The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
all delaying hopes) she confessed plainly that she could prevail
nothing: but the fault was his own, who had marred the young girl by
seeking to have that by prayer, which he should have taken by
authority. That it were an absurd cunning to make high ladders to go
in a plain way; so was it an untimely and foolish flattery, there to
beseech, where one might command, puffing them up by being besought,
with such a self-pride of superiority, that it was not, forsooth, to
be held out but by denial. “O God,” said Amphialus, “how well I
thought my fortune would bring forth this end of your labours? assure
yourself, mother, I will sooner pull out these eyes, than they should
look upon the heavenly Philoclea, but as upon a heaven whence they
have their light, and to which they are subject. If they will pour
down any influences of comfort: O happy I: but if by the sacrifice of
a faithful heart, they will not be called unto me, let me languish and
wither with languishing, and grieve with withering, but never so much
as repine with never so much grieving. Mother, O Mother, lust may well
be a tyrant, but true love where it is indeed, it is a servant.
Accursed more than I am, may I be, if ever I did approach her, but
that I freezed as much in a fearful reverence, as I burned in a
vehement desire. Did ever man’s eye look through love upon the majesty
of virtue, shining through beauty, but that he became, as it well
became him, a captive? and it is the style of the captive to write,
‘Our will and pleasure?’”
“Tush, tush, son,” said Cecropia, “if you say you love, but withal you
fear, you fear lest you should offend. Offend? and how know you that
you should offend? because she doth deny. Deny? now by my truth, if
your sadness would let me laugh, I could laugh heartily to see that
you are ignorant, that ‘No’ is no Negative in a woman’s mouth. My son,
believe me, a woman speaking of women; a lover’s modesty among us is
much more praised, than liked: or if we like it, so well we like it,
that for marring of his modesty, he shall never proceed further. Each
virtue hath his time: if you command your soldier to march foremost,
and he for courtesy put others before him, would you praise his
modesty? love is your general, he bids you dare, and will Amphialus be
a dastard? let example serve: do you think Theseus should ever have
gotten Antiope with sighing and crossing his arms? he ravished her,
and ravished her that was an Amazon, and therefore had gotten a habit
of stoutness above the nature of a woman: but having ravished her, he
got a child of her. And I say no {378} more, but that, they say, is
not gotten without consent on both sides. Iole had her own father
killed by Hercules, and herself ravished, by force ravished, and yet
ere long this ravished and unfathered lady could sportfully put on the
lion’s skin upon her own fair shoulders, and play with the club with
her own delicate hands: so easily had she pardoned the ravisher, that
she could not but delight in those weapons of ravishing. But above all
mark Helen, daughter to Jupiter, who could never brook her
mannerly-wooing Menelaus, but disdained his humbleness, and loathed
his softness. But so well she could like the force of enforcing Paris,
that for him she could abide what might be abidden. But what? Menelaus
takes heart, he recovers her by force, by force carries her home, by
force enjoys her; and she who would never like him for
serviceableness, ever after loved him for violence. For what can be
more agreeable than upon force to lay the fault of desire, and in one
instant to join a dear delight with a just excuse? or rather the true
cause is (pardon me, O woman-kind, for revealing to mine own son the
truth of this mystery) we think there wants fire, where we find no
sparkles, at least of fury. Truly I have known a great lady, long
sought by most great, most wise, most beautiful, and most valiant
persons, never won, because they did over-superstitiously solicit her:
the same lady brought under by another, inferior to all them in all
those qualities, only because he could use that imperious
masterfulness which nature gives to men above women. For indeed, son,
I confess unto you, in our very creation we are servants: and who
prayeth his servants, shall never be well obeyed: but as a ready horse
straight yields when he finds one that will make him yield, the same
falls to bounds when feels a fearful horseman. Awake thy spirits, good
Amphialus, and assure thyself, that though she refuseth, she refuseth
but to endear the obtaining. If she weep, and chide, and protest
before it be gotten, she can but weep, and chide, and protest, when it
is gotten. Think, she would not strive, but that she means to try thy
force; and my Amphialus, know thyself a man, and show thyself a man;
and, believe me upon my word, a woman is a woman.”
Amphialus was about to answer her, when a gentleman of his made him
understand that there was a messenger come, who had brought a letter
unto him from out of the camp: whom he presently calling for, took,
opened, and read the letter, importing this.
To thee Amphialus of Arcadia, the forsaken knight wisheth health and
courage, that by my hand thou mayest receive punishment for thy
treason, according to thine own offer, which wickedly occasioned, thou
hast proudly begun, and accursedly maintained. I will {379} presently
(if thy mind faint thee not for his own guiltiness) meet thee in thy
island, in such order, as hath by the former been used: or if thou
likest not the time, place, or weapon, I am ready to take thy own
reasonable choice in any of them, so as thou do perform the substance.
Make me such answer as may show that thou hast some taste of honour:
and so I leave thee, to live till I meet thee.
Amphialus read it, and with a deep sigh (according to the humour of
inward affliction) seemed even to condemn himself, as though indeed
his reproaches were true. But howsoever the dullness of melancholy
would have languishingly yielded thereunto, his courage, unused to
such injuries, desired help of anger to make him this answer.
Forsaken knight, though your nameless challenge might carry in
itself excuse for a man of my birth and estate, yet herein set your
heart at rest, you shall not be forsaken. I will, without stay, answer
you in the wonted manner, and come both armed in your foolish
threatenings, and yet the more fearless, expecting weak blows, where I
find so strong words. You shall not therefore long attend me in the
island, before proof teach you, that of my life you have made yourself
too large a promise. In the meantime, farewell.
This being written, and delivered, the messenger told him that his
lord would, if he liked the same, bring two knights with him to be his
patrons. Which Amphialus accepted, and withal shaking off, with
resolution, his mother’s importunate persuasions, he furnished himself
for the fight, but not in his wonted furniture. For now, as if he
would turn his inside outward, he would needs appear all in black; his
decking both for himself, and horse, being cut out into the fashion of
very rags: yet all so daintily joined together with precious stones,
as it was a brave raggedness, and a rich poverty: and so cunningly had
the workman followed his humour in his armour, that he had given it a
rusty show, and yet so that any man might perceive was by art, and not
negligence; carrying at one instant a disgraced handsomeness, and a
new oldness. In his shield he bare for his device, a Night, by an
excellent painter, excellently painted, with a sun with a shadow, and
upon the shadow a speech signifying, that it only was barred from
enjoying that, whereof it had his life? or “From whose I am,
banished.” In his crest he carried Philoclea’s knives, the only token
of her forced favour.
So passed he over into the island, taking with him the two brothers of
Anaxius, where he found the forsaken knight attired in his own livery,
as black as sorrow itself could see itself in the blackest glass: his
ornaments of the same hue, but formed into the figures of ravens,
which seemed to gape for carrion: only his {380} reins were snakes,
which finely wrapping themselves one within the other, their heads
came together to the cheeks and bosses of the bit, where they might
seem to bite at the horse, and the horse, as he champed the bit, to
bite at them, and that the white foam was engendered by the poisonous
fury of the combat. His impresa was a Catoblepa[b3-06], which so long
lies dead, as the moon, whereto it hath so natural a sympathy, wants
her light. The word signified, that the moon wanted not the light, but
the poor beast wanted the moon’s light. He had in his headpiece, a
whip to witness a self-punishing repentance. Their very horses were
coal black too, not having so much as one star to give light to their
night of blackness: so as one would have thought they had been the two
sons of sorrow and were come hither to fight for their birthright in
that sorry inheritance.
Which alliance of passions so moved Amphialus, already tender minded
by the afflictions of love, that without staff or sword drawn, he
trotted fairly to the forsaken knight, willing to have put off this
combat, to which his melancholy heart did, more than ever in like
occasion, misgive him: and therefore saluting him, “Good knight,” said
he, “because we are men, and should know reason why we do things, tell
me the cause, that makes you thus eager to fight with me.” “Because I
affirm,” answered the forsaken knight, “that thou dost most rebellious
injury to these ladies to whom all men owe service.” “You shall not
fight with me,” said Amphialus, “upon the quarrel: for I confess the
same too: but it proceeds from their own beauty, to enforce love to
offer this force.” “I maintain then,” said the forsaken knight, “that
thou art not worthy so to love.” “And that I confess too,” said
Amphialus, “since the world is not so richly blessed, as to bring
forth anything worthy thereof. But no more unworthy than any other,
since in none can be a more worthy love.” “Yes, more unworthy than
myself,” said the forsaken knight, “for though I deserve contempt,
thou deservest both contempt and hatred.”
But Amphialus by that thinking, though wrongly, each indeed mistaking
other, that he was his rival, forgot all mind of reconciliation, and
having all his thoughts bound up in choler, never staying either
judge, trumpet, or his own lance, drew out his sword, and saying,
“Thou liest, false villain,” unto him, his words and blows came so
quick together, as the one seemed a lightning of the other’s thunder.
But he found no barren ground of such seed: for it yielded him his own
with such increase, that though reason and amazement go rarely
together, yet the most reasonable eyes that saw it, found reason to be
amazed at the fury of their combat. Never game of death better played;
never fury set itself forth in {381} greater bravery. The courteous
Vulcan, when he wrought at his more courteous wife’s request Aeneas an
armour, made not his hammer beget a greater sound than the swords of
these noble knights did: they needed no fire to their forge, for they
made the fire to shine at the meeting of their swords and armours,
each side fetching still new spirit from the castle window, and
careful of keeping their sight that way as a matter of greater
consideration in their combat, than either the advantage of sun or
wind; which sun and wind, if the astonished eyes of the beholders were
not by the astonishment deceived, did both stand still to be beholders
of this rare match. For neither could their amazed eyes discern motion
of the sun, and no breath of wind stirred, as if either for fear it
would not come among such blows, or with delight had eyes so busy, as