The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
with another title. For this word, One, being attributed to that which
is All, is but one mingling of many, and many ones; as in a less
matter, when we say one kingdom which contains many cities, or one
city which contains many persons, wherein the under-ones, if there be
not a superior power and wisdom, cannot by nature have regard to any
preservation but of themselves: no more we see they do, since the
water willingly quenches the fire, and drowns the earth, so far as
they from a conspired unity; but that a right heavenly nature indeed,
as it were unnaturing them, doth so bridle them. Again, it is as
absurd in nature, that from an unity many contraries should proceed
still kept in an unity; as that from the number of contrarieties an
unity should arise. I say still, if you banish both a singularity and
plurality of judgment from among them, then (if so earthly a mind can
lift itself up so high) do but conceive how a thing whereto you give
the highest and most excellent kind of being, which is eternity, can
be of a base and vilest degree of being, and next to a not being:
which is so to be, as not to enjoy his own being? I will not here call
all your senses to witness, which can hear nor see nothing, which
yields not most evident evidence of {344} the unspeakableness of that
wisdom: each thing being directed to an end, and an end of
preservation, so proper effects of judgment, as speaking and laughing,
are of mankind. But what mad fury can ever so inveigle any conceit, as
to see our mortal and corruptible selves to have a reason, and that
this universality, whereof we are but the least pieces, should be
utterly devoid thereof: as if one should say, that one’s foot might be
wise, and himself foolish: this heard I once alleged against such a
godless mind as yours, who being driven to acknowledge this beastly
absurdity that our bodies should be better than the whole world, if it
had the knowledge whereof the other were void; he sought, not able to
answer directly, to sift it off in this sort; and if that reason were
true, then must it follow also that the world must have in it a
spirit, that could write and read too, and be learned, since that was
in us commendable. Wretched fool, not considering that books be but
supplies of defects, and so are praised because they help our want,
and therefore cannot be incident to the eternal intelligence, which
need no recording of opinions to confirm his knowledge, no more than
the sun wants wax to be the fuel of his glorious lightfulness. This
world therefore cannot otherwise consist but by a mind of wisdom,
which governs it; which whether you will allow to be the creator
thereof, as undoubtedly he is, or the soul and governor thereof, most
certain it is, that whether he govern all, or make all, his power is
above either his creatures, or his government. And if his power be
above all things, then consequently it must needs be infinite, since
there is nothing above it to limit it. For beyond which there is
nothing, must needs be boundless and infinite: if his power be
infinite, then likewise must his knowledge be infinite: for else there
should be an infinite proportion of power which he should not know how
to use, the unsensibleness whereof I think even you can conceive: and
if infinite, then must nothing, no not the estate of flies, which you
with so unsavoury scorn did jest at, be known unto him. For if there
were, then there were his knowledge bounded, and so not infinite: if
his knowledge and power be infinite, then must needs his goodness and
justness march in the same rank: for infiniteness of power and
knowledge, without like measure of goodness must necessarily bring
forth destruction and ruin, and not ornament and preservation. Since
then there is a God, and an all-knowing God, so as he seeth into the
darkness of all natural secrets, which is the heart of man; and sees
therein the deepest dissembled thoughts, nay sees the thought before
they be thought: since he is just to exercise his might, and mighty to
perform his justice, assure thyself, most wicked woman, that has so
plaguily a corrupted mind that thou canst not keep thy sickness to
thyself, but must {345} most wickedly infect others; assure thyself, I
say, for what I say depends on everlasting and unremovable causes,
that the time will come when thou shalt know that power by feeling it;
when thou shalt see His wisdom in the manifesting thy ugly
shamefulness, and shalt only perceive him to have been a creator in
thy destruction.”
Thus she said, thus she ended, with so fair a majesty of unconquered
virtue, that captivity might seem to have authority over tyranny: so
foully was the filthiness of impiety discovered by the shining of her
unstained goodness, so far as either Cecropia saw indeed, or else the
guilty amazement of a self-excusing conscience made her eyes untrue
judges of their natural object, that there was a light more than
human, which gave a lustre to her perfections. But Cecropia, like a
bat, which though it have eyes to discern that there is a sun, yet
hath so evil eyes that it cannot delight in the sun, found a truth but
could not love it. But as great persons are wont to make the wrong
they have done, to be a cause to do the more wrong, her knowledge rose
to no higher point, but to envy a worthier; and her will was no
otherwise bent, but the more to hate, the more she found her enemy
provided against her. Yet all the while she spoke, though with eyes
cast like a horse that would strike at the stirrup, and with colour
which blushed through yellowness, she sat rather still than quiet, and
after her speech rather muttered than replied: for the war of
wickedness in herself, brought forth disdainful pride to resist
cunning dissimulation; so that, saying little more unto her, but that
she should have leisure enough better to bethink herself, she went
away repining, but not repenting, condemning greatly, as she thought,
her son’s over-feeble humbleness, and purposing to egg him forward to
a course of violence. For herself, determining to deal with neither of
them both any more in manner of a suitor: for what majesty of virtue
did in the one, that did silent humbleness in the other. But finding
her son over-apt to lay both condemnation, and execution of sorrow
upon himself, she sought to mitigate his mind with feigned delays of
comfort, who (having this inward overthrow in himself) was the more
vexed that he could not utter the rage thereof upon his outward
enemies.
But Basilius, taught by the last day’s trial, what dangerous effects
chosen courages can bring forth, rather used the spade than the sword;
or the sword, but to defend the spade, girding about the whole town
with trenches; which beginning a good way off from the town, with a
number of well-directed pioneers, he still carried before him, till
they came to a near distance, where he built forts, one answering the
other, in such sort, as it was a pretty consideration in the
discipline of war, to see building used for the {346} instrument of
ruin, and the assailer intrenched as if he was besieged. But many
sallies did Amphialus make to hinder their working. But they
(exercising more melancholy than choler in their resolution) made him
find, that if by the advantage of the place, few are able to defend
themselves from many, that many must needs have power (making
themselves strong in seat) to repel few, referring the revenge rather
to the end, than to a present requital. Yet oftentimes they dealt some
blows in light skirmishes, each side having a strong retiring place,
and rather fighting with many alarms to vex the enemy, than for any
hope of great success.
Which every way was a tedious cumber to the impatient courage of
Amphialus; till the fame of this war, bringing thither diverse, both
strangers and subjects, as well of princely, as noble houses, the
gallant Phalantus, who refrained his sportful delights as then, to
serve Basilius (whom he honoured for received honours) when he had
spent some time in considering the Arcadian manner in marching,
encamping and fighting, and had learned in what points of government
and obedience their discipline differed from others, and so had
satisfied his mind in the knowledges, both for the cutting off the
enemy’s helps, and furnishing one’s self, which Basilius’s orders
could deliver unto him, his young spirits (weary of wanting cause to
be weary) desired to keep his valour in knowledge by some private act,
since the public policy restrained him; the rather, because his old
mistress Artesia might see whom she had so lightly forsaken: and
therefore demanding and obtaining leave of Basilius, he caused a
herald to be furnished with apparel of his office, and tokens of a
peaceable message, and so sent him to the gate of the town to demand
audience of Amphialus: who, understanding thereof, caused him both
safely and courteously to be brought into his presence: who, making
lowly reverence unto him, presented his letters, desiring Amphialus,
that whatsoever they contained, he would consider he was only the
bearer, and not the inditer. Amphialus with noble gentleness assured
him both by honourable speeches, and a demeanour which answered for
him, that his revenge, whensoever, should sort unto itself a higher
subject. But opening the letters, he found them to speak in this
manner:
Phalantus of Corinth, to Amphialus of Arcadia, sendeth the greeting
of a hateless enemy. The liking of martial matter without any dislike
of your person hath brought me rather to the company than to the mind
of your besiegers: where languishing in idleness, I desire to refresh
my mind with some exercise of arms, which might make known the doers,
with delight of the beholders. Therefore if there be any gentleman in
your town that either for the love of honour, or honour of his love,
well armed on horseback, with lance {347} and sword, win another, or
lose himself, to be prisoner at discretion of the conqueror, I will
to-morrow morning by sunrising, with a trumpet and a squire only,
attend him in like order furnished. The place I think fittest, the
island within the lake, because it stands so well in the view of your
castle, as that the ladies may have the pleasure of seeing the combat:
which, though it be within the commandment of your castle, I desire no
better security than the promise I make to myself of your virtue. I
attend your answer, and wish you success as may be to your honour,
rather in yielding to that which is just than in maintaining wrong by
violence.
Amphialus read it with cheerful countenance, and thinking but a little
with himself, called for pen and paper, and wrote this answer:
Amphialus of Arcadia, to Phalantus of Corinth, wisheth all his own
wishes, saving those which may be hurtful to another. The matter of
your letters to fit for a worthy mind, and the manner so suitable to
the nobleness of the matter, give me cause to think how happy I might
account myself, if I could get such a friend; who esteem it no small
happiness to have met with so noble an enemy. Your challenge shall be
answered, and both time, place, and weapon accepted. For your security
from any treachery (having no hostage worthy to countervail you) take
my word, which I esteem above all respects. Prepare therefore your
arms to fight, but not your heart to malice, since true valour needs
no other whetstone than desire of honour.
Having written and sealed his letter, he delivered it to the herald,
and withal took a fair chain from off his own neck and gave it him.
And so with safe convoy sent him away from out his city: and he being
gone, Amphialus showed unto his mother, and some other of his chief
counsellors what he had received, and how he had answered, telling