
R. Dare Passions then abide in Reason’s light?
P. And is not Reason dim with Passion’s might?
R. O foolish thing which glory doth destroy!
P. O glorious title of a foolish toy!
R. Weakness you are, dare you with our strength fight?
P. Because our weakness weakeneth all your might.
{278}
R. O sacred Reason, help our virtuous toils.
P. O Passion, pass on feeble Reason’s spoils.
R. We with ourselves abide a daily strife.
P. We gladly use the sweetness of our life.
R. But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breed.
P. We now have peace, your peace we do not need.
Then did the two square battles meet, and instead of fighting, embrace
one another, singing thus:
R. We are too strong: but Reason seeks no blood.
P. Who be too weak, do fain they be too good.
R. Though we cannot o’ercome, our cause is just.
P. Let us o’ercome, and let us be unjust.
R. Yet Passions yield at length to Reason’s stroke.
P. What shall we win by taking Reason’s yoke?
R. The joys you have shall be made permanent.
P. But so we shall with grief learn to repent.
R. Repent indeed, but that shall be your bliss.
P. How know we that, since present joys we miss?
R. You know it not; of Reason therefore know it.
P. No Reason yet had ever skill to show it.
R. Then let us both to heavenly rules give place.
P. Which Passions kill, and Reason do deface.
Then embraced they one another, and came to the king, who framed his
praises of them according to Zelmane’s liking; whose unrestrained
parts, the mind and eye, had their free course to the delicate
Philoclea, whose look was not short in well requiting it, although she
knew it was a hateful sight to her jealous mother. But Dicus, that had
in this time taken a great liking of Dorus for the good parts he found
above his age in him, had a delight to taste the fruits of his wit,
though in a subject which he himself most of all other despised; and
so entered speech with him in the manner of this following eclogue.
DICUS and DORUS
DICUS
Dorus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion,
To make those woods resound thy lamentation?