The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
occasion to mark it: which also fell out.
For she finding it at her afternoon return in another place than she
left it, opened it. But when she saw the letter, her heart gave her
from whence it came; and therefore clapping it to again she went away
from it as if it had been a contagious garment of an infected person:
and yet was not long away, but that she wished she had read it, though
she were loth to read it. “Shall I,” said she, “second his boldness so
far, as to read his presumptuous letters? And yet,” saith she, “he
sees me not now to grow the bolder thereby: and how can I tell whether
they be presumptuous?” The paper came from him, and therefore not
worthy to be received; and yet the paper she thought was not guilty.
At last she concluded, it were not much amiss to look it over, that
she might out of his words pick some further quarrel against him. Then
she opened it, and threw it away, and took it up again, till (ere she
were aware) her eyes would needs read it, containing this matter.
{302}
Unto a caitiff wretch, whom long affliction holdeth,
And now fully believes help to be quite perished,
Grant yet, grant yet a look, to the last moment of his anguish,
O you (alas so I find) cause of his only ruin,
Dread not a whit (O goodly cruel) that pity may enter
Into thy heart by the sight of this Epistle I send:
And to refuse to behold of these strange wounds the recital,
Lest it might thee allure home to thyself to return
(Unto thyself, I do mean those graces dwell so within thee,
Gratefulness, sweetness, holy love, hearty regard)
Such thing cannot I seek (despair hath giv’n me my answer:
Despair most tragical clause to a deadly request)
Such thing cannot he hope, that knows thy determinate hardness,
Hard like a rich marble: hard, but a fair diamond.
Can those eyes, that of eyes drown’d in most hearty flowing tears
(Tears and tears of a man? had no return to remorse)
Can those eyes now yield to the kind conceit of a sorrow,
Which ink only relates, but ne laments, ne replies?
Ah, that, that do I not conceive (though that to my bliss were)
More than Nestor’s years, more than a King’s diadem.
Ah, that, that do I not conceive; to the Heaven when a Mouse climbs
Then may I hope to achieve grace of a heavenly Tiger.
But, but alas, like a man condemned doth crave to be heard speak,
Not that he hopes for amends of the disaster he feels,
But finding the approach of death with an inly relenting,
Gives an adieu to the world, as to his only delight:
Right so my boiling heart, inflam’d with fire of a fair eye,
Bubbling out doth breathe signs of his huge dolours:
Now that he finds to what end his life and love be reserved,
And that he thence must part, where to live only he liv’d.
O fair, O fairest, are such the triumphs to thy fairness?
Can death beauty become? must I be such monument?
Must I be only the mark shall prove that virtue is angry?
Shall prove that fierceness can with a white dove abide?
Shall to the world appear that faith and love be rewarded
With mortal disdain, bent to unendly revenge.
Unto revenge? O sweet, on a wretch wilt thou be revenged?
Shall such high planets tend to the loss of a worm?
And to revenge who do bend, would in that kind be revenged
As th’ offence was done, and go beyond if he can.
All my offence was love: with love then must I be chastened;
And with more, by the laws that to revenge do belong.
If that love be a fault, more fault, more fault in you to be lovely:
Love never had me oppressed, but that I saw to be lov’d.
You be the cause that I lov’d: what Reason blameth a shadow,
That with a body ’t goes? since by a body it is?
{303}
If that love you did hate, you should your beauty have hidden:
You should those fair eyes have with a veil covered.
But fool, fool that I am, those eyes would shine from a dark cave:
What veils then do prevail, but to a more miracle?
Or those golden locks, those locks which lock me to bondage,
Torn you should disperse unto the blasts of a wind.
But fool, fool that I am, though I had but a hair of her head found,
Ev’n as I am, so I should unto that hair be a thrall.
Or with fair hand’s nails (O hand which nails me to this death)
You should have your face, since love is ill blemished.
O wretch, what do I say? should that fair face be defaced?
Should my too-much sight cause so true a sun to be lost?
First let Cimmerian darkness be my only habitation:
First be mine eyes pull’d out, first be my brain perished,
Ere that I should consent to do so excessive a damage
Unto the earth, by the hurt of this her heavenly jewel.
O not, but such love you say you could have afforded,
As might learn temp’rance, void of a rage’s events.
O sweet simplicity: from whence should love be so learned?
Unto Cupid, that Boy, should a pedant be found?
Well, but sulky I was: Reason to my passion yielded,
Passion unto my rage, rage to a hasty revenge,
But what’s this for a fault, for which such faith be abolished,
Such faith, so stainless, inviolate, violent?
Shall I not? O may I not thus yet refresh the remembrance,
What sweet joys I had once, and what a place I did hold?
Shall I not once object, that you, you granted a favour
Unto the man, whom now such miseries you award?
Bend your thoughts to the dear sweet words which then to me giv’n were,
Think what a world is now, think who hath alt’red her heart.
What? was I then worthy such good, now worthy such evil?
Now fled, then cherished? then so nigh, now so remote?
Did not a rosed breath from lips rosy proceeding,
Say, that I well should find in what a care I was had?
With much more: Now what do I find, but care to abhor me?
Care that I sink in grief, care that I live banished?
And banished do I live, nor now will seek a recovery,
Since so she will, whose will is to me more than a law.
If then a man in most ill case may give you a farewell:
Farewell, long farewell, all my woe, all my delight.
What this would have wrought in her, she herself could not tell, for,
before her reason could moderate the disputation between favour and
faultiness, her sister and Miso, called her down to entertain Zelmane,
who was come to visit the two sisters, about whom, as about two poles,
the sky of beauty was turned: while {304} Gynecia wearied her bed with
her melancholy sickness, and made Miso’s shrewdness (who like a spirit
set to keep a treasure, barred Zelmane from any further conference) to
be the lieutenant of her jealousy; both she and her husband driving
Zelmane to such a straight of resolution, either of impossible
granting, or dangerous refusing, as the best escape she had was (as
much as she could) to avoid their company. So as this day, being the
fourth day after the uproar (Basilius being with his sick wife,
conferring upon such examinations as Philanax and other of his
noblemen had made of this late sedition, all touching Cecropia, with
vehement suspicion of giving either flame or fuel unto it) Zelmane
came with her body, to find her mind, which was gone long before her,
and had gotten his seat in Philoclea, who now with a bashful
cheerfulness (as though she were ashamed that she could not choose but
be glad) joined with her sister in making much of Zelmane.
And so as they sat devising how to give more feathers to the wings of
time, there came to the lodge-door six maids, all in one livery of
scarlet petticoats, which were tucked up almost to their knees, the
petticoats themselves being in many places garnished with leaves,
their legs naked, saving that above the ankles they had little black
silk laces, upon which did hang a few silver bells, like which they
had a little above their elbows upon their bare arms. Upon their hair
they wore garlands of roses and gilliflowers, and the hair was so
dressed, as that came again above the garlands, interchanging a mutual
covering so that it was doubtful whether the hair dressed the
garlands, or the garlands dressed the hair. Their breasts liberal to
the eye; the face of the foremost of them in excellency fair; and of
the rest lovely, if not beautiful: and beautiful might have been, if
they had not suffered greedy Phoebus over-often and hard, to kiss
them. Their countenances full of a graceful gravity, so as the gesture
match with the apparel, it might seem, a wanton modesty, an enticing
soberness. Each of them had an instrument of music in their hands,
which comforting their well-pleasing tunes, did charge each ear with
unsensibleness that did not lend itself unto them. The music entering
alone into the lodge, the ladies were all desirous to see from whence
so pleasant a guest was come: and therefore went out together, where
before they could take the pains to doubt, much less to ask the
question of their quality, the fairest of them (with a gay, but yet
discreet demeanour) in this sort spoke to them.
“Most excellent ladies (whose excellencies have power to make cities
envy those woods, and solitariness to be accounted the sweetest
company) vouchsafe our message your gracious hearing, which as it
comes from love, so comes it from lovely persons. The maids of all
this coast of Arcadia, understanding the often {305} access that
certain shepherds of those quarters are allowed to have in this
forbidden place, and that their rural sports are not disdained of you,
have been stirred up with emulation to them, and affection to you, to
bring forth something, which might as well breed your contentment: and
therefore hoping that the goodness of their intention, and the
hurtlessness of their sex, shall excuse the breach of the commandment
in coming to this place unsent for, they chose out us to invite both
your princely parents, and yourselves to a place in the woods about
half a mile hence, where they have provided some such sports, as they
trust your gracious acceptations will interpret to be delightful. We
have been at the other lodge, but finding them there busied in
weightier affairs, our trust is that you will not deny the shining of
your eyes upon us.” The ladies stood in some doubt whether they should
go or not, lest Basilius might be angry withal: But Miso (that had
been at none of the pastorals, and had a great desire to lead her old
senses abroad to some pleasure) told them plainly, they should nor
will, nor choose, but go thither, and make the honest country people
know that they were not so squeamish as folks thought of them. The
ladies glad to be warranted by her authority, with a smiling
humbleness obeyed her; Pamela only casting a seeking look, whether she
could see Dorus (who poor wretch wandered half mad for sorrow in the
woods, crying for pardon of her who could not hear him) but indeed was
grieved for his absence, having given the wound to him through her own
heart. But so the three ladies and Miso went with those six Nymphs,
conquering the length of the way with the force of music, leaving only
Mopsa behind, who disgraced weeping with her countenance, because her
mother would not suffer her to show her new-scoured face among them.
But the place appointed, as they thought, met them half in their way,
so well were they pleased with the sweet tunes and pretty conversation
of their inviters. There found they in the midst of the thickest part
of the wood, a little square place, not burdened with trees, but with
a board covered and beautified with the pleasantest fruits that
sun-burned Autumn could deliver to them. The maids besought the ladies
to sit down and taste of the swelling grapes, which seemed great with
child of Bacchus: and of the divers coloured plums, which gave the eye
a pleasant taste before they came to the mouth. The ladies would not
show to scorn their provision, but ate and drank a little of their