LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO CAMBRIDGE ENGLISH CLASSICS The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney In Three Volumes Volume I SIR PHILIP SIDNEY Born 1554 Died 1586 THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA, WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIPPE S I D N E I. LONDON Printed for William Ponfonbie. \^tno Domini, \ J 9 o. Titli-page of the Editio Princeps SIR PHILIP SIDNEY THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA EDITED BY ALBERT FEUILLERAT Professor of English Literature in the University of Rennes Cambridge : at the University Press 1912 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS iLonBon: FETTER LANE, E.G. C. F. CLAY, MANAGER 100, PRINCES STREET A. ASHER AND CO. : f- A. BROCKHAUS fleto Jforfc: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS Bmnbajj anD Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD. All rights reserved PREFATORY NOTE T~) EPRINTS of the separate works of Sir Philip \^ Sidney are numerous ; yet, however incredible this may seem, no complete edition has hitherto been accessible. The object of the volumes now offered to Elizabethan students is to collect all the literary produc- tions of Sidney : 'The Countesse of Pembroke* Arcadia^ the Poems and The Defence of Poesie as well as the Correspon- dence and the Political Pamphlets. I even propose to include the translations of the Psalms and of Mornay's Verite de la Religion Chrestienne, it being possible to ascertain Sidney's share in these works. The fact that such an important author should have had to wait so long for his due is probably referable to the difficulties with which a modern editor has to struggle in choosing an authentic text. Sir Philip Sidney was blessed with a most charming and most talented sister ; but this fascinating lady made no scruple to revise and, as she probably thought, to better the writings of her deceased brother. Hence, the danger of printing, as Sir Philip's, passages which fell from the pen of Mary. In many cases, it is hopeless to determine how much is due to her collaboration ; in others, unauthorised editions fortunately permit us to escape the effects of her revisory spirit. For this reason, my principle has been whenever this was possible to vii PREFATORY NOTE choose as a basis of the text the earliest editions known, even when these, from a literary point of view, are inferior to | profession but shepheards, and in this countrie o'f Laconia little better then strangers, and therefore neither in skill, nor habilitie of power greatly to stead you. But what we can pre- sent unto you is this : Arcadia, of which countrie wee are, is but a little way hence, and even upon the next confines. 5 There dwelleth a Gentleman, by name Kalander, who vouchsafeth much favour unto us : A man who for his hos- pitalitie is so much haunted, that no newes sturre, but comes to his eares ; for his upright dealing so beloved of his neighbours, that he hath many ever readie to doe him their uttermost service, and by the great good will our Prince beares him, may soone obtaine the use of his name and credit, which hath a principall swaie, not only in his owne Arcadia but in al these coutries of Peloponnesus : and (which is worth all) all these things give him not so much power, as his nature gives him will to benefit : so that it seemes no Musicke is so sweet to his eare as deserved thankes. To him we will bring you, & there you may recover againe your helth, without which you canot be able to make any diligent search for your friend : and therefore but in that respeft, you must labour for it. Besides, we are sure the cofort of curtesie, & ease of wise counsell shall not be wanting. 2 Musidorus (who besides he was meerly unacquainted in the coutrie had his wits astonished with sorow) gave easie consent 12 ARCADIA. LIB. i. to that, fro which he saw no reason to disagree : & therefore (defraying the Mariners with a ring bestowed upon the) they tooke their journey together through Laconia ; Clalus & Stre- phon by course carying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing in his coutenance evidet marks of a sorowfulmind supported with a weak bodie, which they perceiving, & knowing that the violence of sorow is not at the first to be strive withal : (being like a mighty beast, soner tamed with folowing, tha overthrowe by withstading) they gave way unto it for that day & the next ; never troubling him, either with asking questions, or finding fault with his melacholie, but rather fitting to his dolor dolorous discourses of their own & other folks misfortunes. Which speeches, thogh they had not a lively entrace to his seces shut up in sorow, yet like one half asleep, he toke hold of much of the matters spoken unto him, so as a man may say, ere sorow was aware, they made his thoughts beare away something els beside his own sorow, which wrought so in him, that at legth he grew cotent to mark their speeches, then to marvel at such wit in shepheardes, after to like their company, & lastly to vouchsafe conferece : so that the 3. day after, in the time that the morning did strow roses & violets in the heavenly floore against the coming of the Sun, the nightingales (striving one with the other which coulde in most dainty variety recount their wrong-caused sorow) made the put of their sleep, & rising fro under a tree (which that night had bin their pavilio) they went on their jorney, which by & by welcomed Musidorus eyes (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightfull prospects. There were hilles which garnished their proud 4 heights with stately trees: huble valleis, whose base estate semed coforted with refreshing of silver rivers: medows, enameld with al sorts of ey-pleasing floures: thickets, which being lined with most pleasat shade, were witnessed so to by the chereful depositio of many wel-tuned birds: each pasture stored with sheep feeding with sober security, while the prety labs with bleting oratory craved the dams cofort : here a shep- heards boy piping, as though he should never be old: there a yong shepherdesse knitting, and withall singing, & it seemed that her voice coforted her hands to work, & her hads kept time to her voices musick. As for the houses of the coutry (for many houses came under their eye) they were all scattered, THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES no two being one by th'other, & yet not so far off as that it barred mutual succour : a shew, as it were, of an accopanable solitarines, & of a civil wildnes. I pray you (said Musidorus, then first unsealing his long silent lips) what covitries be these we passe through, which are so divers in shew, the one wating no store, th'other having no store but of want. 3 The country (answered C/aius) where you were cast a shore, & now are past through, is Laconia, not so poore by the barrennes of the soyle (though in it selfe not passing fertill) as by a civill warre, which being these two yeares within the bowels of that estate, betweene the gentlemen & the peasants (by them named Helots] hath in this sorte as it were disfigured the face of nature, and made it so unhospitall as now you have found it: the townes neither of the one side nor the other, willingly opening their gates to strangers, nor strangers willingly entring for feare of being mistaken. 4 But this countrie (where now you set your foote) is Arcadia : and even harde by is the house of Kalander whether we lead you : this countrie being thus decked with peace, and (the childe of peace) good husbandrie. These houses you see so scattered are of men, as we two are, that live upon the com- moditie of their sheepe: and therefore in the division of the Arcadian estate are termed shepheards; a happie people, want- ing litle, because they desire not much. What cause then, said MusidoruSj made you venter to leave this sweete life, and put your selfe in yonder unpleasant and dangerous realme ? Garded with povertie (answered Strephon] & guided with love: But now (said C/aius) since it hath pleased you to aske any thing of us whose basenes is such as the very knowledge is darknes: geve us leave to know somthing of you, & of the young man you so much lament, that at least we may be the better instructed to enforme Kalander^ and he the better know how to proportion his entertainment. Musidorus (according to the agreement betweene Pyrocles and him to alter their names) answered, that he called himself Palladius y and his friend Daipkantus; but till I have him againe (said he) I am in deed nothing: and therefore my storie is of nothing, his entertainement (since so good a man he is) cannot be so lowe as I account my estate: and in summe, the summe of all his curtesie may be to helpe me by some meanes to seeke my frend. ARCADIA. LIB. i. They perceived he was not willing to open himselfe further, and therefore without further questioning brought him to the 6 house: about which they might see (with fitte consideration both of the ayre, the prospedt, and the nature of the ground) all such necessarie additions to a great house, as might well shewe, Kalander knew that provision is the foundation of hospitalitie, and thrift the fewell of magnificence. The house it selfe was built of faire and strong stone, not affefting so much any extraordinarie kinde of finenes, as an honorable representing of a firme statelines. The lightes, doores and staires, rather directed to the use of the guest, then to the eye of the Artificer: and yet as the one cheefly heeded, so the other not negledled; each place handsome without curiositie, and homely without lothsomnes: not so daintie as not to be trode on, nor yet slubberd up with good felowshippe: all more lasting then beautifull, but that the consideration of the exceeding lasting- nesse made the eye beleeve it was exceeding beautifull. The servants not so many in number, as cleanlie in apparell, and serviceable in behaviour, testifying even in their countenaunces, that their maister tooke aswell care to be served, as of the that did serve. One of them was forth-with readie to welcome the shepheards, as men, who though they were poore, their maister greatly favoured: and understanding by them, that the young man with them was to be much accounted of, for that they had scene tokens of more then common greatnes, how so ever now eclipsed with fortune : He ranne to his master, who came presentlie foorth, and pleasantly welcomming the shepheardes, but especially applying him to Musidorus y Strephon privately told him all what he knew of him, and particularly that hee found this stranger was loath to be knowen. No said Kalander (speaking alowd) I am no herald to enquire 7 of mens pedegrees, it sufficeth me if I know their vertues: which (if this young mans face be not a false witnes) doe better apparrell his minde, then you have done his body. While hee was speaking, there came a boy in shew like a Merchants prentice, who taking Strephon by the sleeve, delivered him a letter, -written joyntly both to him and C/aius from Urania : which they no sooner had read, but that with short leave- taking of Kalander (who quickly ghest and smiled at the matter) and once againe (though hastely) recommending the THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES yong man unto him, they went away, leaving Musidorus even lothe to part with them, for the good conversation he had of them, & obligation he accounted himselfe tied in unto them : and therefore, they delivering his chest unto him, he opened it, and would have presented the with two very rich jewels, but they absolutelie refused them, telling him they were more then enough rewarded in the knowing of him, and without herken- ing unto a replie (like men whose harts disdained all desires but one) gate speedely away, as if the letter had brought wings to make them flie. But by that sight Kalander soone judged that his guest was of no meane calling ; and therefore the more respeftfullie entertaining him, Musidorus found his sicknes (which the fight, the sea, and late travell had layd upon him) grow greatly : so that fearing some suddaine accident, he delivered the chest to Kalander; which was full of most pretious stones, gorgeously & cunningly set in diverse maners, desiring him he would keep those trifles, and if he died, he would bestow so much of it as was needfull, to finde out and redeeme a young man, naming himselfe Daiphantus, as then in the handes of Laconia pirates. 8 But Kalander seeing him faint more and more, with care- full speede conveyed him to the most comodious lodging in his house : where being possest with an extreeme burning fever, he cotinued some while with no great hope of life : but youth at length got the viftorie of sicknesse, so that in six weekes the excellencie of his returned beautie was a credible embassadour of his health ; to the great joy of Kalander : who, as in this time he had by certaine friendes of his that dwelt neare the Sea in Messenia, set foorth a shippe and a galley to seeke and succour Daiphantus : so at home did hee omit nothing which he thought might eyther profile or gratifie Palladium. 9 For having found in him (besides his bodily giftes beyond the degree of Admiration) by dayly discourses which he de- lighted him selfe to have with him, a mind of most excellent composition (a pearcing witte quite voide of ostentation, high erected thoughts seated in a harte of courtesie, an eloquence as sweete in the uttering, as slowe to come to the uttering, a behaviour so noble, as gave a majestic to adversitie : and all in a man whose age could not be above one & twenty yeares,) the good old man was even enamoured with a fatherly love 16 ARCADIA. LIB. i. towards him ; or rather became his servaunt by the bondes such vertue laid upon him; once hee acknowledged him selfe so to be, by the badge of diligent attendance. CHAP. 3. The l pictures of Kalanders dainty garden-house. His narration of the 2 Arcadian estate, 3 the King, 4 the Queene, * their two daughters, and 6 their gardians, with their qualities, which is the ground of all this stor'ie. BUt Palladium having gotten his health, and onely staying there to be in place, where he might heare answere of the shippes set foorth, Kalander one afternoone led him abroad to a wel arayed ground he had behind his house, which hee thought to shewe him before his going, as the place him selfe more then in any other delighted : the backeside of the house was neyther field, garden, nor orchard ; or rather it was both fielde, garden, and orcharde : for as soone as the descending of the stayres had delivered them downe, they came into a place cunninglie set with trees of the moste tast-pleasing fruites : but scarcelie they had taken that into their consideration, but that they were suddainely stept into a delicate greene, of each side of the greene a thicket bend, behinde the thickets againe newe beddes of flowers, which being under the trees, the trees were to them a Pavilion, and they to the trees a mosaical floore : so that it seemed that arte therein would needes be delightfull by counterfaiting his enemie error, and making order in confusion. In the middest of all the place, was a faire ponde, whose I shaking christall was a perfect mirrour to all the other beauties, so that it bare shewe of two gardens; one in deede, the other in shaddowes : and in one of the thickets was a fine fountaine made thus. A naked Venus of white marble, wherein the graver had used such cunning, that the naturall blew veines of the marble were framed in fitte places, to set foorth the beautifull veines of her bodie. At her brest she had her babe /Eneas, who seemed (having begun to sucke) to leave that, to looke upon her fayre eyes, which smiled at the babes follie, the meane while the s. A. B 17 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES breast running. Hard by was a house of pleasure builte for a Sommer retiring place, whether Kalander leading him, he found a square roome full of delightfull pictures, made by the most excellent workeman of Greece. There was Diana when Aftaon sawe her bathing, in whose cheekes the painter had set such a colour, as was mixt betweene shame & disdaine : & one of her foolish Nymphes, who weeping, and withal lowring, one might see the workman meant to set forth teares of anger. In another table was Atalanta ; the posture of whose lims was so livelie expressed, that if the eyes were the only judges, as they be the onely seers, one would have sworne the very picture had runne. Besides many mo, as of Helena, Omphale y lole : but in none of them all beautie seemed to speake so much as in a large table, which contained a comely old man, with a lady of midle age, but of excellet beautie ; & more excellet would have bene deemed, but that there stood betweene the a yong maid, whose wonderfulnesse tooke away all beautie from her, but that, which it might seeme shee gave her backe againe by her very shadow. And such differece, being knowne that it did in deed counterfeit a person living, was there betweene her and al the other, though Goddesses, that it seemd the skill of the painter bestowed on the other new beautie, but that the beautie of her bestowed new skill of the painter. Though he thought inquisitivenes an uncomely guest, he could not choose but aske who she was, that bearing shew of one being in deed, could with natural gifts go beyond the reach of inventio. Kalander answered, that it was made by Philoclea, the yonger daughter of his prince, who also with his wife were conteined in that Table: the painter meaning to represent the present condition of the young Ladie, who stood watched by an over-curious eye of her parents: & that he would also have drawne her eldest sister, estemed her match for beautie, in her shepheardish attire ; but that the rude clown her gardia would not suffer it: nether durst he aske leave of the Prince for feare of suspitio. Palladius perceaved that the matter was wrapt up in some secresie, and therefore would for modestie demaund no further : but yet his countenance could not but with dumme Eloquence desire it : Which Kalander perceaving, well said he, my deere guest, I know your minde, and I will satisfie it : neyther will I doo it like a niggardly answerer, going no further then the boundes of 18 ARCADIA. LIB. i. the question, but I will discover unto you, aswell that wherein my knowledge is common with others, as that which by extra- ordinarie means is delivered unto me : knowing so much in you, though not long acquainted, that I shall find your eares faithfull treasurers. So then sitting downe in two chaires, and some- times casting his eye to the pifture, he thus spake. This countrie Arcadia among all the provinces of Greece, 2 hath ever beene had in singular reputation : partly for the sweetnesse of the ayre, and other natural benefites, but princi- pally for the well tempered minds of the people, who (finding that the shining title of glorie so much affected by other nations, doth in deed helpe little to the happinesse of life) are the onely people, which as by their Justice and providence geve neither cause nor hope to their neyghbours to annoy them, so are they not sturred with false praise to trouble others quiet, thinking it a small reward for the wasting of their owne lives in ravening, that their posteritie should long after saie, they had done so. Even the Muses seeme to approve their good de- terminatio, by chosing this countrie for their chiefe repairing place, & by bestowing their perfections so largely here, that the very shepheards have their fancies lifted to so high conceits, as the learned of other nations are content both to borrow their names, and imitate their cunning. Here dwelleth, and raigneth this Prince (whose picture you 3 see) by name Basi/ius, a Prince of sufficient skill to governe so quiet a countrie, where the good minds of the former princes had set down good lawes, and the well bringing up of the people doth serve as a most sure bond to hold the. But to be plaine with you, he excels in nothing so much, as in the zealous love of his people, wherein he doth not only passe al his owne fore-goers, but as I thinke al the princes living. Wherof the cause is, that though he exceed not in the vertues which get admiration ; as depth of wisdome, height of courage and large- nesse of magnificence, yet is hee notable in those whiche stirre affection, as trueth of worde, meekenesse, courtesie, merciful- nesse, and liberalitie. He being already well striken in yeares, maried a young 4 princes, named Gynecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of notable beautie, as by her pidlure you see : a woman of great wit, and in truth of more princely vertues, then her husband: B2 Ig THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES of most unspotted chastitie, but of so working a minde, and so vehement spirits, as a man may say, it was happie shee tooke a good course: for otherwise it would have beene terrible. Of these two are brought to the worlde two daughters, so beyonde measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable creatures, that wee may thinke they were borne to shewe, that Nature is no stepmother to that sex, how much so ever some men (sharpe witted onely in evill speaking) have sought to disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela; by many men not deemed inferiour to her sister : for my part, when I marked them both, me thought there was (if at least such perfections may receyve the worde of more) more sweetnesse in Philoclea, but more majestic in Pamela : mee thought love plaide in Philocleas eyes, and threatned in Pamelas: me thought Philo- c/eas beautie onely perswaded, but so perswaded as all harts must yeelde: Pamelas beautie used violence, and such violence as no hart could resist : and it seemes that such proportion is betweene their mindes; Philoclea so bashfull as though her excellencies had stolne into her before shee was aware: so humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance: in summe, such proceeding as will stirre hope, but teach hope good maners. Pamela of high thoughts, who avoides not pride with not knowing her excellencies, but by making that one of her excellencies to be voide of pride; her mothers wisdome, greatnesse, nobilitie, but (if I can ghesse aright) knit with a more constant temper. Now then, our Basilius being so publickly happie as to be a Prince, and so happie in that happinesse as to be a beloved Prince, and so in his private blessed as to have so excellent a wife, and so over-excellent children, hath of late taken a course which yet makes him more spoken of then all these blessings. For, having made a journey to Delphos, and safely returned, within short space hee brake up his court, and retired himselfe, his wife, and children into a certaine Forrest hereby, which hee calleth his desert, where in (besides a house appointed for stables and lodgings for certaine persons of meane calling, who do all houshold services,) hee hath builded two fine lodges. In the one of them him selfe remaines with his younger daughter Philoclea^ which was the cause they three were matched together in this picture, without having any other creature living in that lodge with him. 20 ARCADIA. LIB. i. Which though it bee straunge, yet not so straunge, as the 6 course he hath taken with the princesse Pamela, whom hee hath placed in the other lodge: but how thinke you ac- copanied? truly with none other, but one Dametas, the most arrant doltish clowne, that I thinke ever was without the priviledge of a bable, with his wife Miso, and daughter Mopsa, in whome no witt can devise anie thing wherein they maie pleasure her, but to exercise her patience, and to serve for a foile of her perfections. This loutish clowne is such, that you never saw so ill favourd a visar; his behaviour such, that he is beyond the degree of ridiculous; and for his apparrel, even as I would wish him : Mho his wife, so handsome a beldame, that onely her face and her splayfoote have made her accused for a witch; onley one good point she hath, that she observes decoru, having a froward mind in a wretched body. Betweene these two personages (who never agreed in any humor, but in dis- agreeing) is issued forth mistresse Mopsa, a fitte woman to participate of both their perfections: but because a pleasant fellow of my acquaintance set forth her praises in verse, I will only repeate them, and spare mine owne tongue, since she goes for a woman. These verses are these, which I have so often caused to be song, that I have them without booke. What length of verse can serve brave Mopsas good to show ? Whose verities strange, y beuties such, as no ma the may know Thus shrewdly burdned the, how ca my Muse escape ? The gods must help, and pretlous things must serve to shew her shape. Like great god Saturn faire, and like fair e Venus chaste : As smothe as Pan, as Juno milde, like goddesse Irisfaste. With Cupid she fore-sees, and goes god Vulcans />ar* : And for a tast of all these gifts, she steales god Momus grace. Her for head jacinth like, her cheekes of opall hue, Her twinkling eies bedeckt with pearle, her lips as Saphir blew : Her haire like Crapal-stone; her mouth O heavenly wyde; Her skin like burnisht gold, her hands like silver ure untryde. As for her parts unknowne, which hidden sure are best: Happie be they which well beleeve, & never seeke the rest. Now truely having made these descriptions unto you, me thinkes you should imagine that I rather faine some pleasant 21 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES devise, then recount a truth, that a Prince (not banished from his own wits) could possibly make so unworthie a choise. But truely (deare guest) so it is, that Princes (whose doings have beene often soothed with good successe) thinke nothing so absurde, which they cannot make honourable. The beginning of his credite was by the Princes straying out of the way, one time he hunted, where meeting this fellow, and asking him the way; & so falling into other questios, he found some of his aunswers (as a dog sure if he could speake, had wit enough to describe his kennell) not unsensible, & all uttered with such rudenes, which he enterpreted plainnesse (though there be great difference betweene them) that Basilius conceaving a sodaine delight, tooke him to his Court, with apparant shew of his good opinion : where the flattering courtier had no sooner take the Princes minde, but that there were straight reasons to confirme the Princes doing, & shadowes of vertues found for Dametas. His silence grew wit, his bluntnesse integritie, his beastly ignorance vertuous simplicitie: & the Prince (according to the nature of great persons, in love with that he had done himselfe) fancied, that his weaknesse with his presence would much be mended. And so like a creature of his owne making, he liked him more and more, and thus having first given him the office of principall heardman, lastly, since he tooke this strange determination, he hath in a manner put the life of himselfe and his children into his hands. Which authoritie (like too great a sayle for so small a boate) doth so over-sway poore DametaS) that if before he were a good foole in a chamber, he might be allowed it now in a comedie : So as I doubt me (I feare mee in deede) my master will in the end (with his cost) finde, that his office is not to make men, but to use men as men are; no more then a horse will be taught to hunt, or an asse to mannage. But in sooth I am afraide I have geven your eares too great a surfette, with the grosse dis- courses of that heavie peece of flesh. But the zealous greefe I conceve to see so great an error in my Lord, hath made me bestow more words, then I confesse so base a subject deserveth. 22 ARCADIA. LIB. i. CHAP. 4. The l cause of Basilius his discourting. 2 Philanax his disswasive letter. 3 Basilius his priviledged companie. * Foure causes why old men are discoursers. 6 The state, the skil, and exercise of the Arcadian shepheards. THus much now that I have tolde you, is nothing more I then in effeft any Arcadian knowes. But what moved him to this strange solitarines hath bin imparted (as I thinke) but to one person living. My selfe ca coje&ure, & in deed more then conjecture, by this accident that I will tell you: I have an onely sonne, by name Clitophon, who is now absent, preparing for his owne manage, which I meane shortly shalbe here celebrated. This sonne of mine (while the Prince kept his Court) was of his bed-chamber; now since the breaking up thereof, returned home, and shewed me (among other things he had gathered) the coppy which he had taken of a letter: which when the prince had read, he had laid in a window, presuming no body durst looke in his writings: but my sonne not only tooke a time to read it, but to copie it. In trueth I blamed Clitophon for the curiositie, which made him break his duetie in such a kind, whereby kings secrets are subject to be revealed : but since it was done, I was content to take so much profite, as to know it. Now here is the letter, that I ever since for my good liking, have caried about me : which before I read unto you, I must tell you from whom it came. It is a noble-man of this countrie, named Philanax, appointed by the Prince, Regent in this time of his retiring, and most worthie so to be: for, there lives no man, whose excellent witte more simplie im- braseth integritie, besides his unfained love to his master, wherein never yet any could make question, saving, whether he loved Basilius or the Prince better: a rare temper, while most men either servile-ly yeeld to al appetites, or with an obstinate austeritie looking to that they fansie good, in effect neglect the Princes person. This then being the man, whom of all other (and most worthie) the Prince cheefly loves, it should seeme (for more then the letter I have not to ghesse by) THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES that the Prince upon his returne from Delphos, (Philanax then lying sick) had written unto him his determination, rising (as evidently appeares) upon some Oracle he had there receaved : whereunto he wrote this answere. Philanax his letter to Basi/ius. 2 Most redouted & beloved prince, if aswel it had pleased you at your going to Delphos as now, to have used my humble service, both I should in better season, and to better purpose have spoken : and you (if my speech had prevayled) should have beene at this time, as no way more in danger, so much more in quietnes; I would then have said, that wisdome and vertue be the only destinies appointed to ma to follow, whece we ought to seeke al our knowledge, since they be such guydes as cannot faile; which, besides their inward cofort, doo lead so direct a way of proceeding, as either prosperitie must ensue ; or, if the wickednes of the world should oppresse it, it can never be said, that evil hapneth to him, who falles accompanied with vertue: I would then have said, the heavenly powers to be reverenced, and not searched into ; & their mercies rather by prayers to be sought, then their hidden councels by curiositie. These kind of soothsayers (since they have left us in our selves sufficient guides) to be nothing but fansie, wherein there must either be vanitie, or infalliblenes, & so, either not to be respedled, or not to be prevented. But since it is weakenes too much to remember what should have beene done, and that your commandemet stretcheth to know what is to be done, I do (most deare Lord) with humble boldnes say, that the maner of your determination dooth in no sort better please me, then the cause of your going. These thirtie yeares you have so governed this Region, that neither your Subjecles have wanted justice in you, nor you obediece in them; & your neighbors have found you so hurtlesly strong, that they thought it better to rest in your friendshippe, then make newe triall of your enmitie. If this then have proceeded out of the good consti- tution of your state, and out of a wise providence, generally to prevent all those things, which might encober your happines : why should you now seeke newe courses, since your owne ensample comforts you to continue, and that it is to me most certaine (though it please you not to tell me the very words of ARCADIA. LIB. i. the Oracle) that yet no destinie, nor influence whatsoever, can bring mans witte to a higher point, then wisdome and goodnes ? Why should you deprive your selfe of government, for feare of loosing your government ? like one that should kill himselfe for feare of death ? nay rather, if this Oracle be to be accouted of, arme up your courage the more against it : for who wil stick to him that abandones himselfe ? Let your subjects have you in their eyes; let them see the benefites of your justice dayly more and more ; and so must they needes rather like of present sureties, then uncertaine changes. Lastly, whether your time call you to live or die, doo both like a prince. Now for your second resolution ; which is, to suffer no worthie prince to be a suiter to either of your daughters, but while you live to keep the both unmaried; &, as it were, to kill the joy of posteritie, which in your time you may enjoy : moved perchance by a mis-under- stoode Oracle : what shall I say, if the affeclion of a father to his owne children, cannot plead sufficietly against such fancies ? once certaine it is, the God, which is God of nature, doth never teach unnaturalnes : and even the same minde hold I touching your banishing them from companie, least, I know not what strange loves should follow. Certainly Sir, in my ladies, your daughters, nature promiseth nothing but goodnes, and their education by your fatherly care, hath beene hetherto such, as hath beene most fit to restraine all evill : geving their mindes vertuous delights, and not greeving them for want of wel-ruled libertie. Now to fall to a sodain straightning them, what can it doo but argue suspition, a thing no more unpleasant, then unsure, for the preserving of vertue ? Leave womens minds, the most untamed that way of any : see whether any cage can please a bird? or whether a dogge growe not fiercer with tying? what dooth jelousie, but stirre up the mind to thinke, what it is from which they are restrayned ? for they are treasures, or things of great delight, which men use to hide, for the aptnesse they have to catch mens fancies : and the thoughtes once awaked to that, harder sure it is to keepe those thoughts from accomplishment, then it had been before to have kept the minde (which being the chiefe part, by this meanes is defiled) from thinking. Lastly, for the recommending so principall a charge of the Princesse Pamela, (whose minde goes beyond the governing of many thousands such) to such a person as Dametas THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES is (besides that the thing in it self is strange) it comes of a very evil ground, that ignorance should be the mother of faithfulnes. no; he cannot be good, that knowes not why he is good, but stands so farre good, as his fortune may keepe him un- assaied : but comming once to that, his rude simplicitie is either easily changed, or easily deceived : & so growes that to be the last excuse of his fault, which seemed to have been the first foundation of his faith. Thus farre hath your commaunde- ment and my zeale drawn me ; which I, like a man in a valley that may discern hilles, or like a poore passenger that may spie a rock, so humbly submit to your gracious consideration, be- seeching you againe, to stand wholy upon your own vertue, as the surest way to maintaine you in that you are, and to avoyd any evill which may be imagined. By the contents of this letter you may perceive, that the cause of all, hath beene the vanitie which possesseth many, who (making a perpetuall mansion of this poore baiting place of mans life) are desirous to know the certaintie of things to come; wherein there is nothing so certaine, as our continual uncer- taintie. But what in particular points the oracle was, in faith 1 know not : nether (as you may see by one place of Philanax letter) he himselfe distinctly knew. But this experience shewes us, that Basilius judgement, corrupted with a Princes fortune, hath rather heard then followed the wise (as I take it) counsell of Philanax. For, having lost the sterne of his government, with much amazement to the people, among whom many strange bruits are received for currant, and with some apparance of daunger in respedl of the valiant Amphalus, his nephew, & much envy in the ambitious number of the Nobilitie against Philanax, to see Philanax so advaunced, though (to speake simply) he deserve more the as many of us as there be in Arcadia: the prince himself hath hidden his head, in such sort as I told you, not sticking plainly to cofesse, that he means not (while he breathes) that his daughters shal have any husbad, but 3 keep the thus solitary with him : wher he gives no other body leve to visit him at any time, but a certain priest, who being excellent in poetrie, he makes him write out such thinges as he best likes, he being no les delightful in coversatio, the needfull for devotio, & about twety specified shepheards, in who (some for exercises, & some for Eglogs) he taketh greater recreatio. 26 ARCADIA. LIB. i. And now you know as much as my self: wherin if I have 4 held you over long, lay hardly the fault upon my olde age, which in the very disposition of it is talkative: whether it be (said he smiling) that nature loves to exercise that part most, which is least decayed, and that is our tongue : or, that know- ledge being the only thing whereof we poore old men can brag, we cannot make it knowen but by utterance : or, that mankinde by all meanes seeking to eternize himselfe so much the more, as he is neere his end, dooth it not only by the children that come of him, but by speeches and writings recommended to the memorie of hearers and readers. And yet thus much I wil say for my selfe, that I have not laid these matters, either so openly, or largely to any as your selfe: so much (if I much fayle not) doo I see in you, which makes me both love and trust you. Never may he be old, answered Palladius, that dooth not reverence that age, whose heavines, if it waie downe the frayl and fleshly ballance, it as much lifts up the noble and spirituall part : and well might you have alledged another reason, that their wisdome makes them willing to profite others. And that have I received of you, never to be forgotten, but with ungratefulnes. But among many strange conceits you tolde me, which have shewed effedls in your Prince, truly even the last, that he should conceive such pleasure in shepheards dis- courses, would not seeme the least unto me, saving that you told me at the first, that this countrie is notable in those wits, and that in deed my selfe having beene brought not onely to this place, but to my life, by Strephon and C/aius, in their conference found wits as might better become such shepheards as Homer speakes of, that be governors of peoples, then such senatours who hold their councell in a shepecoate: for them two (said Kalander] especially daius, they are beyond the rest by so much, as learning commonlie doth adde to nature: for, having neglecled their wealth in respect of their knowledge, they have not so much empayred the meaner, as they bettered the better. Which all notwithstanding, it is a sporte to heare howe they impute to love, whiche hath indewed their thoughts (saie they) with suche a strength. But certainely, all the people of this countrie from high to 5 lowe, is given to those sportes of the witte, so as you would wonder to heare how soone even children will beginne to 27 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES versifie. Once, ordinary it is among the meanest sorte, to make Songes and Dialogues in meeter, either love whetting their braine, or long peace having begun it, example and emu- lation amending it. Not so much, but the clowne Dametas will stumble sometimes upon some Songs that might become a better brayne : but no sorte of people so excellent in that kinde as the pastors; for their living standing but upon the looking to their beastes, they have ease, the Nurse of Poetrie. Neither are our shepheards such, as (I heare) they be in other countries ; but they. are the verie owners of the sheepe, to which eyther themselves looke, or their children give daylie attendaunce. And then truely, it would delight you under some tree, or by some rivers side (when two or three of them meet together) to heare their rurall muse, how pretely it will deliver out, some- times joyes, sometimes lamentations, sometimes chalengings one of the other, sometimes under hidden formes uttering such matters, as otherwise they durst not deale with. Then they have most commonly one, who judgeth the price to the best doer, of which they are no lesse gladde, then great Princes are of triumphes : and his parte is to sette downe in writing all that is saide, save that it may be, his pen with more leasure doth polish the rudenesse of an unthought-on songe. Now the choise of all (as you may well thinke) either for goodnesse of voice, or pleasantnesse of wit, the Prince hath : among whom also there are two or three straungers, whom inwarde melan- cholies having made weery of the worldes eyes, have come to spende their lives among the countrie people of Arcadia ; & their conversation being well approved, the prince vouchsafeth them his presence, and not onely by looking on, but by great courtesie and liberalise, animates the Shepheardes the more exquisitely to labour for his good liking. So that there is no cause to blame the Prince for somtimes hearing them ; the blame-worthinesse is, that to heare them, he rather goes to solitarinesse, then makes them come to companie. Neyther doo I accuse my maister for advauncing a countriman, as Dametas is, since God forbid, but where worthinesse is (as truely it is among divers of that fellowship) any outward low- nesse should hinder the hiest raysing, but that he would needes make election of one, the basenesse of whose minde is such, that it sinckes a thousand degrees lower, then the basest bodie 9* ARCADIA. LIB. i. could carrie the most base fortune : Which although it might bee aunswered for the Prince, that it is rather a trust hee hath in his simple plainnesse, then any great advauncement, beyng but chiefe heardman : yet all honest hartes feele, that the trust of their Lord goes beyond all advauncement. But I am ever too long uppon him, when hee crosseth the waie of my'speache, and by the shaddowe of yonder Tower, I see it is a fitter time, with our supper to pay the duties we owe to our stomacks, the to break the aire with my idle discourses: And more witte I might have learned of Homer (whome even now you mentioned) who never entertayned eyther guestes or hostes with long speaches, till the mouth of hunger be throughly stopped. So withall he rose, leading Palladium through the gardeine againe to the parler, where they used to suppe; Palladium assuring him, that he had alreadie bene more fed to his liking, then hee could bee by the skil fullest trencher-men of Media. CHAP. 5. The 1 sorow of Kalander for his sonne Clitophon. The * storie of Argalus and Parthenia, their 3 perfections, their 4 love, their 5 troubles, her 6 impoysoning, 7 his rare constancie, 8 her straunge refusal/, 9 their pathologies, her 10 flight, his u revenge on his rivall the mischief e-worker Demagoras, then Captaine of the rebel! Helots, who 12 take him, and 13 Clitophon that sought to helpe him : but 14 both are kept alive by their new captaine. BUt beeing come to the supping place, one of Kalanders I servaunts rounded in his eare; at which (his collour chaungyng) hee retired him selfe into his chamber; com- maunding his men diligentlie to waite and attend upon Palladius, and to excuse his absence with some necessarie busines he had presentlie to dispatch. Which they according- lie did, for some fewe dayes forcing theselves to let no change appeare : but though they framed their countenaunces never so cunningly, Palladius perceaved there was some il-pleasing accident fallen out. Whereupon, being againe set alone at supper, he called to the Steward, and desired him to tell him 29 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the matter of his suddaine alteration : who after some trifling excuses, in the ende confessed unto him, that his maister had received newes, that his sonne before the daie of his neere marriage, chaunst to be at a battaile, which was to be fought betweene the Gentlemenne of Lacedaemon and the Helots : who winning the vidtorie, hee was there made prisoner, going to deliver a friend of his taken prysoner by the Helots; that the poore young Gentleman had offered great raunsome for his life : but that the hate those paysaunts conceaved agaynst all Gentle- men was suche, that everie houre hee was to looke for nothing, but some cruell death : which hether-unto had onely beene delayed by the Captaines vehement dealing for him, who seemed to have a hart of more manlie pittie then the rest. Which losse had stricken the old Gentleman with such sor- rowe, as if aboundance of teares did not seeme sufficiently to witnesse it, he was alone retyred, tearing his bearde and hay re, and cursing his old age, that had not made his grave to stoppe his eares from such advertisements: but that his faithfull ser- vaunts had written in his name to all his friends, followers, and tenants (Philanax the governour refusing to deale in it, as a private cause, but yet giving leave to seeke their best redresse, so as they wronged not the state of Lacedaemon) of whom there were now gathered upon the frontiers good forces, that he was sure would spende their lives by any way, to redeeme or revenge Clitophon. Now sir (said he) this is my maisters nature, though his grief be such, as to live is a griefe unto him, & that even his reason is darkened with sorrow ; yet the lawes of hospitality (long and holily observed by him) give still such a sway to his proceeding, that he will no waie suffer the straunger lodged under his roofe, to receyve (as it were) any infection of his anguish, especially you, toward whom I know not whether his love, or admiration bee greater. But Palladium could scarce heare out his tale with patience : so was his hart torne in peeces with compassion of the case, liking of Kalanders noble behaviour, kindnesse for his respeft to himwarde, and desire to finde some remedie, besides the image of his deerest friend Daiphantus y whom he judged to suffer eyther a like or a worse fortune: therefore rising from the boorde, he desired the steward to tell him particularly, the ground, and event of this accident, because by knowledge of many circumstaunces, there might perhaps 30 ARCADIA. LIB. i. some waie of helpe be opened. Whereunto the Steward easilie in this sorte condiscended. My Lord (said he) when our good king Basi/ius, with better 2 successe then expectation, tooke to wife (even in his more then decaying yeares) the faire yong princes Gynecia; there came with her a young Lord, cousin german to her selfe, named Argalus, led hether, partly with the love & honour of his noble kinswoma, partly with the humour of youth, which ever thinkes that good, whose goodnes he sees not: & in this court he received so good encrease of knowledge, that after some yeares spent, he so manifested a most vertuous mind in all his actions, that Arcadia gloried such a plant was transported unto them, 3 being a Gentleman in deede most rarely accomplished, ex- cellentlie learned, but without all vayne glory : friendly, without faftiousnes : valiaunt, so as for my part I thinke the earth hath no man that hath done more heroicall acles then hee ; how soever now of late the fame flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long done of our noble prince Ampbia/us : who in deede, in our partes is onely ac- counted likely to match him : but I say for my part, I thinke no man for valour of minde, and habilitie of bodie to bee preferred, if equalled to Argalus ; and yet so valiant as he never durst doo any bodie injurie : in behaviour some will say ever sadde, surely sober, and somewhat given to musing, but never uncourteous; his worde ever ledde by his thought, and followed by his deede; rather liberall then magnificent, though the one wanted not, and the other had ever good choise of the receiver: in summe (for I perceive I shall easily take a great draught of his praises, whom both I and all this countrie love so well) such a man was (and I hope is) Argalus^ as hardly the nicest eye can finde a spot in, if the over-vehement constancie of yet spotles affeclion, may not in harde wrested constructions be counted a spot : which in this manner began that worke in him, which hath made bothe him, and it selfe in him, over all this country famous. My maisters sonne Clitophon (whose losse gives the cause to this discourse, and yet gives me cause to beginne with ArgaluS) since his losse proceedes from Argalus} beyng a young Gentleman, as of great birth (being our kings sisters sonne) so truely of good nature, and one that can see good and love it, haunted more the companie of this worthie Argalus^ then of any 31 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES other : so as if there were not a friendship (which is so rare, as it is to bee doubted whether it bee a thing in deede, or but a worde) at least there was such a liking and friendlines, as hath brought foorth the effedtes which you shall heare. About two yeares since, it so fell out, that hee brought him to a great Ladies house, sister to my maister, who had with her, her onely daughter, the faire Parthenia ; faire in deede (fame I thinke it selfe daring not to call any fayrer, if it be not Helena queene of Corinth, and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia] and that which made her fairenesse much the fayrer, was, that it was but a faire embassadour of a most faire minde, full of wit, and a wit which delighted more to judge it selfe, then to showe it selfe : her speach being as rare as pretious ; her silence without sullennesse; her modestie without affectation ; her shamefastnes without ignorance : in summe, one, that to praise well, one must first set downe with himselfe, what it is to be excellent: for so she is. 4 I thinke you thinke, that these perfections meeting, could not choose but find one another, and delight in that they found ; for likenes of manners is likely in reason to drawe liking with affeftion : mens actions doo not alwaies crosse with reason : to be short, it did so in deed. They loved, although for a while the fire therof (hopes winges being cut of) were blowen by the bellowes of dispaire, upon this occasion. 5 There had beene a good while before, and so continued, a suter to this same lady, a great noble ma, though of Laconia, yet neere neighbour to Parthenias mother, named Demagoras: A man mightie in riches & power, and proude thereof, stubbornly stout, loving no bodie but him selfe, and for his owne delights sake Parthenia : and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches had so guilded over all his other imperfections, that the olde Ladie (though contrarie to my Lord her brothers minde) had given her consent; and using a mothers authoritie upon her faire daughter, had made her yeeld thereunto, not because shee liked her choise, but because her obedient minde had not yet taken uppon it to make choyse; and the daie of their assurance drew neere, when my young Lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchaunce principallie to see so rare a sight, as Parthenia by all well judging eyes was judged. But though fewe dayes were before the time of assurance 32 ARCADIA. LIB. i. appointed, yet love that sawe hee had a great journey to make in shorte time, hasted so him selfe, that before her worde could tie her to Demagoras^ her harte hath vowed her to Argalus^ with so gratefull a receipte in mutuall affection, that if shee desired above all thinges to have Argalus^ Argalus feared nothing but to misse Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned both liking and misliking, loving and lothing, and out of passion began to take the authoritie of judgement ; in so much, that when the time came that Demagoras (full of proude joy) thought to receave the gifte of her selfe, shee with woordes of resolute refusall (though with teares shewing she was sorie she must refuse) assured her mother, she would first be bedded in her grave, then wedded to Demagoras. The chaunge was no more straunge, then unpleasant to the mother : who beyng determi- nately (least I shoulde say of a great Lady, wilfully) bent to marrie her to Demagoras^ tryed all wayes which a wittie and hard-harted mother could use, upon so humble a daughter: in whome the onely resisting power was love. But the more shee assaulted, the more shee taught Parthenia to defende : and the more Parthenia defended, the more she made her mother obstinate in the assault : who at length finding, that Argalus standing betweene them, was it that most eclipsed her affection from shining upon Demagoras^ she sought all meanes how to remove him, so much the more, as he manifested himself an unremoveable suiter to her daughter: first, by imploying him in as many dagerous enterprises, as ever the evill stepmother luno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his vertue was tried, the more pure it grew, while all the things she did to overthrow him, did set him up upon the height of honor ; inough to have moved her harte, especially to a man every way so worthy as Argalus : but she strugling against all reason, because she would have her will, and shew her authoritie in matching her with Demagoras^ the more vertuous Argalus was, the more she hated him : thinking her selfe con- quered in his coquests, and therefore still imploying him in more and more dangerous attempts : meane while, she used all extremities possible upon her faire daughter, to make her geve over her selfe to her direction. But it was hard to judge, whether he in doing, or she in suffering, shewed greater constancie of affection: for, as to Argalus the world sooner s. A. c 33 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES wanted occasions, then he valour to goe thorow them; so to Parthenidy malice sooner ceased, the her unchanged patience. Lastly, by treasons, Demagoras and she would have made away Argalus: but hee with providence & courage so past over all, that the mother tooke such a spitefull grief at it, that her hart brake withall, and she died. 6 But then, Demagoras assuring himselfe, that now Parthenia was her owne, she would never be his, and receiving as much by her owne determinate answere, not more desiring his owne happines, then envying Argalus, whom he saw with narrow eyes, even ready to enjoy the perfection of his desires; strength- ning his conceite with all the mischievous counsels which dis- dayned love, and envious pride could geve unto him ; the wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was gone to his countrie, to fetch some of his principall frendes to honour the mariage, which Parthenia had most joyfully consented unto,) the wicked Demagoras (I say) desiring to speake with her, with unmercifull force, (her weake armes in vaine resisting) rubd all over her face a most horrible poyson: the effecl: whereof was such, that never leaper lookt more ugly the she did : which done, having his men & horses ready, departed away in spite of her servats, as redy to revenge as they could be, in such an unexpected mischiefe. But the abhominablenes of this fat being come to my L. Kalander y he made such meanes, both by our kings intercession, & his own, that by the king, & Senat of Lacedasmo, Demagoras was upon paine of death, banished the countrie: who hating the punishment, where he should have hated the fault, joynde himselfe, with al the powers he could make, unto the Helots, lately in rebellion against that state: and they (glad to have a man of such authority among the) made him their general: & under him have committed divers the most outragious villanies, that a base multitude (full of desperate revenge) can imagine. 7 But within a while after this pitifull fa6t committed upon Parthenia^ Argalus returned (poore gentleman) having her faire image in his heart, and alredy promising his eies the uttermost of his felicitie, when they (no bodie els daring to tell it him) were the first messengers to themselves of their owne misfortune. I meane not to move passions with telling you the griefe of both, when he knew her, for at first he did not, nor at first 34 ARCADIA. LIB. i. knowledge could possibly have Vertues aide so ready, as not even weakly to lament the losse of such a Jewell, so much the more, as that skilful men in that arte assured it was unrecover- able : but within a while, trueth of love (which still held the first face in his memorie) a vertuous constancie, and even a delight to be constant, faith geven, and inward worthines shining through the foulest mistes, tooke so full holde of the noble ArgaluS) that not onely in such comfort which witty arguments may bestow upon adversitie, but even with the most aboundant kindnesse that an eye-ravished lover can expresse, he laboured both to drive the extremity of sorow from her, & to hasten the celebration of their mariage : wherunto he unfainedly shewed himself no lesse cherefully earnest, then if she had never been disinherited of that goodly portion, which nature had so liberally bequeathed unto her: and for that cause deferred his inteded revenge upon Demagoras^ because he might continually be in her presence; shewing more huble serviceablenes, and joy to content her, then ever before. But as he gave this rare ensaple, not to be hoped for of any 8 other, but of an other Argalus : so of the other side, she tooke as strange a course in affection : for, where she desired to enjoy him, more then to live; yet did she overthrow both her owne desire, and his, and in no sorte would yeeld to marry him; with a strange encounter of loves affecls, and effects : that he by an affedtion sprong from excessive beautie, should delight in horrible foulnesse ; and she, of a vehement desire to have him, should kindly buyld a resolution never to have him : for trueth is, that so in heart she loved him, as she could not finde in her heart he should be tied to what was unworthy of his presence. Truely Sir, a very good Orator might have a fayre field to o use eloquence in, if he did but onely repeate the lamentable, and truely affedtionated speeches, while he conjured her by remem- brance of her affection, & true oathes of his owne affection, not to make him so unhappy, as to think he had not only lost her face, but her hart; that her face, when it was fayrest, had been but as a marshall, to lodge the love of her in his minde; which now was so well placed, as it needed no further help of any outward harbinger : beseeching her, even with teares, to know, that his love was not so superficial, as to go no further then the skin ; which yet now to him was most faire, since it was hers: C2 35 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES how could hee be so ungratefull, as to love her the lesse for that, which she had onely received for his sake? that he never beheld it, but therein he saw the lovelines of her love towarde him: protesting unto her, that he would never take joy of his life, if he might not enjoy her, for whom principally he was glad he had life. But (as I heard by one that overheard them) she (wringing him by the hand) made no other answere but this: my Lord (said she) God knowes I love you : if I were Princesse of the whole world, and had withal, al the blessings that ever the world brought forth, I should not make delay, to lay my selfe, & them, under your feete : or if I had continued but as I was, though (I must cofesse) far unworthy of you, yet would I, (with too great a joy for my hart to think of) have accepted your vouchsafing me to be yours, & with faith and obedience would have supplied all other defects. But first let me be much more miserable then I am, ere I match Argalus to such a Parthenia : Live happy, deare Argalus^ I geve you full libertie, and I beseech you take it; and I assure you I shall rejoyce (whatsoever become of me) to see you so coupled, as may be fitte, both for your honor, and satisfaction. With that she burst out in crying and weeping, not able longer to conteine her selfe from blaming her fortune, and wishing her owne death. 10 But Argalus with a most heavie heart still pursuing his desire, she fixt of mind to avoid further intreatie, & to flie all companie; which (even of him) grew unpleasant unto her; one night she stole away: but whether, as yet is unknowen, or in deede what is become of her. 11 Argalus sought her long, and in many places: at length (despairing to finde her, and the more he despaired, the more enraged) weerie of his life, but first determining to be revenged of Demagoras, hee went alone disguysed into the chiefe towne held by the Helots: where comming into his presence, garded about by many of his souldiers, he could delay his fury no loger for a fitter time : but setting upon him, in despight of a great many that helped him, gave him divers mortall wounds, and 12 himself (no question) had been there presently murthered, but that Demagoras himselfe desired he might be kept alive; per- chaunce with intention to feed his owne eyes with some cruell execution to bee layd upon him, but death came soner then he 36 ARCADIA. LIB. i. lookt for; yet having had leisure to appoint his successor, a young man, not long before delivered out of the prison of the King of Lacedcemon, where hee should have suffered death for having slaine the kings Nephew: but him he named, who at that time was absent, making roades upon the Lacedemonians, but being returned, the rest of the Helots^ for the great liking they conceived of that yong man, (especially because they had none among themselves to whom the others would yeeld) were cotent to follow Demagoras appointment. And well hath it succeded with them, he having since done things beyond the hope of the yongest heads; of whom I speak the rather, because he hath hetherto preserved drgalus alive, under pretence to have him publiquely, and with exquisite tormentes executed, after the ende of these warres, of which they hope for a soone and prosperous issue. And he hath likewise hetherto kept my young Lord Clitophon alive, who (to redeme his friend) went with certaine 13 other noble-men of Laconia^ and forces gathered by them, to besiege this young and new successor: but he issuing out (to the wonder of all men) defeated the Laconians, slew many of the noble-men, & tooke Clitophon prisoner, whom with much a 14 doo he keepeth alive: the Helots being villanously cruell; but he tempereth the so, sometimes by folowing their humor, some- times by striving with it, that hetherto hee hath saved both their lives, but in different estates ; Argalus being kept in a close & hard prison, Clitophon at some libertie. And now Sir, though (to say the truth) we can promise our selves litle of their safeties, while they are in the Helots hands, I have delivered all I understande touching the losse of my Lords sonne, & the cause therof: which, though it was not neces- sarie to Clitophons case, to be so particularly told, yet the stragenes of it, made me think it would not be unplesant unto you. 37 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES CHAP. 6. 1 Kalanders expedition against the Helots. a Their estate. * Pal- ladius bis stratageme against them : * which prevayleth. 5 The Helots resistance, discomfiture, and 9 re-enforce by the returne of their new captaine 7 The combat and 8 enterknowledge of Daiphantus y Palladius, and by their 9 meanes a peace, with 10 the release of Kalander and Clitophon. PAlladius thanked him greatly for it, being even passionatly delighted with hearing so straunge an accidet of a knight so famous over the world, as Argalus, with whome he had himselfe a long desire to meet: so had fame poured a noble emulation in him, towards him. I But the (wel bethinking himself) he called for armour, desiring them to provide him of horse & guide, and armed al saving the head, he wet up to Kalader, whom he found lying upo the groud, having ever since banished both sleepe and foode, as enemies to the mourning which passion perswaded him was reasonable. But Palladius raysed him up, saying unto him: No more, no more of this, my Lord Kalander; let us labour to finde, before wee lament the losse: you know my selfe misse one, who, though he be not my sonne, I would disdayn the favour of life after him: but while there is hope left, let not the weaknes of sorow, make the strength of it languish : take comfort, and good successe will folow. And with those wordes, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and that in his face and gesture was painted viclorie. Once, Kalanders spirits were so revived withal, that (receiving some sustenance, and taking a litle rest) he armed himselfe, and those few of his servants he had left unsent, and so himself guyded Palladius to the place upon the frontiers : where alredy there were assembled betwene three and four thousand men, all wel disposed (for Kalanders sake) to abide any perill : but like men disused with a long peace, more determinate to doo, then skilfull how to doo : lusty bodies, and brave armours: with such courage, as rather grew of despising their enimies, 38 ARCADIA. LIB. i. whom they knew not, then of any confidence for any thing, which in them selves they knew ; but neither cunning use of their weapons, nor arte shewed in their marching, or incamping. Which Palladius soone perceiving, he desired to understand (as much as could be delivered unto him) the estate of the Helots. And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the 2 affaires of Laconia, that they were a kinde of people, who having been of old, freemen and possessioners, the Lacede- monians had conquered them, and layd, not onely tribute, but bondage upon them: which they had long borne; till of late the Lacedaemonians through greedinesse growing more heavie then they could beare, and through contempt lesse carefull how to make them beare, they had with a generall consent (rather springing by the generalnes of the cause, then of any artificiall practise) set themselves in armes, and whetting their courage with revenge, and grounding their resolutio upon despaire, they had proceeded with unloked-for succes: having already take divers Towns and Castels, with the slaughter of many of the gentrie; for whom no sex nor age could be accepted for an excuse. And that although at the first they had fought rather with beastly furie, then any souldierly discip- line, practise had now made then comparable to the best of the Lacedemonians; & more of late then ever; by reason, first of Demagoras a great Lord, who had made him self of their partie, and since his death, of an other Captaine they had gotten, who had brought up their ignorance, and brought downe their furie, to such a meane of good government, and withall led them so valourouslie, that (besides the time wherein Clitophon was taken) they had the better in some other great coflidls: in such wise, that the estate of Lacedeemon had sent unto them, offering peace with most reasonable and honorable conditions. Palladius having gotten this generall knowledge of the partie against whom, as hee had already of the party for whom he was to fight, he went to Kalander, and told him plainlie, that by playne force there was small apparaunce of helping Clitophon : but some device was to be taken in hand, wherein no lesse discretion then valour was to be used. Whereupon, the councel of the chiefe men was called, 3 and at last, this way Palladius (who by some experience, but especiallie by reading Histories, was acquainted with strata- 39 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES gemes) invented, and was by all the rest approoved : that all the men there shoulde dresse themselves like the poorest sorte of the people in Arcadia, having no banners, but bloudie shirtes hanged upon long staves, with some bad bagge pipes in stead of drumme and fife, their armour they should aswell as might be, cover, or at least make them looke so rustilie, and ill-favouredly as might well become such wearers; and this the whole number should doo, saving two hundred of the best chosen Gentlemen, for courage and strength, whereof Palladium him selfe would be one, who should have their armes chayned, and be put in cartes like prisoners. This being performed according to the agree- ment, they marched on towards the towne of Cardamila where Clitophon was captive ; and being come two houres before Sunne- set within vewe of the walles, the Helots alreadie descrying their number, and beginning to sound the Allarum, they sent a cunning fellow, (so much the cunninger as that he could maske it under rudenes) who with such a kind of Rhetorike, as weeded out all flowers of Rhetorike, delivered unto the Helots assembled together, that they were countrie people of Arcadia, no lesse oppressed by their Lords, & no lesse desirous of liberty then they, & therfore had put themselves in the field, & had alreadie (besides a great number slaine) taken nine or ten skore Gentle- men prisoners, who they had there well & fast chained. Now because they had no strong retiring place in Arcadia, & were not yet of number enough to keepe the fielde against their Princes forces, they were come to them for succor; knowing, that daily more & more of their qualitie would flock unto the, but that in the mean time, lest their Prince should pursue the, or the Lacedaemonian King & Nobilitie (for the likenes of the cause) fall upon them, they desired that if there were not roome enough for them in the towne, that yet they might encampe under the walles, and for surety have their prisoners (who were such me as were ever able to make their peace) kept within the towne. 4 The Helots made but a short consultatio, being glad that their contagion had spread it selfe into Arcadia, and making account that if the peace did not fall out betweene them and their King, that it was the best way to set fire in all the parts of Greece; besides their greedinesse to have so many Gentlemen in their handes, in whose raunsoms they already meant to have 40 ARCADIA. LIB. i. a share ; to which hast of concluding, two thinges wel helped ; the one, that their Captaine with the wisest of them, was at that time absent about confirming or breaking the peace, with the state of Lacedtsmon'. the second, that over-many good fortunes began to breed a proude recklesnesse in them : there- fore sending to view the campe, and finding that by their speach they were Arcadians, with whom they had had no warre, never suspecting a private mans credite could have gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed them to be of the lowest calling (besides the chaines upon the Gentlemen) they graunted not onely leave for the prisoners, but for some others of the companie, and to all, that they might harbour under the walles. So opened they the gates, and received in the carts; which being done, and Palladius seing fit time, he gave the signe, and shaking of their chaynes, (which were made with such arte, that though they seemed most strong and fast, he that ware them might easily loose them) drew their swordes hidden in the cartes, and so setting upon the ward, made them to flie eyther from the place, or from their bodies, and so give entrie to all the force of the Arcadians, before the Helots could make any head to resist them. But the Helots being men hardened against daungers, 5 gathered as (well as they could) together in the market place, and thence would have given a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that were slow, hartning the that were forward, but especially with his owne ensample leading them) made such an impression into the squadron of the Helots, that at first the great bodie of them beginning to shake, and stagger; at length, every particular bodie recommended the protection of his life to his feet. Then Kalander cried to go to the prison, where he thought his sonne was, but Palladius wisht him (first scouring the streates) to house all the Helots, and make themselves maisters of the gates. But ere that could be accomplished, the Helots had gotten 6 new hart, and with divers sortes of shot from corners of streats, and house windowes, galled them; which courage was come unto them by the returne of their Captain; who though he brought not many with him (having disperst most of his com- panies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great nuber runing out of the gate, not yet possest by the Arcadians, he made them 41 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES turne face, & with banners displayed, his Trumpet give the lowdest testimonie he could of his returne, which once heard, the rest of the Helots which were otherwise scattered, bent thetherward, with a new life of resolution : as if their Captaine had beene a roote, out of which (as into braunches) their courage had sprong. Then began the fight to grow most sharpe, and the encounters of more cruell obstinacie. The Arcadians fighting to Iceepe that they had wonne, the Helots to recover what they had lost. The Arcadians^ as in an unknowne place, having no succour but in their handes ; the Helots^ as in their own place, fighting for their livings, wives, & children. There was victory & courage against revenge and despaire : safety of both sides being no otherwise to be gotten, but by destruction. 7 At length, the left winge of the Arcadians began to loose ground; which Palladius seeing, he streight thrust himselfe with his choise bande against the throng that oppressed the, with such an overflowing of valour, that the Captaine of the Helots (whose eies soone judged of that wherwith theselves were governed) saw that he alone was worth al the rest of the Arcadians. Which he so wondred at, that it was hard to say, whether he more liked his doings, or misliked the effects of his doings : but determining that upon that cast the game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, sought onely to joine with him : which minde was no lesse in Palladius, having easily marked, that he was as the first mover of al the other handes. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented (though not agreed) to trie each others fortune: & so drawing themselves to be the uttermost of the one side, they began a combat, which was so much inferior to the battaile in noise and number, as it was surpassing it in bravery of fighting, & (as it were) delightful terriblenes. Their courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with courage; neither did their hardinesse darken their witte, nor their witte coole their hardines : both valiant, as men despising death ; both confident, as unwonted to be overcome; yet doutefull by their present feeling, and respeftfull by what they had already scene. Their feete stedy, their hands diligent, their eyes watchfull, & their harts resolute. The partes either not armed, or weakly armed, were well knowen, and according to the knowledge should 42 ARCADIA. LIB. i. have bene sharpely visited, but that the aunswere was as quicke as the objection. Yet some lighting; the smarte bred rage, and the rage bred smarte againe : till both sides beginning to waxe faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, then hopeful to live victorious, the Captaine of the Helots with a blow, whose violence grew of furie, not of strength, or of strength proceeding of furie, strake Palladium upon the side of the head, that he reelde astonied : and withall the helmet fell of, he remayning bare headed : but other of the Arcadians were redie to shield him from any harme might rise of that nakednes. But little needed it, for his chiefe enemie in steed of pur- 8 suing that advauntage, kneeled downe, offering to deliver the pommell of his sworde, in token of yeelding, with all speaking aloud unto him, that he thought it more libertie to be his prisoner, then any others generall. Palladius standing uppon him selfe, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots (that were next their captaine) wavering betweene looking for some stratageme, or fearing treason, What, saide the captaine, hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Datphantus ? By that watche worde Palladius knew that it was his onely 9 friende Pyrocles, whome he had lost upon the Sea, and therefore both most full of wonder, so to be mett, if they had not bene fuller of joye then wonder, caused the retraite to be sounded, Daiphantus by authentic, and Palladius by persuasion ; to which helped well the little advauntage that was of eyther side : and that of the Helots partie their Captaines behaviour had made as many amazed as sawe or heard of it : and of the Arcadian side the good olde Kalander striving more then his old age could atchieve, was newly taken prisoner. But in deede, the chiefe parter of the fraye was the night, which with her blacke armes pulled their malicious sightes one from the other. But he that tooke Kalander, meant nothing lesse then to save him, but onelie so long, as the Captaine might learne the enemies secrets : towardes whom he led the old Gentleman, when he caused the retreit to be sounded : looking for no other deliverie from that captivitie, but by the painfull taking away of all paine : when whome should he see nexte to the Captaine (with good tokens how valiantly he had fought that daie against the Arcadians] but his sonne Clitophon ? But nowe the Captaine had caused all the principall Helots to be assembled, as well to deliberate 43 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES what they had to do, as to receive a message from the Arcadians ; Amog whom Palladium vertue (besides the love Kalander bare him) having gotte principall authentic, he had persuaded them to seeke rather by parley to recover the Father and the Sonne, then by the sword: since the goodnes of the Captain assured him that way to speed, and his value (where- with he was of old acquainted) made him thinke any other way dangerous. This therfore was donne in orderly manner, giving them to understand, that as they came but to deliver Clitophon^ so offering to leave the footing they already had in the towne, to goe away without any further hurte, so as they might have the father, & the sonne without raunsome delivered. Which conditions beyng heard and conceaved by the Helots, Daiphantus perswaded them without delay to accept them. For first (sayd he) since the strife is within our owne home, if you loose, you loose all that in this life can bee deare unto you: if you winne, it will be a blouddy viftorie with no profite, but the flattering in our selves that same badde humour of revenge. Besides, it is like to stirre Arcadia uppon us, which nowe, by using these persons well, maie bee brought to some amitie. Lastly, but especially, least the king and nobility of Laconla (with whom now we have made a perfect peace) should hope, by occasion of this quarrell to joyne the Arcadians with them, & so breake of the profitable agreement alreadie concluded. In summe, as in al deliberations (waying the profite of the good successe with the harme of the evill successe) you shall find this way most safe and honorable. JO The Helots asmuch moved by his authoritie, as perswaded by his reasons, were content therewith. Wherupon, Palladium tooke order that the Arcadians should presently march out of the towne, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutual diffidence might keepe them quiet, and ere day came they might be well on of their way, and so avoid those accidents which in late enemies, a looke, a word, or a particular mans quarel might engeder. This being on both sides con- cluded on, Kalander and Clitophon, who now (with infinite joy did knowe each other) came to kisse the hands and feet of Daiphantus: Clitophon telling his father, how Daiphantus (not without danger to himselfe) had preserved him from the furious malice of the Helots: & even that day going to conclude the 44 ARCADIA. LIB. i. peace (least in his absence he might receive some hurt) he had taken him in his companie, and geven him armour, upon promise he should take the parte of the Helots; which he had in this fight perfourmed, little knowing that it was against his father: but (said Clitophon) here is he, who (as a father) hath new-begotten me, and (as a God) hath saved me from many deaths, which already laid hold on me : which Kalander with teares of joy acknowledged (besides his owne deliverance) onely his benefite. But Daiphantus, who loved doing well for it selfe, and not for thanks, brake of those ceremonies, desiring to know how Palladius (for so he called Musidorus] was come into that companie, & what his present estate was : whereof receiving a brief declaration of Kalander^ he sent him word by Clitophon^ that he should not as now come unto him, because he held himselfe not so sure a master of the Helots minds, that he would adventure him in their power, who was so well knowen with an unfriendly acquaintance; but that he desired him to return with Kalander^ whether also he within few daies (having dispatched himselfe of the Helots] would repaire. Kalander would needes kisse his hande againe for that promise, pro- testing, he would esteme his house more blessed the a temple of the gods, if it had once received him. And then desiring pardon for Argalus, Daiphantus assured them that hee woulde die, but hee woulde bring him, (though till then kept in close prison, indeed for his safetie, the Helots being so animated against him as els hee could not have lived) and so taking their leave of him, Kalander^ Clitophon^ Palladius and the rest of the Orcadians swearing that they would no further in any sorte molest the Helots, they straight way marched out of the towne, carying both their dead and wounded bodies with them; and by morning were alreadie within the limits of Arcadia. 45 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES CHAP. 7. 3 The articles of peace betwene the Lacedaemonians 5* Helots, 2 Daiphatus his departure fro the Helots with Argalus to Kalanders house. 3 The offer of a straunge Lady to Argalus 4 his refusal, and * who she was. THe Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gave them selves to burye their dead, to cure their woundes, and rest their weeried bodies: till (the next day bestowing the chereful use of the light upon them) Daiphantus making a generall convocation spake unto them in this manner. We are first (said he) to thanke the Gods, that (further then wee had either cause to hope ; or reason to imagine) have delivered us out of this gulfe of daunger, wherein we were alredie swallowed. For all being lost, (had they had not directed, my return so just as they did) it had bene too late to recover that, which being had, we could not keep. And had I not happened to know one of the principall men among them, by which meanes the truce beganne betweene us, you may easily conceive, what little reason we have to think, but that either by some supplie out of Arcadia, or from the Nobilitie of this Country (who would have made fruites of wisdome grow out of this occasion,) wee should have had our power turned to ruine, our pride to repentance and sorow. But now the storme, as it fell out, so it ceased : and the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more hardly then his age or quarrell deserved, becomes a sharply learned experience, to use in other times more moderation. Now have I to deliver unto you the conclusion between the Kings with the Nobilitie of Lacedtsmon, and you ; which is in all points as your selves desired : aswell for that you would have graunted, as for the assurance of what is graunted. The Townes and Fortes you presently have, are still left unto you, to be kept either with or without garrison, so as you alter not the lawes of the Countrie, and pay such dueties as the rest of the Laconians doo. Your selves are made by publique decree, free men, and so capable both to give and receive voice in eledtion of 46 ARCADIA. LIB. i. Magistrates. The distinction of names betweene Helots and Lacedaemonians to bee quite taken away, and all indifferently to enjoy both names and priviledges of Laconians. Your children to be brought up with theirs in Spartane discipline : and so you (framing your selves to be good members of that estate) to bee hereafter fellowes, and no longer servaunts. Which conditions you see, cary in themselves no more con- tentation then assuraunce. For this is not a peace which is made with them, but this is a peace by which you are made of them. Lastly, a forgetfulnes decreed of of all what is past, they shewing theselves glad to have so valiant men as you are, joyned with them : so that you are to take mindes of peace, since the cause of war is finished ; and as you hated them before like oppressours, so now to love them as brothers ; to take care of their estate because it is yours, and to labour by vertuous doing, that the posteritie may not repent your joyning. But now one Article onely they stood upon, which in the end I with your commissioners have agreed unto, that I should no more tarry here, mistaking perchaunce my humor, and thinking me as se- dicious as I am young, or els it is the king Amiclas procuring, in respect that it was my il hap to kil his nephew Eurileon ; but how soever it be, I have condiscended. But so will not wee cryed almost the whole assemblie, coucelling one an other, rather to trye the uttermost event, then to loose him by who they had beene victorious. But he as well with generall orations, as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them throughly see how necessary it was to preferree such an oppor- tunity before a vaine affedtion ; but yet could not prevaile, til openly he sware, that he would (if at any time the Lacedaemonians brake this treatie) come back againe, and be their captaine. So then after a few dayes, selling them in perfect order, hee 2 tooke his leave of them, whose eyes bad him farwell with teares, & mouthes with kissing the places where he stept, and after making temples unto him as to a demi-God : thinking it beyond the degree of humanitie to have a witt so farre overgoing his age, and such dreadful terror proceed from so excellent beutie. But he for his sake obtayned free pardon for Argalus, whom also (uppon oath never to beare armes against the Helots) he delivered : and taking onely with him certaine principall Jewells of his owne, he would have parted alone with Argalus, (whose 47 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES countenaunce well shewed, while Parthenia was lost he counted not himselfe delivered) but that the whole multitude would needs gard him into Arcadia. Where again leaving the all to lament his departure, he by enquirie gotte to the wel-knowne house of Kalander : There was he received with loving joye of Kalander, with joyfull love of Palladius^ with humble (though doulful) demeanor of Argalus (whom specially both he and Palladium regarded) with gratefull servisablenes of Clitophon, and honour- able admiration of all. For being now well veiwed to have no haire of his face, to witnes him a man, who had done a6ts beyond the degree of a man, and to looke with a certaine almost bashefull kinde of modestie, as if hee feared the eyes of men, who was unmooved with sight of the most horrible counte- naunces of death ; and as if nature had mistaken her woorke to have a Manes heart in a Cupides bodye : All that beheld him (and al that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes quicke messengers to their minds, that there they had scene the uttermost that in mankind might be scene. The like wonder Palladium had before stirred, but that Daiphantus, as younger and newer come, had gotten now the advantage in the moyst & fickle impression of eye-sight. But while all men (saving poore Argalus] made the joy of their eyes speake for their harts to- wards Daiphantus : Fortune (that belike was bid to that banket, & ment then to play the good fellow) brought a pleasaut ad- venture among the. 3 It was that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a young noble Lady, neere kinswoman to the fair Helen Queene of Corinth ; was come thether, and desired to be lodged in his house. Kalander (most glad of such an occasion) went out, and all his other worthie guests with him, saving onely Argalus, who re- mained in his chamber, desirous that this company were once broken up, that he might goe in his solitarie quest after Parthenia. But when they met this Lady ; Kalander streight thought he sawe his neece Parthenia, and was about in such familiar sorte to have spoken unto her : But she in grave and honorable manner giving him to understand that he was mis- taken, he halfe ashamed, excused himselfe with the exceeding likenes was betwene them, though indeede it seemed that his Lady was of the more pure and daintie complexion ; shee said, 48 ARCADIA. LIB. i. it might very well be, having bene many times taken one for an other. But assoone as she was brought into the house, before she would rest her, she desired to speake with Argalus publickly, who she heard was in the house. Argalus came in hastely, and as hastelie thought as Kalander had done, with sodaine chaunges of joye into sorrow. But she whe she had stayd their thoughts with telling them her name, and qualitie in this sort spake unto him. My Lord Argalus, sayd she, being of late left in the court of Queene Helen of Corinth, as chiefe in her absence (she being upo some occasion gone thece) there came unto me the Lady Parthenia, so disguysed, as I thinke Greece hath nothing so ougly to behold. For my part, it was many dayes, before with vehement oathes, and some good proofes, she could make me thinke that she was Partbenia. Yet at last finding certenly it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune, so much the more, as that all men had ever told me, (as now you doo) of the great likenes betweene us, I tooke the best care I could of her: and of her understood the whole tragicall historic of her undeserved adventure : and therewithall, of that most noble constancie in you my Lord Argalus : which whosoever loves not, shewes himselfe to be a hater of vertue, and unworthie to live in the societie of mankind. But no outward cherishing could salve the inward sore of her minde, but a fewe dayes since shee died : before her death earnestly desiring, and perswading me, to thinke of no husbande but of you ; as of the onely man in the world worthie to be loved ; with-all, she gave me this Ring to deliver you; desiring you, & by the authentic of love co- maunding you, that the affeftion you bare her you should turne to me : assuring you, that nothing can please her soule more, then to see you and me matched together. Now my L. though this office be not (perchance) sutable to my estate nor sex, who shuld rather looke to be desired ; yet, an extraordinarie desert requires an extraordinarie preceding : and therfore I am come (with faithfull love built upo your worthines) to offer my self, & to beseech you to accept the offer : & if these noble getleme preset will say it is great folly, let the withal, say it is great love. And then she staid, earnestly attending 1 Argalus his answere, who (first making most hartie sighes do such obsequies as he could, to Partbenia) thus answered her. Madame (said he) infinitely bound am I unto you, for this, 4 s. A. D 49 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES no more rare, then noble courtesie ; but most bound for the goodnes I perceive you shewed to the lady Parthenia^ (with that the teares ranne downe his eyes ; but he followed on) and as much as so unfortunat a man, fitte to be the spectacle of miserie, can doo you service ; determine you have made a purchase of a slave (while I live) never to fayle you. But this great matter you propose unto me, wherein I am not so blind, as not to see what happines it should be unto mee ; Excellent Ladie, know, that if my hart were mine to give, you before al other, should have it ; but Parthenias it is, though dead : there I began, there I end all matter of affedlion : I hope I shall not long tarry after her, with whose beautie if I had onely been in love, I should be so with you, who have the same beautie : but it was Parthenias selfe I loved, and love ; which no likenes can make one, no comaundement dissolve, no foulnes defile, nor no death finish. And shall I receive (said she) such disgrace, as to be refused ? Noble Ladie (said he) let not that harde word be used ; who know your exceeding worthinesse farre beyond my desert: but it is onely happinesse I refuse, since of the onely happines I could and can desire, I am refused. 5 He had scarce spoken those words, when she ranne to him, and imbrasing him, Why then Argalus (saide she) take thy Parthenia-^ and Parthenia it was in deede. But because sorow forbad him too soon to beleeve, she told him the trueth, with all circumstances ; how being parted alone, meaning to die in some solitarie place, as she hapned to make her complaint, the Queen Helen of Corinth (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being then walking also alone in that lovely place, heard her, and never left, till she had knowen the whole discourse. Which the noble Queene greatly pittying, she sent her to a Phisition of hers, the most excellent man in the worlde, in hope he could helpe her : which in such sorte as they saw perfourmed, and she taking with her of the Queenes servaunts, thought yet to make this triall, whether he would quickly forget his true Parthenia^ or no. Her speach was confirmed by the Corinthian Gentlemen, who before had kept her counsell, and Argalus easily perswaded to what more then ten thousand yeares of life he desired: and Kalander would needes have the mariage celebrated in his house, principallie the longer to hold his deare guestes, towardes whom he was now (besides his owne habite of 50 ARCADIA. LIB. i. hospitalitie) carried with love and dutie : & therfore omitted no service that his wit could invent, and his power minister. CHAP. 8. The adventures l first of Musidorus, 2 then of Pyrocles since their shipwracke, to their meeting. 3 The manage of Argalus and Parthenia. BUt no waie he sawe he could so much pleasure them, as I by leaving the two friends alone, who being shruncke aside to the banqueting house where the pictures were ; there Palladium recounted unto him, that after they had both abadoned the burning ship (& either of them taken some thing under him the better to supporte him to the shore) he knew not how, but either with over-labouring in the fight and sodaine colde, or the too much receaving of salt water, he was past himselfe|: but yet holding fast (as the nature of dying men is to doo) the chest that was under him, he was cast on the sandes, where he was taken up by a couple of Shepherds, and by them brought to life againe, and kept from drowning him selfe, when he des- paired of his safetie. How after having failed to take him into the fisher boate, he had by the Shepheards persuasion come to this Gentlemans house ; where being daungerouslie sicke, he had yeelded to seeke the recovery of health, onely for that he might the sooner go seeke the deliverie of Pyrocles : to which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messenia, had alreadie set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophons taking had so blessedly procured their meeting. The did he set foorth unto him the noble entertainement and careful cherishing of Kalander towards him, & so upon occasio of the pictures present delivered with the franknesse of a friends tongue, as neere as he could, word by word what Kalander had told him touching the strange storie (with al the particularities belonging) of Arcadia^ which did in many sortes so delight Pyrocles to heare ; that he would needs have much of it againe repeated, and was not contented till Kalander him selfe had answered him divers questions. D2 51 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 2 But first at Musidorus request, though in brief maner, his mind much running upo the strange storie of Arcadia, he did declare by what course of advetures he was come to make up their mutuall happinesse in meeting. When (cosin, said he) we had stript our selves, and were both leapt into the Sea, and sworn a little toward the shoare, I found by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the lande, and therefore turned backe againe to the mast of the shippe, where you found me, assuring my selfe, that if you came alive to the shore, you would seeke me ; if you were lost, as I thought it as good to perishe as to live, so that place as good to perish in as an other. There I found my sworde among some of the shrowds, wishing (I must confesse) if I died, to be found with that in my hand, and withall waving it about my head, that saylers by it might have the better'glimpse of me. There you missing me, I was taken up by Pyrates, who putting me under boorde prisoner, presentlie sett uppon another shippe, and mainteining a long fight, in the ende, put them all to the sworde. Amongst whom I might heare them greatlie prayse one younge man, who fought most valiantlie, whom (as love is carefull, and mis- fortune subje6t to doubtfulnes) I thought certainely to be you. And so holding you as dead, from that time till the time I sawe you, in trueth I sought nothing more then a noble ende, which perchance made me more hardie then otherwise I would have bene. Triall whereof came within two dayes after : for the Kinges of Lacedamon having sett out some Galleys, under the charge of one of their Nephews to skowre the Sea of the Pyrates, they met with us, where our Captaine wanting men, was driven to arme some of his prisoners, with promise of libertie for well fighting: among whom I was one, and being boorded by the Admirall, it was my fortune to kil Eurileon the Kings nephew : but in the end they prevailed, & we were all take prisoners : I not caring much what became of me (onely keeping the name of Daiphantus, according to the resolution you know is betweene us,) but beyng laid in the jayle of Tenaria, with speciall hate to me for the death of Eurileon, the popular sort of that towne conspired with the Helots, and so by night opened them the gates ; where entring and killing all of the gentle and riche faction, for honestie sake brake open all prisons, and so delivered me ; and I mooved with gratefulnesse, 52 ARCADIA. LIB. i. and encouraged with carelesnesse of life, so behaved my selfe in some conflicles they had in fewe dayes, that they barbarouslie thinking unsensible wonders of mee, and withall so much they better trusting mee, as they heard I was hated of the Kinge of Lacedtsmoriy (their chiefe Captayne beyng slaine as you knowe by the noble Argalus, who helped thereunto by his perswasion) having borne a great affection unto me, and to avoyde the daungerous emulation whiche grewe among the chiefe, who should have the place, and all so affedted, as rather to have a straunger then a competitour, they elected mee, (God wotte little prowde of that dignitie,) restoring unto mee such thinges of mine as being taken first by the pyrates, and then by the Laced&monians, they had gotten in the sacke of the towne. Now being in it, so good was my successe with manie victories, that I made a peace for them to their owne liking, the verie daie that you delivered Clitophon, whom I with much adoo had preserved. And in my peace the King Amiclas of Lacedtemon would needes have mee bannished,and deprived of the dignitie whereunto I was exalted : which (and you may see howe much you are bounde to mee) for your sake I was content to suffer, a newe hope rising in mee, that you were not dead : and so meaning to travaile over the worlde to seeke you ; and now here (my deere Musidorui) you have mee. And with that (embracing and kissinge each other) they called Kalander, of whom Daiphantus desired to heare the full storie, which before hee had recounted to Palladium, and to see the letter of Philanax, which hee read and well marked. But within some daies after, the marriage betweene Argalus 3 and the faire Parthenia beyng to be celebrated, Daiphantus and Palladium selling some of their jewels, furnished themselves of very faire apparell, meaning to doo honour to their loving hoste ; who as much for their sakes, as for the marriage, set foorth each thing in most gorgeous manner. But all the cost bestowed did not so much enrich, nor all the fine deckinges so much beautifie, nor all the daintie devises so much delight, as the fairenesse of Parthenia, the pearle of all the maydes of Mantincea : who as shee went to the Temple to bee maried, her eyes themselves seemed a temple, wherein love and beautie were married : her lippes, although they were kepte close with modest silence, yet with a pretie kinde of naturall swelling, they seemed to invite 53 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the guestes that lookt on them ; her cheekes blushing, and withal when shee was spoken unto, a little smilyng, were like roses, when their leaves are with a little breath stirred : her hayre being layed at the full length downe her backe, bare shewe as if the voward fayled, yet that would conquere. Dai- phantus marking her, O Jupiter (said he speaking to Palladium) how happens it, that Beautie is onely confined to Arcadia ? But Palladium not greatly attending his speach, some daies were continued in the solemnising the marriage, with al conceipts that might deliver delight to mens fancies. CHAP. 9. 1 Pyrocles his inclination to love. a His, and Musidorus disputation thereabouts 3 broken of by Kalander. ~O Ut such a chaunge was growen in Daiphantus, that (as if jj cheerefulnesse had bene tediousnesse, and good enter- tainement were turnd to discourtesie) he would ever get him selfe alone, though almost when he was in companie he was alone, so little attention he gave to any that spake unto him : even the colour and figure of his face began to receave some alteration ; which he shewed little to heede : but everie morn- ing earlie going abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods towards the desert, it seemed his only comfort was to be without a coforter. But long it could not be hid from Palladium, whom true love made redy to marke, & long knowledge able to marke ; & therfore being now growe weary of his abode in Arcadia, having informed himselfe fully of the strength & riches of the coutry, of the nature of the people, and manner of their lawes : and, seing the courte could not be visited, prohibited to all men, but to certaine sheapheardish people, he greatly desired a speedy returne to his own countrie, after the many mazes of fortune he had troden. But perceaving this great alteration in his friend, he thought first to breake with him thereof, and then to hasten his returne ; whereto he founde him but smally enclined : whereupon one day taking him alone with certaine graces and countenances, as if he were disputing with the trees, began in this manner to say unto him. 54 ARCADIA. LIB. i. A mind wel trayned and long exercised in vertue (my sweete 2 and worthy cosin) doth not easily chaunge any course it once undertakes, but upon well grounded & well wayed causes. For being witnes to it selfe of his owne inward good, it findes nothing without it of so high a price, for which it should be altered. Even the very countenaunce and behaviour of such a man doth shew forth Images of the same constancy, by main- taining a right harmonic betwixt it and the inward good, in yeelding it selfe sutable to the vertuous resolution of the minde. This speech I diredl to you (noble friend Pyrocles] the excel- lencie of whose minde and well chosen course in vertue, if I doo not sufficiently know, having scene such rare demonstrations of it, it is my weakenes, and not your unworthines. But as in deede I know it, and knowing it, most dearely love both it, and him that hath it ; so must I needs saye, that since our late comming into this country, I have marked in you, I will not say an alteratio, but a relenting truely, & a slacking of the maine career, you had so notably begon, & almost performed ; and that in such sorte, as I cannot finde sufficient reason in my great love toward you how to allow it ; for (to leave of other secreter arguments which my acquaintaunce with you makes me easily finde) this in effedl to any manne may be manyfest, that whereas you were wont in all places you came, to give your selfe vehemently to the knowledge of those thinges which might better your minde ; to seeke the familiaritye of excellent men in learning and souldiery : and lastly, to put all these thinges in practise both by continuall wise proceedinge, and worthie enterprises, as occasion fell for them ; you now leave all these things undone : you let your minde fal a sleepe : beside your countenaunce troubled (which surely comes not of vertue ; for vertue like the cleare heaven, is without cloudes) and lastly you subje<5t your selfe to solitarines, the slye enimie, that doth most separate a man from well doing. Pyrocles minde was all this while so fixed upon another devotion, that he no more at- tentively marked his friends discourse, then the childe that hath leave to playe, markes the last part of his lesson ; or the diligent Pilot in a daungerous tempest doth attend the unskilful words of a passinger: yet the very sound having imprinted the general point of his speech in his hart, pierced with any mislike of so deerely an esteemed friend, and desirous by degrees to 55 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES bring him to a gentler consideration of him, with a shamefast looke (witnessing he rather could not helpe, then did not know his fault) answered him to this purpose. Excellent Musidorus, in the praise you gave me in the beginning of your spech, I easily acknowledge the force of your good will unto mee, for neither coulde you have thought so well of me, if extremitie of love had not made your judgement partiall, nor you could have loved me so intierlie, if you had not beene apt to make so great (though undeserved) judgements of me ; and even so must I say to those imperfections, to which though I have ever through weaknes been subject, yet you by the daily meding of your mind have of late bin able to looke into them, which before you could not discerne ; so that the chaunge you speake of, falles not out by my impairing, but by your betring. And yet under the leave of your better judgement, I must needes say thus much, my deere cosin, that I find not my selfe wholye to be condemned, because I do not with continuall vehemecy folow those knowledges, which you call the bettering of my minde ; for both the minde it selfe must (like other thinges) sometimes be unbent, or else it will be either weakned, or broken : And these knowledges, as they are of good use, so are they not all the minde may stretch it selfe unto : who knowes whether I feede not my minde with higher thoughts? Trulie as I know not all the particularities, so yet I see the bounds of all these know- ledges : but the workings of the minde I finde much more infinite, then can be led unto by the eye, or imagined by any, that distraft their thoughts without themselves. And in such contemplation, or as I thinke more excellent, I enjoye my solitarines; and my solitarines perchaunce is the nurse of these contemplations. Eagles we see fly alone ; and they are but sheepe, which alwaies heard together; codemne not therefore my minde somtime to enjoy it selfe; nor blame not the taking of such times as serve most fitte for it. And alas, deere Musi- dorus, if I be sadde, who knowes better then you the just causes I have of sadnes ? And here Pyrocles sodainly stopped, like a man unsatisfied in himselfe, though his witte might wel have served to have satisfied another. And so looking with a countenaunce, as though he desired he should know his minde without hearing him speake, and yet desirous to speake, to breath out some part of his inward evill, sending againe new 56 ARCADIA. LIB. i. blood to his face, he continued his speach in this manner. And Lord (dere cosin, said he) doth not the pleasauntnes of this place carry in it selfe sufficient reward for any time lost in it ? Do you not see how all things conspire together to make this coutry a heavenly dwelling ? Do you not see the grasse how in colour they excell the Emeralds, everie one striving to passe his fellow, and yet they are all kept of an equal height ? And see you not the rest of these beautifull flowers, each of which would require a mans wit to know, and his life to expresse ? Do not these stately trees seeme to maintaine their florishing olde age with the onely happines of their seat, being clothed with a con- tinuall spring, because no beautie here should ever fade ? Doth not the aire breath health, which the Birds (delightfull both to eare and eye) do dayly solemnize with the sweet cosent of their voyces r Is not every eccho therof a perfecl: Musicke ? and these fresh and delightful brookes how slowly they slide away, as loth to leave the company of so many things united in perfection ? and with how sweete a murmure they lament their forced departure ? Certainelie, certainely, cosin, it must needes be that some Goddesse enhabiteth this Region, who is the soule of this soile : for neither is any, lesse then a Goddesse, worthie to be shrined in such a heap of pleasures : nor any lesse the a Goddesse, could have made it so perfecl: a plotte of the celestiall dwellings. And so ended with a deep sigh, rufully casting his eye upon Musidorus^ as more desirous of pittie the pleading. But Musidorus had all this while helde his looke fixed upon Pyrocles countenance ; and with no lesse loving attention marked how his words proceeded from him : but in both these he perceived such strange diversities, that they rather increased new doubts, then gave him ground to settle any judgement : for, besides his eyes sometimes even great with teares, the oft chaging of his colour, with a kind of shaking unstayednes over all his body, he might see in his countenace some great determi- natio mixed with feare ; and might perceive in him store of thoughts, rather stirred then digested ; his words interrupted continually with sighes (which served as a burthen to each sentence) and the tenor of his speech (though of his woted phrase) not knit together to one constat end, but rather dis- solved in it selfe, as the vehemencie of the inwarde passion prevayled : which made Musidorus frame his aunswere neerest to 57 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES that humor, which should soonest put out the secret. For, having in the beginning of Pyrocles speech which defeded his solitarines, framed in his minde a replie against it, in the praise of honourable action, in shewing that such a kind of coteplatio is but a glorious title to idlenes ; that in atio a man did not onely better himself, but benefit others ; that the gods would not have delivered a soule into the body, which hath armes & legges, only instruments of doing, but that it wer inteded the mind should imploy the ; & that the mind should best know his own good or evill, by practise : which knowledge was the onely way to increase the one, and correcl the other : besides many other argumentes, which the plentifulnesse of the matter yeelded to the sharpnes of his wit. When he found Pyrocles leave that, and fall into such an affecled praising of the place, he left it likewise, and joyned with him therein : because he found him in that humor utter more store of passion; and even thus kindly embrasing him, he said : Your words are such (noble cousin) so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of solitarinesse, as they would make me likewise yeeld my selfe up into it, but that the same words make me know, it is more pleasant to enjoy the companie of him that can speake such words, then by such wordes to be perswaded to follow solitari- nes. And even so doo I give you leave (sweet Pyrocles] ever to defend solitarines; so long, as to defende it, you ever keep com- panie. But I marvell at the excessive praises you give to this countrie; in trueth it is not unpleasant: but yet if you would returne into Macedon, you should see either many heavens, or find this no more then earthly. And eve Tempt in my Thessalia, (where you & I to my great happinesse were brought up together) is nothing inferiour unto it. But I think you will make me see, that the vigor of your witte can shew it selfe in any subjeft: or els you feede sometimes your solitarines with the conceites of the Poets, whose liberall pennes can as easilie travaile over mountaines, as molehils : and so like wel disposed men, set up every thing to the highest note ; especially, when they put such words in the mouths of one of these fantasticall mind-infefted people, that children & Musitias cal Lovers. This word, Lover, did no lesse pearce poore Pyroc/es, then the right tune of musicke toucheth him that is sick of the Tarantula. There was not one part of his body, that did not feele a sodaine 58 ARCADIA. LIB. i. motion, while his hart with panting, seemed to daunce to the sounde of that word ; yet after some pause (lifting up his eyes a litle from the ground, and yet not daring to place them in the eyes of Musidorus} armed with the verie coutenance of the poore prisoner at the barr, whose aunswere is nothing but guiltie : with much a do he brought forth this question. And alas, saide he, deare cosin, what if I be not so much the Poet (the freedome of whose penne canne exercise it selfe in any thing) as even that miserable subject of his conning, whereof you speake ? Now the eternall Gods forbid (mainely cryed out Musidorus} that ever my eare should be poysoned with so evill newes of you. O let me never know that any base affecliio shuld get any Lordship in your thoughts. But as he was speaking more, Kalander came, and brake of their discourse, with inviting the to the hunting of a goodly stagge, which beeing harbored in a wood therby, he hoped would make them good sporte, and drive away some part of Daiphantus melancholy. They condiscended, & so going to their lodg- ings, furnished the selves as liked them Daiphantus writing a few wordes which he left in a sealed letter against their returne. CHAP. 10. 1 Kalanders hunting. 2 Daiphantus his close departure, s and letter 4 Palladius his care, and 5 quest after him, 6 accompanied with Clitophon. 7 His finding and taking on Amphilus his armor 8 Their encounter with Queene Helens attendants. 9 Her mistaking Palladius. THen went they together abroad, the good Kalander enter- taining the, with pleasaunt discoursing, howe well he loved the sporte of hunting when he was a young man, how much in the comparison thereof he disdained all chamber de- lights; that the Sunne (how great a jornie soever he had to make) could never prevent him with earlines, nor the Moone (with her sober countenance) disswade him from watching till midnight for the deeres feeding. O, saide he, you will never live to my age, without you kepe your selves in breath with 59 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES exercise, and in hart with joyfullnes: too much thinking doth consume the spirits : & oft it falles out, that while one thinkes too much of his doing, he leaves to doe the effect of his think- ing. Then spared he not to remember how much Arcadia was chaunged since his youth : adtivitie & good felowship being nothing in the price it was then held in, but according to the nature of the old growing world, still worse & worse. The would he tell them stories of such gallaunts as he had knowen : and so with pleasant company beguiled the times hast, and shortned the wayes length, till they came to the side of the wood, where the houndes were in couples staying their comming, but with a whining Accent craving libertie : many of them in colour and marks so resembling, that it showed they were of one kinde. The huntsmen handsomely attired in their greene liveries, as though they were children of Sommer, with staves in their hands to beat the guiltlesse earth, when the houndes were at a fault, and with homes about their neckes to sounde an alarum upon a sillie fugitive. The houndes were straight uncoupled, and ere long the Stagge thought it better to trust the nimblenes of his feete, then to the slender fortification of his lodging : but even his feete betrayed him ; for howsoever they went, they themselves uttered themselves to the sent of their enimies ; who one taking it of an other, and sometimes beleeving the windes advertisements, sometimes the view of (their faithfull councellors) the huntsmen, with open mouthes then denounced warre, when the warre was alreadie begun. Their crie being composed of so well sorted mouthes, that any man would perceive therein some kind of proportion, but the skilfull woodmen did finde a musick. Then delight and varietie of opinion drew the horsmen sundrie wayes ; yet cheering their houndes with voyce and horn, kept still (as it were) together. The wood seemed to conspire with them against his own citi- zens, dispersing their noise through all his quarters ; and even the Nimph Echo left to bewayle the losse of Narcissus, and became a hunter. But the Stagge was in the end so hotly pursued, that (leaving his flight) he was driven to make courage of despaire ; & so turning his head, made the hounds (with change of speech) to testifie that he was at bay : as if from hotte pursuite of their enemie, they were sodainly come to a parley. 60 ARCADIA. LIB. i. But Kalander (by his skill of coasting the Countrey) was among the first that came in to the besiged Deere ; whom when some of the younger sort would have killed with their swordes, he woulde not suffer : but with a Crossebowe sent a death to the poore beast, who with teares shewed the unkindnesse he tooke of mans crueltie. But by the time that the whole companie was assembled, 2 and that the Stagge had bestowed himselfe liberally among them that had killed him, Daiphantus was mist, for whom Palladius carefully enquiring, no newes could be given him, but by one that sayd, he thought he was returned home ; for that he markt him, in the chiefe of the hunting, take a by-way, which might lead to Kalanders house. That answer for the time satisfying, and they having perfourmed all dueties, as well for the Stagges funeral, as the hounds triumph, they returned : some talking of the fatnes of the Deeres bodie ; some of the fairenes of his head ; some of the hounds cunning ; some of their speed ; and some of their cry : til comming home (about the time that the candle begins to inherit the Suns office) they found Dai- phantus was not to bee found. Whereat Palladius greatly marvailing, and a day or two passing, while neither search nor inquirie could help him to knowledge, at last he lighted upon the letter, which Pyroc/es had written before hee went a hunting, and left in his studie among other of his writings. The letter was directed to Palladius himselfe, and conteyned these words. My onely friend, violence of love leades me into such a 3 course, wherof your knowledge may much more vexe you, then help me. Therefore pardon my concealing it from you, since : if I wrong you, it is in respedt I beare you. Returne into ThessaliaJ. pray you, as full of good fortune, as I am of desire : and if I live, I will in short time follow you ; if I die, love my memorie. This was all, and this Palladius read twise or thrise over. 4 Ah (said he) Pyrocles, what meanes this alteratio ? what have I deserved of thee, to be thus banished of thy counsels ? Here- tofore I have accused the sea, condemned the Pyrats, and hated* my evill fortune, that deprived me of thee ; But now thy self is the sea, which drounes my comfort, thy selfe is the Pirat that robbes thy selfe of me : Thy owne will becomes my evill for- tune. The turned he his thoughts to al forms of ghesses that might light upon the purpose and course of Pyroc/es : for he 61 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES was not so sure by his wordes, that it was love, as he was doubt- ful where the love was. One time he thought, some beautie in Laconia had layed hold of his eyes ; an other time he feared, that it might be Parthenias excellencie, which had broken the bands of all former resolution. But the more he thought, the more he knew not what to thinke, armies of objections rising against any accepted opinion. 5 Then as carefull he was what to doo himselfe : at length determined, never to leave seeking him, till his search should be either by meeting accoplished, or by death ended. Therfore (for all the unkindnesse bearing tender respeft, that his friends secrete determination should be kept from any suspition in others) he went to Kalander, and told him, that he had receaved a message from his friend, by which he understood he was gone backe againe into Laconic, about some matters greatly import- ing the poore men, whose protection he had undertaken, and that it was in any sorte fit for him, to follow him, but in such private wise, as not to be knowne, and that therefore he would as then bid him farewell : arming him selfe in a blacke armour, as either a badge, or prognostication of his mind : and taking onely with him good store of monie, and a fewe choise jewels, leaving the greatest number of them, & most of his apparell with Ka lander : which he did partly to give the more cause to Kalander to expe6t their return, & so to be the lesse curiously inquisitive after the : and partly to leave those honor- able thankes unto him, for his charge & kindnes, which he knew he would no other way receave. The good old man having neither reason to dissuade, nor hope to persuade, re- ceaved the things, with mind of a keeper, not of an owner ; but before he went, desired he might have the happines, fully to know what they were : which he said, he had ever till then delaid, fearing to be any way importune : but now he could not be so much an enemie to his desires as any longer to imprison the in silence. Palladius tolde him that the matter was not so secrete, but that so worthie a friend deserved the knowledge, and shuld have it as soone as he might speak with his fried : without whose consent (because their promise bound him otherwise) he could not reveale it: but bad him hold for most assured, that if they lived but a while, he should find that they which bare the names of Daiphatus and Palladius^ would 62 ARCADIA. LIB. i. give him & his cause to thinke his noble courtesie wel imploied. Kaldder would presse him no further : but desiring that he might have leave to go, or at least to sende his sonne and servaunts with him, Palladius brake of all ceremonies, by tell- ing him ; his case stood so, that his greatest favour should be in making lest adoo of his parting. Wherewith Kalander knowing it to be more cumber then courtesie, to strive, abstained from further urging him, but not from hartie mourning the losse of so sweet a conversation. Onely Clitophon by vehement importunitie obteyned to go 6 with him, to come againe to Daiphantus, whom he named and accouted his Lord. And in such private guise departed Palla- dius, though having a companio to talke with all, yet talking much more with unkindnesse. And first they went to Mantintsa; whereof because Parthenia was, he suspefted there might be some cause of his abode. But finding there no newes of him he went to Tegaa, Ripa, Enispte, Stimphalus, and Pheneus, famous for the poisonous Stygian water, and through all the rest of Arcadia, making their eyes, their eares, and their tongue serve almost for nothing, but that enquirie. But they could know nothing but that in none of those places he was knowne. And so went they, making one place succeed to an other, in like uncertaintie to their search, manie times encountring strange advetures, worthy to be registred in the roulles of fame ; but this may not be omitted. As they past in a pleasant valley, (of 7 either side of which high hils lifted up their beetle-browes, as if they would over looke the pleasantnes of their under-prospecl:) they were by the daintines of the place, & the wearines of theselves, invited to light fro their horses ; & pulling of their bits, that they might something refresh their mouths upon the grasse (which plentifully grewe, brought up under the care of those wel shading trees,) they theselves laid the downe hard by the murmuring musicke of certain waters, which spouted out of the side of the hils, and in the bottome of the valley, made of many springs a pretie brooke, like a common-wealth of many families : but when they had a while harkened to the persuasion of sleepe, they rose, and walkt onward in that shadie place, till Clitiphon espied a peece of armour, & not far of an other peece : and so the sight of one peece teaching him to looke for more, he at length found all, with headpeece & shield, by the devise 63 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES whereof, which was he straight knew it to be the armour of his cousin, the noble Amphialus. Wherupon (fearing some incovenience hapned unto him) he told both his doubte, and his cause of double to Palladius, who (considering therof) thought best to make no longer stay, but to follow on : least perchance some violece were offered to so worthy a Knight, whom the fame of the world seemed to set in ballance with any Knight living. Yet with a sodaine conceipt, having long borne great honour to the name of Amphialus, Palladius thought best to take that armour, thinking thereby to learne by them that should know that armour, some newes of Amphialus, & yet not hinder him in the search of Daiphantus too. So he by the help of Clitopbon quickly put on that armour, whereof there was no one piece wanting, though hacked in some places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It was some-thing too great, but yet served well enough. 8 And so getting on their horses, they travailed but a little way, when in opening of the mouth of the valley into a faire field, they met with a coach drawne with foure milke-white horses, furnished all in blacke, with a black a more boy upo every horse, they al apparelled in white, the coach it self very richly furnished in black & white. But before they could come so neere as to discerne what was within, there came running upo them above a dozen horsmen, who cried to the to yeeld theselves prisoners, or els they should die. But Palladius not accustomed to grant over the possessio of him self upon so unjust titles, with sword drawne gave them so rude an answer, that divers of the never had breath to reply again : for being wel backt by Clitophon, & having an excellet horse under him, when he was overprest by some, he avoided them, and ere th'other thought of it, punished in him his fellowes faults : and so, ether with cunning or with force, or rather with a cunning force, left none of them either living, or able to make his life serve to others hurt. Which being done, he approched the coach, assuring the black boies they should have no hurt, who were els readie to have run away, & looking into the coach, he foud in the one end a Lady of great beautie, & such a beautie, as shewed forth the beames both of wisdome & good nature, but al as much darkened, as might be, with sorow. In the other, two Ladies, (who by their demeanure shewed well, 64 ARCADIA. LIB. i. they were but her servants) holding before them a picture ; in which was a goodly Getleman (whom he knew not) painted, having in their faces a certaine waiting sorrow, their eies being infecled with their mistres weeping. But the chiefe Ladie having not so much as once heard the noise of this coflidt (so had sorow closed up al the entries of her mind, & love tied her seces to that beloved picture) now the shadow of him falling upo the pidlure made her cast up her eie, and seeing the armour which too wel she knew, thinking him to be Amphialus the Lord of her desires, (bloud coming more freely into her cheekes, as though it would be bold, & yet there growing newagaine pale for feare)with a pitiful looke(like one un- justly condened) My Lord Amphialus (said she) you have enough punished me : it is time for cruelty to leave you, & evil fortune me ; if not I pray you, (& to graunt, my praier fitter time nor place you can have) accomplish the one even now, & finish the other. With that, sorrow impatient to be slowly uttered in her ofte staying speeches, poured it self so fast in teares, that Palladium could not hold her longer in errour, but pulling of his helmet, Madame (said he) I perceave you mistake me : I am a stranger in these parts, set upon (without any cause give by me) by some of your servants, whom because I have in my just defence evill entreated, I came to make my excuse to you, whom seing such as I doo, I find greater cause, why I should crave pardon of you. When she saw his face, & heard his speech, she looked out of the coach, and seing her men, some slaine, some lying under their dead horses, and striving to get from under them, with- out making more account of the matter, Truely (said she) they are well served that durst lift up their armes against that armour. But Sir Knight, (said she) I pray you tell me, how come you by this armour r for if it be by the death of him that owed it, then have I more to say unto you. Palladius assured her it was not so; telling her the true manner how he found it. It is like enough (said she) for that agrees with the manner he hath lately used. But I beseech you Sir (said she) since your prowes hath bereft me of my copany : let it yet so farre heale the woundes it selfe hath given, as to garde me to the next towne. How great so ever my businesse be fayre Ladie (said he) it shall willingly yeeld to so noble a cause : But first even by the favour you beare to the Lorde of this noble armour, I conjure s. A. E 65 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES you to tell me the storie of your fortune herein, lest hereafter when the image of so excellent a Ladie in so straunge a plight come before mine eyes, I condemne my selfe of want of con- sideration in not having demaunded thus much. Neither aske I it without protestation, that wherein my sworde and faith may availe you, they shall binde themselves to your service. Your conjuration, fayre Knight (said she) is too strong for my poore spirite to disobey, and that shall make me (without any other hope, my ruine being but by one unrelieveable) to graunt your wil herein : and to say the truth, a straunge nicenesse were it in me to refraine that from the eares of a person representing so much worthinesse, which I am glad even to rockes and woods to utter. CHAP. ii. The story of Queene Helen 2 Philoxenus her suiter 8 Amphialus an intercessor for his friende. 4 His praises, 5 birth, and 6 educa- tion . 7 Her love wonne to himselfe 8 His refusal! and departure 9 Philoxenus wronge-rage against him. 10 Their fight. u The death of sonne and father. 12 Amphialus his sorrow and detestation of the Queene. u A new onset on Pal lad i us for Amphialus his Armour : " whose griefe is amplified by meeting his dead f rends dog. 15 Palladius his parting with Helen and Clitophon. KNow you then that my name is Helen, Queene by birth : and hetherto possession of the faire Citie and territorie of Corinth. I can say no more of my selfe, but beloved of my people : and may justly say, beloved, since they are content to beare with my absence, and folly. But I being left by my fathers death, and accepted by my people, in the highest degree, that countrie could receive; assoone, or rather, before that my age was ripe for it ; my court quickely swarmed full of suiters; some perchaunce loving my state, others my person, but once I know all of them, howsoever my possessions were in their harts, my beauty (such as it is) was in their mouthes ; many strangers of princely and noble blood, and all of mine owne country, to whom ether birth or vertue gave courage to avowe so high a desire. 66 ARCADIA. LIB. i. Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the Lord 2 Philoxenus, sonne and heire to the vertuous noble man Timotheus : which Timotheus was a man both in power, riches, parentage, and (which passed all these) goodnes, and (which followed all these) love of the people, beyond any of the great men of my countrie. Now this sonne of his I must say truly, not unwor- thy of such a father, bending himselfe by all meanes of servise- ablenes to mee, and setting foorth of himselfe to win my favour, wan thus farre of mee, that in truth I lesse misliked him then any of the rest: which in some proportion my countenaunce delivered unto him. Though I must protest it was a verie false embassadour, if it delivered at all any affeftion, whereof my hart was utterly void, I as then esteeming my selfe borne to rule, & thinking foule scorne willingly to submit my selfe to be ruled. But whiles Phlloxenus in good sorte pursued my favour, and 3 perchaunce nourished himselfe with over much hope, because he found I did in some sorte acknowledge his valew, one time among the rest he brought with him a deare friend of his. With that she loked upon the pifture before her, & straight sighed, & straight teares followed, as if the Idol of dutie ought to be honoured with such oblations, and the her speach staied the tale, having brought her to that loke, but that looke having quite put her out of her tale. But Palladium greatly pitying so sweete a sorrow in a Ladie, whom by fame he had already knowen, and honoured, besought her for her promise sake, to put silence so longe unto her moning, til she had recounted the rest of this story. Why said she, this is the picture of Amphialus : what neede 4 I say more to you ? what eare is so barbarous but hath hard of Amphialus} who follows deeds of Armes, but every where findes monumet of Amphialus ? who is courteous, noble, liberall, but he that hath the example before his eyes of Amphialus* where are all heroicall parts, but in Amphialus} O Amphialus I would thou were not so excellent, or I would I thought thee not so excellent, and yet would I not, that I would so : with that she wept againe, til he againe solliciting the conclusion of her story. Then must you (said she) know the story of Am- phialus: for his will is my life, his life my history: and indeed, in what can I better employ my lippes, then in speaking of Amphialus ? E 2 67 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES c This knight then whose figure you see, but whose mind can be painted by nothing, but by the true shape of vertue, is brothers sonne to Basi/ius King of Arcadia, and in his childhood esteemed his heir: till Basilius in his olde yeeres marrying a young and a faire Lady, had of her those two daughters, so famous for their perfection in beauty: which put by their young cosin from that expectation. Whereupon his mother (a woman of a hauty hart, being daughter to the King of Argos, either disdaining, or fearing, that her sonne should live under the power of Basi/ius sent him to that Lorde Timotheus (betwene whom and her dead husband ther had passed streight bands of mutuall hospitality to be brought up in company with his sonne Philoxenus ? 6 A happie resolution for Amphialus, whose excellent nature was by this meanes trayned on with as good education, as any Princes sonne in the world could have, which otherwise it is thought his mother (farre unworthie of such a sonne) would not have given him. The good Timotheus} no lesse loving him then his owne sonne: well they grew in yeeres; and shortly occasions fell aptly to trie Aniphialus, and all occasions were but steppes for him to clime fame by. Nothing was so hard, but his valour overcame : which yet still he so guided with true vertue, that although no man was in our parts spoken of but he, for his mahood, yet, as though therein he excelled him selfe, he was comonly called the courteous Amphialus. An endlesse thing it were for me to tell, how many adventures (terrible to be spoken of) he atchieved: what monsters, what Giants, what conquest of countries: sometimes using policy, some times force, but alwaies vertue, well followed, and but followed by Philoxenus'. betweene whom, and him, so fast a friendship by education was knit, that at last Philoxenus having no greater matter to employ his frindship in, then to winne me, therein desired, and had his uttermost furtheraunce : to that purpose brought he him to my court, where truly I may justly witnes with him, that what his wit could conceive (and his wit can conceave as far as the limits of reason stretch) was all direcled to the setting forwarde the suite of his friend Philoxenus : my eares could heare nothing from him, but touching the worthines of Philoxenus, and of the great happines it would be unto me to have such a husband : with many arguments, which 68 ARCADIA. LIB. i. God knowes, I cannot well remember because I did not much beleeve. For why should I use many circustances to come to that 7 where alredy I am, and ever while I live must continue? In fewe wordes, while he pleaded for an other, he wanne me for himselfe: if at least (with that she sighed) he would account it a winning, for his fame had so framed the way to my mind, that his presence so full of beauty, sweetnes, and noble conversation, had entred there before he vouchsafed to call for the keyes. O Lord, how did my soule hang at his lippes while he spake ! O when he in feeling maner would describe the love of his frend, how well (thought I) dooth love betweene those lips! when he would with daintiest eloquence stirre pitie in me to- ward Phi/oxenus, why sure (said I to my selfe) Helen, be not afraid, this hart cannot want pitie : and when he would extol the deeds of Phlloxenus, who indeede had but waited of him therin, alas (thought I) good Philoxenus, how evil doth it become thy name to be subscribed to his letter? What should I say? nay, what should I not say (noble knight) who am not ashamed, nay am delighted, thus to expresse mine owne passions ? Dayes paste ; his eagernes for his friende never decreased, 8 my affection to him ever increased. At length, in way of ordinarie courtesie, I obteined of him (who suspefted no such matter) this his pidlure, the only Amphialus^L feare that I shall ever enjoy : and growen bolder, or madder, or bould with madnes, I discovered my affedtion unto him. But, Lord, I shall never forget, how anger and courtesie, at one instant appeared in his eyes, when he heard that motion: how with his blush he taught me shame. In summe, he left nothing unassayed, which might disgrace himselfe, to grace his fred; in sweet termes making me receive a most resolute refusal of himself. But when he found that his presence did far more perswade for himselfe, then his speeche could doo for his frend, he left my court : hoping, that forgetfulnesse (which commonly waits upon absence) woulde make roome for his friende : to whome he woulde not utter thus much (I thinke) for a kinde feare not to grieve him, or perchance (though he cares little for me) of a certaine honorable gratefulnes, nor yet to discourse so much of my secrets : but as it should seeme, meant to travell into farre countreyes, untill his friends affedtion either ceased, or prevayled. 69 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 9 But within a while, Philoxenus came to see how onward the fruites were of his friends labour, when (as in trueth I cared not much how he tooke it) he found me sitting, beholding this pifture, I know not with how affectionate countenace, but I am sure with a most affeclionate mind. I straight found jelousie and disdaine tooke hold of him: and yet the froward paine of mine owne harte made me so delight to punish him, whom I esteemed the chiefest let in my way ; that when he with humble gesture, and vehement speeches, sued for my favor; I told him, that I would heare him more willingly, if he would speake for Amphialus, as well as Amphialus had done for him: he never answered me, but pale and quaking, went straight away; and straight my heart misgave me some evill successe : and yet though I had authentic inough to have stayed him (as in these fatall things it falles out, that the hie- working powers make second causes unwittingly accessarie to their de- terminations) I did no further but sent a foot-man of mine (whose faithfulnes to me I well knew) from place to place to follow him, and bring me word of his proceedings : which (alas) have brought foorth that which I feare I must ever rewe. IO For he had travailed scarse a dayes jorney out of my Countrey, but that (not farre from this place) he overtooke Amphialus, who (by succouring a distressed Lady) had bene here stayed : and by and by called him to fight with him, protesting that one of the two should die : you may easily judge how straunge it was to Amphialus, whose hart could accuse it selfe of no fault, but too much affection toward him, which he (refusing to fight with him) would faine have made Philoxenus understand, but (as my servant since tolde me) the more Amphialus went back, the more he followed, calling him TYaytor, and coward, yet never telling the cause of this strange alteration. Ah Philoxenus (saide Amphialus} I know I am no Traytor, and thou well knowest I am no coward: but I pray thee content thy selfe with this much, and let this satisfie thee, that I love thee, since I beare thus much of thee, but he leaving words drew his sworde, and gave Amphialus a great blow or two, which but for the goodnes of his armour would have slaine him: and yet so farre did Amphialus containe himselfe, stepping aside, and saying to him, Well Philoxenus, and thus much villany am I content to put up, not any longer for thy sake (whom I have no cause to love, 70 ARCADIA. LIB. i. since thou dost injure me, and wilt not tell me the cause) but for thy vertuous fathers sake, to whom I am so much bound. I pray thee goe away, and conquer thy owne passions, and thou shalt make me soone yeeld to be thy servant. But he would not attend his wordes, but still strake so fiercely at Amphialus, that in the end (nature prevailing above determination) he was faine to defend him selfe, and with-all to offend him, that by an unluckye blow the poore Philoxenus fell dead at his feete ; having had time onely to speake some wordes, whereby Amphialus knew it was for my sake : which when Amphialus sawe, he forthwith gave such tokens of true felt sorrow ; that as my servant said, no imagination [could conceive greater woe. But that by and by, an unhappie occasion made Amphialus passe himselfe in sorrow : for Philoxenus was but newly dead, when there comes to the same place, the aged and vertuous Timotheus^ who (having heard of his sonnes sodaine and passionate manner of parting from my Court) had followed him as speedily as he could; but alas not so speedily, but that he foud him dead before he could over take him. Though my hart be nothing but a stage for Tragedies ; yet I must confesse, it is even unable to beare the miserable representation thereof: knowing Amphialus and Timotheus as I have done. Alas what sorrow, what amasement, what shame was in Amphialus, when he saw his deere foster father, find him the killer of his onely sonne? In my hart I know, he wished mountaines had laine upon him, to keepe him from that meeting. As for Timotheus^ sorow of his sonne and (I thinke principally) unkindnes of Am- phialus so devoured his vitall spirits that able to say no more but Amphialus^ Amphialus^ have I ? he sancke to the earth, and pre- sently dyed. But not my tongue though daily used to complaints; no 12 nor if my hart (which is nothing but sorrow) were turned to tonges, durst it under-take to shew the unspeakeablenes of his griefe. But (because this serves to make you know my for- tune,) he threw away his armour, even this which you have now upon you, which at the first sight I vainely hoped, he had put on againe ; and the (as ashamed of the light) he ranne into the thickest of the woods, lameting, & even crying out so pityfully, that my seruant, (though of a fortune not used to much tendernes) could not refraine weeping when he tolde it 71 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES me. He once overtooke him, but Amphialus drawing his sword, which was the only part of his armes (God knowes to what purpose) he caried about him, threatned to kill him if he folowed him, and withall, bad him deliver this bitter message, that he wel inough foud, I was the cause of al this mischiefe : & that if I were a man, he would go over the world to kill me: but bad me assure my selfe, that of all creatures in the world, he most hated me. Ah Sir knight (whose eares I think by this time are tyred with the rugged wayes of these misfortunes) now way my case, if at lest you know what love is. For this cause have I left my country, putting in hazard how my people wil in time deale by me, adveturing what perils or dishonors might ensue, only to folow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to bring my neck unto him, if that may redeem my trespas & assuage his fury. And now sir (said she) you have your request, I pray you take paines to guide me to the next town, that there I may gather such of my company againe, as your valor hath left me. Palladium willingly codisceded : but ere they began to go, there cam Clitophon, who having bene something hurt by one of them, had pursued him a good way : at length over- taking him, & ready to kill him, understood they were servants to the faire Queene Helen, and that the cause of this enterprise was for nothing, but to make Amphialus prisoner, who they knew their mistresse sought ; for she concealed her sorow, nor cause of her sorow from no body. 13 But Clitophon (very sorie for this accident) came back to comfort the Queene, helping such as were hurt, in the best sort that he could, & framing fredly costru6tios of this rashly undertaken enmitie, when in comes another (till that time un- seene) all armed, with his bever downe, who first looking round about upon the companie, as soone as he spied Palladium, he drew his sword, and making no other prologue, let flie at him. But Palladium (sorie for so much harm as had alredy happened) sought rather to retire, and warde, thinking he might be some one that belonged to the faire Queene, whose case in his harte he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, stept betweene them, asking the new come knight the cause of his quarrell; who answered him, that he woulde kill that theefe, who had stollen away his masters armour, if he did not restore it. With that Palladium lookt upon him, and sawe that he of the other side had Palladium 72 ARCADIA. LIB. i. owne armour upon him: truely (said Palladius] if I have stolne this armour, you did not buy that: but you shall not fight with me upon such a quarrell, you shall have this armour willingly, which I did onely put on to doo honor to the owner. But Clitophon straight knewe by his words and voyce, that it was Ismenus, the faithfull & diligent Page of Amphialus: and there- fore telling him that he was Clitophon^ and willing him to acknowledge his error to the other, who deserved all honour, the yong Gentleman pulled of his head-peece, and (lighting) went to kisse Palladium hands ; desiring him to pardon his follie, caused by extreame griefe, which easilie might bring foorth anger. Sweete Gentleman (saide Palladium) you shall onely make me this amendes, that you shal cary this your Lords armour from me to him, and tell him from an unknowen knight (who admires his worthines) that he cannot cast a greater miste over his glory, the by being unkind to so excellet a princesse as this Queene is. Ismenus promised he would, as soone as he durst find his maister : and with that went to doo his dutie to the Queene, whom in all these encounters astonishment made hardy; but assoone as she saw Ismenus (looking to her piclure) Ismenus (said she) here is my Lord, where is yours? or come you to bring me some sentence of death from him ? if it be so, welcome be it. I pray you speake ; and speake quickly. Alas Madame, said Ismenus, I haue lost my Lorde, (with that teares came unto his eyes) for assoone as the unhappie combate was concluded with the death both of father and sonne, my maister casting of his armour, went his way : forbidding me upo paine of death to follow him. Yet divers daies I followed his steppes; till lastly I found 14 him, having newly met with an excellent Spaniel, belonging to his dead companion Philoxenus. The dog streight fawned on my master for old knowledge: but never was there thing more pittifull then to heare my maister blame the dog for loving his maisters murtherer, renewing a fresh his coplaints, with the dumbe counceller, as if they might cofort one another in their miseries. But my Lord having spied me, rase up in such rage, that in truth I feared he would kill me: yet as then he said onely, if I would not displease him, I should not come neere him till he sent for me : too hard a comaundement for me to dis- obey : I yeelded, leaving him onely waited on by his dog, and 73 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES as I thinke seeking out the most solitarie places, that this or any other country can graunt him : and I returning where I had left his armour, found an other in steed thereof, & (disdaining I must confesse that any should beare the armour of the best Knight living) armed my selfe therein to play the foole, as eve now I did. Faire Ismenus (said the Queen) a fitter messenger could hardly be to unfold my Tragedie : I see the end, I see my ende. 15 With that (sobbing) she desired to be conducted to the next towne, where Palladium left her to be waited on by Clitophon, at Palladium earnest entreatie, who desired alone to take that melancholy course of seeking his friend : & therefore changing armours again with Ismenus (who went withal to a castle be- longing to his master) he cotinued his quest for his friend Daiphantus. CHAP. 12. 1 Palladius after long search of Daiphantus, lighteth on an Amazon Ladie. 2 Her habite, 3 song, *and who she was. 5 0bjettions of the one against women, and love of them. 6 The answeres of the other for them both. 7 Their passionate conclusion in relenting kindnesse. directed he his course to Laconia, aswell among the Helots, as Spartans. There indeed he found his fame flourishing, his monument engraved in Marble, and yet more durable in mens memories; but the universall lamenting his absented presence, assured him of his present absence. Thence into the Elean province, to see whether at the Olympian games (there celebrated) he might in such concourse blesse his eyes with so desired an encounter: but that huge and sportfull assemblie grewe to him a tedious lonelinesse, esteeming no bodie founde, since Daiphantus was lost. Afterward he passed through Achaia and Sicyonia, to the Corinthians, prowde of their two Seas, to learne whether by the streight of that Isthmus, it was possible to know of his passage. But finding everie place more dumbe then other to his demaunds, and remembring that it was late-taken love, which had wrought this new course, he returned againe (after two months travaile in vaine) to make freshe searche in Arcadia ; so much the more, as then first he 74 ARCADIA. LIB. i. bethought him selfe of the picture of Philoclea (in resembling her he had once loved) might perhaps awake againe that sleeping passion. And hauing alreadie past over the greatest part of Arcadia, one day comming under the side of the pleasaunt mountaine Mtenalus, his horse (nothing guiltie of his inquisitive- nesse) with flat tiring taught him, that discrete stayes make speedie journeis. And therefore lighting downe, and unbride- ling his horse, he him selfe went to repose him selfe in a little wood he sawe thereby. Where lying under the protection of a shadie tree, with intention to make forgetting sleepe comfort a sorrowfull memorie, he sawe a sight which perswaded, and ob- teyned of his eyes, that they would abide yet a while open. It was the appearing of a Ladie, who because she walked with her side toward him, he could not perfectly see her face; but so much he might see of her, that was a suretie for the rest, that all was excellent. Well might he perceave the hanging of her haire in fairest 2 quatitie, in locks, some curled, & some as it were forgotten, with such a carelesse care, & an arte so hiding arte, that she seemed she would lay them for a paterne, whether nature simply, or nature helped by cunning, be more excellent : the rest whereof was drawne into a coronet of golde richly set with pearle, and so joyned all over with gold wiers, and covered with feathers of divers colours, that it was not unlike to an helmet, such a glittering shew it bare, & so bravely it was held up fro the head. Vpon her bodie she ware a doublet of skie colour sattin, covered with plates of gold, & as it were nailed with pretious stones, that in it she might seeme armed; the nether parts of her garment was so full of stuffe, & cut after such a fashion, that though the length of it reached to the ankles, yet in her going one might sometimes discerne the smal of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a short paire of crimson velvet buskins, in some places open (as the ancient manner was) to shew the fairenes of the skin. Over all this she ware a cer- taine mantell, made in such manner, that comming under the right arme, and covering most of that side, it had no fastning of the left side, but onely upon the top of the shoulder : where the two endes met, and were closed together with a very riche Jewell : the devise wherof (as he after saw) was this : a Hercules made in little fourme, but a distaffe set within his hand as he 75 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES once was by Omphales commaundement with a worde in Greeke, but thus to be interpreted, Never more valiant. On the same side, on her thigh shee ware a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon, or one following that profession, so it seemed but a needles weapon, since her other forces were with- out withstanding. But this Ladie walked out-right, till he might see her enter into a fine close arbour: it was of trees whose branches so lovingly interlaced one the other, that it could resist the strogest violence of eye-sight ; but she went into it by a doore she opened; which moved him as warely as he could to follow her, and by and by he might heare her sing this song, with a voice no lesse beautifull to his eares, then her goodlinesse was full of harmonic to his eyes. 3 r I ^Ransformd in shew, but more transformd in minde, \_ I cease to strive with double conquest foild : For (woe is me} my powers all I finde With outward force, and inward treason spoild. ' For from without came to mine eyes the blowe, Whereto mine inward thoughts did faintly yeeld ; Both these conspird poore Reasons overthrowe; False in my selfe, thus have I lost the field. Thus are my eyes still Captive to one sight : Thus all my thoughts are slaves to one thought still: Thus Reason to his servants yeelds his right ; Thus is my power transformed to your will. What marvaile then I take a womans hew, Since what I see, thinke, know is all but you ? 4 The dittie gave him some suspition, but the voice gave him almost assurance, who the singer was. And therefore boldly thrusting open the dore, and entring into the arbour, he per- ceaved in deed that it was Pyrocles thus disguised, wherewith not receaving so much joy to have found him, as griefe so to have found him, amazedly looking upon him (as Apollo is painted when he saw Daphne sodainly turned into a Laurell) he was not able to bring forth a worde. So that Pyrocles (who had as much shame, as Musidorus had sorrow) rising to him, would have formed a substantiall excuse; but his insinua- 76 ARCADIA. LIB. i. tion being of blushinge, and his division of sighes, his whole oration stood upon a short narration, what was the causer of this Metamorphosis? But by that time Musidorus had gathered his spirites together, and yet casting a gastfull countenaunce upon him (as if he would conjure some strange spirits) he thus spake unto him. And is it possible, that this is Pyroc/es, the onely yong Prince 5 in the world, formed by nature, and framed by education, to the true exercise of vertue? or is it indeed some Amazon that hath counterfeited the face of my friend, in this sort to vexe me ? for likelier sure I would have thought it, that any outwarde face might have bene disguised, then that the face of so excellet a mind coulde have bene thus blemished. O sweete Pyrocles, separate your selfe a little (if it be possible) from your selfe, and let your owne minde looke upon your owne proceedings: so shall my wordes be needlesse, and you best instructed. See with your selfe, how fitt it will be for you in this your tender youth, borne so great a Prince, and of so rare, not onely expectation, but proofe, desired of your olde Father, and wanted of your native countrie, now so neere your home, to divert your thoughts from the way of goodnesse ; to loose, nay to abuse your time. Lastly to overthrow all the excellent things you have done, which have filled the world with your fame ; as if you should drowne your ship in the long desired haven, or like an ill player, should marre the last aft of his Tragedie. Remem- ber (for I know you know it) that if we wil be men, the reason- able parte of our soule, is to have absolute commaundement ; against which if any sensuall weaknes arise, we are to yeelde all our sounde forces to the overthrowing of so unnaturall a rebel- lion, wherein how can we wante courage, since we are to deale against so weake an adversary, that in it selfe is nothinge but weakenesse ? Nay we are to resolve, that if reason direcl it, we must doo it, and if we must doo it, we will doo it; for to say I cannot, is childish, and I will not, womanish. And see how extremely every waye you endaunger your minde; for to take this womannish habit (without you frame your behaviour accordingly) is wholy vaine: your behaviour can never come kindely from you, but as the minde is proportioned unto it. So that you must resolve, if you will playe your parte to any purpose, whatsoever peevish affections are in that sexe, soften 77 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES your hart to receive them, the very first downe-steppe to all wickednes: for doo not deceive your selfe, my deere cosin, there is no man sodainely excellentlie good, or extremely evill, but growes either as hee holdes himselfe up in vertue, or lets himself slide to vitiousnes. And let us see, what power is the aufthor of all these troubles : forsooth love, love, a passion, and the basest and fruitlessest of all passions: feare breedeth wit, Anger is the cradle of courage : joy openeth and enhableth the hart : sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inwarde to looke to the correcting of it selfe ; and so all generally have power towards some good by the direction of right Reason. But this bastarde Love (for in deede the name of Love is most unworthy- lie applied to so hatefull a humour) as it is engendered betwixt lust and idlenes; as the matter it workes upon is nothing, but a certaine base weakenes, which some gentle fooles call a gentle hart; as his adjoyned companions be unquietnes, longings, fond comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, ielousies, ungrounded rages, causlesse yeeldings ; so is the hiest ende it aspires unto, a litle pleasure with much paine before, and great repentaunce after. But that end how endlesse it runs to infinite evils, were fit inough for the matter we speake of, but not for your eares, in whome indeede there is so much true disposition to vertue : yet thus much of his worthie effects in your selfe is to be seen, that (besides your breaking lawes of hospitality with Kalanderznd. of friendship with me) it utterly subverts the course of nature, in making reason give place to sense, & man to woman. And truely I thinke heere-upon it first gatte the name of Love : for indeede the true love hath that excellent nature in it, that it doth transform the very essence of the lover into the thing loved, uniting, and as it were incorporating it with a secret & inward working. And herein do these kindes of love imitate the ex- cellent ; for as the love of heaven makes one heavenly, the love of vertue, vertuous ; so doth the love of the world make one be- come worldly, and this effeminate love of a woman, doth so womanish a man, that (if he yeeld to it) it will not onely make him an Amazon ; but a launder, a distaff-spinner; or what so ever other vile occupation their idle heads ca imagin, & their weake hands performe. Therefore (to trouble you no longer with my tedious but loving words) if either you remember what you are, what you have bene, or what you must be: if you co- 78 ARCADIA. LIB. i. sider what it is, that moved you, or by what kinde of creature you are moved, you shall finde the cause so small, the effect: so daungerous, your selfe so unworthie to runne into the one, or to be driue by the other, that I doubt not I shall quickly have occasion rather to praise you for having conquered it, then to give you further counsell, how to doo it. But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more, but that he, I who before he was espied, was afraid; after, being perceived, was ashamed, now being hardly rubd upon, lefte both feare and shame, and was moved to anger. But the exceeding good will he bare to Musidorus striving with it, he thus, partely to satisfie him, but principally to loose the reines to his owne motions, made him answere. Cosin, whatsover good disposition nature hath bestowed upon me, or howsoever that disposition hath bene by bringing up cofirmed, this must I confesse, that I am not yet come to that degree of wisdome, to thinke light of the sexe, of whom I have my life; since if I be any thing (which your friendship rather finds, the I acknowledge) I was to come to it, born of a woma, & nursed of a woma. And certely (for this point of your speach doth neerest touch me) it is strage to see the unman-like cruelty of makind; who not cotent with their tyranous abition, to have brought the others vertuous patience under them (like to childish maisters) thinke their masterhood nothing, without doing injury to them, who (if we will argue by reason) are framed of nature with the same parts of the minde for the exercise of vertue, as we are. And for example, even this estate of Amazons, (which I now for my greatest honor do seek to counterfaite) doth well witnes, that if generally the swetnes of their dispositios did not make them see the vainnesse of these thinges, which we accept glorious, they nether want valor of mind, nor yet doth their fairnes take away their force. And truely we men, and praisers of men, should remember, that if we have such excellecies, it is reason to thinke them excellent creatures, of whom we are : since a Kite never brought forth a good flying Hauke. But to tel you true, as I thinke it super- fluous to use any wordes of such a subject, which is so praised in it selfe, as it needes no praises; so withall I feare lest my con- ceate (not able to reach unto them) bring forth wordes, which for their unworthines may be a disgrace unto the I so inwardly honor. Let this suffice, that they are capable of vertue : & 79 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES vertue (ye your selves say) is to be loved, & I too truly : but this I willingly cofesse, that it likes me much better, when I finde vertue in a faire lodging, then when I am bound to seeke it in an ill favoured creature, like a pearle in a dounghill. As for my fault of being an uncivill guest to Kalander^ if you could feele what an inward guest my selfe am host unto : ye would thinke it very excuseable, in that I rather performe the dueties of an host, then the ceremonies of a guest. And for my break- ing the lawes of friendshippe with you, (which I would rather dye, then effectually doo) truely, I could finde in my hart to aske you pardon for it, but that your handling of me gives me reason to my former dealing. And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breath himselfe, having bene transported with a litle vehemency, because it seemed him Musidorus had over-bitterly glaunsed against the reputation of woman-kinde: but then quieting his countenance (aswell as out of an unquiet mind it might be) he thus proceeded on : And poore Love (said he) deare cosin, is little beholding unto you, since you are not contented to spoile it of the honor of the highest power of the mind, which notable me have attributed unto it; but ye dejecl: it below all other passions, in trueth somewhat strangely; since, if love receive any disgrace, it is by the company of these passions you preferre before it. For those kinds of bitter objections (as, that lust, idlenes, and a weak harte, shoulde be, as it were, the matter and forme of love) rather touch me, deare Musidorus y then love: But I am good witnesse of mine own imperfections, & therefore will not de- fende my selfe: but herein I must say, you deale contrary to your self : for if I be so weak, then can you not with reason stir me up as ye did, by remebrance of my own vertue : or if indeed I be vertuous, the must ye cofesse, that love hath his working in a vertuous hart : & so no dout hath it, whatsoever I be : for if we love vertue, in whom shal we love it but in a vertuous creature? without your meaning be, I should love this word vertue^ where I see it written in a book. Those troble- some effects you say it breedes, be not the faults of love, but of him that loves; as an unable vessel to beare such a licour: like evill eyes, not able to look on the Sun; or like an ill braine, soonest overthrowe with best wine. Even that heavenly love you speake of, is accopanied in some harts with hopes, griefs, longings, & dispaires. And in that heavely love, since ther are 80 ARCADIA. LIB. i. two parts, the one the love it self, th'other the excellency of the thing loved; I, not able at the first leap to frame both in me, do now (like a diligent workman) make ready the chiefe instrument, and first part of that great worke, which is love it self; which whe I have a while practised in this sort, then you shall see me turn it to greater matters. And thus gently you may (if it please you) think of me. Neither doubt ye, because I weare a womans apparell, I will be the more womannish, since, I assure you (for all my apparrel) there is nothing I desire more, then fully to prove my selfe a man in this enterprise. Much might be said in my defence, much more for love, and most of all for that divine creature, which hath joyned me and love together. But these disputations are fitter for quiet schooles, then my troubled braines, which are bent rather in deeds to performe, then in wordes to defende the noble desire which possesseth me. O Lord (saide Musidorus) how sharp-witted you are to hurt your selfe? No (answered he) but it is the hurt you speake of, which makes me so sharp-witted. Even so (said Musidorus) as every base occupation makes one sharp in that practise, and foolish in all the rest. Nay rather (answered Pyrocles) as each excellent thing once well learned, serves for a measure of all other knowledges. And is that become (said Musidorus) a measure for other things, which never received measure in it selfe? It is counted without measure (answered Pyrocles^) because the workings of it are without measure : but otherwise, in nature it hath measure, since it hath an end allotted unto it. The beginning being so excellent, I would gladly know the end. Enjoying, answered Pyrocles^ with a great sigh. O (said Musi- dorus] now set ye foorth the basenes of it : since if it ende in enjoying, it shewes all the rest was nothing. Ye mistake me (answered Pyrocles] I spake of the end to which it is directed ; which end ends not, no sooner then the life. Alas, let your owne braine dis-enchaunt you (said Musidorus.) My hart is too farre possessed (said Pyrocles.) But the head gives you direction. And the hart gives me life; aunswered Pyrocles. But Musidorus was so greeved to see his welbeloved friend 7 obstinat, as he thought, to his owne destruction, that it forced him with more then accustomed vehemency, to speake these words; Well, well, (saide he) you list to abuse your selfe; it was a very white and red vertue, which you could pick out of a s. A. F 81 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES painterly glosse of a visage : Confesse the truth ; and ye shall finde, the utmost was but beautie; a thing, which though it be in as great excellencye in your selfe as may be in any, yet I am sure you make no further reckning of it, then of an outward fading benefite Nature bestowed upon you. And yet such is your want of a true grounded vertue, which must be like it selfe in all points, that what you wisely account a trifle in your selfe, you fondly become a slave unto in another. For my part I now protest, I have left nothing unsaid, which my wit could make me know, or my most entier friendship to you requires of me; I do now besech you even for the love betwixt us (if this other love have left any in you towards me) and for the remembraunce of your olde careful father (if you can remeber him that forget your self) lastly for Pyrocles owne sake (who is now upon the point of falling or rising) to purge your selfe of this vile infedlion ; other wise give me leave, to leave of this name of friendsh[i]p, as an idle title of a thing which cannot be, where vertue is abolished. The length of these speaches before had not so much cloied Pyrocks, though he were very unpatient of long deliberations, as the last farewel of him he loved as his owne life, did wound his soule, thinking him selfe afflicled, he was the apter to conceive unkindnesse deepely: insomuch, that shaking his head, and delivering some shewe of teares, he thus uttered his griefes. Alas (said he) prince Musidorus, how cruelly you deale with me ; if you seeke the viclory, take it; and if ye liste, triumph. Have you all the reason of the world, and with me remaine all the imperfections; yet such as I can no more lay from me, then the Crow can be perswaded by the Swanne to cast of all his black fethers. But truely you deale with me like a Phisition, that seeing his patient in a pestilent fever, should chide him, in steede of ministring helpe, and bid him be sick no more; or rather like such a friend, that visiting his friend condemned to perpetuall prison ; and loaden with greevous fetters, should will him to shake of his fetters, or he wuld leave him. I am sicke, & sicke to the death ; I am a prisoner, neither is any redresse, but by her to whom I am slave. Now if you list to leave him that loves you in the hiest degree : But remember ever to cary this with you, that you abandon your friend in his greatest extremity. And herewith the deepe wound of his love being rubbed 82 ARCADIA. LIB. i. afresh with this new unkindnes, bega (as it were) to bleed again, in such sort that he was not hable to beare it any longer, but gushing out aboundance of teares, and crossing his armes over his woefull hart, as if his teares had beene out-flowing blood, his armes an over-pressing burthen, he suncke downe to the ground, which sodaine traunce went so to the hart of Musidorus^ that falling down by him & kissing the weping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make account of his speach ; which if it had bene over vehement, yet was it to be borne withall, because it came out of a love much more vehement ; that he had not thought fancie could have re- ceived so deep a wound : but now finding in him the force of it, hee woulde no further contrary it ; but imploy all his service to medicine it, in such sort, as the nature of it required. But even this kindnes made Pyrocles the more melte in the former unkindnes, which his manlike teares well shewed, with a silent look upo Musidorus, as who should say, And is it possible that Musidorus should threaten to leave me? And this strooke Musidorus minde and senses so dumbe too, that for griefe being not able to say any thing, they rested, with their eyes placed one upon another, in such sort, as might well paint out the true passion of unkindnes to be never aright, but betwixt them that most dearely love. And thus remayned they a time; till at length, Musidorus embrasing him, said, And will you thus shake of your friend ? It is you that shake me of (saide Pyrocles] being for my unper- fedtnes unworthie of your friendshippe. But this (said Musi- dorus} shewes you more unperfedl:, to be cruell to him, that submits himselfe unto you; but since you are unperfecl: (said he smiling) it is reason you be governed by us wise and perfect men. And that authentic will I beginne to take upon me, with three absolute comandements: The first, that you increase not your evill with further griefes : the second, that you love her with all the powers of your mind: & the last comandemet shalbe, ye comand me to do what service I can, towards the attaining of your desires. Pyrocles hart was not so oppressed with the mighty passios of love and unkindnes, but that it yeelded to some mirth at thiscommaundementof Musidorus^ that he should love : so that something cleering his face from his former shewes of griefe ; Wei (said he) deare cousin, I see by the well choosing F2 8 3 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES of your commandementes, that you are fitter to be a Prince, then a Counseller: and therfore I am resolved to imploy all my endevour to obey you ; with this condition, that the comande- mentes ye commaund me to lay upon you, shall onely be, that you continue to love me, and looke upon my imperfections, with more affeftion then judgemet. Love you? (said he) alas, how can my hart be seperated from the true imbrasing of it, without it burst, by being too full of it? But (said he) let us leave of these flowers of newe begun frendship: and now I pray you againe tel me; but tell it me fully, omitting no circumstance, the storie of your affections both beginning, and proceeding: assuring your selfe, that there is nothing so great, which I will feare to doo for you: nor nothing so small, which I will disdaine to doo for you. Let me therfore receive a cleere understating, which many times we misse, while those things we account small, as a speech, or a look are omitted, like as a whole sentence may faile of his congruitie, by wanting one particle. Therefore betweene frends, all must be layd open, nothing being superfluous, nor tedious. You shalbe obeyed (said Pyrocles} and here are we in as fitte a place for it as may be ; for this arbor no body offers to come into but my selfe; I using it as my melancholy retiring place, and therefore that respecl: is born unto it ; yet if by chace any should come, say that you are a servant sent from the Q^ of the Amazons to seeke me, and then let me alone for the rest. So sate they downe, and Pyrocles thus said. CHAP. 13. 1 How Pyrocles fell in love with Philoclea. *His counsell and course therein. s His disguising into Zelmane. 4 Her meeting with Damaetas, 5 Basilius, *the Queene and her daughters, & their speaches. ''Her abode there over entreated ; s and the place thereof described. (saide hee) then began the fatall overthrowe of all my libertie, when walking among the pictures in Kalanders house, you your selfe delivered unto mee what you had under- stood of Philoclea, who t muche resembling (though I must say much surpassing) the Ladie Zelmane, whom too well I loved : 84 ARCADIA. LIB. i. there were mine eyes infefted, & at your mouth did I drinke my poison. Yet alas so sweete was it unto me, that I could not be contented, til Kalander had made it more and more strong with his declaratio. Which the more I questioned, the more pittie I conceaved of her unworthie fortune : and when with pittie once my harte was made tender, according to the aptnesse of the humour, it receaved quickly a cruell impression of that wonder- ful passio which to be definde is impossible, because no wordes reach to the strange nature of it: they onely know it, which inwardly feele it, it is called love. Yet did I not (poore wretch) at first know my disease, thinking it onely such a woonted kind of desire, to see rare sights ; & my pitie to be no other, but the fruits of a gentle nature. But eve this arguing with my selfe came of further thoughts; & the more I argued, the more my thoughts encreased. Desirous I was to see the place where she remained, as though the Architecture of the lodges would have bene much for my learning; but more desirous to see her selfe, to be judge, forsooth, of the painters cuning. For thus at the first did I flatter my selfe, as though my wound had bene no deeper : but when within short time I came to the degree of uncertaine wishes, and that the wishes grew to unquiet longings, when I could fix my thoughts upo nothing, but that within little varying, they should end with Philoclea: when each thing I saw, seemed to figure out some parts of my passions; whe even Parthenias faire face became a ledture to me of Philocleas imagined beautie ; when I heard no word spoken, but that me thought it caried the sum of Philocleas name : then indeed, then I did yeeld to the burthen, finding my selfe prisoner, before I had leasure to arme my selfe ; & that I might well, like the spaniel, gnaw upon the chaine that ties him, but I should sooner marre my teeth, then procure liberty. Yet I take to witnesse the eternall spring of vertue, that I 2 had never read, heard, nor scene any thing; I had never any tast of Philosophy, nor inward feeling in my selfe, which for a while I did not call for my succour. But (alas) what resistance was there, when ere long my very reason was (you will say cor- rupted) I must needs confesse, conquered ; and that me thought even reason did assure me, that all eies did degenerate from their creation, which did not honour such beautie ? Nothing in trueth could holde any plea with it, but the reverent friend- 85 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ship I bare unto you. For as it went against my harte to breake any way from you, so did I feare more then anie assault to breake it to you : finding (as it is indeed) that to a hart fully resolute, counsaile is tedious, but reprehension is lothsome: & that there is nothing more terrible to a guilty hart, then the eie of a re- spe&ed fried. This made me determine with my self, (thinking it a lesse fault in friedship to do a thing without your knowledge, then against your wil) to take this secret course : Which con- ceit was most builded up in me, the last day of my parting and speaking with you; whe upo your speach with me, & my but naming love, (when els perchauce I would have gone further) I saw your voice & coutenance so chaunge, as it assured me, my revealing it should but purchase your griefe with my cumber : & therfore (deere Musidorus) eve ran away fro thy wel knowne chiding : for having writte a letter, which I know not whether you found or no, & taking my chiefe jewels with me, while you were in the middest of your sport, I got a time (as I think) un- marked, to steale away, I cared not whether so I might scape you: & so came I to Ithonia in the province of Messenia ; wher lying secret I put this in practise which before I had devised. For remebring by Philanax his letter, & Kaladers speech, how 3 obstinately Basilius was determined not to mary his daughters, & therfore fearing, lest any publike dealing should rather in- crease her captivitie, then further my love; Love (the refiner of inventio) had put in my head thus to disguise my self, that under that maske I might (if it were possible,) get accesse, and what accesse could bring forth, commit to fortune & industry : determining to beare the countenance of an Amazon. Therfore in the closest maner I could, naming my selfe Ze/mane, for that deere Ladies sake, to whose memorie I am so much bound, I caused this apparell to be made, and bringing it neere the lodges, which are harde at hand, by night, thus dressed my selfe, resting till occasion might make me found by them, whom I sought: which the next morning hapned as well, as my owne plot could have laide it. For after I had runne over the whole petigree of my thoughts, I gave my selfe to sing a little, which as you know I ever delighted in, so now especially, whether it be the nature of this clime to stir up Poeticall fancies, or rather as I thinke, of love ; whose scope being pleasure, will not so much as utter his griefes, but in some forme of pleasure. 86 ARCADIA. LIB. i. But I had song very little, when (as I thinke displeased with 4 my bad musilce) comes master Dametas with a hedging bill in his hand, chafing, and swearing by the patable of Pallas^ & such other othes as his rusticall bravery could imagine; & whe he saw me, I assure you my beauty was no more beholding to him the my harmony; for leaning his hands upon his bil, & his chin vpon his hads, with the voice of one that plaieth Hercules in a play, but never had his fancie in his head, the first word he spake to me, was, am not I Dametas? why, am not I Dametas? he needed not name him selfe: for Kalanders description had set such a note upo him, as made him very notable unto me, and therefore the height of my thoughts would not discend so much as to make him any answer, but continued on my inward dis- courses: which (he perchaunce witnes of his owne unworthines, & therefore the apter to thinke him selfe contened) tooke in so hainous manner, that standing upo his tip-toes, and staring as though he would have a mote pulled out of his eie, Why (said he) thou woma, or boy, or both, what soever thou be, I tell thee here is no place for thee, get thee gone, I tell thee it is the Princes pleasure, I tell thee it is Dametas pleasure. I could not choose, but smile at him, seeing him looke so like an Ape that had newly taken a purgation ; yet taking my selfe with the maner, spake these wordes to my selfe : O spirite (saide I) of mine, how canst thou receave anie mirth in the midst of thine agonies, and thou mirth how darest thou enter into a minde so growne of late thy professed enemie ? Thy spirite (saide Dametas) doost thou thinke me a spirite ? I tell thee I am Basilius officer, and have charge of him, and his daughters. O onely pearle (said I sob- bing) that so vile an oyster should keepe thee ? By the combe- case of Diana (sware Dametas} this woman is mad : oysters, and pearles ? doost thou thinke I will buie oysters ? I tell thee once againe get thee packing, and with that lifted up his bill to hit me with the blunt ende of it : but indeede that put me quite out of my lesson, so that I forgat al Zelmanes-ship, and drawing out my sworde, the basenesse of the villaine yet made me stay my hande, and he (who, as Kalander tolde me, from his childehood ever feared the blade of a sworde) ran backe, backward (with his hands above his head) at lest twentie paces, gaping and staring, with the verie grace (I thinke) of the clownes, that by Latonas prayers were turned into Frogs. At length staying, finding 8? THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES himselfe without the compasse of blowes, he fell to a fresh scolding, in such mannerlie manner, as might well shewe he had passed through the discipline of a Taverne. But seeing me walke up and downe, without marking what he saide, he went his way (as I perceived after) to Basi/ius: for within a while he came unto mee, bearing in deed shewes in his countenaunce of an honest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much courtesie, as Dametas with rudenesse saluting me, Faire Lady (saide he) it is nothing strange, that such a solitary place as this should receive solitary persons; but much do I marvaile, how such a beauty as yours is, should be suffered to be thus alone. I (that now knew it was my part to play) looking with a grave majestic upon him, as if I found in my selfe cause to be rever- enced. They are never alone (saide I) that are accompanied with noble thoughts. But those thoughts (replied Basi/ius) canot in this your lonelines neither warrant you from suspition in others, nor defend you from melancholy in your selfe. I then shewing a mislike that he pressed me so farre, I seeke no better warraunt (saide I) then my owne conscience, nor no greater pleasures, then mine owne contentation. Yet vertue seekes to satisfie others, (saide Basi/ius.) Those that be good (saide I,) and they wil be satisfied as long as they see no evill. Yet will the best in this country, (said Basilius) suspecl so excellent a beauty being so weakely garded. Then are the best but starke nought, (aunswered I) for open suspecting others, comes of secrete condemning themselves; But in my countrie (whose manners I am in all places to maintaine and reverence) the generall goodnes (which is nourished in our harts) makes every one thinke the strength of vertue in an other, whereof they finde the assured foundation in themselves. Excellent Ladie (said he) you praise so greatly, (and yet so wisely) your coutry, that I must needes desire to know what the nest is, out of which such Byrds doo flye. You must first deserve it (said I) before you may obtaine it. And by what meanes (saide Basi/ius) shall I deserve to know your estate ? By letting me first knowe yours (aunswered I.) To obey you (said he) I will doe it, although it were so much more reason, yours should be knowen first, as you doo deserve in all points to be preferd. Know you (faire Lady) that my name is Basi/ius, unworthily Lord of this coutry : the rest, either fame hath brought to your 88 ARCADIA. LIB. i. eares, or (if it please you to make this place happie by your presence) at more leasure you shall understand of me. I that from the beginning assured my selfe it was he, but would not seeme I did so, to keepe my gravitie the better, making a peece of reverece unto him, Mighty Prince (said I) let my not knowing you serve for the excuse of my boldnes, and the little reverence I doe you, impute it to the manner of my coutry, wh[i]ch is the invincible Lande of the Amazons ; My selfe neece to Senicia, Queene thereof, lineally descended of the famous Penthesilea, slaine by the bloody hand of Pyrrhus. I having in this my youth determined to make the worlde see the Amazons excel- lencies, aswell in private, as in publicke vertue, have passed some daungerous adventures in divers coiitries : till the unmerci- full Sea deprived me of my company: so that shipwrack casting me not far hence, uncertaine wandring brought me to this place. But Basilius (who now began to tast that, which since he hath swallowed up, as I will tell you) fell to more cunning intreating my aboad, then any greedy host would use to well paying passingers. I thought nothing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires; yet had I learned alredy so much, that it was aganst my womanhoode to be forward in my owne wishes. And therefore he (to prove whither intercessions in fitter mouths might better prevaile) commaunded Dametas to bring forth- with his wife and daughters thether; three Ladies, although of divers, yet all of excellent beauty. His wife in grave Matronlike attire, with countenaunce and 6 gesture sutable, and of such fairnes (being in the strengh of her age) as if her daughters had not bene by, might with just price have purchased admiration ; but they being there, it was enough that the most dainty eye would thinke her a worthy mother of such children. The faire Pamela, whose noble hart I finde doth greatly disdaine, that the trust of her vertue is reposed in such a louts hands as Dametas, had yet to shew an obedience, taken on a shepeardish apparell, which was but of Russet cloth cut after their fashion, with a straight body, open brested, the nether parte ful of pleights, with long and wide sleeves : but beleeve me she did apparell her apparell, and with the pretiousnes of her body made it most sumptuous. Her haire at the full length, wound about with gold lace, onely by the comparison to see how farre her haire doth excell in colour: betwixt her breasts (which THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES sweetly rase up like two faire Mountainets in the pleasaunt valley of Tempi) there honge a very riche Diamond set but in a blacke home, the worde I have since read is this ; yet still my selfe. And thus particularly have I described them, because you may know that mine eyes are not so partiall, but that I marked them too. But when the ornament of the Earth, the modell of heaven, the Triumphe of Nature, the light of beauty, Queene of Love, youg Pbiloclea appeared in her Nimphe-like apparell, so neare nakednes, as one might well discerne part of her perfections ; & yet so apparelled, as did shew she kept best store of her beuty to her self: her haire (alas too poore a word, why should I not rather call the her beames) drawe up into a net, able to take "Jupiter when he was in the forme of an Eagle; her body (O sweet body) covered with a light taffeta garment, so cut, as the wrought smocke came through it in many places, inough to have made your restraind imaginatio have thought what was under it: with the cast of her blacke eyes; blacke indeed, whether nature so made them, that we might be the more able to behold & bear their woderfull shining, or that she, (goddesse like) would work this miracle in her selfe, in giving blacknes the price above all beauty. Then (I say) indeede me thought the Lillies grew pale for envie, the roses me thought blushed to see sweeter roses in her cheekes, & the apples me thought, fell downe fro the trees, to do homage to the apples of her breast ; Then the cloudes gave place, that the heaves might more freshly smile upo her; at the lest the cloudes of my thoughts quite vanished: and my sight (then more cleere and forcible then ever) was so fixed there, that (I imagine) I stood like a well wrought image, with some life in shew, but none in practise. And so had I beene like inough to have stayed long time, but that Gynecia stepping betweene my sight and the onely Philoclea, the chaunge of object made mee recover my senses: so that I coulde with reasonable good manner receive the salutation of her, and of the Princesse Pamela, doing the yet no further reverece then one Prince useth to another. But when I came to the never-inough praised Philoclea, I could not but fall downe on my knees, and taking by force her hand, and kissing it (I must confesse) with more then womanly ardency, Divine Lady, (saide I) let not the worlde, nor these great princes marvaile, to se me (contrary to my manner) do this especiall honor unto you, 9 ARCADIA. LIB. i. since all both men and women, do owe this to the perfection of your beauty. But she blushing (like a faire morning in Maye) at this my singularity, and causing me to rise, Noble Lady, (saide she) it is no marvaile to see your judgement mistaken in my beauty, since you beginne with so great an errour, as to do more honour unto me then to them, whom I my selfe owe all service. Rather (answered I with a bowed downe countenaunce) that shewes the power of your beauty, which forced me to do such an errour, if it were an errour. 'You are so well acquainted (saide she sweetely, most sweetely smiling,) with your owne beautie, that it makes you easilie fall into the discourse of beauty. Beauty in me ? (said I truely sighing) alas if there be any, it is in my eyes, which your blessed presence hath imparted unto them. But then (as I thinke) Basilius willing her so do, Well 7 (saide she) I must needs confesse I have heard that it is a great happines to be praised of them that are most praise worthie ; And well I finde that you are an invincible Amazon, since you will overcome, though in a wrong matter. But if my beauty be any thing, then let it obtaine thus much of you, that you will remaine some while in this copanie, to ease your owne travail, and our solitarines. First let me dye (said I) before any word spoken by such a mouth, should come in vaine. And thus with some other wordes of entertaining, was my staying concluded, and I led among them to the lodge; truely a place for pleasantnes, not unfitte to flatter solitarinesse ; for it being set upon such an unsensible rising of the ground, as you are come to a prety height before almost you perceive that you ascend, it gives the eye lordship over a good large circuit, which according to the nature of the coutry, being diversified betwene hills and dales, woods and playnes, one place more cleere, and the other more darksome, it seemes a pleasant pifture of nature, with lovely lightsomnes and artificiall shadowes. The Lodge is of a yellow stone, built in the forme of a starre ; having round about a garden framed into like points : and beyond the gardein, ridings cut out, each aunswering the Angles of the Lodge : at the end of one of them is the other smaller Lodge, but of like fashion ; where the gratious Pamela liveth : so that the Lodge seemeth not unlike a faire Comete, whose taile stretcheth it selfe to a starre of lesse greatnes. 91 THE COUNTESSE OF PEI\ROKES CHAP. 14. 1 The devises of the first banket to Zelmane. J Her crosses in love y 8 by the love of Basilius 4 and Gynecia 5 The conclusion between Musidorus and Zelmane. O Gynecia her selfe bringing me to my Lodging, anone after I was invited and brought downe to suppe with them in the gardein, a place not fairer in naturall ornaments, then arti- ficiall inventions: wherein is a banquetting house among certaine pleasant trees, whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings about of Vine branches. The table was set neere to an excellent water-worke; for by the casting of the water in most cun- ning maner, it makes (with the shining of the Sunne upon it) a perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye then to the mind, so sensibly to see the proof of the heavenly Iris. There were birds also made so finely, that they did not onely deceive the sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs ; which the watrie instruments did make their gorge deliver. The table at which we sate, was round, which being fast to the floore whereon we sate, and that devided from the rest of the buildings (with turning a vice, which Basilius at first did to make me sport) the table, and we about the table, did all turne rounde, by meanes of water which ranne under, and carried it about as a Mille. But alas, what pleasure did it to mee, to make divers times the full circle round about, since Philoclea (being also set) was carried still in equall distance from me, and that onely my eyes did overtake her; which when the table was stayed, and wee beganne to feede, dranke much more eagerlie of her beautie, then my mouth did of any other licour. And so was my com- mon sense deceived (being chiefly bent to her) that as I dranke the wine, and withall stale a looke on her, me seemed I tasted her deliciousnesse. But alas, the one thirste was much more inflamed, then the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would lay themselves open to receive all the dartes she did throwe, somtimes cloze up with admiration, as if with a contrary fancie, they woulde preserve the riches of that sight they had gotten, or cast my lidde as curtaines over the image of beautie, her 92 ARCADIA. LIB. i. presence had painted in them. True it is, that my Reason (now growen a servant to passion) did yet often tel his master, that he should more moderatly use his delight. But he, that of a rebell was become a Prince, disdayned almost to allow him the place of a Counseller: so that my senses delights being too strog for any other resolution, I did even loose the raines unto them : hoping, that (going for a woman) my lookes would passe, either unmarked, or unsuspected. Now thus I had (as me thought) well playd my first adte, 2 assuring my selfe, that under that disguisment, I should find opportunitie to reveal my self to the owner of my harte. But who would thinke it possible (though I feele it true) that in almost eight weekes space, I have lived here (having no more companie but her parents, and I being familiar, as being a woman, and watchfull, as being a lover) yet could never finde opportunitie to have one minutes leasure of privie conference : the cause whereof is as strange, as the effects are to me miser- able. And (alas) this it is. At the first sight that Basi/ius had of me (I think Cupid 3 having headed his arrows with my misfortune) he was striken (taking me to be such as I professe) with great affeclio towards me, which since is growen to such a doting love, that (till I was faine to gette this place, sometimes to retire unto freely) I was even choaked with his tediousnes. You never saw fourscore yeares daunce up and downe more lively in a young Lover : now, as fine in his apparrell, as if he would make me in love with a cloake ; and verse for verse with the sharpest-witted Lover in Arcadia. Doo you not think that this is a sallet of woormwood, while mine eyes feede upon the Ambrosia of Philocleas beauty. But this is not all ; no this is not the worst ; for he (good man) were easy enough to be dealt with : but (as I thinke) Love and mischeefe having made a wager, which should have most power in me, have set Gynecia also on such a fire towardes me, as will never (I feare) be quenched but with my destruction. For she (being a woman of excellent witte, and of strong work- ing thoughts) whether she suspected me by my over-vehement showes of affe&ion to Philoclea (which love forced me unwisely to utter, while hope of my maske foolishly incouraged me) or that she hath take some other marke of me, that I am not a woman : 93 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES or what devil it is hath revealed it unto her, I know not ; but so it is, that al her countenances, words and gestures, are miserable portraitures of a desperate affection. Whereby a man may learne, that these avoydings of companie, doo but make the passions more violent, when they meete with fitte subjedls. Truely it were a notable dumb shew of Cupids kingdome, to see my eyes (languishing with over-vehement longing) direct themselves to Philoclea : & Basi/ius as busie about me as a Bee, & indeed as cumbersome ; making such suits to me, who nether could if I would ; nor would if I could, helpe him : while the terrible witte of Gynecia, carried with the beere of violent love, runnes thorow us all. And so jelious is she of my love to her daughter, that I could never yet beginne to open my mouth to the unevitable Philoclea^ but that her unwished presence gave my tale a coclusion, before it had a beginning. And surely if I be not deceived, I see such shewes of liking, and (if I bee acquainted with passions) of almost a passionate liking in the heavenly Phi/odea, towardes me, that I may hope her eares would not abhorre my discourse. And for good Basi/ius, he thought it best to have lodged us together, but that the eternall hatefulnes of my destinie, made Gynecias jelousie stoppe that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I confesse, that one way her love doth me pleasure: for since it was my foolish fortune, or unfortunate follie, to be knowen by her, that keepes her from bewraying me to Basi/ius. And thus (my Musidorus} you have my Tragedie played unto you by my selfe, which I pray the gods may not in deede proove a Tragedie. And there he ended, making a full point of a hartie sigh. 5 Musidorus recomended to his best discourse, all which Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricatenes, that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze ; yet perceiving his affection so grouded, that striving against it, did rather anger then heale the wound, and rather call his friend- shippe in question, then give place to any friendly counsell. Well (said he) deare cosin, since it hath pleased the gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humor of love, yet happie it is, that your love is imployed upon so rare a woman: for certainly, a noble cause dooth ease much a grievous case. But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I canot see wherein I can be servisable unto you. I desire no greater 94 ARCADIA. LIB. i. service of you (aswered Pyrocles) the that you remayn secretly in this country, & some-times come to this place ; either late in the night, or early in the morning, where you shal have my key to eter, bicause as my fortune, eyther amendes or empaires. I may declare it unto you, and have your counsell and further- aunce : & hereby I will of purpose lead her, that is the prayse, and yet the staine of all womankinde, that you may have so good a view, as to allowe my judgement: and as I can get the most convenient time, I wil come unto you ; for though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the Lodge ; it is harde at hande. But now, (said she) it is time for me to leave you, and towardes evening wee will walke out of purpose hether- ward, therefore keepe your selfe close in that time. But Musidorus bethinking him selfe that his horse might happen to bewray them, thought it best to returne for that day, to a village not farre of, and dispatching his horse in some sorte, the next day early to come a foote thither, and so to keepe that course afterward, which Pyrocles very well liked of. Now fare- well deere cousin (said he) from me, no more Pyrocles^ nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane : Zelmane is my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the onely hope of my advauncement. And with that word going out, and seeing that the coast was cleare, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus^ who departed as full of care to helpe his friend, as before he was to disswade him. CHAP. 15. 1 The Labyrinth of Zelmanes love. 2 The Ladies exercises. * The challenge of Phalantus in paragon of Artexias beautie. 4 The description of their persons and affections : 5 and occasion of this challenge. 6 The successe thereof abroad. ZElmane returned to the Lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea^ watched by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius} she was like a horse, desirous to runne, and miserablie spurred, but so short rainde, as he cannot stirre forward : Zelmane sought occasion to speake with Philoclea ; Basilius with Zelmane ; and Gynecia hindered them all. If Philoclea hapned to sigh (and sigh she 95 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES did often) as if that sigh were to be wayted on, Zelmane sighed also ; whereto Basilius and Gynecia soone made up foure parts of sorow. Their affection increased their conversation ; and their conversation increased their affedlion. The respecl borne bredde due ceremonies ; but the affeclion shined so through them, that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmanes eyes were (like children afore sweet meate) eager, but fearefull of their ill- pleasing governors. Time in one instant, seeming both short, and long unto them : short, in the pleasingnes of such presence : long, in the stay of their desires. 2 But Zelmane fayled not to intice them all many times abroad, because she was desirous her friend Musidorus (neere whom of purpose she ledde them) might have full sight of them. Some- times angling to a little River neere hand, which for the moisture it bestowed upon rootes of some flourishing Trees, was rewarded with their shadowe. There would they sitte downe, & pretie wagers be made betweene Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile silly fishes; while Zelmane protested, that the fitte pray for them was hartes of Princes. She also had an angle in her hand ; but the taker was so taken, that she had forgotten taking. Basilius in the meane time would be the cooke him selfe of what was so caught, & Gynecia sit stil, but with no stil pensifnesse. Now she brought them to see a seeled Dove, who the blinder she was, the higher she strave. Another time a Kite, which having a gut cunningly pulled out of her, and so let flie, called all the Kites in that quarter, who (as often- times the worlde is deceaved) thinking her prosperous when indeed she was wounded, made the poore Kite find, that opinion of riches may wel be dangerous. 3 But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more gallant shew ; for one evening as Basilius returned from having forced his thoughts to please themselves in such small conquests, there came a shepheard, who brought him word that a Gentle- ma desired leave to do a message from his Lord unto him. Basilius granted ; wherupon the Gentleman came, and after the dutifull ceremonies observed, in his maisters name tolde him, that he was sent from Phalatus of Corinth, to crave licence, that as he had done in many other courts, so he might in his presence defie all Orcadian Knights in the behalfe of his mistres beautie, who would besides, her selfe in person be pre- 96 ARCADIA. LIB. i. sent, to give evident proofe what his launce should affirme. The conditions of his chalenge were, that the defendant should bring his mistresse pidlure, which being set by the image of Artesia (so was the mistresse of Phalantus named) who in six courses should have better of the other, in the judgement of Basilius, with him both the honors and the pictures should remaine. Basilius (though fie had retired him selfe into that solitarie dwelling, with intention to avoid, rather then to accept any matters of drawing company ; yet because he would enter- taine Zelmane, (that she might not think the time so gainefull to him, losse to her) graunted him to pitch his tent for three dayes, not farre from the lodge, and to proclayme his chalenge, that what Arcadian Knight (for none els but upon his peril! was licensed to come) woulde defende what he honored against Phalantus, should have the like freedome of accesse and returne. This obteyned and published, Zelmane being desirous to 4 learne what this Phalantus was, having never knowne him further then by report of his owne good, in somuch as he was commonly called, The faire man of armes, Basilius told her that he had had occasion by one very inward with him, to knowe in parte the discourse of his life, which was, that he was bastard-brother to the faire Helen Queene of Corinth, and deerly esteemed of her for his exceeding good parts, being honorablie courteous, and wronglesly valiaunt, considerately pleasant in conversation, & an excellent courtier without un- faithfulnes ; who (finding his sisters unperswadeable melancholy, thorow the love of Amphialus) had for a time left her court, and gone into Laconia : where in the warre against the Helots, he had gotte the reputatio of one, that both durst & knew. But as it was rather choise the nature, that led him to matters of armes, so as soon as the spur of honor ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delightes, being beloved in all copanies for his lovely qualities, & (as a ma may terme it) cunning chere- fulnes, wherby to the Prince & Court of Laconia, none was more agreable the Phalantus: and he not given greatly to struggle with his owne disposition, followed the gentle currant of it, having a fortune sufficient to content, & he content with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he sawe, and was ac- quainted with this Artesia, whose beautie he now defendes, became her servant, said him selfe, and perchaunce thought s. A. G 97 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES him selfe her lover. But certainly, (said Basi/ius) many times it falles out, that these young companies make themselves beleeve they love at the first liking of a likely beautie ; loving, because they will love for want of other businesse, not because they feele indeed that divine power, which makes the heart finde a reason in passion : and so (God knowes) as inconstantly leane upon the next chaunce that beautie castes before them. So therefore taking love uppon him like a fashion, he courted this Ladie Artesia y who was as fit to paie him in his owne monie as might be. For she thinking she did wrong to her beautie if she were not prowde of it, called her disdaine of him chastitie, and placed her honour in little setting by his honouring her : de- termining never to marrie, but him, whome she thought worthie of her : and that was one, in whome all worthinesse were harboured. And to this conceipt not onely nature had bent her, but the bringing up she receaved at my sister in lawe Cecrofiia, had confirmed her : who having in her widowhood taken this young Artesia into her charge ; because her Father had bene a deare friend of her dead husbandes, and taught her to thinke that there is no wisdome but in including heaven & earth in ones self: and that love, courtesie, gratefulnesse, friendship, and all other vertues are rather to be taken on, then taken in ones selfe : And so good discipline she found of her, that liking the fruits of her owne planting, she was cotent (if so her sonne could have liked of it) to have wished her in marriage to my Nephew Amphialus. But I thinke that desire hath lost some of his heate, since she hath knowne, that such a Queene as Helen is, doth offer so great a price as a kingdome, to buie his favour ; for if I be not deceaved in my good sister Cecropia, shee thinks no face so beautifull, as that which lookes under a crowne. But Artesia indeede liked well of my Nephew Am- phialus ; for I ca never deeme that love, which in hauty harts proceeds of a desire onely to please, and as it were, peacock themselves ; but yet she hath shewed vehemencie of desire that way, I thinke, because all her desires be vehemet, in so much that she hath both placed her onely brother (a fine youth called Ismenus] to be his squire, and her selfe is content to waite upon my sister, till she may see the uttermost what she may worke in Amphialus : who being of a melancholic (though I must needes saye courteous and noble) mind, seems to love nothing lesse then ARCADIA. LIB. i. Love : & of late having through some adventure, or inwarde miscontentment, withdrawne him selfe fro any bodies know- ledge, where he is : Artesia the easier condiscended to goe to the court of Laconia, whether she was sent for by the Kinges wife, to whome she is somewhat allied. And there after the war of the Helots, this Knight Pha- lantus, (at least for tongue-delight) made him selfe her servaunt, and she so little caring, as not to showe mislike thereof, was content onely to be noted to have a notable servaunt. For truely one in my court neerely acquainted with him, within these few dayes made me a pleasaunt description of their love, while he with cheerefull lookes would speake sorowfull words, using the phrase of his affection in so high a stile, that Mercurie would not have wooed Venus with more magnificent Eloquence : but els neyther in behaviour, nor adlion, accusing in him selfe anie great trouble in minde, whether he sped or no. And she of the other side, well finding howe little it was, and not caring for more, yet taught him, that often it falleth out but a foolishe wittinesse, to speake more then one thinkes. For she made earnest benefite of his jest, forcing him in 5 respect of his promise, to doo her suche service, as were both cumbersome and costly unto him, while he stil thought he went beyond her, because his harte did not commit the idolatrie. So that lastlie, she (I thinke) having in minde to make the fame of her beautie an oratour for her to Amphialus, (perswading her selfe perhaps, that it might fall out in him, as it dothe in some that have delightfull meate before them, and have no stomacke to it, before other folkes prayse it) she tooke the advauntage one daye uppon Phalantus unconscionable praysinges of her, and certaine cast-awaie vowes, howe much he would doo for her sake, to arrest his woord assoone as it was out of his mouth, and by the vertue thereof to charge him to goe with her thorow all the courts of Greece, & with the chalenge now made, to give her beauty the principality over all other. Phalantus was entrapped, and saw round about him, but could not get out. Exceedinglie perplexed he was (as he confest to him that tolde mee the tale) not for doubt hee had of him selfe (for indeede he had litle cause, being accounted, with his Launce especially (whereupon the challenge is to be tryed) as perfect as any that Greece knoweth ; but because he feared to offend his sister G 2 99 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Helen, and with all (as he said) he could not so much beleeve his love, but that he might thinke in his hart (whatsoever his mouth affirmed) that both she, my daughters, and the faire Parthenla (wife to a most noble Gentleman, my wives neere kinsman) might far better put in their clayme for that prerogative. But his promise had bound him prentice, and therfore it was now better with willingnes to purchase thankes, then with a discontented doing to have the paine, and not the reward : and therefore went on, as his faith, rather then love, did lead him. 6 And now hath he already passed the courts of Laconia, Elis^ Argos and Corinth : and (as many times it happes) that a good pleader makes a bad cause to prevaile ; so hath his Lawnce brought captives to the triumph of Artesias beauty, such, as though Artesia be among the fairest, yet in that company were to have the preheminence : for in those courts many knights (that had bene in other far countries) defeded such as they had scene, and liked in their travaile: but their defence had bene such ; as they had forfayted the picture of their Ladies, to give a forced false testimonie to Artesias excellencie. And now lastly is he come hether, where he hath leave to trye his fortune. But I assure you, if I thought it not in dew & true cosideratio an injurious service & churlish curtesie, to put the danger of so noble a title in the deciding of such a dagerles cobat, I would make yong master Phalantus know, that your eyes can sharpe a blut Launce, and that age, which my graye haires (onely gotten by the loving care of others) make seeme more then it is, hath not diminished in me the power to protect an undeniable verity. With that he bustled up himselfe, as though his harte would faine have walked abroad. Zelmane with an inwarde smiling gave him outward thanks, desiring him to reserve his force for worthier causes. 100 ARCADIA. LIB. i. CHAP. 1 6. 1 Phalantus and Artesias pompous entraunce. 2 The painted muster of an eleven conquered beauties. SO passing their time according to their woont, they wayted for the coming of Phalantus^ who the next morning having alredy caused his tents to be pitched, neere to a faire tree hard by the Lodge, had uppon the tree made a shield to bee hanged up, which the defendant should strike, that woulde call him to the mainteyning his challendge. The Impresa in the shield ; was a heaven full of starres, with a speech signifying, that it was the beauty which gave it the praise. Himselfe came in next after a triumphant chariot, made of Carnatio velvet inriched with purle & pearle, wherein Artesia sat, drawne by foure winged horses with artificiall flaming mouths, and fiery winges, as if she had newly borrowed them of Phcebus. Before her marched, two after two, certaine foote- me pleasantly attired, who betweene them held one pidture after another of them that by Phalantus well running had lost the prize in the race of beauty, and at every pace they stayed, turn- ing the pictures to each side, so leasurely, that with perfect judgement they might be discerned. The first that came in (folowing the order of the time i wherein they had bene wonne) was the picture of Andromana, Queene of Iberia ; whom a Laconian Knight having sometime (and with speciall favour) served, (though some yeares since retourned home) with more gratefulnes then good fortune defended. But therein Fortune had borrowed witte ; for in- deede she was not coparable to Artesia ; not because she was a good deale elder (for time had not yet beene able to impoverish her store thereof) but an exceeding red haire with small eyes, did (like ill companions) disgrace the other assembly of most commendable beauties. Next after her was borne the counterfaite of the princesse 2 of .E//V, a Lady that taught the beholders no other point of beauty, but this, that as lyking is, not alwaies the child of 101 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES beauty, so whatsoever liketh ; is beautyfull ; for in that visage there was nether Majestic, grace, favour, nor fairenesse; yet she wanted not a servaunt that woulde have made her fairer then the faire Artesia. But he wrote her praises with his helmet in the dust, and left her pidture to be as true a witnes of his overthrow, as his running was of her beauty. 3 After her was the goodly Artaxia, great Q^ of Armenia^ a Lady upon whom nature bestowed, & wel placed her delight- ful colours ; & withal, had proportioned her without any fault, quickly to be discovered by the senses, yet altogether seemed not to make up that harmony, that Cupid delights in ; the reaso wherof might seem a mannish countenance, which overthrew that lovely sweetnes, the noblest power of womankinde, farre fitter to prevaile by parley, then by battell. 4 Of a farre contrary consideratio was the representation of her that next followed, which was Erona Queene of Licia, who though of so browne a haire, as no man should have injuried it to have called it blacke, and that in the mixture of her cheeks the white did so much overcome the redde (though what was, was very pure) that it came neare to palenes,and that her face was a thought longer then the exadle Symmetrians perhaps would allow ; yet love plaid his part so well, in everie part, that it caught holde of the judgement, before it could judge, making it first love, & after acknowledge it faire, for there was a certaine delicacie, which in yeelding, conquered; & with a pitiful looke made one find cause to crave helpe himselfe. 5 After her came two Ladies, of noble, but not of royall birth: the former was named Baccha, who though very faire, and of a fatness rather to allure, then to mislike, yet her brests over-familiarly laide open, with a mad countenaunce about her mouth, betweene simpring & smyling, her head bowed som- what down, seemed to laguish with over-much idlenes, with an inviting look cast upward, disswading with too much perswad- ing, while hope might seem to overcome desire. 6 The other (whose name was written Leucippe) was of a fine daintines of beauty, her face carying in it a sober simplicitie ; like one that could do much good, & ment no hurt, her eyes having in them such a cheerefulnes, as nature seemed to smile in them: though her mouth and cheekes obeyed that prety demurenes which the more one markes, the more one woulde 102 ARCADIA. LIB. i. judge the poore soule apt to beleve; & therfore the more pitie to deceive her. Next came the Queene of Laconia, one that seemed borne 7 in the confines of beauties kingdome: for all her lineamets were neither perfecl possessions thereof, nor absent strangers thereto : but she was a Queene, and therefore beautyfull. But she that followed, conquered indeed with being 8 conquered; & might well have made all the beholders waite upo her triumph, while her selfe were led captive. It was the excelletly-faire Queene Helen, whose lacinth haire curled by nature, & intercurled by arte (like a fine brooke through golde sads) had a rope of faire pearles, which now hiding, now hidden by the haire, did as it were play at fast or loose, each with other, mutually giving & receiving riches. In her face so much beautie & favour expressed, as if Helen had not bene knowe, some would rather have judged it the painters exercise, to shew what he could do, the couterfaiting of any living patterne: for no fault the most fault finding wit could have foud, if it were not, that to the rest of the body the face was somewhat too little : but that little was such a sparke of beauty, as was able to enflame a world of love. For every thing was full of a choyce finenes, that if it wated any thing in majestic, it supplied it with increase of pleasure; & if at the first it strake not admiration, it ravished with delight. And no in- differet soule there was, which if it could resist fro subjecting it self to make it his princesse, that would not log to have such a playfelow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious, though the look (fixt with more sadnes the it seemed nature had bestowed to any that knew her fortune) bewraied, that as she used those ornamets, not for her self, but to prevaile with another, so she feared, that all would not serve. Of a farre differing (though esteemed equall) beautie, was 9 the faire Parthenia^ who next wayted on Artesias triumph, though farre better she might have sitte in the throne. For in her every thing was goodly, and stately; yet so, that it might seeme that great-mindednes was but the auncient-bearer to humblenes. For her great graie eye, which might seem full of her owne beauties, a large, and exceedingly faire forhead, with all the rest of her face and body, cast in the mould of Noblenes; was yet so attired, as might shew, the mistres thought it either 103 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES not to deserve, or not to need any exquisite decking, having no adorning but cleanlines ; and so farre from all arte, that it was full of carelesnesse : unlesse that carelesnesse it selfe (in spite of it selfe) grew artificiall. But Basi/ius could not abstaine from praising Parthenia, as the perfe6t picture of a womanly vertue, and wively faithfulnes: telling withall Ze/mane, how he had understoode, that when in the court of Laconia, her picture (maintained by a certaine Sycionian Knight) was lost, thorow want, rather of valour, then justice : her husband (the famous Argalus) would in a chafe have gone and redeemed it with a new triall. But she (more sporting then sorrowing for her undeserved champion) tolde her husbande, she desired to be beautifull in no bodies eye but his; and that she would rather marre her face as evill as ever it was, then that it should be a cause to make Argalus put on armour. Then would Basi/ius have tolde Zelmane y that which she alredie knew, of the rare triall of their coupled affection : but the next pifture made the mouth give place to their eyes. 10 It was of a young mayd, which sate pulling out a thorne out of a Lambs foote, with her looke so attentive uppon it, as if that little foote coulde have bene the circle of her thoughts ; her apparell so poore, as it had nothing but the inside to adorne it; a shephooke lying by her with a bottle upon it. But with al that povertie, beauty plaid the prince, and com- manded as many harts as the greatest Queene there did. Her beautie and her estate made her quicklie to be knowne to be the faire shepheardesse, Urania^ whom a rich knight called Lacemon, farre in love with her, had unluckely defended. 11 The last of all in place, because last in the time of her being captive, was Zelmane, daughter to the King Plexirtus : who at the first sight seemed to have some resembling of Philoclea, but with more marking (coparing it to the present Philoclea, who indeed had no paragon but her sister) they might see, it was but such a likenesse, as an unperfedl glasse doth give ; aunswerable enough in some feitures, & colors, but erring in others. But Zelmane sighing, turning to Basi/ius, Alas sir (said she) here be some pictures which might better become the tobes of their Mistresses, then the triumphe of Artesia. It is true sweetest Lady (saide Basi/ius) some of them be dead, and some other captive: But that hath happened so late, as it may 104 ARCADIA. LIB. i. be the Knightes that defended their beauty, knew not so much : without we will say (as in some harts I know it would fall out) that death it selfe could not blot out the image which love hath engrave in the. But divers besides these (said Basilius} hath Phalantus woon, but he leaves the rest, carying onely such, who either for greatnes of estate, or of beauty, may justly glorifie the glory of Artesias triumph. CHAP. 17. 1 The overthrow of Jive Arcadian knights. 2 The young shepheards prettie challenge. 3 What passions the sixth knights foyle bredde in Zelmane. 4 Clitophon hardly overmatched by Phalantus. 5 The ill arayed) & the black knights contention for prioritie against Phalantus. 6 The halting knights complaint against the black knight. 7 Phalantus fall by the ill furnisht knight. 8 The crosse-parting of Phalantus with Artesia, 9 and who the viclor was. THus talked Basilius with Zelmane^ glad to make any matter I subject to speake of, with his mistresse, while Phalantus in this pompous manner, brought Artesia with her getlewome, into one Tent, by which he had another : where they both wayted who would first strike upon the shielde, while Basilius the Judge appointed sticklers, and trumpets, to whom the other should obey. But non that day appeared, nor the next, till already it had consumed halfe his allowance of light ; but then there came in a knight, protesting himselfe as contrarie to him in minde, as he was in apparrell. For Phalantus was all in white, having in his bases, and caparison imbroidered a waving water : at each side whereof he had nettings cast over, in which were divers fishes naturally made, & so pretily, that as the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to strive, and leape in the nette. But the other knight, by name Nestor^ by birth an Arcadian^ & in affeclion vowed to the faire Shepherdesse, was all in black, with fire burning both upo his armour, and horse. His impresa in his shield, was a fire made of Juniper, with this word, More 105 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES easie, and more sweete. But this hote knight was cooled with a fall, which at the third course he received of Phalantus, leaving his pidlure to keepe companie with the other of the same stampe; he going away remedilesly chafing at his rebuke. The next was Polycetes, greatly esteemed in Arcadia, for deedes he had done in armes : and much spoken of for the honourable love he had long borne to Gynecia; which Basilius himselfe was content, not onely to suffer, but to be delighted with; he carried it in so honorable and open plainnes, setting to his love no other marke, then to do her faithfull service. But neither her faire picture, nor his faire running, could warrant him from overthrow, and her from becomming as then the last of Artesias victories : a thing Gynecias vertues would little have recked at another time, nor then, if Zelmane had not scene it. But her champion went away asmuch discomforted, as discomfited. Then Telamon for Polixena, & Eurlmelo for Elpine, and Leon for Zoana ; all brave Knights, all faire Ladies, with their going down, lifted up the ballance of his praise for adlivitie, and hers for fairenes. 2 Upon whose losse as the beholders were talking, there comes into the place where they ranne, a shepheard stripling (for his height made him more then a boy, & his face would not allow him a ma) brown of coplexio (whether by nature, or by the Suns familiaritie) but very lovely withall ; for the rest so perfectly proportioned, that Nature shewed, she dooth not like men who slubber up matters of meane account. And well might his proportion be judged ; for he had nothing upon him but a paire of sloppes, and upon his bodie a Gote-skinne, which he cast over his shoulder, doing all things with so pretie grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do amisse, because he had a hart to do well, holding in his right hand a long staffe, & so coming with a looke ful of amiable fiercenes, as in whom choller could not take away the sweetnes, he came towards the king, and making a reverence (which in him was comely because it was kindly) My liege Lord (said he) I pray you heare a few words; for my hart wil break if I say not my minde to you. I see here the pidture of Urania, which (I cannot tell how, nor why) these men when they fall downe, they say is not so faire as yonder gay woman. But pray God, I may never see my olde mother alive, if I think she be any more match to 106 ARCADIA. LIB. i. Urania^ then a Goate is to a fine Lambe ; or then the Dog that keepes our flock at home, is like your white Greihounde, that pulled down the Stagge last day. And therefore I pray you let me be drest as they be, and my hart gives me, I shall tumble him on the earth : for indeede he might aswell say, that a Couslip is as white as a Lillie : or els I care not let him come with his great staffe, and I with this in my hand, and you shall see what I can doo to him. Basi/ius sawe it was the fine shepheard La/us, whom once he had afore him in Pastorall sportes, and had greatly delighted in his wit full of prety simplicitie, and therefore laughing at his earnestnesse, he bad him be content, since he sawe the pictures of so great Queenes, were faine to follow their champions fortune. But Lalus (even weeping ripe) went among the rest, longing to see some bodie that would revenge Uranias wronge ; and praying hartely for every bodie that ran against Phalantus, then began to feele poverty, that he could not set him selfe to that triall. But by and by, even when the Sunne (like a noble harte) began to shew his greatest countenaunce in his lowest estate, there came in a Knight, called Phebilus, a Gentleman of that coutry, for whom hatefull fortune had borrowed the dart of Love, to make him miserable by the sight of Philoclea. For he had even from her infancie loved her, and was striken by her, before she was able to knowe what quiver of arrowes her eyes caried; but he loved and dispaired; and the more he dispaired, the more he loved. He sawe his owne unworthines, and thereby made her excellencie have more terrible aspeft upon him : he was so secrete therein, as not daring to be open, that to no creature he ever spake of it, but his hart made such silent complaints within it selfe, that while all his senses were attentive thereto, cunning judges might perceave his minde: so that he was knowne to love though he denied, or rather was the better knowne, because he denied it. His armour and his attire was of a Sea couler, his Impresa, the fishe called Sepia^ which being in the nette castes a blacke inke about it selfe, that in the darkenesse thereof it may escape : his worde was, Not so. Pbilocleas picture with almost an idolatrous magnificence was borne in by him. But streight jelousie was a harbinger for disdaine in Ze/manes harte, when she sawe any (but her selfe) should be avowed a champion for Philoclea: in somuch 107 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES that she wisht his shame, till she sawe him shamed : for at the second course he was striken quite from out of the saddle, so full of grief, and rage withall, that he would faine with the sworde have revenged it: but that being contrary to the order set downe, Basilius would not suffer; so that wishing him selfe in the bottome of the earth, he went his way, leaving Ze/mane no lesse angry with his los, the she would have beene with his victory. For if she thought before a rivals prayse woulde have angred her, her Ladies disgrace did make her much more forget what she then thought, while that passion raigned so much the more, as she saw a pretie blush in Philocleas cheekes bewray a modest discontentment. But the night commaunded truce for those sportes, & Phalantus (though intreated) would not leave Artesia^ who in no case would come into the house, having (as it were) suckte of Cecropias breath a mortall mislike against Basilius. 4 But the night measured by the short ell of sleepe, was soone past over, and the next morning had given the watchful stars leave to take their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius to play his judges parte: which he did, taking his wife & daughters with him ; Zelmane having lockt her doore, so as they would not trouble her for that time : for already there was a Knight in the fielde, readie to prove Helen of Corinth had receaved great injury, both by the erring judgement of the challenger, and the unlucky weakenesse of her former de- fender. The new Knight was quickly knowne to be Clitophon (Kaladers sonne of Basilius-h\s sister) by his armour, which al guilt, was so well hadled, that it shewed like a glittering sande and gravell, interlaced with silver rivers: his device he had put in the picture of Helen which hee defended. It was theErmion, with a speach that signified, Rather dead then spotted. But in that armour since he had parted fro Helen (who would no longer his companie, finding him to enter into termes of affeftion,) he had performed so honourable adlios, (stil seeking for his two friends by the names of Palladius and DaiphatusJ) that though his face were covered, his being was discovered, which yet Basilius (which had brought him up in his court) would not seeme to do ; but glad to see triall of him, of whom he had heard very well, he commaunded the trumpets to sound ; to which the two brave Knights obeying, they performed their 108 ARCADIA. LIB. i. courses, breaking their six staves, with so good, both skill in the hitting, & grace in the maner, that it bred some difficulty in the judgement. But Basilius in the ende gave sentence against Clitophon, because Phalantus had broken more staves upo the head, & that once Clitophon had received such a blowe, that he had lost the raines of his horse, with his head well nie touching the crooper of the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the judgemet, (wherin he thought he had received wrog) that he omitted his duty to his Prince, & uncle; and sodainly went his way, still in the quest of them, whom as then he had left by seeking : & so yeelded the field to the next commer. Who comming in about two houres after, was no lesse 5 marked then al the rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking. For he had neither pidlure, nor device, his armour of as old a fashion (besides the rustic poorenesse,) that it might better seeme a monument of his graundfathe[r]s courage : about his middle he had in steede of bases, a long cloake of silke, which as unhandsomely, as it needes must, became the wearer: so that all that lookt on, measured his length on the earth alreadie, since he had to meete one who had bene victorious of so many gallants. But he went on towardes the shielde, and with a sober grace strake it ; but as he let his sworde fall upon it, another Knight, all in blacke came rustling in, who strake the shield almost assoone as he, and so strongly, that he brake the shield in two: the ill appointed Knight (for so the beholders called him) angrie with that, (as he accounted,) insolent injurie to himselfe, hit him such a sound blowe, that they that looked on saide, it well became a rude arme. The other aunswered him againe in the same case, so that Launces were put to silence, the swordes were so busie. But Phalantus angry of this defacing his shield, came upon the blacke Knight, and with the pommell of his sworde set fire to his eyes, which presently was revenged, not onely by the Blacke, but the ill apparelled Knight, who disdained another should enter into his quarrell, so as, who ever sawe a matachin daunce to imitate fighting, this was a fight that did imitate the matachin: for they being but three that fought, everie one had adversaries, striking him, who strooke the third, and revenging perhaps that of him, which he had receaved of the other. But Basilius rising himselfe to parte them, the sticklers authoritie 109 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES scarslie able to perswade cholerike hearers; and parte them he did. 6 But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, halting on foote, who complained to Basi/ius, demaunding justice on the blaclce Knight, for having by force taken away the picture of Pamela from him, whiche in little forme he ware in a Tablet, and covered with silke had fastened it to his Helmet, purposing for want of a bigger, to paragon the little one with Artesias length, not doubting but in that little quantitie, the excellencie of that would shine thorow the weakenesse of the other : as the smallest starre dothe thorow the whole Element of fire. And by the way he had met with this blacke Knight, who had (as he said) robbed him of it. The injurie seemed grievous, but when it came fully to be examined, it was found, that the halting Knight meeting the other, asking the cause of his going thetherward, and finding it was to defend Pamelas divine beautie against Ariettas, with a prowde jollitie com- maunded him to leave that quarrell onely for him, who was onely worthy to enter into it. But the blacke Knight obeying no such comandements, they fell to such a bickering, that he gat a halting, & lost his picture. This understood by Basi/ius, he told him he was now fitter to looke to his owne bodie, then an others pifture : & so (uncomforted therein) sent him away to learn of JEsculapius that he was not fit for Penus. But then the question arising who should be the former against Phalantus, of the blacke, or the ill apparelled Knight (who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy loute, he had so well defended himselfe) of the one side, was alleged the having a picture which the other wanted: of the other side, the first striking the shield; but the conclusion was, that the ill apparelled Knight should have the precedence, if he delivered the figure of his mistresse to Pkalantus; who asking him for it, Certainely (said he) her liveliest pi6lure, (if you could see it) is in my hart, & the best coparison I could make of her, is of the Sunne & of all other the heavenly beauties. But because perhappes all eyes cannot taste the Divinitie of her beautie, and would rather be dazeled, then taught by the light, if it bee not clowded by some meaner thing; know you then, that I defend that same Ladie, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost yester- night, and in steede of an other (if you overcome mee) you no ARCADIA. LIB. i. shall have me your slave to carrie that image in your mistresse triumphe. Phalantus easilie agreed to the bargaine, which alreadie he made his owne. But when it came to the triall, the ill apparelled Knight 7 choosing out the greatest staves in all the store, at the first course gave his head such a remembraunce, that he lost almost his remembraunce, he him selfe receyving the incounter of Phalantus without any extraordinarie motion. And at the seconde gave him such a counterbuffe, that because Phalantus was so perfite a horseman, as not to be driven from the saddle, the saddle with broken girthes was driven from the horse: Phalantus remaining angrie and amazed, because now being come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace befell him, which he had never before knowne. But the vi6torie being by the judges given, and the trumpets 8 witnessed to the ill apparelled Knight; Phalantus disgrace was ingrieved in lieu of comforte by Artesia ; who telling him she never lookt for other, bad him seeke some other mistresse. He excusing himselfe, and turning over the fault to Fortune, Then let that be your ill Fortune too (saide she) that you have lost me. Nay truely Madame (saide Phalantus} it shall not be so: for I thinke the losse of such a Mistresse will proove a great gaine : and so concluded ; to the sporte of Basilius^ to see young folkes love, that came in maskt with so great pompe, goe out with so little constancie. But Phalantus first professing great service to Basilius for his curteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whether she desired to goe : vowing in himselfe, that neither hart, nor mouth-love, should ever any more intangle him. And with that resolution he left the company. Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black knight 9 wet away repyning at his luck, that had kept him fro winning the honor, as he knew he shuld have don, to the picture of Pamela] the ill apparelled knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to shew him to Ze/mane] puld of his Helmet, & then was knowe himselfe to be Zelmane: who that morning (as she told) while the others were busie, had stolne out to the Princes stable, which was a mile of fro the Lodge, had gotten a horse (they knowing it was Basilius pleasure she in THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES should be obeyed) & borrowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come upon the spur to redeem Philocleas picture, which she said, she could not beare, (being one of that little wildernesse-company) should be in captivitie, if the cunning she had learned in her coutrye of the noble Amazons y could withstad it : & under that pretext faine she would have give a secret pasport to her affection. But this acl painted at one instant rednesse in Philocleas face, and palenesse in Gynecias, but broght forth no other coutenaces but of admiratio, no speches but of comedatios: al these few (besides love) thinking they honoured them selves, in honouring so accomplished a person as Zelmane : whom dayly they sought with some or other sports to delight, for which purpose Basi/ius had in a house not farre of, servaunts, who though they came not uncalled, yet at call were redye. CHAP. 1 8. 1 Musidorus disguised. 2 His song. 8 His love, 4 the cause thereof. 8 His course therein. ANd so many daies were spent, and many waies used, while Zelmane was like one that stoode in a tree waiting a good occasio to shoot, & Gynecia a blauncher, which kept the dearest deere from her. But the day being come, which according to an apointed course, the sheapheards were to asseble, & make their pastorall sports afore Basi/ius : Zelmane (fearing, lest many eyes, and comming divers waies, might hap to spy Musidorus] went out to warne him thereof. But before she could come to the Arbour, she sawe walking from her-ward, a man in sheapperdish apparrel who being in the sight of the Lodge it might seeme he was allowed there. A log cloke he had on, but that cast under his right arme, wherein he held a shephooke, so finely wrought, that it gave a bravery to poverty; & his rayments, though they were meane, yet received they hansomnes by the grace of the wearer ; though he himselfe went but a kinde of languishing pace, with his eies somewhat cast up to heaven, as though his fancyes strave to mount higher; sometimes throwne downe to the 112 ARCADIA. LIB. i. ground, as if the earth could not beare the burthens of his sorrowes; at length, with a lametable tune, he songe these fewe verses. Come shepheards weedes, become your masters minde : 2 Teld outward shew, what inward chance he tryes : Nor be abasht, since such a guest you finde, Whose strongest hope in your weake comfort lyes. Come shepheards weedes, attend my woeful! cryes : Disuse your selves from sweete Menalcas voice : For other be those tunes which sorrow tyes, From those cleere notes which freely may rejoyce. Then power out plaint, and in one word say this : Helples his plaint, who spoyles himself e of blisse. And having ended, he strake himselfe on the brest ; saying, O miserable wretch, whether do thy destenies guide thee? The voice made 'Lelmane hasten her pace to overtake him: which having done, she plainly perceaved that it was her deare friend Musidorus, whereat marvailing not a little, she de- maunded of him, whether the Goddesse of those woods had such a powre to trasforme every body, or whether, as in all enterprises else he had done, he meant thus to match her in this newe alteration. Alas, (said Musidorus] what shall I say, who am loth to say, 3 and yet faine would have said ? I find indeed, that all is but lip-wisdome, which wants experience. I now (woe is me) do try what love can doo. O Zelmane, who will resist it, must either have no witte, or put out his eyes? can any man resist his creation r certainely by love we are made, and to love we are made. Beasts onely cannot discerne beauty, and let them be in the role of Beasts that doo not honor it. The perfect friendship Zelmane bare him, and the great pitie she (by good triall) had of such cases, coulde not keepe her from smiling at him, remembring how vehemently he had cryed out against the folly of lovers. And therefore a litle to punish him, Why how now deere cousin (said she) you that were last day so hie in Pulpit against lovers, are you now become so meane an auditor? Remember that love is a passion; and that a woorthie s. A. H 113 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES mans reason must ever have the masterhood. I recant, I recant (cryed Musidorus^) and withall falling downe prostrate, thou celestial, or infernal spirit of Love, or what other heavely or hellish title thou list to have (for effefts of both 1 finde in my selfe) have compassion of me, and let thy glory be as great in pardoning them that be submitted to thee, as in conquering those that were rebellious. No, no saide Zelmane, I see you well enough : you make but an enterlude of my mishaps, and doo but counterfaite thus, to make me see the de- formitie of my passions : but take heede, that this jest do not one day turne to earnest. Now I beseech thee (saide Musidorus taking her fast by the hand) even for the truth of our friend- ship, of which (if I be not altogether an unhappy man) thou hast some rememberaunce, & by those sacred flames which (I know) have likewise neerely touched thee ; make no jest of that, which hath so ernestly pearced me thorow, nor let that be light to thee, which is to me so burdenous, that I am not able to beare it. Musidorus both in words & behaviour, did so lively deliver out his inward grief, that Zelmane found indeede, he was thorowly wotided : but there rose a new jelousy in her minde, lest it might be with Philoclea, by whom, as Zelmane thought, in right all hartes and eyes should be inherited. And therefore desirous to be cleered of that doubt, Musidorus shortly (as in hast and full of passionate perplexednes,) thus recounted his case unto her. 4 The day (said he) I parted from you, I being in mind to returne to a towne, from whence I came hether, my horse being before tired, would scarce beare me a mile hence : where being benighted, the light of a candle (I saw a good way of) guided me to a young shepheards house, by name Menalcas, who seing me to be a straying strager, with the right honest hospitality which seemes to be harboured in the Arcadian brests, & though not with curious costlines, yet with cleanly sufficiencie, entertained me: and having by talke with him, found the manner of the countrie, something more in particular, then I had by Kalanders report, I agreed to sojourne with him in secret, which he faithfully promised to observe. And so hether to your arbour divers times repaired : & here by your meanes had the sight (O that it had never bene so, nay, O that it might ever be so) of a Goddesse, who in a definite compasse 114 ARCADIA. LIB. i. can set forth infinite beauty. All this while Zelmane was racked with jealousie. But he went on, For (saide he) I lying close, and in truth thinking of you, and saying thus to my selfe, sweet Pyroc/es, how art thou bewitched ? where is thy vertue ? where is the use of thy reason ? how much am I in- ferior to thee in the state of the mind ? And yet know I, that all the heavens cannot bring me to such thraldome. Scarcely, thinke I, had I spoken this word, when the Ladies came foorth ; at which sight, I thinke the very words returned back again to strike my soule; at least, an unmeasurable sting I felt in my selfe, that I had spoken such words. At which sight ? said Zelmane, not able to beare him any longer. O (sayd Musidorus} 1 know your suspition ; No, no, banish all such feare, it was, it is, and must be Pamela. Then all is safe (sayd Zelmane} proceede, deare Musidorus. I will not (said he) impute it to my late solitarie life (which yet is prone to affections) nor, to the much thinking of you (though that cald the consideratio of love into my mind, which before I ever neglected) nor to the exaltation of Venus\ nor revenge of Cupid ; but even to her, who is the Planet, nay, the Goddesse, against which, the onely shielde must be my Sepulchre. When I first saw her, I was presently striken, and I (like a foolish child, that when any thing hits him, wil strike himselfe again upon it) would needs looke againe ; as though I would perswade mine eyes, that they were deceived. But alas, well have I found, that Love to a yeelding hart is a king; but to a resisting, is a tyrant. The more with arguments I shaked the stake, which he had planted in the grounde of my harte, the deeper still it sanke into it. But what meane I to speake of the causes of my love, which is as impossible to describe, as to measure the backside of heaven ? Let this word suffice, I love. And that you may know I doo so, it was I that came in 5 black armour to defende her picture, where I was both pre- vented, and beaten by you. And so, I that waited here to do you service, have now my self most need of succor. But wherupon got you your self this aparrel ? said Zelmane. I had forgotten to tel you (said Musidorus) though that were one principall matter of my speech ; so much am I now master of my owne minde. But thus it happened : being returned to Menalcas house, full of tormenting desire, after a while faynting H2 115 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES under the weight, my courage stird up my wit to seeke for some releefe, before I yeelded to perish. At last this came into my head, that very evening, that I had to no purpose last used my horse and armour. I tolde Menalcas, that I was a Thes- sa/ian Gentle-man, who by mischaunce having killed a great favorit of the Prince of that coutry, was pursued so cruelly, that in no place, but either by favour, or corruption, they would obtaine my destruction ; and that therefore I was deter- mined (till the fury of my persecutions might be asswaged) to disguise my selfe among the shephards of Arcadia^ & (if it were possible) to be one of them that were allowed the Princes presence; Because if the woorst should fall, that I were dis- covered, yet having gotten the acquaintance of the Prince, it might happen to move his hart to protect me. Menalcas (being of an honest dispositio) pittied my case, which my face through my inward torment made credible ; and so (I giving him largely for it) let me have this rayment, instructing me in all the particularities, touching himselfe, or my selfe, which I desired to know : yet not trusting so much to his constancie, as that I would lay my life, and life of my life, upon it, I hired him to goe into Thessalia to a friend of mine, & to deliver him a letter fro me ; conjuring him to bring me as speedy an answeere as he could, because it imported me greatly to know, whether certaine of my friendes did yet possesse any favour, whose intercessios I might use for my restitution. He willingly tooke my letter, which being well sealed, indeed conteyned other matter. For I wrote to my trustie servant Calodoulus (whom you know) that assoone as he had delivered the letter, he should keep him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to have con- ference with any body, till he knewe my further pleasure : in all other respects that he should use him as my brother. And thus is Menalcas gone, and I here a poore shepheard ; more proud of this estate, the of any kingdom: so manifest it is, that the highest point outward things can bring one unto, is the con- tentmet of the mind: with which, no estate; without which, all estates be miserable. Now have I chosen this day, because (as Menalcas tolde me) the other shepheards are called to make their sports, and hope that you wil with your credite, finde meanes to get me allowed among them. You neede not doubt (answered Zelmane] but that I will be your good mistresse : 116 ARCADIA. LIB. i. marrie the best way of dealing must be by Dametas^ who since his blunt braine hath perceived some favour the Prince dooth beare unto me (as without doubt the most servile flatterie is lodged most easilie in the grossest capacitie ; for their ordinarie conceite draweth a yeelding to their greaters, and then have they not witte to learne the right degrees of duetie) is much more serviceable unto me, then I can finde any cause to wish him. And therefore dispaire not to winne him: for every present occasion will catch his senses, and his senses are masters of his sillie mind; onely reverence him, and reward him, and with that bridle and saddle you shall well ride him. O heaven and earth (said Musidorus) to what a passe are our mindes brought, that from the right line of vertue, are wryed to these crooked shifts? But 6 Love, it is thou that doost it: thou changest name upo name; thou disguisest our bodies, and disfigurest our mindes. But in deed thou hast reason, for though the wayes be foule, the journeys end is most faire and honourable. CHAP. 19. 1 The meanes of Musidorus his apprentisage unto Dametas. 2 The preparation and place of the Pastorals. 3 The Lyons assault on Philoclea, and death by Zelmane. 4 The shee beares on Pamela, and death by Dorus. 5 The lo Paean of Dametas, 6 and his scape from the beare. 7 The viffors praises. 8 Whence those beasts were sent. NO more sweete Musidorus (said Zelmane) of these philo- I sophies; for here comes the very person of Dametas. And so he did in deed, with a sword by his side, a forrest-bill on his neck, and a chopping-knife under his girdle : in which provided sorte he had ever gone, since the feare Zelmane had put him in. But he no sooner sawe her, but with head and armes he laid his reverence afore her; inough to have made any man forsweare all courtesie. And then in Basilius name, he did invite her to walke downe to the place, where that day they were to have the Pastoralles. H 7 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES But when he spied Musidorus to be none of the shepheards allowed in that place, he would faine have perswaded himselfe to utter some anger, but that he durste not; yet muttering, and champing, as though his cudde troubled him; he gave occa- sion to Musidorus to come neare him, and feine this tale of his owne life : That he was a younger brother of the shep- heard Menalcas, by name Dorus, sent by his father in his tender age to Athens, there to learne some cunning more then ordinarie, that he might be the better liked of the Prince : and that after his fathers death, his brother Menalcas (latelie gone thether to fetch him home) was also deceased : where (upon his death) he had charged him to seek the service of Dametas, and to be wholy, and ever guyded by him ; as one in whose judge- ment and integritie, the Prince had singular confidence. For token whereof, he gave to Dametas a good summe of golde in redy coine, which Menalcas had bequeathed unto him, upon condition he should receive this poore Dorus into his service, that his mind and manner might grow the better by his dayly example. Dametas, that of all manners of stile could best conceive of golden eloquence, being withall tickled by Musidorus prayses, had his brayne so turned, that he became slave to that, which he, that shewed to be his servant, offered to give him: yet for countenance sake, he seemed very squeimish, in respect of the charge he had of the Princesse Pamela. But such was the secrete operation of the golde, helped with the perswasion of the Amazon Zelmane, (who sayde it was pittie so handsome a young man should be any where els, then with so good a master) that in the ende he agreed (if that day he behaved him- selfe so to the lyking of Basilius, as he might be cotented) that then he would receive him into his service. 2 And thus went they to the Lodge, where they foud Gynecia and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselves there a while, untill the shepheards comming: whether also taking Zelmane with them, as they went, Dametas told them of Dorus, and desired he might be accepted there that day, in steed of his brother Menalcas. As for Basilius, he staied behind to bring the shepherds, with whom he meant to cofer, to breed the better Ze/manes liking (which he onely regarded) while the other beautifull band came to the faire field, appointed for the shepherdish pastimes. It was indeed a place of delight ; 118 ARCADIA. LIB. i. for thorow the middest of it, there ran a sweete brooke, which did both hold the eye open with her azure streams, & yet seeke to close the eie with the purling noise it made upon the pibble stones it ran over: the field it self being set in some places with roses, & in al the rest constantly preserving a florishing greene ; the Roses added such a ruddy shew unto it, as though the field were bash full at his owne beautie : about it (as if it had bene to inclose a Theater] grew such a sort of trees, as eyther excellency of fruit, statelines of grouth, continuall greennes, or poeticall fancies have made at any time famous. In most part of which there had bene framed by art such pleasant arbors, that (one tree to tree, answering another) they became a gallery aloft from almost round about, which below gave a perfect shadow, a pleasant refuge then from the cholericke looke of Phoebus. In this place while Gynecia walked hard by them, carying 3 many unquiet cotentions about her, the Ladies sate them downe, inquiring many questios of the shepheard Dorus\ who (keeping his eie still upon Pamela] answered with such a trembling voice, & abashed coutenance, & oftentimes so far from the matter, that it was some sport to the young Ladies, thinking it want of education, which made him so discounten- aunced with unwoonted presence. But Zelmane that saw in him the glasse of her owne miserie, taking the hande of Philo- clea, and with burning kisses setting it close to her lips (as if it should stande there like a hand in the margine of a Booke, to note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speake these wordes. O Love, since thou art so changeable in mens estates, how art thou so constat in their torments ? when sodainly there came out of a wood a monstrous Lion, with a she Beare not far from him, of litle lesse fiercenes, which (as they ghest) having bene huted in Forests far of, were by chauce come thether, where before such beastes had never bene seene. Then care, not feare; or feare, not for themselves, altered some thing the coutenances of the two Lovers, but so, as any man might perceive, was rather an assembling of powers, then dismaiednes of courage. Philoclea no sooner espied the Lio, but that obey- ing the comandement of feare, she lept up, & ran to the lodge- ward, as fast as her delicate legs could carrie her, while Dorus drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the Partridge, on which the Hawke is eve ready to seaze. But 119 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the Lion (seing Philoclea run away) bent his race to her-ward, & was ready to seaze him selfe on the pray, when Zelmane (to whome daunger then was a cause of dreadlesnes, all the copo- sitions of her elemets being nothing but fierie) with swiftnesse of desire crost him, and with force of affection strake him such a blow upon his chine, that she opened al his body : wherwith the valiant beast turning upo her with open jawes, she gave him such a thrust thorow his brest, that al the Lio could do, was with his paw to teare of the mantle and sleeve of Zelmane^ with a little scratch, rather then a wound ; his death-blow having take away the effect of his force. But there withall he fell downe, & gave Zelmane leasure to take of his head, to carrie it for a present to her Ladie Philoclea : who all this while (not knowing what was done behind her) kept on her course, like Arethusa when she ran from Alpheus; her light apparell being carried up with the winde, that much of those beauties she would at another time have willingly hidden, was present to the sight of the twise wounded Zelmane. Which made Zel- mane not folow her over hastily, lest she should too soone deprive her selfe of that pleasure : But carying the Lions head in her hand, did not fully overtake her, till they came to the presence of Basilius, Nether were they log there, but that Gynecia came thether also: who had bene in such a traunce of musing, that Zelmane was fighting with the Lion, before she knew of any Lions coming: but then affeclion resisting, and the soone ending of the fight preventing all extremitie of feare, she marked Zelmanes fighting. And when the Lions head was of, as Zelmane ran after Philoclea^ so she could not find in her hart but run after Zelmane: so that it was a new sight, Fortune had prepared to those woods, to see these great personages thus runne one after the other : each carried forward with an inwarde violence : Philoclea with such feare, thar she thought she was still in the Lions mouth : Zelmane with an eager and impatient delight, Gynecia with wings of Love, flying they neither knew, nor cared to know whether. But now, being all come before Basilius amazed with this sight, and feare having such pos- sessio in the faire Philoclea^ that her bloud durst not yet to come to her face, to take away the name of palenesse from her most pure whitenes, Zelmane kneeled down, and presented the Lions head unto her. Only Ladie (said she) here see you the 1 20 ARCADIA. LIB. i. punishment of that unnatural beast, which cotrary to her owne kind wold have wronged Princes bloud, guided with such traiterous eies, as durst rebell against your beauty. Happy am I, and my beautie both (answered the sweete Philoclea then blushing, for feare had bequeathed his roome to his kinsman bashfulnes) that you excellent Amazon, were there to teach him good manners. And even thankes to that beautie (answered Zelmane) which can give an edge to the bluntest swordes? There Philoclea told her father, how it had hapned : but as she had turned her eyes in her tale to Zelmane, she perceived some bloud upo Zelmanes shoulder, so that starting with the lovely grace of pitty, she shewed it to her Father and mother : who, as the nurse sometimes with over-much kissing may forget to give the babe sucke, so had they with too much delighting, in beholding and praysing Zelmane, left of to marke whether she needed succour. But then they ran both unto her, like a father and mother to an onely childe, and (though Zelmane assured them, it was nothing) would needes see it ; Gynecia having skill in surgery, an arte in those daies much esteemed, because it served to vertuous courage, which eve Ladies would (eve with the contept of courage) seeme to cherish. But looking upon it (which gave more inward bleeding wouds to Zelmane, for she might sometimes feele Philocleas touch, whiles she helped her mother) she found it was indeed of no great im- portance : yet applied she a pretious baulme unto it, of power to heale a greater griefe. But even then, & not before, they remebred Pamela, & 4 therefore Zelmane (thinking of her friend Dorus} was running back to be satisfied, whe they might all see Pamela coming between Dorus & Dametas, having in her had the paw of a Beare, which the shepheard Dorus had newly presented unto her, desiring her to accept it, as of such a beast, which though she deserved death for her presumption, yet was her will to be esteemed, since she could make so sweet a choice. Dametas for his part came piping and dauncing, the meriest man in a parish. But whe he came so neere, as he might be heard of Basilius, he would needs breake thorow his eares with this joyfull song of their good successe. 121 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES r T\T w thanked be the great God Pan, >| which thus preserves my loved life : Thanked be I that keepe a man, who ended hath this fearefull strife : For if my man must praises have, what then must I that keepe the knave? For as the Moone the eies doth please, with gentle beames not hurting sight: Yet hath sir Sunne the greatest praise, because from him doth come her light : So if my man must praises have, what then must I that keepe the knave? 4 Being al now come together, & all desirous to know each others advetures, Pamelas noble hart would needs gratefully make knowne the valiat mean of her safety : which (directing her speach to her mother) she did in this maner. As soone (said she) as ye were all run away, and that I hoped to be in safetie, there came out of the same woods a foule horrible Beare, which (fearing belike to deale while the Lion was present, as soone as he was gone) came furiously towardes the place where I was, and this young shepheard left alone by me ; I truly (not guilty of any wisedome, which since they lay to my charge, because they say, it is the best refuge against that beast, but eve pure feare bringing forth that effecl of wisedome) fell downe flat of my face, needing not couterfait being dead, for indeed I was litle better. But this shepheard having no other weapon, but that knife you see, standing before the place where I lay, so behaved him selfe, that the first sight I had (when I thought my selfe nearer Charons ferry,) was the shep- heard shewing me his bloudy knife in token of victory. I pray you (saide Zelmane, speaking to Dorus, whose valour she was carefull to have manifested) in what sorte, so ill weaponed, could you atchive this enterprise ? Noble Ladie (saide Dorus) the manner of these beastes fighting with any man, is to stande up upon their hinder feete : and so this did, & being ready to give me a shrewd imbracement, I thinke, the God Pan, (ever carefull of the chiefe blessings of Arcadia] guided my hand so just to the hart of the beast, that neither she could once touch 122 ARCADIA. LIB. i. me, nor (which is the only matter in this worthy remebrace) breed any dager to the Princesse. For my part, I am rather (withall subjected humblenes) to thanke her excellencies, since the duety thereunto gave me harte to save my selfe, then to receive thankes for a deede, which was her onely inspiring. And this Dorus spake, keeping affection as much as he could, backe from coming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane (that had the same Character in her heart) could easily discerne it, and therefore to keepe him the longer in speach, desired to understand the conclusion of the matter; and how the honest Dametas was escaped. Nay (said Pamela] none shall take that office from my selfe, 6 being so much bound to him as I am, for my education. And with that word (scorne borrowing the countenance of myrth) somewhat she smiled, and thus spake on? When (said she) Dorus made me assuredly perceive, that all cause of feare was passed (the truth is) I was ashamed to finde my selfe alone with this shepheard : and therefore looking about me, if I could see any bodie ; at length we both perceived the gentle Dametas^ lying with his breast and head as farre as he could thrust him- selfe into a bush : drawing up his legges as close unto him as hee coulde: for, like a man of a very kind nature, soone to take pittie of himselfe, he was full resolved not to see his owne death. And when this shepheard pushed him, bidding him to be of good cheere; it was a good while, ere we could perswade him, that Dorus was not the beare : so that he was faine to pull him out by the heeles, & shew him the beast, as deade as he could wish it : which you may beleeve me, was a very joyful sight unto him. But then he forgate al curtesie, for he fel upon the beast, giving it many a manfull wound : swearing by much, it was not wel such beasts shuld be suffered in a como welth. And then my governour, as full of joy, as before of feare, came dauncing and singing before us as even now you saw him. Well wel (said Basilius) I have not chosen Dametas for his righting, nor for his discoursing, but for his plainenesse and honestie, and therein I know he will not deceave me. But then he told Pamela (not so much because she should 7 know it, as because he would tell it) the wonderfull acl: Zelmane had perfourmed, which Gynecia likewise spake off, both in such extremitie of praising, as was easie to be scene, the constructions 123 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES of their speach might best be made by the Grammer rules of affection. Basilius told with what a gallant grace shee ranne with the Lyons head in her hand, like another Pallas with the spoiles of Gorgon. Gynecia sware, shee sawe the face of the young Hercules killing the Nemean Lion, & all with a grateful assent confirmed the same praises: onely poore Dorus (though of equall desert, yet not proceeding of equall estate) should have bene left forgotten, had not Zelmane againe with great admiration, begun to speake of him ; asking, whether it were the fashion or no, in Arcadia, that sheepherds should performe such valorous enterprises. This Basilius (having the quicke sense of a lover) tooke, as though his Mistres had given a secret reprehension, that he had not shewed more gratefulnesse to Dorus ; and therefore (as nymblie as he could) enquired of his estate, adding promise of great rewards : among the rest, offering to him, if he would exercise his courage in souldierie, he would commit some charge unto him under his Lieutenant Philanax. But Dorus (whose ambition clymed by another stayre) having first answered touching his estate, that he was brother to the shepheard Menalcas; who among other, was wont to resort to the Princes presence, & excused his going to souldierie, by the unaptnesse he found in himselfe that way : he told Basilius, that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serve Dametas ; and therefore (for due obedience there- unto) he would thinke his service greatly rewarded, if he might obtaine by that meane to live in the sight of his Prince, and yet practise his owne chosen vocation. Basilius (liking well his goodly shape and handsome manner) charged Dametas to receive him like a sonne into his house : saying, that his valour, and Dametas truth would be good bulwarkes against such mis- chiefes, as (he sticked not to say) were threatned to his daughter Pamela. 2 Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that had bene said (because he had no worse to fal into then his owne) accepted Dorus : and with all, telling Basilius, that some of the shepheards were come ; demaunded in what place he would see their sports: who first curious to know whether it were not more requisite for Zelmanes hurt to rest, then sit up at those pastimes; and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly desiring to have Pastorals, Basilius commanded it should be at 124 ARCADIA. LIB. i. the gate of the lodge: where the throne of the Prince being (according to the auncient manner) he made Zelmane sit betweene him & his wife therin, who thought her selfe betweene drowning and burning: and the two young Ladies of either side the throne, and so prepared their eyes and eares to bee delighted by the shepheards. But before al of them were assembled to begin their sports, ! there came a fellow, who being out of breath (or seeming so to be for haste) with humble hastines told Basilius, that his Mistres, the Lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mis- chance of her beastes ranging in that dagerous sort, being happened by the folly of the keeper; who thinking himself able to rule them, had caried them abroad, & so was deceived : whom yet (if Basilius would punish for it) she was readie to deliver. Basilius made no other answere, but that his Mistres if shee had any more such beastes, should cause them to be killed : and then he told his wife & Zelmane of it, because they should not feare those woods; as though they harbored such beasts, where the like had never bene scene. But Gynecia tooke a further conceit of it, mistrusting Cecropia, because shee had heard much of the divellish wickednesse of her heart, and that particularly she did her best to bring up her sonne Amphialus (being brothers sonne to Basilius) to aspire to the crowne, as next heire male after Basilius ; and therefore saw no reason, but that she might conjecture, it proceeded rather of some mischievous practise, than of misfortune. Yet did she onely utter her doubt to her daughters, thinking, since the worst was past, shee would attend a further occasion, least over much haste might seeme to proceede of the ordinarie mislike betweene sisters in Lawe: onely they marvelled, that Basilius looked no further into it; who (good man) thought so much of his late conceived common wealth, that all other matters were but digressions unto him. But the shepheards were ready, and with wel handling themselves, called their senses to attend their pastimes. 125 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES The first Eclogues. BA 'SI LIU r S, because Zelmane so would have it, used the artificiall day of torches, to lighten the sports their inve- tions could minister. And yet because many more shepheards were newly come, then at the first; he did in a gentle manner chastise the cowardise of the fugitive shepheards : with making them (for that night) the Torch-bearers, and the others later come, he willed with all freedome of speech and behaviour, to keepe their accustomed method. Which while they prepared to do, Dametas, who much disdained (since his late authority) all his old companions, brought his servant Dorus in good acquaint- ance and allowance of the ; & himselfe stood like a direcler over the, with nodding, gaping, winking, or stamping shewing how he did like, or mislike those things he did not understand. The first sports the shepheards shewed, were full of such leapes & gambols, as being accorded to the Pipe (which they bare in their mouthes, even as they daunced) made a right picture of their chiefe god Pan y and his companions the Satyres. Then would they cast away their Pipes j and holding hand in hand, daunce as it were in a braule, by the onely cadence of their voices, which they would use in singing some short coplets, whereto the one halfe beginning, the other halfe should answere. As the one halfe saying, We love, and have our loves rewarded. The others would aunswere. We love, and are no whit regarded. The first againe. We finde most sweet e affeftions snare, With like tune it should be as in quire sent back againe. That sweete, but sower despairefull care. A third time likewise thus : Who can despaire, whom hope doth beare ? The aunswere. And who can hope y that feeles despair e ? 126 ARCADIA. LIB. i. Then all joyning their voyces, and dauncing a faster measure, they would conclude with some such words: As without breath^ no pipe doth move, No musike kindly without love, Having thus varied both their songs and daunces into divers sorts of inventions ; their last sport was one of them to provoke another to a more large expressing of his passions : which Lalus (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) having marked in Dorus dauncing, no lesse good grace & hansome behaviour, then extreame tokens of a travelled minde; began first with his Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to chalenge Dorus, and was by him answered in the underwritten sort. Lalus and Dorus. COme Dorus, come, let songs thy sorowes signijie : Lalus. And if for want of use thy minde ashamed is, That verie shame with Loves high title dignifie. No stile is held for base, where Love well named is : Ech eare suckes up the words, a true love scatter eth, And plaine speach oft, then quaint phrase, better framed is. Nightingales seldome sing, the Pie still chattereth : Dorus. The wood cries most, before it throughly kindled be, Deadly wounds inward bleed, ech sleight sore mattereth. Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be. Shallow brookes murmure most, deep silent slide away; Nor true love loves those loves with others mingled be. If thou wilt not be seene, thy face goe hide away, Lalus. Be none of us, or eh maintaine our fashion : Who frownes at others feastes, dooth better bide away. But if thou hast a Love, in that Loves passion, I challenge thee by shew of her perfection, Which of us two deserveth most compassion. Thy challenge great, but greater my protection : Dorus. Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me) Thy health too meane a match for my infeclion. I2 7 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES No, though the heav'ns for high attempts have blamed me, Tet high is my attempt, O Muse historifie Her praise, whose praise to learne your skill hath framed me. Lalus. Muse hold your peace: but thou, my God Pan, glorifie My Kalas giftes : who with all good gifts filled is. Thy pipe, o Pan, shall helpe, though I sing sorilie. A heape of sweet es she is, where nothing spilled is ; Who though she be no Bee, yet full of honie is : A Lillie field, with plowe of Rose which tilled is. Milde as a Lambe, more daintie then a Come is; Her eyes my eyesight is, her conversation More gladde to me, then to a miser monie is. What coye account she makes of estimation ? How nice to touch, how all her speeches peized be ? A Nimph thus turnde, but mended in translation. Dorus. Such Kala is : but ah, my fancies raysed be In one, whose name to name were high presumption, Since vertues all, to make her title, pleased be. O happie Gods, which by inward assumption Enjoy her soule, in bodies faire possession, And keep it joynde, fearing your seates consumption. How oft with raine of teares skies make confession^ Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection From heav'nly throne to her heav'n use digression ? Of best things then what world can yeeld confettion To liken her ? Decke yours with your comparison : She is her selfe, of best things the co lie ft ion. Lalus. How oft my dolefull Sire cried to me, tarrie sonne When first he spied my love ? how oft he said to me, Thou art no souldier fitte for Cupids garrison ? My sonne, keepe this, that my long toyle hath laide to me: Love well thine owne : me thinkes, woolles whitenes passeth all , I never found long love such wealth hath paide to me. This winde he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all My sight in her faire limmes, I then assure my selfe, Not rotten sheepe, but high crownes she surpasseth all. Can I be poore, that her golde haire procure my selfe ? Want I white wool/, whose eyes her white skinne garnished ? Till I get her, shall I to keepe enure my selfe? 128 ARCADIA. LIB. i. How oft, when reason saw, love of her harnised Dorus With armour of my hart, he cried, O vanitie, To set a pearle in steele so meanely varnished ? Looke to thy selfe ; reach not beyond humanitie : Her minde, beames, state farre from thy weake wings banished: And Love, which lover hurts is inhumanitie. Thus Reason said: but she came, Reason vanished; Her eyes so maistering me, that such objection Seemde but to spoyle the foode of thoughts long famished. Her peereles height my minde to high erection Drawes up ; and if hope-fay ling ende lives pleasure, Of fayrer death how can I make election ? Once my well-waiting eyes espied my treasure, Lalus. With sleeves turnde up, loose haire, and brest enlarged, Her fathers corne (moving her faire limmes) measure. cried I, of so meane worke be discharged : Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling With seede of woes my hart brimme-full is charged. Thy father bids thee save, and chides for spilling. Save then my soule, spill not my thoughts well heaped, No lovely praise was ever got by killing. These bolde words she did heare, this fruite I reaped, That she, whose looke alone might make me blessed, Did smile on me, and then away she leaped. Once, o sweete once, I saw with dread oppressed Dorus. Her whom I dread ; so that with prostrate lying Her length the earth in Loves chief e clothing dressed. 1 saw that riches fall, and fell a crying ; Let not dead earth enjoy so deare a cover, But deck therewith my soule for your sake dying. Lay all your feare upon your fearefull lover : Shine eyes on me, that both our lives be guarded; So I your sight, you shall your selves recover. I cried, and was with open rayes rewarded: But straight they fledde, summond by cruel! honor, Honor, the cause, desart is not regarded. This mayde, thus made for joyes, o Pan bemone her y Lalus. That without love she spends her yeares of love : So faire a fielde would well become an owner. s. A. I 129 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES And if enchantment can a harde hart move. Teach me what circle may acquaint her sprite, Affections charmes in my behalfe to prove. The circle is my (round about her] sight : The power I will invoke dwelles in her eyes : My charme should be, she haunt me day and night. Farre other care, $ Muse, my sorrow tries, Bent to such one, in whom, my selfe must say, Nothing can mend that point that in her lies. What circle then in so rare force beares swaye ? Whose sprite all sprites can spoile, raise, damne, or save : No charme holdes her, but well possesse she may ; Possesse she doth, and makes my soule her slave : My eyes the bandes, my thoughts the fatall knot. No thralles like them that inward bondage have. Kala at length conclude my lingring lotte : Disdaine me not, although I be not faire. Who is an heire of many hundred sheep Doth beauties keep, which never Sunne can burne, Nor stormes doo turne : fairenes serves oft to wealth. Yet all my health I place in your good-will. Which if you will (o doo] bestow on me, Such as you see, such still you shall me finde. Constant and kind : my sheep your foode shall breed, Their wooll your weede, I will you Musique yeeld In flowrie fielde ; and as the day begins With twenty ginnes we will the small birds take, And pastimes make, as Nature things hath made. But when in shade we meet of mirtle bowes, Then Love allowes, our pleasures to enrich, The thought of which doth passe all worldly pelfe. Lady your selfe, whom nether name I dare, And titles are but spots to such a worthe, Heare plaints come forth from dungeon of my minde. The noblest kinde rejects not others woes. I have no shewes of wealth : my wealth is you, My beauties hewe your beames, my health your deeds ; My minde for weeds your vertues liverie weares. 130 ARCADIA. LIB. i. My foode is teares ; my tunes waymenting yeeld : Despaire my fielde ; the flowers spirits warn : My day newe cares ; my ginnes my daily sight. In which do light small birds of thoughts orethrowne : My pastimes none : time passeth on my fall : Nature made all, but me of dolours made : I finde no shade, but where my Sunne doth burne : No place to turne ; without, within it fryes : Nor helpe by life or death who living dyes. But if my Kala this my suite denies, Which so much reason beares, Let crowes picke out mine eyes, which saw too much : If still her minde be such, My earthy moulde will melte in watrie teares. My earthy moulde doth melte in watrie teares, And they againe resolve To aire of sighes, sighes to the hartes fire turne, Which doth to ashes burne : So doth my life within it selfe dissolve, So doth my life within it selfe dissolve, That I am like a flower New plucked from the place where it did breed, Life showing, dead indeed : Such force hath Love above poore Natures power. Such force hath Love above poore Natures power, That I growe like a shade, Which being nought seems somewhat to the eyen, While that one body shine. Oh he is mard that is for others made. Oh he is mard that is for others made. Which thought doth marre my piping declaration, Thinking how it hath mard my shepheards trade. Now my hoarse voice doth faile this occupation, And others long to tell their loves condition : Of singing take to thee the reputation. THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Dorus. Of singing take to thee the reputation New friend of mine ; / yeeld to thy habilitie : My soule doth seeke another estimation. But ah my Muse / would thou hadst agilitie, To worke my Goddesse so by thy invention, On me to cast those eyes, where shine nobilitie. Seen, and unknowne ; heard, but without attention. THis Eclogue betwixt La/us & Dorus, of every one of the beholders received great commendations. When Basilius called to a yong shepheard, who nether had daunced nor song with the, but layne al this while upo the ground at the foot of a cypresse tree, in so deep a melancholy, as though his mind were banished from the place he loved, to be in prison in his body : & desired him he would begin some Eclogue, with some other of the shepheards, according to the accustomed guise : or els declare the discourse of his owne fortune, unknowne to him ; as being a straunger in that coutry. But he praied the King to pardon him, the time being far too joyful to suffer the rehersall of his miseries. Yet, to satisfy Basilius some way, he sange this songe, he had learned before he had subjected his thoughts to acknowledge no maister, but a mistresse. AS I my little flocke on Ister banke (A little flocke ; but well my pipe they couthe] Did piping leade, the Sunne already sanke Beyond our worlde, and ere I got my boothe Each thing with mantle black the night doth scathe ; Saving the glowe worme, which would curteous be Of that small light oft watching shepheards see. The welkin had full niggardly enclosed In cofer of dimme clowdes his silver groates, hleped starres ; each thing to rest disposed : The caves were full, the mountaines voide of goates : The birds eyes closde closed their chirping notes. As for the Nightingale woodmusiques King, It August was, he daynde not then to sing. I 3 2 ARCADIA. LIB. i. Amid my sheepe, though I sawe nought to feare Tet (for I nothing sawe) I feared sore ; Then fonde I which thing is a charge to heart As for my sheepe I dradded mickle more Then ever for my selfe since I was bore : I sate me downe : for see to goe ne could. And sange unto my sheepe lest stray they should. The songe I sange old Lanquet had me taught, Lanquet, the shepheard best swift Ister knewe, For clerkly reed, and hating what is naught, For faithfull hart, cleane hands, and mouth as true : With his sweet skill my ski Hesse youth he drewe, To have a feeling tast of him that sitts Beyond the heaven, far more beyond your witts. He said, the Musique best thilke powers pleasd Was jumpe concorde betweene our wit and will : Where highest notes to godlines are raisd, And lowest sinke not downe to jote of ill : With old true tales he woont mine eares to fill, How sheepheards did of yore, how now they thrive, Spoiling their flock, or while twixt the they strive. He liked me, but pitied lustful/ youth : His good strong stajfe my slippry yeares upbore : He still hop'd well, because he loved truth ; Till forste to parte, with harte and eyes even sore, To worthy Coriden he gave me ore. But thus in okes true shade recounted he Which now in nights deepe shade sheep heard of me. Such maner time there was (what time I n*oi) When all this Earth, this damme or mould of ours Was onely won'd with such as beastes begot : Vnknowne as then were they that builded towers : The cattell wild, or tame, in natures bowers Might freely rome, or rest, as seemed them : Man was not man their dwellings in to hem. '33 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES The beastes bad sure some beastly pollicie : For nothing can endure where order nis. For once the Lion by the Lambe did lie ; The fearefull Hinde the Leopard did kisse : Hurtles was Tygers pawe and Serpents hisse. This thinke I well, the beasts with courage clad Like Senators a harmeles empire had. At which whether the others did repine, (For envie harbreth most in feeblest hartes] Or that they all to chaunging did encline, (As even in beasts their dames leave chaunging parts] The multitude to Jove a suite empartes, With neighing^ blaying, braying, and barking, Raring, and howling for to have a King. A King) in language theirs they said they would: (For then their language was a perfect speech] The birdes likewise with chirpes, and puing could Cackling^ and chattring, that of Jove beseech. Onely the owle still warnde them not to seech So hastily that which they would repent : But sawe they would) and he to deserts went. Jove wisely said (for wisedome wisely sayes] beastS) take heed what you of me desire. Rulers will thinke all things made them to please. And soone forget the swincke due to their hire. But since you will) part of my heavenly fire I will you lende ; the rest your selves must give, That it both scene and felte may with you live. Full glad they were and tooke the naked sprite) Which streight the Earth yclothed in his claye : The Lion, harte ; the Ounce gave aftive might ; The Horse) good shape ; the Sparrow, lust to playe ; Nightingale) voice, entising songes to saye. Elephant gave a perfect memorie : And Parot) ready tongue, that to applie. 134 ARCADIA. LIB. i. The Foxe gave crafte ; the Dog gave flatterle ; Asse, pacience ; the Mole, a working thought ; Eagle, high looke ; Wolfe secrete crueltie : Monkie, sweet breath ; the Cow, her faire eyes brought ; The Ermion, whitest skinne, spotted with nought ; The sheep, mild-seeming face ; climing, the Beare ; The Stagge did give the harme eschewing feare. The Hare, her sleights ; the Cat, his melancholie ; Ante, Industrie ; and Connie, skill to builde ; Cranes, order j Storkes, to be appearing holie ; Camaeleon, ease to chaunge ; Ducke, ease to yelde ; Crocodile, teares, which might be falsely spilde : Ape great thing gave, though he did mowing stand, The instrument of instruments, the hand, Ech other beast likewise his present brings : And (but they drad their Prince they ought should want] They all consented were to give him wings : And aye more awe towards him for to plant, To their owne worke this priviledge they graunt, That from thenceforth to all eternitie, No beast should freely speake, but onely he. Thus Man was made ; thus Man their Lord became : Who at the first, wanting, or hiding pride, He did to beastes best use his cunning frame ; With water drinke, herbes meate, and naked hide, And fellow-like let his dominion slide ; Not in his sayings saying I, but we : As if he meant his lordship common be. But when his seate so rooted he had found, That they now skilld not, how from him to wend ; Then gan in guiltlesse earth full many a wound, Iron to seeke, which gainst it selfe should bend, To teare the bowels, that good corne should send. But yet the common Damme none did bemone ; Because (though hurt] they never heard her grone. '35 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Then gan the faflions in the beastes to breed ; Where helping weaker sort, the nobler beastes, (As Tygers, leopards, beares, and Lions seed] Disdaind with this, in deserts sought their restes ; Where famine ravine taught their hungrie chestes, That craftily he forst them to do ill, Which being done he afterwards would kill. For murthers done, which never erst was seene, By those great beastes, as for the weakers good, He chose themselves his guarders for to bene, Gainst those of might, of whom in feare they stood, As horse and dogge, not great, but gentle blood: Blith were the commons cattell of the fielde, Tho when they saw their foen of greatnes kilde. But they or spent, or made of slender might, Then quickly did the meaner cattell finde, The great beames gone, the house on shoulders light : For by and by the horse faire bitts did binde : The dogge was in a caller taught his kinde. As for the gentle birds like case might rewe When falcon they, and gossehauke saw in mewe. Worst fell to smallest birds, and meanest heard, Whom now his owne, full like his owne he used. Yet first but woo/!, or fethers off he teard : And when they were well us'de to be abused, For hungrie teeth their flesh with teeth he brused : At length for glutton taste he did them kill : At last for sport their sillie lives did spill. But yet o man, rage not beyond thy neede : Deeme it no gloire to swell in tyrannie. Thou art of blood ; joy not to see things bleede : Thou fearest death ; thinke they are loth to die. A plaint of guiltlesse hurt doth pierce the skie. And you poore beastes, in patience bide your hell, Or know your strengths, and then you shall do well. 136 ARCADIA. LIB. i. Thus did I sing, and pipe eight sullen houres To sheepe, whom love, not knowledge, made to heare, Now fancies fits, now fortunes balefull stowers :. But then I homewards caWd my lambkins deare : For to my dimmed eyes beganne fappeare The night growne old, her blacke head waxen gray, Sure shepherds signe, that morne should soone fetch day. According to the nature of diverse eares, diverse judgements streight followed : some praising his voice, others his words fit to frame a pastorall stile, others the strangenes of the tale, and scanning what he shuld meane by it. But old Geron (who had borne him a grudge ever since in one of their Eclogues he had taken him up over-bitterly) tooke hold of this occasion to make his revenge, and said, He never saw thing worse propor- tioned, then to bring in a tale of he knew not what beastes at such a sport-meeting, when rather some song of love, or matter for joyfull melody was to be brought forth. But, said he, This is the right conceipt of young men, who thinke, then they speake wiseliest, when they cannot understand themselves. But little did the melancholike shepherd regard either his dispraises, or the others praises, who had set the foundation of his honour there ; where he was most despised. And therefore he re- turning againe to the traine of his desolate pensivenesse, Geron invited Histor to answere him in Eclogue-wise ; who indeed having bene long in love with the faire Kala, and now by Lalus overgone; was growne into a detestation of marriage. But thus it was. Geron. Histor. IN faith, good Histor, long is your delay, Geron. From holy marriage sweete and surest meane : Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay. I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane : Thou seest, how friske, and jolly now he is, That last day seem'd, he could not chew a beane. Beleeve me man, there is no greater blisse, Then is the quiet joy of loving wife ; Which who so wants, halfe of himselfe doth misse. '37 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Friend without change, playfellow without strife, Foode without fulnes, counsaile without pride, Is this sweet doubling of our single life. Histor. No doubt to whom so good chance did betide, As for to finde a pasture strawed with golde, He were a foole, if there he did not bide. Who would not have a Phoenix if he could? The humming JPaspe, if it had not a stinge, Before all flies the IVaspe accept I would. But this bad world, few golden fieldes doth bring, Phoenix but one, of Crowes we millions have : The Waspe seemes gay, but is a combrous thing. If many Kalaes our Arcadia gave, Lalus example I would soone ensue, And thinke, I did my selfe from sorrow save. But of such wives we finde a slender crew ; Shrewdnes so stirres, pride so puffes up the hart, They seldome ponder what to them is due. With meager lookes, as if they still did smart ; Puiling, and whimpring, or else scolding flat, Make home more paine then following of the cart. Ether dull silence, or eternall chat ; Still contrarie to what her husband sayes ; If he do praise the dog, she likes the cat. Austere she is, when he would honest playes ; And gamesome then, when he thinkes on his sheepe ; She bids him goe, and yet from jorney stayes. She warre doth ever with his kinsfolke keepe, And makes them fremVd, who frinds by nature are, Envying shallow toyes with malice deepe. And if forsooth there come some new found ware, The little coine his sweating browes have got, Must goe for that, if for her lowres he care : Or els ; Nay faith, mine is the luckiest lot, That ever fell to honest woman yet : No wife but I hath such a man, God wot. Such is their speech, who be of sober wit ; But who doo let their tongues shew well their rage, Lord, what bywords they speake, what spite they spit ? 138 ARCADIA. LIB. i. The house is made a very lothsome cage, Wherein the birde doth never sing but cry ; With such a will as nothing can asswage. Dearely the servants doo their wages buy, Revil'd for ech small fault, sometimes for none : They better live that in a gaile doo lie. Let other fowler spots away be blowne ; For I seeke not their shame, but still me thinkes, A better life it is to lye alone. Who for ech fickle feare from vertue shrinkes, Geron. Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing: No mortall man the cuppe of suretie drinkes. The heavens doo not good haps in handfuls bring, But let us pike our good from out much bad : That still our little world may know his king. But certainly so long we may be glad, While that we doo what nature doth require, And for th 1 event we never ought be sad. Man oft is plagde with aire, is burnt with fire, In water dround, in earth his buriall is ; And shall we not therefore their use desire ? Nature above all things requireth this, That we our kind doo labour to maintaine ; Which drawne-out line doth hold all humane blisse. Thy father justly may of thee complaine, If thou doo not repay his deeds for thee, In granting unto him a grandsires gaine. Thy common-wealth may rightly grieved be, Which must by this immortall be preserved, If thus thou murther thy posteritie. His very being he hath not deserved, Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forbeare, Whereby that being aye must be conserved. And God forbid, women such cattell were, As you paint them : but well in you I finde, No man doth speake aright, who speakes in feare. Who onely sees the ill is worse then blind. These fiftie winters marled have I beene ; And yet finde no such faults in womankind. '39 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES / have a wife worthie to be a Queene, So well she can command, and yet obay ; In ruling of a house so well sheets seene. And yet in all this time, betwixt us tway, We beare our double yoke with such consent, That never past foule word, I dare well say. But these be your love-toyes, which still are spent In lawlesse games, and love not as you should, But with much studie learne late to repent. How well last day before our Prince you could Blinde Cupids workes with wonder testifie ? Yet now the roote of him abase you would. Goe to, goe to, and Cupid now applie To that where thou thy Cupid maist avowe, And thou shalt finde, in women vertues lie. Sweete supple mindes which soone to wisdome bowe Where they by wisdomes rule direfted are, And are not forst fonde thraldome to allow. As we to get are framed, so they to spare : We made for paine, our paines they made to cherish : We care abroad, and they of home have care. O Histor, seeke within thy selfe to flourish : Thy house by thee must live, or els be gone : And then who shall the name of Histor nourish ? Riches of children passe a Princes throne ; Which touch the fathers hart with secret joy, When without shame he saith, these be mine owne. Marrie therefore ; for marriage will destroy Those passions which to youthfull head doo clime Mothers and Nurses of all vaine annoy. A\ the assemblie laught at the lustines of the old fellowe, and easilie perceived in Histor, he liked Lalus fortune better, then he loved his person. But Basilius to entermixe with these light notes of libertie, some sadder tune, set to the key of his own passion, not seeing there Strephon or Klaius, (who called thence by Uranias letter, were both gone to continue their suite, like two true runners, both employing their best speed, but not one hindring the other) he called to one Lamo of their acquaint- 140 ARCADIA. LIB. i. ance, and willed him to sing some one of their songs ; which he redily performed in this doble Sestine. Strephon. Klaius. TOu Gate-heard Gods, that love the grassie mountaines, Strepho You Nimphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies, You Satyrs joyde with free and quiet forrests, Vouchsafe your silent eares to playning musique, Which to my woes gives still an early morning : And drawes the dolor on till wery evening. Mercuric, foregoer to the evening, Klaius. O heavenlie huntresse of the savage mountaines, lovelie starre, entitled of the morning, While that my voice doth fill these wofull vallies, Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique, Which oft hath Echo tir'd in secrete forrests. 1 that was once free-burges of the forrests, Strepho Where shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at evening, 1 that was once esteem' d for pleasant musique, Am banisht now among the monstrous mountaines Of huge despaire, and foule afflittiom vallies, Am growne a shrich-owle to my selfe each morning. I that was once delighted every morning, Klaius. Hunting the wilde inhabiters of forrests, I that was once the musique of these vallies, So darkened am, that all my day is evening, Hart-broken so, that molehilles seeme high mountaines, And fill the vales with cries in steed of musique. Long since alas, my deadly Swannish musique Strepho Hath made it selfe a crier of the morning, And hath with wailing stregth clim'd highest mountaines : Long since my thoughts more desert be then forrests : Long since I see my joyes come to their evening, And state throwen downe to over-troden vallies. THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Klaius. Long since the happ'te dwellers of these vallies, Have praide me leave my strange exclaiming musique, Which troubles their dayes worke, and joyes of evening : Long since I hate the night, more hate the morning : Long since my thoughts chase me like beasts in forrests, And make me wish my selfe layd under mountaines. ephon. Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines, Transforme themselves to /owe dejecJed vallies : Me seemes I heare in these ill-changed forrests, The Nightingales doo learne of Owles their musique : Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning Turnde to the mortal! serene of an evening. SClaius. Me seemes I see a filth'ie clowdie evening, As soon as Sunne begins to clime the mountaines : Me seemes I feele a noysome sent, the morning When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies : Me seemes I heare, when I doo heare sweet e musique, The dreadfull cries of murdred men in forrests. :phon. / wish to fire the trees of all these forrests ; / give the Sunne a last farewell each evening ; I curse the fidling finders out of Musicke : With envie I doo hate the loftie mountaines ; And with despite despise the humble vallies : I doo detest night, evening, day, and morning. Claius. Curse to my selfe my prayer is, the morning : My fire is more, then can be made with forrests ; My state more base, then are the basest vallies : I wish no evenings more to see, each evening ; Shamed I have my selfe in sight of mountaines, And stoppe mine eares, lest I growe mad with Musicke. :phon. For she, whose parts maintainde a perfefl musique, Whose beautie shin'de more then the blushing morning, Who much did passe in state the stately mountaines, In straightnes past the Cedars of the forrests, Hath cast me wretch into eternal/ evening, By taking her two Sunnes from these darke vallies. 142 ARCADIA. LIB. i. For she, to whom compared, the Alpes are vallies, Klaius. She, whose lest word brings from the spheares their musique, At whose approach the Sunne rose in the evening, Who, where she went, bare in her forhead morning, Is gone, is gone from these our spoyled forrests, Turning to desarts our best pastur'de mountaines. These mountaines witnesse shall, so shall these vallies, Strephor These forrests eke, made wretched by cur musique, Klaius. Our morning hymne is this, and song at evening. ZElmane seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrained conceits had new burst out of prison, she thus desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing but Philocleas eares, laying fast holde on her face with her eyes, she sange these Sapphiques, speaking as it were to her owne Hope. IF mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande, Or mine eyes language she doo hap to judge of, So that eyes message be of her receaved, Hope we do live yet. But if eyes faile then, when I most doo need them, Or if eyes language be not unto her knowne, So that eyes message doo returne rejected, Hope we doo both dye. Yet dying, and dead, doo we sing her honour; So become our tombes monuments of her praise ; So becomes our losse the triumph of her gayne ; Hers be the glory. If the sph eares senselesse doo yet hold a musique, If the Swannes sweet voice be not heard, but at death, If the mute timber when it hath the life lost, Teldeth a lutes tune. Are then humane mindes priviledg'd so meanly, As that hateful/ death can abridge them of powre, With the vowe of truth to recorde to all worldes, That we be her spoiles ? '43 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Thus not ending, endes the due praise of her praise ; Fleshly vaile consumes j but a soule hath his life, Which is helde in love, love it is, that hath joynde Life to this our soule. But if eyes can speake to doo harty errande, Or mine eyes language she doo hap to judge of, So that eyes message be of her receaved, Hope we doo live yet. WHat exclaiming praises Basilius gave to Zelmanes songe, any man may ghesse, that knowes love is better then a paire of spe&acles to make every thing seeme greater, which is scene through it : and then is it never tongue-tied, where fit commendation (whereof womankind is so licorous) is offered unto it. Yea, he fel prostrate on the ground, and thanked the Gods, they had preserved his life so long, as to heare the very musique they themselves used, in an earthly body. But the wasting of the torches served as a watch unto them, to make them see the time waste ; and therefore the King (though un- willing) rose from the seate, which he thought excellently setled on the one side : and considering Zelmanes late hurte, perswaded her to take that farre-spent nights rest. And so of all sides they went to recommend themselves to the elder brother of death. The end of the first Booke. 144 THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA. CHAP. i. The lave-complaintes 1 of Gynecia, *Zelmane, *and Basilius. 'Her, *and his wooing of Zelmane, and her shifting of *to bemone her selfe. IN these pastoral! pastimes a great number of dayes were sent to follow their flying predecessours, while the cup of poison (which was deepely tasted of this noble companie) had left no sinewe of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet never manifesting his venomous worke, till once, that the night (part- ing away angerly, that she could distill no more sleepe into the eies of lovers) had no sooner given place to the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames upon the tops of the mountaines, but that the wofull Gynecia (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her selfe into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going up and downe with such unquiet motions, as a grieved & hopeles mind is wont to bring forth. There appeered unto the eies of her judgement the evils she was like to run into, with ougly in- famie waiting upon them : she felt the terrou[r]s of her owne con- science : she was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie. The uttermost of the good she could aspire unto, was a mortall wound to her vexed spirits : and lastly no small part of her evils was, that she was wise to see her evils. In so much, that having a great while throwne her coutenaunce ghastly about her (as if she had called all the powers of the worlde to witnesse of her wretched estate) at length casting up her watrie eyes to heaven, O Sunne (said she) whose unspotted light directs the steps of mortall mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearnesse of thy presence to such a dust-creeping worme as I am ? O you heavens (which continually keepe the course allotted unto you) can none of s. A. K. 145 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES your influences prevaile so much upon the miserable Gynecia y as to make her preserve a course so log embraced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my hart can people you with wild ravenous beastes, which in you are wanting? O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe? or what hideous thing is this which doth eclips thee? or is it true that thou weart never but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left thy professed servant, when she had most need of thy lovely presence ? O imperfect proportio of reason, which ca too much forsee, & too little prevent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but one excuse for all my faultinesse. But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, & my evill deserving doth ex- ceed my evill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this straunge resolutio to live so solitarily : for nothing els have the winds delivered this straunge guest to my country : for no- thing els have the destinies reserved my life to this time, but that only I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how un- just so ever it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and every death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my sepulcher receive me without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answere my love; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some foretake coceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia, where cast thou find any smal groud-plot for hope to dwel upon? No, no, it is Philodea his hart is set upon: it is my daughter I have borne to supplant me. But if it be so, the life I have given thee (ungrateful! Philodea] I will sooner with these handes bereave thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath " bereaved me of my desires. In shame there is no cofort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame. 2 Having spoke thus, she began to make a piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far fro her) an ex- tremely doleful voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceave the wordes distinctly. But " (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind) she drewe thether neere-away, in hope to find some copanio of her misery. And as she passed on, she was stopped with a nuber of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraid 146 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. she should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of the lamentable partie, which she was so desirous to understand. And therefore setting her downe as softly as she could (for she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceave a Lute excellently well played upon, and then the same dolefull voice accompanying it with these verses. IN vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight : Since to my hart her shape you so did sende ; That her I see, though you did lose your light. In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd, With sights you seeke to coole your hotte desire : Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd] For bellowes serve to kindle more the fire. Reason, in vaine (now you have lost my hart) My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte : Since there mine eyes have played so false a parte, That to your strength your foes have sure resorte. Then since in vaine I find were all my strife, To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life. The ending of the song served but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heavy a burthe of cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the paine in al sortes of coulours. For the wofull person (as if the lute had evill joined with the voice) threw it to the ground with such like words : Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiv'd to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed ; and no more did my joyfull minde then receive every thing to a joyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes ech thing tast like the bitter juyce of care. The evill is inward, my Lute, the evill is inward; which all thou doost doth serve but to make me thinke more freely off, and the more I thinke, the more cause I finde of thinking, but lesse of hoping. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete meats of sorrow ? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth K2 147 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leave thy master, since he is not afraide to forsake himselfe. 4. And thus much spoke (in steed of a conclusion) was closed up with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not refraine to shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serve fitly for nothing, but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour of this sorrowfull musicke,her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the party that thus had indited her selfe of miserie : so that either of them remained confused with a sodaine asto- nishment. Ze/mane fearing, least shee had heard some part of those complaints, which shee had risen up that morning of pur- pose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great while stoode still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking sted- fastly upon her: at length returning to some use of her selfe, shee began to aske Zelmane y what cause carried her so early abroad ? But as if the opening of her mouth to Ze/mane, had opened some great flood-gate of sorrow (wherof her heart could not abide the violet issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hands over her face, crying vehemently, Ze/mane helpe me, O Zelmane have pittie on me. Ze/mane ranne to her, marvelling what sodaine sicknesse had thus possessed her : and beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, and offring her service to be imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly upon her, pricked with the flames of love, and the torments of her owne conscience : O Ze/mane y Ze/mane, (said she) doost thou offer me phisicke, which art my onely poyson r Or wilt thou doo me service, which hast alredie brought me into eternall slaverie? Ze/mane then knowing well at what marke she shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most excellent Ladie (said she) you were best re- tire your selfe into your lodging, that you the better may passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe ? (said Gynecia} If I had re- tyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (unfortunate guest) earnest to draw me from my selfe; blessed had I beene, and no neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced to flie to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt ; and make thee judge of my cause, who art the onely author of my mischiefe. Ze/mane the more astonished, the more she understood her, Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not cleere my selfe ? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me ? Alas, answered Gynecia, what 148 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. shall I say more? Take pitty of me, O Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou doost in apparell. Zelmane was much troubled with that word, finding her selfe 3 brought to this streight. But as shee was thinking what to answere her ; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without ever seeing them : complayning likewise of love verie freshly; and ending his complaint with this song, Love having renewed both his invention, and voyce. Kt not old age disgrace my high desire, heavenly soule, in humaine shape conteind: Old wood injlam'de, doth yeeld the bravest fire, When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend. Ne let white haires, which on my face doo grow, Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe : Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show, Which makes all eyes doo honour unto you. Old age is wise and full of constant truth ; Old age well stayed from raunging humor lives : Old age hath knowne what ever was in youth : Old age orecome, the greater honour gives. And to old age since you your selfe aspire, Let not old age disgrace my high desire. Which being done, he looked verie curiously upon himselfe, sometimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had said, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane having in this time gotten leasure to thinke for an answere; looking upon Gynecia, as if she thought she did her some wrong : Madam (said she) I am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a partie with whom it is to be used. If my service may please you, imploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misjudgeing of me. Alas Zelmane (said Gynecia} I perceive you know ful little, how percing the eyes are of a true lover. There is no one beame of those thoughts you have planted in me, but is able discerne a greater cloud then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe further from me, nor force not the passion of love into violent 149 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that way thorow the trees, perceived his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the most lovely countenance he could, he came straightway towards them ; and at the first word (thanking his wife for having entertained Zel- manej) desired her she would now returne into the lodge, be- cause hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with jelousie in that point) obeyed the kings commaundement; full of raging agonies, and determinatly bent, that as she would seeke all loving meanes to winne Zelmane^ so she would stirre up terrible tragedies, rather then faile of her entent. And so went she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her thoughts, and so deadly an overthrow given to her best resolutions, that even her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed withall: making a languishing sicknesse waite upon the triumph of passion; which the more it prevailed in her, the more it made her jelousie watchfull, both over her daughter, and Zelmane ; having ever one of them entrusted to her owne eyes. But as soone as Basi/ius was ridde of his wives presence, falling downe on his knees, O Lady (said he) which hast onely had the power to stirre up againe those flames which had so long layn deade in me ; see in me the power of your beautie ; which can make old age come to aske counsaile of youth ; and a Prince uncoquered, to become a slave to a stranger. And whe you see that power of yours, love that at lest in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loved. Worthy Prince (answered Ze/mane y taking him up from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so straunge unto me, as I know not how to answere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shal never displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you : otherwise if you would vouchsafe mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall convay your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reverece to receive them. I disdaine not to speake to you (mightie Prince said Zelmane^] but I disdaine to speake to any matter which may bring my honor into question. And there- with, with a brave counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leaving him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in 150 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. himself that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in writing verses, & making more of himselfe, then he was wont to doo: that with a little helpe, he would have growne into a prettie kind of dotage. But 'Lelmane being ridde of this loving, but little-loved com- 6 pany, Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles^ was there ever one, but I, that had received wrong, and could blame no body ? that having more then I desire, am still in want of that I woulde ? Truly Love, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe ; thou hast imployed my love there, where all love is deserved ; and for re- compence hast sent me more love then ever I desired. But what wilt thou doo Pyrocles? which way canst thou finde to ridde thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be knowne to, I live in darkenesse : and to her am revealed, from whom I would be most secreat. What shift shall I finde against the diligent love of Basilius? what shield against the violent passions of Gynecia ? And if that be done, yet how am I the neerer to quench the fire that consumes me? Wei, well, sweete Philoclea^ my whole confidence must be builded in thy divine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I have received by you. CHAP. 2. enstruflingofDorus. 2 Zelmanes discourse to Dorus of her difficulties \ 3 & his to her of bis success e in love. 4 fiis love-suits made to Mopsa, meant to Pamela: with their answeres. BUt as sicke folkes, when they are alone, thinke companie would relieve them, & yet having company do find it noysome; changing willingly outward objects, when indeed the evill is inward : So poore Zelmane was no more weery of Basilius, then she was of her selfe, when Basilius was gone: and ever the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her owne judges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus ; that upon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES sorrow : and therefore went toward the other lodge : where among certaine Beeches she found Dorus^ apparelled in flanen, with a goats skin cast upon him, & a garland of Laurell mixt with Cypres leaves on his head, wayting on his master Dametas, who at that time was teching him how with his sheephooke to catch a wanton Lambe, & with the same to cast a litle ,clod at any one that strayed out of copanie. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas hold his hand under his girdle behind him, nodding from the wast upwards, & swearing he never knew man go more aukewardly to worke : & that they might talke of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he never saw more unfeatlie fellowes, then great clearks were. 2 But Zefmanes comming saved Dorus from further chiding. And so she beginning to speake with him of the number of his masters sheepe, and which Province of Arcadia bare the finest wooll, drewe him on to follow her in such countrie discourses, till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of passion, as though her harte would clime into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she declared unto him, upon what briers the roses of her affedtions grew : how time still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one houre of comfort upon her ; she remain- ing stil in one plight of ill fortune, saving so much worse, as continuance of evill dooth in it selfe increase evill. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou seest how long and languishingly the weekes are paste over us since our laste talking. And yet am I the same, miserable' I, that I was: onely stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew what woundes that discourse gave unto them) procured his eyes with teares to give testimonie, how much they suffered for her suffering : till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it selfe) made Ze/mane (the sooner to shake it of) earnestly intreate Dorus^ that he also (with like freedome of discourse) would bestow a Mappe of his little worlde, upon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such unhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hotte rages, as hers was. And so walking under a fewe Palme trees, (which being loving in their own nature, seemed to give their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of love) Dorus thus entred to the description of his fortune. 152 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high 3 powers to throwe us to such an estate, as the onely entercourse of our true friendshippe, must be a bartring of miseries. For my parte, I must confesse indeede, that from a huge darkenes of sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a lightsomnes, but) to a certain dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of comfort : But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires, that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitife may the better re- member the light, of which he is deprived : or like a scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde him selfe utterly ignorant. But thus stands it with me : After that by your meanes I was exalted to serve in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing; that (because of the service I had done in killing of the Beare) it pleased the Princesse (in whom indeede statelines shines through courtesie) to let fall some gratious looke upon me. Sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to heare my songes. For my parte, my harte woulde not suffer me to omitte any occasion, whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela^ see how much extraordi- narie devotion I bare to her service: and withall, strave to appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, joyned to so great affection, might prevaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well (alas) I founde, that a shepheards service was but considered of as from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted to no further proportion, then of a good servant. And when my countenance had once given notice, that there lay affection under it, I sawe straight, Majesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) draw foorth such a sworde of just disdaine, that I re- mayned as a man thunder-striken ; not daring, no not able, to beholde that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed againe impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dametas, Miso, and my young Mistresse, Mopsa. For, Dametas (accord- ing to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shewe him selfe wise, then by suspecting every thing in his way. Which suspition Mm (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for a very unlikely envie she hath stumbled upon, against the Princesses unspeakeable beautie) were very gladde to execute. So that I (finding my service by this meanes lightlie 153 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES regarded, my affeftion despised, and my selfe unknowen) re- mayned no fuller of desire, then voyde of comfort how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speak, they might well witnesse. For, many times have I stoode here, be- wailing my selfe unto them: many times have I, leaning to yonder Palme, admired the blessednes of it, that coulde beare Love without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, I might see the young Bull testifie his love. But how? with proud lookes, and joyfulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then to my selfe) in whom witte (which should be the governer of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts, like children to nature, inherite her blessings quietly ; we, like bastards, are layd abroad, even as foundlinges to be trayned up by griefe and sorrow. Their mindes grudge not their bodies com- fort, nor their sences are letted from enjoying their objects: we have the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogitatios have I somtimes so long stood, that me thought my feete began to grow, into the ground, with such a darkenes and heavines of minde, that I might easilie have bene perswaded to have resigned over my very essence. But Love, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giveth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled up my harte to remeber, that nothing is atchieved before it be throughlie attempted ; and that lying still doth never goe for- ward: and that therefore it was time, now or never, to sharpen my invention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise; never ceasing to assemble al my conceites, one after the other ; how to manifest both my minde and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolved on this way, which yet perchaunce you will think was a way rather to hide it. 4. I began to counterfeite the extremest love towards Mopsa, that might be : and as for the love, so lively it was indeed within me, (although to another subject) that litle I needed to counterfait any notable demonstrations of it : and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her fowlnes I beheld Pamelas fayrenesse, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela ; as if I saw my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I cryed out of nothing but Mopsa : to Mopsa my attendance was directed : to Mopsa the best fruites I coulde gather were 154 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. brought : to Mipsa it seemed still that mine eye conveyed my tongue. So that Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my sing- ing ; Mopsa, (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion upon a filthy favour, setting foorth both in sluttishnesse) she was the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the overthrowe of my desires, and yet the recompence of my over- throwe; she the sweetnesse of my harte, even sweetning the death, which her sweetnesse drew upon me. In summe, what soever I thought of Pamela, that I saide of Mopsa ; whereby as I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing lest I should winne the Princesse favour from him, so did the same make the Princesse be better content to allow me her presence : whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indigna- tion did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of hers, how meanely soever she reputed of it ; or rather (as I thinke) my words being so passionate ; and shooting so quite contrarie from the markes of Mopsaes worthinesse, she perceived well enough, whither they were directed : and there- fore being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to attend them. Whereupon one day determining to find some means to tel (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne love, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone with Pamela, I came in unto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and songe this songe. Since so mine eyes are subjefi to your sight, That in your sight they fixed have my braine ; Since so my harte is felled with that light, That onely light doth all my life maintaine ; Since in sweete you all goods so richly raigne, That where you are no wished good can want ; Since so your living image lives in me, That in my se/fe your selfe true love doth plant ; How can you him unworthy then decree, In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be? The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with grievous sighes, which overtooke every verse I sange, I let fall my harpe fro me; & casting my eie sometime 155 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES upon Mopsa, but setting my sight principally upon Pamela, And is it the onely fortune most bewtiful Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune should be measure of his mind ? Am I onely he that because I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid upon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa, consider, that a vertuous Prince requires the life of his meanest subject, and the heavenly Sunne disdaines not to give light to the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be as manifest to you, as it is uncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well countervaile the lownesse of my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate ? who seeth not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet uniting of al beauties, which remaineth & dwelleth with you? who knowes not, that al these are but ornamets of that divine sparke within you, which being deseeded from heaven could not els-where picke out so sweete a mansion? But if you will knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excel- lencies together, it is a kinde of mercyfulnesse to such a one, as is in his soule devoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a certaine smackring towardes me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most comonly with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips, and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the wordes I could get of her, was, wringing her waste, and thrusting out her chinne, In faith you jest with me : you are a merry man indeede. But the ever-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her parte) was cotent to urge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great a disparagement as to her Fathers servaunt ; since she is not worthy to be loved, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a good while after her words, in hope she would have continued her speech (so great a delight I receaved in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all over my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all vertue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely 156 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. rebellious handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you have a pittifull spectacle of her wickednesse, a forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthi- nesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (even at his death) have leave to speake, let my mortall wound pur- chase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such in the partie I love, as the feeling of them cannot come into any unnoble hart ; shall that harte, which doth not onely feele them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that hart I saie, lifted up to such a height, be counted base ? O let not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke, where it is placed, imbraced, and loved; there can be any unworthinesse, since the weakest mist is not easilier driven away by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the gratious Pamela) but that the love you beare to Mopsa, hath brought you to the consideration of her vertues, and that consideration may have made you the more vertuous, and so the more worthie : But even that then (you must confesse) you have received of her, and so are rather gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring something of your owne wherby to claime it. And truely Dorus, I must in Mopsaes behalfe say thus much to you, that if her beauties have so overtaken you, it becomes a true Love to have your harte more set upon her good then your owne, and to beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfaction. Now by my hallidame, Madame (said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheeps eyes upon me) you have even touched mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (rinding that the pollicie that I had used, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse unto me, as that I might even in my Ladies presence, discover the sore which had deepely festered within me, and that she could better conceave my reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would have vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, using this fit occasion of Pameleas wit, and Mopsaes ignorance. Therfore with an humble pearcing eye, looking upon Pamela, as if I had rather bene codemned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa^ but keeping mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by '57 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the wise knitting together of your answere, that any disputatio I can use is asmuch too weake, as I unworthy. I find my love shalbe proved no love, without I leve to love, being too unfit a vessell in who so high thoughts should be engraved. Yet since the Love I beare you, hath so joyned it self to the best part of my life, as the one canot depart, but that th'other will follow, before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which is my unworthines, either of mind, estate, or both ? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tubled with over much kindnesse, when Pamela with a more favour- able countenance the before (finding how apt I was to fall into dispaire) told me, I might therein have answered my selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsaes perfeclios had greatly beautified my minde, there was none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserved great allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be so farre maister of your love, as to consider, that since the judgement of the world stands upon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to have regardfull eie to mens judgements, it is not for us to play the philosophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues : since that, which in a wise prince would be couted wisdome, in us wil be taken for a light- grounded affe&io: so is not one thing, one, done by divers persons. There is no man in a burning fever feeles so great contentmet in cold water greedily received (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly pronouced words ; & newly, & more violetly againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed up her delightfull speach, with no lesse wel graced silence. But re- mebring in my self that aswell the Souldier dieth which standeth still, as he that gives the bravest onset : & seeing that to the making up of my fortune, there wanted nothing so much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face wel wit- nessing how deeply my soule was possessed, & with the most submissive behavior, that a thralled hart could expresse, eve as my words had bene too thicke for my mouth, at legth spake to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) & do not then your owne sweet words sufficietly testifie, that there was never ma could have a juster adlio against filthy fortune, the I, since all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let? 158 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. O heavely God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable speeches have not already cloied you, & that the verie presence of such a wretch become not hatefull in your eyes ; let me reply thus much further against my mortall sentence, by telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seeme long) whereby you " shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath bene content to take the like upon him, and by that onely hath aspired to enjoy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously barkened, and I told my tale in this sort. CHAP. 3. z'j tale of his owne l education, *travaile, *enamoring, 4 meta- morphosing, * saving from sea, 6 and being Musidorus. 7 His ottave. 8 Pamelas and Mopsas answere to his suit. *His present to them ; w and perplexitie in himselfe. IN the countrie of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thessalia (I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, who bondage wholly possessed; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. O Musidorus, Musidorus ; but to what serve exclamations, where there are no eares to receive the sounde ? This Musidorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with a violent death) her last dueties, leaving his childe to the faith of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gave him not such pangs as the foresight-full care hee had of his silly successour. And yet if in his foresight he could have scene so much, happie was that good Prince in his timely departure, which barred him from the knowledge of his sonnes miseries, which his knowledge could neither have prevented, nor relieved. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destinies good will, deprived of his principall stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselves for a 159 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES greater mischiefe) lulled up in as much good luck, as the heed- full love of his dolefull mother, and the florishing estate of his country could breed unto him. 2 But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be ripe for him, because he had age to know misery, I thinke there was a conspiracy in all heavenly & earthly things, to frame fit occasion to leade him unto it. His people (to whom all forraine matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their be- loved Prince, experience by travaile : his deare mother (whose eyes were held open, onely with the joy of looking upon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her widowhead life, desiring the same her subje6tes did, for the increase of her sonnes worthinesse. And here-to did Musidorus owne vertue (see how vertue can be a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently provoke him : for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likenesse of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe unto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit all this togither, was his uncle the king of Macedon ; who having lately before gotte such vidlories, as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne (brought up togither, to avoid the warres, with Musidorus] and for Musidorus himselfe, that his joy might be the more full, having such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull toong doth lead me ; and thus out of breath, rather with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, till Pamela shewing by countenance that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether they would needs go with a Navie to succour him : he being at that time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it ; where at that time his court was. But when the conspired heavens had gotten this Subject of their wrath upon so fit a place as the sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous windes some part of their malice against him ; so that with the losse of all his Navie, he onely with the Prince his cosin, were cast a land, farre off from the place whether their desires would have guided them. O cruell winds in your unconsiderate rages, why either beganne you this furie, or why did you not end it in his end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life 1 60 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. for many deathfull torments. To tel you what pittiful mishaps fell to the young Prince of Macedon his cosen, I should too much fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay upon those laborsome advetures, nor loathsome misadventures, to which, & through which his fortune and courage conducted him; My speach hastneth it self to come to the ful-point of Musidorus his infortunes. For as we finde the most pestilet diseases do gather into themselves al the infirmitie, with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery embrace in the extremitie of it self all his former mischiefes. Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of 3 his endlesse overthrow. Arcadia was, (alas well might I say it is) the charmed circle, where all his spirits for ever should be enchaunted. For here (and no where els) did his infedted eyes make his minde know, what power heavenly beauty hath to throw it downe to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian Kings eldest daughter, in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of joy, and joyfull parts of his heart, that he left in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them beleeve, whom seeing cannot perswade ? Those paines must be felt before they ca be understood; no outward utterance can command a con- ceipt. Such was as then the state of the King, as it was no time by direct meanes to seeke her. And such was the state of his captived wil, as he could delay no time of seeking her. In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shepheards4 weede, that under the basenesse of that forme, he might at lest have free accesse to feed his eyes with that, which should at length eate up his hart. In which doing, thus much without doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alwayes to be rejected, since under that vaile there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might with taking on a shepherds look cast up his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine need no more to be dis- dained, or held for disgracefull. But now alas mine eyes waxe dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force to help, either with the feeling remembrance I have, in what heape of miseries the caitife Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon therfore, most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be understood, I have said enough, s. A. L 161 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might befall to that patterne of ill fortune, (the matters are monstrous for my capacitie) his hatefull destinies must best declare their owne workemanship. 5 Thus having delivered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Princesse might judge that he ment himselfe, who spake so feelingly ; her aunswere was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you thinke it? she hath heard heretofore of us both, by meanes of the valiant prince Plangus^ and particularly of our casting away : which she (following my owne stile) thus delicately brought foorth. You have told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale ; but you are much deceived in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both perish upon the coast of Laconia ; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the historic) did assure my father. O how that speach of hers did poure joyes in my hart ? 6 blessed name (thought I) of mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through those lips, though I can never hope to approch them. As for Pyrocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished : (which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being, then your selfe would have it) and yet affirmed no lye unto her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musi- dorus (said I) I perceive indeed you have neither heard or read the story of that unhappy Prince; for this was the verie objection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make unto him, whe he sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome : and thus as I have read it faire written in the certaintie of my knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a treason was perished, and therfore that Plangus might easily be deceaved : but that he himselfe was cast upon the coast of Laconia^ where he was taken up by a couple of shepheards, who lived in those dayes famous; for that both loving one faire maide, they yet remained constant friends; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepheard Lamon^ and brought by them to a noble-mans house, neere Afantinea, whose sonne had a little before his manage, bene taken prisoner, and by the helpe of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by another name) was delivered. Now these circumlocutions I did use, because of the one side I 162 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I ment; and of the other, if I should have named Strephon, Claim, Kalander, and Clitophon, perhappes it would have rubd some conjecture into the heavie heade of Mistresse Mopsa. And therfore (said I) most divine Lady, he justly was to 6 argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be satisfied, that upon that wrack such a one was taken up : and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who knew not of anies taking up againe: that he that was so pre- served, brought good tokens to be one of the two, chiefe of that wracked companie : which two since Plangus knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, he must needes be one of them, although (as I said) upon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the Princesse must needes judge, that no lesse then a Prince durst undertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the favour of the Princesse) he could never defend with lesse the a Princes power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (said he) for a certaine demonstration, he presumed to shew unto the Princesse a marke he had on his face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare Mopsa : and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where (as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that she may ascertaine her selfe, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to send some one she might trust, into Thessalia, secretely to be advertised, whether the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with this Prince Musi- dorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled countenance, not accusing any kind of inwarde motion) of that storie. Alas no, (said I) for even here the Historiographer stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrologie. And there- with, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke upon somewhat, to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do) and withal, to shew what kind of shepheard I was, I took up my Harpe, and sang these few verses. MY sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serve: 7 Their pasture is faire hilles of fruit lesse Love: On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterve : I waile their lotte, but will not other prove. L2 163 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all upholdes : My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes. What wooll my sheepe shall heart, whiles thus they live, In you it is, you must the judgement give. And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the matter (lest she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answeares, I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought her to move Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would unarme her hart of that steely resistace against the sweet blowes of Love : that since all her parts were decked with some particular ornamet ; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with majestic, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with lovelines, her tongue with viclorie ; that she woulde make her hart the throne of pitie, being the most excellent rayment of the most excellent part. 8 Pamela, without shew either of favour or disdaine, either of heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and adlion, as might shewe she spake of a matter which little did concerne her, Take heede to your selfe (saide she) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake well: but truely, if he doo fully proove himselfe such as he saith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menalchas his brother, and heire, I know no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) she were even then farre spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint speeches, she would keepe her honestie close inough : And that as for the highe way of matrimony, she would steppe never a foote further, till my maister her father had spoken the whole word him selfe, no she would not. But ever and anon turning her muzzell toward me, she threwe such a prospedl upon me, as might well have given a surfet to any weake lovers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that drivels speeches among my noble thoughts ? but because she was an Adlor in this Tragedie, to geve you a ful knowledge, and to leave nothing (that I can remember) unrepeated. 9 Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from us, I tooke a Jewell, made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes another, I thought it did 164 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela : The word about it was, By force, not choice ; and still kneeling, besought the Princesse that she would vouchsafe to give it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make acceptable unto her that toye which I had founde, followinge of late an acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (sayd I) as the earth was turned up, the plow-share lighted upon a great stone : we puld that up, & so found both that, and some other prety thinges which we had devided betwixt us. Mopsa was benummed with joy when the Princesse gave it 10 her : but in the Princesse I could finde no apprehension of what I either said or did, but with a calme carelesnesse letting each thing slide, justly as we doo by their speeches, who neither in matter nor person doo any way belong unto us) which kind of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall majestic, is of all others most terrible unto me: for yet if I found she contemned me, I would desperatly labour both in fortune and vertue to overcome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in heaven ; for quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance : lastly, if she hated me, yet I should know what passion to deale with ; and either with infinitenes of desert I would take away the fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serve, then I would give her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quietnes, neither retiring to mislike, nor proceeding to favour ; gratious, but gratious still after one maner; all her courtesies having this engraven in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not for the parties; ever keeping her course like the Sun, who neither for our prayses, nor curses, will spare or stoppe his horses. This (I say) heavenlines of hers, (for how so ever my miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach unto, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannic of despaire, not knowing any way of perswasio, where wisdome seemes to be unsensible. I have appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a device I used with my master, perswading him, that we two might put on a certaine rich apparrel I had provided, and so practise some thing on horsback before Pamela, telling him, it was apparell I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedie at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menalcas house, and Dametas got one by friendship out 165 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES of the Princes stable. But how soever I show, I am no base bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome. CHAP. 4. 1 Basilius bis hauking. J Gynecias hurte by Dametas overturning her coache. ' Her jelousie over Zelmane. Philocleas 4 love- Sy 5 vowe of chastitie y 8 revocation^ 7 lamentation. Ut as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas (who came whistling, & counting upon his fingers, how many loade of hay his seventeen fat oxen eat up in a yeare) desired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stayed for her. Alas (said Dorus, taking his leave) the sum is this, that you may wel find you have beate your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may wel make your sorrow stroger. But Zelmane turning her speach to Dametas^ I shall grow (said she) skilfull in country matters, if I have often conference with your servaunt. In sooth (answered Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may prove wel enough, if he oversoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will beare away that he heareth of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find she might have spet her time better with him, he began with a wilde Methode to runne over all the art of husbandrie : especi- ally imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde : while poore Zelmane yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with any one answere, till they came to BasiliuS) and Gynecia, who atteded for her in a coach to carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her. Basilius and Gynecia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moved in her minde, to have kissed their feete for the favour of so blessed a seate : for the narrownesse of the coach made them joine from the foote to the shoulders very close together ; the truer touch wherof though it were barred by their envious apparell, yet as a perfect Magnes, though put in an ivorie boxe, will 166 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. thorow the boxe send forth his imbraced vertue to a beloved needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleave unto her, both thorow the ivory case of her body, and the apparell which did over-clowd it. All the bloud of Zelmanes body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put into it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloved guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines his libertie, before the grate; not panting, but striving violently (if it had bene possible) to have leapt into the lappe of Philoclea, But Dametas, even then proceeding from being maister of a carte, to be doctor of a coach, not a little prowd in himselfe, that his whippe at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, drave the coach (the cover whereof was made with such joints, that as they might (to avoid the weather) pull it up close when they listed, so when they would they might put each ende downe, and remaine as discovered & open sighted as on horsebacke) till upon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lords, the second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant height over certaine bushes, would beate the birdes (that rose) downe unto the bushes, as Faulcons will doo wilde-foule over a river. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which getting up on his wagling winges with paine, till he was come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth were not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) was now growen to diminish the sight of himself, & to give example to great persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should show: whe a Jerfaulcon was cast of after her, who streight spying where the pray was, fixing her eie with desire, & guiding her wing by her eie, used no more stregth then industry. For as a good builder to a hie tower will not make his stayre upright, but winding almost the ful copasse about, that the steepnes be the more unsensible : so she, seing the towring of her pursued chase, went circkling, & copassing about, rising so with the lesse sence of rising; & yet finding that way scantly serve the greedines of her hast, as an ambitious body wil go far out of the direct way, to win to a point of height which he desires; so would she (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, & flie quite 167 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES out another way, but all was to returne in a higher pitche ; which once gotten, she would either beate with cruell assaults the Heron, who now was driven to the best defence of force, since flight would not serve; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by the overpartiall beholders. 2 Divers of which flights Basilius shewing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before it was thought of, till night like a degenerating successour made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so constrained) they willed Dametas to drive homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a vine-presse) guided the horses so ill, that the wheele comming over a great stub of a tree, it overturned the coach. Which though it fell violently upon the side where Zelmane & Gynecia sat, yet for Ze/manes part, she would have bene glad of the fall, which made her beare the sweete burthen of Philoclea y but that she feared she might receave some hurt. But indeede neither she did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and legs within the coach, saving Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of joindt; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with much paine was she brought to the lodge ; and paine (fetching his ordinary companion, a fever with him) drave her to enter- taine them both in her bedde. 3 But neither was the fever of such impatient heate, as the inwarde plague-sore of her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the jealousie she conceaved of her daughter Philo- clea, lest this time of her sicknesse might give apt occasion to Zelmane, whom she misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commaunded her in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speake, and she lie with her sister Pamela. The meane while Gynecia kepte Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not thinking skorne to be a torche-bearer to such beautie) guided her steppes, whose motions bare a minde, which bare in it selfe farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how hath my penne till now forgot thy passions, since to thy 168 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the slacknes to come to those woes, which having caused in others, thou didst feele in thy selfe. The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of well 4 doing, to whom the not knowing of evill serveth for a ground of vertue, and hold their inward powers in better forme with an unspotted simplicitie, then many, who rather cuningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselves the following of it. But as that sweet & simple breath of heavenly goodnesse, is the easier to be altered, because it hath not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found the evill, that evill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had receaved nothing, but according as the naturall course of each thing required; which fro the tender youth had obediently lived under her parents behests, without framing out of her own wil the fore-chosing of any thing) whe now she came to appoint, wherin her judgemet was to be praftized, in knowing faultines by his first tokes, she was like a yong faune, who coming in the wind of the hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or no to be eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while lived in the lodge with her, and that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heed- full attention; her coming to that lonely place (where she had no body but her parents) a willingnes of conversatio ; her wit & behaviour, a liking & silent admiration; at length the excellency of her natural gifts, joined with the extreme shewes she made of most devout honouring Philoclea^ (carying thus in one person the only two bads of good will, lovelines & lovingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most friedly affeftio; which when it had gotten so ful possession of the keies of her mind, that it would receave no message fro her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; the streight grew an exceeding delight stil to be with her, with an un- measurable liking of al that Zelmane did : maters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed good-wil, now good-wil became the chiefe cause of liking her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was Zelmanes. The followed that most natural effect of coforming 169 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ones self to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to be her selfe such an other in all thinges, but to ground an imitation upon so much an esteemed authoritie : so that the next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches, and fashions, and to take them into herselfe, as a patterne of worthy proceeding. Which when once it was enadled, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed unto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason it self (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent; then Friendship (a diligent officer) tooke care to see the statute thorowly observed. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of her speech, but even their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane ; & as Zelmanes eyes would deliver a submissive, but vehement desire in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answere in like pearcing kindnesse of a looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias jealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea ; Philoclea, as much as Gynecias jealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane. If Zelmane tooke her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship ought to bee mutuall) would (with a sweete fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; whe Zelmane was sad, she deemed it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes laguishing coutenace with crost armes, and sometimes cast-up eyes, she thought to have an excellent grace : and therefore she also willingly put on the same countenace: til at the last (poore soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the band, but the service ; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it were, that her wit in cotinuace did finde, that Zelmanes friendship was full of impatient desire, having more the ordinarie limits, & therfore shee was content to second Zelmane^ though her selfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true- love (well considered) have an infedtive power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loves harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might live all their lives togither, like two of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them, who also would have their part in Zelmane. The would she 170 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. wish, that she were her sister, that such a natural band might make her more speciall to her. But against that, she con- sidered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be married, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bolder, she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displaied his ensigne in her minde, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night beganne to bring more unto her, then she durst wish by day, whereout making did make her know her selfe the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie to be knowne, they are almost impossible to be cured : so the sweete Philoclea, while she might prevent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was past preventing ; like a river, no rampiers being built against it, till alreadie it have over- flowed. For now indeed, Love puld of his maske, and shewed his face unto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner. Then needed she no more paint her face with passions; for passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another time, perfect whitenesse ascended to a degree of palenesse; now hot, then cold, desiring she knew not what, nor how, if she knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error gives so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authoritie of a parent, so) greatly fortified her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more jealous her mother was, the more she thought the Jewell precious, which was with so many lookes garded. But that prevailing so far, as to keepe the two lovers from private conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a lovers solitarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Ze/mane were present, shee might give passage to her thoughts, and so as it were utter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commande- 171 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ment, with dolefull gestures and uncertaine paces, shee did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone : so that going a little aside into the wood ; where manie times before she had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set togither, as with the shade the moone gave thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of devotion to looke upon it. But true thoughts of love banish all vaine fancie of superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the place ; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phoebus of looking upon her: There had she enjoyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses. 5 But the principall cause that invited her remembrance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene dedicated in ancient time to the Silvan gods: which she finding there a fewe dayes before Zelmanes comming, had written these words upon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition her captivitie made her thinke she lived in. The writing was this. YOu living powres enclosed in stately shrine Of growing trees; you rurall Gods that wield Your scepters here, if to your eares divine A voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld : This vowe receave, this vowe 6 Gods maintaine; My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine. Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe My tempred hart ; by thee my promise sent Unto my selfe let after-livers know. No fancy mine, nor others wronge suspeft Make me, 6 vertuous Shame, thy /awes negleft. O Chastitie, the chiefe of heavenly lightes, Which makst us most immortall shape to weare, Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights : To onely thee my constant course I beare. Till spotlesse soule unto thy bosome flye, Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye. 172 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. But now that her memorie served as an accuser of her 6 change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare testimony against her fall ; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the toppes togither, as they might seeme a little chappell : and there might she by the help of the moone-light perceive the goodly stone, which served as an altar in that wooddie devotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceaved, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which never receivedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she have chaunged since. Enjoy, enjoy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine verses, which if she had had present commoditie, she would have adjoyned as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect. MY words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde, This marble chose, as of like temper knowne : But loe, my words defaste, my fancies blinde, Blots to the stone, shame to my selfe I finde : And witnesse am, how ill agree in one, A womans hand with constant marble stone. My words full weake, the marble full of might; My words in store, the marble all alone; My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white; My words unseene, the marble still in sight, May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one, A womans hand, with constant marble stone. But seeing she could not see meanes to joyne as the this 7 recantation to the former vow, (laying all her faire length under one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turne up and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could have hidden her selfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring note to her selfe; O me unfortunate wretch (said she) what poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me ? How hath THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the sight of this strange guest invaded my soule ? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Then, a cloud passing betweene her sight and the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away, as you will quickly overcome this let; or els that you were for ever thus darkned, to serve for an excuse of my outragious folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfidy as then beautified the cleere skie: My parets (said she) have told me, that in these faire heavenly bodies, there are great hidde deities, which have their working in the ebbing & flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) judge rightly of me, & if I have with wicked intet made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I framed my harte fit for such an impres- sion, then let this plague dayly encrease in me, till my name bee made odious to womankind. But if extreame and unre- sistable violence have oppressed me, who will ever do any of you sacrifice (6 you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you cannot helpe me: Sinne must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affe&ion. And yet are these but childish objections (simple Philocled) it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me : for, unlawfull desires are punished after the effedt of enjoying ; but unpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, 6 tenne times unhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth love; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my affedtion: and of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The most covetous man longs not to get riches out of a groud which never can beare any thing; Why? because it is impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wittes to clime into heaven ; Why ? because it is impossible. Alas then, 6 Love, why doost thou in thy beautifull sampler sette such a worke for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Love hath prepared for me ? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at iest as furiouslie as my selfe, love Zelmane? And should I be wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I think impossible, or els impossible loves neede not ARCADIA. LIB. 2. misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to love me with like ardour? I see it, her eyes depose it to be true ; what then ? and if she can love poore me, shall I thinke scorne to love such a woman as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou lovest me, excellent Zelmane^ and I love thee : and with that, embrasing the very grounde whereon she lay, she said to her selfe (for even to her selfe she was ashamed to speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, governe and diredt me: for I am wholy given over unto thee. CHAP. 5. 1 The bedfellow communication o/"Philoclea and Pamela. J Pamelas narration of her shepheardes making love, 3 of Dorus and Dametas horsemanshippe, 4 of his hote pursuite, and her colde acceptance. 6 His letter. 9 Her relenting, 7 and Philocleas sole complaint. IN this depth of muzes, and divers sorts of discourses, would i she have ravingly remained, but that Dametas and Miso (who were rounde about to seeke her, understanding she was to come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas saying, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but for his parte, he did not like that maides should once stirre out of their fathers houses, but if it were to milke a cow, or save a chicken from a kites foote, or some such other matter of im- portance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she woulde give her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight. But their jangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to waite upon her mother) to the lodge ; where (being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well as her sister, to serve her selfe) she went alone up to Pamelas chamber : where meaning to delight her eies, and joy her thoughts with the sweet conversation of her beloved sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow 175 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire, lying backward, with her head almost over the back of it, & looking upon a wax-cadle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the other her hand-kerchiefe, which had lately dronk up the teares of her eyes, leaving in steed of them, crimsen circles, like redde flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorowes) she earnestlie intreated to knowe the cause thereof, that either she might comforte, or accompanie her dolefull humor. But Pamela, rather seeming sorie that she had perceived so much, then willing to open any further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our coutrey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your favour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you love your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not love a sadde Pamela, so well as a joyfull ? Or be my eares unwoorthie, or my tongue suspected ? What is it (my sister) that you should conceale from your sister, yea and servant Philoclea? These wordes wanne no further of Pamela, but that telling her they might talke better as they lay together, they impoverished their cloathes to inriche their bed, which for that night might well scorne the shrine of Venus : and there cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embrace- ments; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Love was come to play him there without darte; or that weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refreshe himselfe betweene their sweete-breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the curtain, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing) was ready to speake : but the breath almost formed into words, was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea, let us talke of some other thing: & tell me whether you did ever see any thing so ameded as our Pastoral sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O Love, how farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I have often wondred to my selfe how such excellecies could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide 176 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. to lay her treasures, where they should be staind with so many perfections: onely I marvaile how he can frame himselfe to hide so rare giftes under such a block as Dametas. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither; and to say the trueth : but Lord, how are we falne to talke of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke lefture unto him (how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade them in the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome for his oxen, when to use the goade, & when the voice : giving him rules of a heardma, though he preteded to make him a shep- heard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne upon his base estate) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serves this? no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I have caught you, the constant- nes of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disjointed speeches: you love, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela] now you have it; and with lesse adoo should, if my hart could have thoght those words suteable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea} take heed: for I thinke Vertue it self is no armour of proofe against affection. Therfore learne by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheeres come to late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away. But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her Love, 2 went away a maine withall, telling her how his noble qualities had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet ever waying his meanenes, & so held continually in due limits; till seeking many meanes to speake with her, & ever kept from it (as wel because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because of her jealous jaylours) he had at length used the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting love to Mopsa, & saying to Mopsa what soever he would have her know : and in how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person, making poore Mopsa beleve, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, because you shal know my teares come not, neither of repetance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus fallen out to be ? even the Prince Musidorus^ famous over all Asia, for his heroical enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the straunger Plangus told my s. A. M 177 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES father ; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard his words, or scene his gestures, when he made me know what, and to whom his love was, you would have matched in your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and delight. Tell me deare sister (for the gods are my witnesses I desire to doo vertuously) can I without the detestable staine of ungratefulnesse abstaine from loving him, who (far exceeding the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beautifulnesse of his minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of his acles) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas servaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow belief? That cosideratio did not want in me, for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receive beliefe, then it is hard to ground belief. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assuraunce: and that have I had of him, not onely by necessary arguments to any of comon sense, but by sufficient demonstrations. Lastly he would have me send to Thessalia : but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honorable Love so much wrong, as so far to suspedt him : yet poor soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspeft, negleft, yea & detest him. For every day he finds one way or other to set forth him selfe unto me, but all are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation. 3 A few daies since, he & Dametas had furnished theselves very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it was to see Dametas^ like rich Tissew furd with lambe skins? But 6 how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace he presented him selfe before me on horseback, making majestic wait upon humblenes? how at the first, standing stil with his eies bent upo me, as though his motios were chained to my looke, he so staide till I caused Mopsa bid him doo something upon his horse : which no sooner said, but (with a kinde rather of quick gesture, then shew of violece) you might see him come towards me, beating the groiid in so due time, as no daunce can observe better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, whe the Sea went hie upon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he (as if Cetaurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moved, then one is with the going of 178 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. his owne legges: and in effedt so did he command him, as his owne limmes, for though he had both spurres and wande, they seemed rather markes of soveraintie, then instruments of punishment j his hand and legge (with most pleasing grace) commading without threatning, & rather remebring then chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stolen, as neyther our eyes could discerne it, nor the horse with any chaunce did coplaine of it, he ever going so just with the horse, either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde: in the turning one might perceive the bridle-hand somthing gently stir, but indeed so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then use violence. Him self (which me thinkes is straunge) shewing at one instant both steadines & nimblenes; somtimes making him turne close to the groud, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheeles about after a mouse : sometimes with a little more rising before, now like a Raven leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bound over the hillocks : and all so done, as neither the lustie kinde shewed any roughnesse, nor the easier any idlenesse : but still like a well obeyed maister, whose becke is enough for a discipline, ever concluding ech thing he did with his face to me-wards, as if thence came not onely the beginning, but ending of his motions. The sporte was to see Dametas^ how he was tost from the sadle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the ground, giving his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as before he had ever said, he wanted but horse & apparell to be as brave a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put himselfe under the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was fayne alone to take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanish eyes could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the descending it a little downe, the getting of it up into the rest, the letting of the point fall, and taking the ring was but all one motion, at lest (if they were divers motions) they did so stealingly slippe one into another, as the latter parte was ever in hande, before the eye could discerne the former was ended. Indeed Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength in shaking of his staffe : but to my conceite the fine cleernes of bearing it was exceeding delightfull. M2 179 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 4 But how delightfull soever it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it never went to looke out of the window to doo him any comfort. But how much more I found reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of mind to suppresse it, or at lest to conceale it.' Indeed I must confesse, as some Physitions have tolde me, that when one is cold outwardly, he is not inwardly ; so truly the colde ashes layed upon my fire, did not take the nature of fire from it. Full often hath my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full often have the teares, I drave backe from mine eyes, turned backe to drowne my harte. But alas what did that helpe poore Dorus? whose eyes (being his diligent intelligencers) coulde carrie unto him no other newes, but discomfortable. I thinke no day past, but by some one invention he would appeare unto me to testifie his love. One time he daunced the Matachine daunce in armour (O with what a gracefull dexteritie?) I thinke to make me see, that he had bene brought up in such exercises : an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he plaide Paris. Thinke (sweet Philoclea} what a Priamus we had : but truely, my Paris was a Paris, and more then a Paris : who while in a savage apparell, with naked necke, armes, and legges, he made love to Oenone, you might wel see by his chaunged countenance, and true teares, that he felte the parte he playde. Tell me (sweet Philoclea} did you ever see such a shepheard ? tell me, did you ever heare of such a Prince ? And then tell me, if a small or unworthy assaulte have conquered me. Truely I would hate my life, if I thought vanitie led me. But since my parents deale so cruelly with me, it is time for me to trust something to my owne judgement. Yet hetherto have my lookes bene as I told you, which continuing after many of these his fruitles trials, have wrought such change in him, as I tell you true (with that worde she laid her hand upon her quaking side) I doo not a little feare him. See what a letter this is (then drewe she the curtaine and tooke the letter from under the pillowe) which to daie (with an afflicted humblenesse) he delivered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should 'read it unto her, to mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter containing thus much. 1 80 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. MOst blessed paper, which shalt kisse that had, where to 5 al blessednes is in nature a servat, do not yet disdain to cary with thee the woful words of a miser now despairing: neither be afraid to appeare before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shal that divine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse shall be turned to most hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my Inke ; for while she lookes upo you, your blacknes wil shine : crie out boldly my Lametatio ; for while she reads you, your cries wil be musicke. Say then (O happy messenger of a most unhappy message) that the too soone borne, too late dying creature, which dares not speake, no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe, unto her heavenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eyes and voice doo exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fit, but of him. Thus much unto her sacred judgement : O you, the onely, the onely honour to women, to men the onely admira- tion, |vou that being armed by Love, defie him that armed you, in this high estate wherein you have placed me, yet let me remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how meane so ever it be) it is reaso you have an account of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his grave, and will you suffer a temple (how poorely-built soever, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be rased ? But he dyeth : it is most true, he dyeth ; and he in whom you live, to obey you, dieth. Whereof though he plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath received. He dyes, because in wofull language all his senses tell him, that such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he live, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, evill destinyed Dorus^ ende; and ende thou wofull letter, end; for it suffiseth her wisedome to know, that her heavenly will shalbe accomplished. O my Philoclea, is hee a person to write these words? and 6 are these words lightly to be regarded? But if you had scene, when with trembling hand he had delivered it, how hee went away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carried himselfe to his sepulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take 181 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES curtesie into mine eyes; but both times the former resolution stopt the entrie of it: so that he departed without obtaining any further kindnesse. But he was no sooner out of the doore, but that I looked to the doore kindly; and truely the feare of him ever since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea] leave sorrow. The river of your teares will soone loose his fountaine ; it is in your hand as well to stitch up his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though with self-grieved mind) she comforted her sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes. 5 Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me (said she) indeed the onely subject of the destinies displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more unfortunate, then my sisters greatest unfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because she would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can never be happie; her teares flow from pittie; mine from being too farre lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not envie thee, deare Pamela, I do not envy thee: onely I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in fortune. CHAP. 6. 1 The Ladies uprising, 2 and interrogatories to Dorus concerning Pyrocles and Euarchus. 8 His historiologie of Euarchus kingly excellencies, 4 his entry on a most corrupt estate, 5 and reformation thereof by royall arts and acJions. 6 His, and Dorilaus crosse-mariage to ech others sister, having by ech a sonne; their mutuall defence, with Dorilaus death. BUt the darkenesse of sorrow overshadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselves under the wings of sleepe, till the next morning had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked fro dreames, which flattered them with more comfort, then their waking could, or would consent unto. For then they were called up by Miso; who having bene with Gynecia, had received commaundement to be continually with her 182 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea have any private coferece, but that she should be present to heare what passed. But Mho having now her authoritie encreased, came with skowling eyes to deliver a slavering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bedde: & that, when she was of their age, she trowed, she would have made a handkerchiefe by that time of the day. The two sweete Princes with a smiling silence answered her entertainement, and obeying her direction, covered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes. But as soone as Pamela was readie (& sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giving a fit to her selfe, which the words of his letter (lively imprinted in her minde) still remembred her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake with her: because (she said) she would take further judge- ment of him, before she would move Dametas to graunt her in mariage unto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweete-meate to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who entended both by speaking with him to give some comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some part of his life past; which although fame had alreadie delivered unto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to have it from so beloved an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues disposition jealous, even over it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom she was halfe ashamed she did love so well, and more then halfe sorie she could love no better) but thought best first to make her talke arise of Pyrocles, and his vertuous father : which thus she did. Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was 2 deceaved in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned : but withall, you confessed his cosen Pyrocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a great losse, since (as I have heard) he was a young Prince, of who al me expected as much, as mans power could bring forth, & yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaved. Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus} no expeclatio in others, nor hope in himself could aspire to a higher mark, the to be thought worthy to be praised by your judgement, & made worthy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no 183 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES meanes get so sweete & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so could not you (leaving your selfe aside) finde in the world a fitter subject of commendation ; as noble, as a long succession of royall ancestors, famous, and famous of victories could make him : of shape most lovely, and yet of mind more lovely ; valiant, curteous, wise, what should I say more ? sweete PyrocleS) excellent Pyrocles y what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequethed to him that ever must have thy vertues in admiration; that masked at least in them, I might have found some more gratious acceptation? with that he imprisoned his looke for a while upon Mopsa^ who thereupon fell into a verie wide smiling. Truely (said Pamela) Dorus I like well your minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shootes at the mid-day Sunne, though he be sure he shall never hit the marke ; yet as sure he is, he shall shoote higher, then who aymes but at a bush. But I pray you Dorus (said she) tell me (since I perceave you are well acquainted with that storie) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles^ of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly royall vertues, or by what wayes he got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for that excellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and losse : and therein you may (if you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going togither, the story of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better understood. 3 Incomparable Lady (said he) your commandement doth not onely give me the wil, but the power to obey you, such influ- ence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King Euarchus^ he was (at this time you speake off) King of Macedon, a kingdome, which in elder time had such a soveraintie over all the provinces of Greece, that eve the particular kings therin did acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kind of fealty thereunto: as among the rest, even this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, whe he came to his crowne, finding by his later ancestors either negligece, or misfortune, that in some ages many of those duties had bin intermitted, would never stirre up old 184 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. titles (how apparant soever) whereby the publike peace (with the losse of manie not guiltie soules) should be broken ; but contenting himselfe to guide that shippe, wherein the heavens had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daungerlesse despising, then others in daungerous affecting the multiplying of kingdomes : for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding wit- nesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see what was best, and most just in the perfourming what he saw, & temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrary: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater harte to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer to make any wrongfull threatning upon him. A Prince, that indeed especially measured his greatnesse by his goodnesse : and if for any thing he loved greatnesse, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly aspe6t, and the more goodly by a grave majestic, wherewith his mind did decke his outward graces; strong of body, and so much the stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to do, and suffer. Of age, so as he was about fiftie yeares when his Nephew Musidorus tooke on such shepherdish apparell for the love of the worlds paragon, as I now weare. This King left Orphan both of father and mother, (whose 4 father & grandfather likewise had dyed yong) he found his estate, when he came to age (which allowed his authentic) so disjoynted even in the noblest & strongest lims of governmet, that the name of a King was growne eve odious to the people, his autority having bin abused by those great Lords, & litle kings: who in those betweene-times of aligning (by unjust favouring those that were partially theirs, & oppressing them that woulde defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a more felt then scene maner of proceeding) the worst kind of Oligarchic-, that is, whe men are governed in deede by a fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe be, to whom they should obey. For they having the power of kinges, but not the nature of kings, used the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal goe out: making the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated, the Kings purse reward whom they loved : and (which is worst of all) making the Royall countenance serve to undermine the Royall soveraintie. For the Subjectes could taste no sweeter fruitesof 185 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES having a King, then grievous taxations to serve vaine purposes; Lawes made rather to finde faults, then to prevent faultes: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priviledged place of un- brideled licentiousnes, then as a biding of him, who as a father, should give a fatherly example unto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition never satisfied) grew factious among themselves : and the underlings, glad indeede to be underlings to them they hated lest, to preserve them from such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining should discover the others filthines ; and at length vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when it had no hopefull end whereunto to be directed ; olde men long nusled in corruption, scorning them that would seeke reforma- tion ; yong men very fault-finding, but very faultie : and so to new-fanglenes both of manners, apparrell, and each thing els, by the custome of selfe-guiltie evill, glad to change though oft for a worse; marchandise abused, and so townes decayed for want of just and naturall libertie ; offices, even of judging soules, solde; publique defences negledled; and in summe, (lest too long I trouble you) all awrie, and (which wried it to the most wrie course of all) witte abused, rather to faine reason why it should be amisse, then how it should be amended. 5 In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble your excellent eares withal, did the King Euarchus finde his estate, when he toolce upon him the regiment : which by reason of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some even extreme severitie, not so much for the very faultes them- selves, (which he rather sought to prevent then to punish) as for the faultie ones; who strong, even in their faultes, scorned his youth, and coulde not learne to disgest, that the man which they so long had used to maske their owne appetites, should now be the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewe (but in deede notable) examples, had thundred a duetie into the subjects hartes, he soone shewed, no basenes of suspition, nor the basest basenes of envie, could any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all love among them, when an awfull feare, ingendred by justice, did make that love most lovely: his first & principall care being to appeare unto his people, such as he would have them be, & to be such as he appeared ; making his life the example of his lawes, as it were, his aftions arising 186 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. out of his deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular love in his people, and engraffed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but love him, whom they found so truely to love the ? He even in reason disdayning, that they that have charge of beastes, should love their charge, and care for them ; and that he that was to governe the most excellent creature, should not love so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde upon false grounds of government) make themselves (as it were) another thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they can get from them : and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking them- selves most Kinges, when the subjedl: is most basely subjected : he contrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof him- selfe was the head; even so cared for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: never restrayning their liberty, without it stretched to licenciousnes, nor pulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good : but in all his aclions shewing a delight to their welfare, broght that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by their love he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of governement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such sorte he flourished in the sweete comforte of dooing much good, when by an ation of leaving his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of magnanimitie, as before he had done of justice. He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie 6 fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be justly said, that she was no unfit brach to the noble stock wherof she came. Her he had given in manage to Dorilaus, Prince of Tkessalia, not so much to make a fredship, as to cofirm the fredship betwixt their posteritie, which betwene them, by the likenes of vertue, had been long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not heard (said Pamela] of the valiat, wise, and just Dorilaus^ whose unripe death doth yet (so many yeares since) draw teares fro vertuous eyes ? And indeede, my father is wont to speak of nothing with greater admiration, then of the 187 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES notable friendshippe (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betwene Princes) that so holily was observed to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) goe on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) having maried his sister, had his mariage in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how unhappie soever the children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Musidorus : of whom I must needes first speake before I come to Pyrocles ; because as he was borne first, so upon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed strange & incredible things should be performed by that childe; whether the heavens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankind, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as even at times to borow the face of Divinitie. But certainly, so did the boldnes of their affirmation accompanie the greatnes of what they did affirme (even descending to particularities, what king- domes he should overcome) that the King of Phrygia (who over-superstitiously thought him selfe touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant, to prevent his after- expeclations : because a skilful man (having compared his nativity with the child) so told him. Foolish ma, either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering, that if it were a worke of the superiour powers, the heavens at length are never children. But so he did, & by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (joining together their armies) invaded Thessalia, & brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithfull friend & brother Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that with some enterchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a just war, the best child, peace. In which time Euarchus made a crosse mariage also with Dorilaus his sister, & shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driven to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobilitie) the mighty King of Thrace, & his brother, King of Pannonia, had invaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be unknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame hath glory to come unto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his frieds helpe) in a great battaile deprived of his life, his obsequies being no more solenised by the teares of his par- 188 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. takers, the the bloud of his enimies ; with so pearcing a sorrow to the constant hart of Euarchus, that the newes of his sons birth could lighten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although al the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him forthwith delivered. For what fortune onely southsayers fore- told of Musidorus y that all men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles \ both Heavens & Earth giving tokes of the comming forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was at no time to set, for the decreeing of perfeftio in a man, as at that time all folkes skilful therin did acknowledge : onely love was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and haven of their best yeares. But as death may have prevented Pyrocles, so unworthinesse must be the death to Musidorus. CHAP. 7. l< The education of Pyrocles &f Musidorus. z Their friendship^ *navigation^ *and first shipwracke. 5 The straunge gratitude of two brothers to them, upon their Hberalitie to those two brothers. BUt the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her childe-birth) i dying, was cause that Euarchus recommended the care of his only son to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre continued in cruell heat, betwixt him & those evil neighbours of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only comforters of that vertuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceals: Musidorus (per- chaunce because among his subje<5tes) exceedingly beloved: and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his sister) they were so brought up, that all the sparkes of vertue, which nature had kindled in the, were so blowne to give forth their uttermost heate that justly it may be affirmed, they en- flamed the affections of all that knew the. For almost before they could perfectly speake, they began to receave coceits not unworthy of the best speakers : excellent devises being used, to make even their sports profitable ; images of battailes, & fortifi- 189 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES catios being then delivered to their memory, which after, their stronger judgemets might dispens, the delight of tales being coverted to the knowledge of al the stories of worthy Princes, both to move them to do nobly, & teach them how to do nobly ; the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, & that taught them with far more diligent care, then Gramatical rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffring, & their mindes acquainted by degrees with daungers ; & in sum, all bent to the making up of princely mindes: no servile feare used towardes them, nor any other violent restraint, but stil as to Princes: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized in them, and therefore the farther from Tyrannic: Nature having done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded. 2 Among which I nothing so much delight to recount, as the memorable friendship that grewe betwixt the two Princes, such as made them more like then the likenesse of all other vertues, and made them more neer one to the other, then the neerenes of their bloud could aspire unto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in societie, and yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past over the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare reverece ful of love to Musidorus, & Musidorus had a delight full of love in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or minde, would teach it to Pyrocles ; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none, as of Musidorus : till Pyrocles, being come to sixtene yeares of age, he seemed so to overrun his age in growth, strength, and al things following it, that not Musidorus, no nor any man living (I thinke) could performe any aftion, either on horse, or foote, more strongly, or deliver that strength more nimbly, or become the delivery more gracefully, or employ al more vertuously. Which may well seeme wonderfull : but wonders are no wonders in a wonderfull subject. 3 At which time understanding that the King Euarchus, after so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and almost Thrace, had now brought the coclusion of al to the siege of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were 190 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues, which they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yeelding over her owne affects to her childrens good (for a mother she was in effect to the both) the rather that they might helpe her beloved brother, they brake of all delayes ; which Musidorus for his parte thought already had devoured too much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone (before he knew what it was) to his deere friend Pyrocles ; that he would never seeke the adventures of armes, until he might go with him : which having fast boud his hart (a true slave to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his owne humour for his friends sake, till now finding him able every way to go thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his owne, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a navie, that they might go like themselves, and not onely bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their deere parent Euarchus, they recommended themselves to the Sea, leaving the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes; and were received thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde was like a servaunt, way ting behind them so just, that they might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing themselves lesse covetous of his liberalise, so tempered it, that they all kept together like a beautifull flocke, which so well could obey their maisters pipe : without sometimes, to delight the Princes eies, some two or three of them would strive, who could (either by the cunning of well spending the windes breath, or by the advantageous building of their mooving houses) leave their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed : while the two Princes had leasure to see the practise of that, which before they had learned by bookes : to consider the arte of catching the winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it; to see how beautie, and use can so well agree together, that of all the trinckets, where with they are attired, there is not one but serves to some necessary purpose. And (6 Lord) to see the admirable power & noble effects of Love, whereby the seeming insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing unto it, and (like a vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it make it aspire to so high a Love, as of the heavenly Poles; and 191 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their coceats with cofirming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea- discipline differed from Land-service, they had for a day & almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart could give to him he meanes worst to. 4 But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden shewe of a good meaning, there arose even with the Sun, a vaile of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred into water) had blacked over all the face of heaven ; preparing (as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on. For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a tumultuous kingdome, to thinke themselves fittest instruments of commaundement ; and blowing whole stormes of hayle and raine upon them, they were sooner in daunger, then they coulde almost bethinke themselves of chaunge. For then the traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Navie, under which (while the heaven favoured them) it had layne so calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, over which the tossed and tottring ship shoulde clime, to be streight carried downe againe to a pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes against the sides of the shippe (that which way soever it went, was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so dissevered the loving companie, which the daie before had tarried together, that most of them never met againe, but were swallowed up in his never-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was knowne) after long wandring returned into Thessalia-, other recovered Bizantium, and served Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune fails them) though they employed all industrie to save themselves, yet what they did was rather for dutie to nature, then hope to escape. So ougly a darkenesse, as if it would prevent the nights comming, usurped the dayes right: which (accompanied sometimes with thunders, alwayes with horrible noyses of the chafing winds) made the masters .and pilots so astonished, that they knew not how to direct, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) heare their owne whistle. For the sea strave with the winds which should be lowder, & the shrouds of the ship with a ghastful noise to 192 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager of the others contention, and the heaven roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as having those powers for enimies. Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then that which growes in those flowing kingdomes. For that dwelling place is unnaturall to mankind, and then the terrible- nesse of the continuall motion, the dissolutio of the fare being from comfort, the eye and the eare having ougly images ever before it, doth still vex the minde, even when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storme, as they thought it best with striking sailes to yeelde to be governed by it: the valiantest feeling inward dismayednesse, and yet the fearefullest ashamed fully to shew it, seeing that the Princes (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did in their countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging them to doo what might be done (putting their handes to everie most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise themselves the best, and yet not to despise the worst. But so were they carryed by the tyrannic of the winde, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more way- ward it shewed it selfe towards them : till the next morning (knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, then by the day cleerenesse) having runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe ever was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the rest of the play, they were driven upon a rocke : which hidden with those outragious waves, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruel mind, till with an unbeleeved violence (but to them that have tried it) the shippe ranne upon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to have her course stayed, redoubled her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in peeces; and as it were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse, left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be scene the diverse manner of minds in distresse: some sate upon the toppe of the poupe weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne throate to prevent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heavens could not be more angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie s. A. N 193 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES roaring vowes, was able to infeft with feare a minde that had not prevented it with the power of reason. 5 But the Princes using the passions of fearing evill, and desiring to escape, onely to serve the rule of vertue, not to abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the shippe, which broken from his fellowes, floted with more likelyhood to doo service, then any other limme of that ruinous bodie ; upon which there had gotten alreadie two brethren, well knowne servants of theirs ; and streight they foure were carryed out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the shippe. But the peece they were on sinking by little and little under them, not able to support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nehus) shewed themselves right faithfull and gratefull servants unto them; gratefull (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in the great warre the king of Phrygia made upon Thessatia, in the time of Musidorus his infancie; and having beene solde into another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes) could not be delivered, because of their valor knowne, but for a farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respe6l of the great expences her selfe and people had bene put to in those warres ; and so had they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two young Princes (hearing speaches of their good deserts) found meanes both by selling all the Jewels they had of great price, and by giving under their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them from captivitie. This remembred, and kindly remembred by these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, com- mitting themselves to the seas rage, & even when they went to dye, themselves praying for the Princes lives. It is true, that neither the paine nor daunger, so moved the Princes hartes as the tendernesse of that loving part, farre from glorie, having so few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselves were sure to perish. 194 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. CHAP. 8. 1 Pyrocles cast on the shore of Phrygia * led prisoner to the King. 3 That suspicious tyrant naturalized. *His intent to kill Pyrocles. 'Musidorus-A/V escape from sea, and offer to dye for his friend. 6 Their contention for death. 7 Preparation for Musidorus execution. 8 His straunge deliverie by Pyrocles, 9 and a sodaine mutinie. Their killing the bad King^ n and creating a better. BUt now of all the royal Navie they had left but one peece of one ship, whereon they kept themselves in all trueth, having enterchaunged their cares, while either cared for other, ech comforting and councelling how to labour for the better, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carryed by the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran exceedingly swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well upon the boord, as he would with his right hand have helped him on better, he had no sooner unfastned his hold, but that a wave forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold ; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne) was shortly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort; when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter unto him. And bitter indeed it fell out even in it selfe to be unto him. For being cast on land much brused & beaten both with the 2 seas hard farewell, and the shores rude welcome; and even almost deadly tired with the length of his uncomfortable labour, as he was walking up to discover some bodie, to whom he might goe for reliefe, there came streight running unto him certaine, who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with manie others) in diverse places along the coast : who laide handes of him, and without either questioning with him, or shewing will to heare him, (like men fearefull to appeare curious) or which was worse having no regard to the hard plight he was in (being so wette and weake) they carried him some miles thence, N2 195 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES to a house of a principall officer of that countrie. Who with no more civilitie (though with much more busines then those under-fellowes had shewed) beganne in captious manner to put interrogatories unto him. To which he (unused to such enter- tainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and how he came thither. But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to garde him (for mischiefe, not from mischiefe) he was sent to the Kings court, which as then was not above a dayes journey of?, with letters from that officer, containing his owne serviceable diligence in discovering so great a personage; adding with all more then was true of his conjectures, because he would endeare his owne service. 3 This country whereon he fell was Phrygia^ and it was to the King thereof to whom he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy constitution both of bodie and mind ; wickedly sad, ever musing of horrible matters; suspecting, or rather condemning all men of evill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse: and therefore accusing Sycophantes, of all men did best sort to his nature ; but therefore not seeming Sycophantes, because of no evill they said, they could bring any new or doubtfull thing unto him, but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine ; so as they came butasproofes of his wisedome: fearefull and never secure; while the feare he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie of event. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discovered) made him something the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But after that yeares beganne to come on with some, though more seldome shewes of a bloudie nature, and that the prophecie of Musidorus destinie came to his eares (delivered unto him, and received of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his subjecles did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then gave he himselfe indeede to the full currant of his disposition, espetially after the warre of ThessaHa^ wherein (though in trueth wrongly) he deemed, his unsuccessings proceeded of their unwillingnes to have him prosper: and then thinking him selfe contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault, 196 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. without sharpe punishment : & when he wanted faults, excel- lencie grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie, that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no honor, to which impudent povertie cannot make it selfe serviceable, so were there enow of those desperate ambitious, who would builde their houses upon others mines, which after shoulde fall by like practises. So as servitude came mainly upon that poore people, whose deedes were not onely punished, but words corrected, and even thoughts by some meane or other puld out of the : while suspitio bred the mind of crueltie, and the effectes of crueltie stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (ful of watch- full fearefulnes) did the storme deliver sweete Pyrocles to the stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose countenaunce deserved both pitie and admiration) condemning theselves as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces. But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and in what 4 order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were come out of fteua&a, assuredly thinking (because ever thinking the worst) that those forces were provided against him ; glad of the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For having quite loste the way of noblenes, he strave to clime to the height of terriblenes; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie, who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, having nothing in him why to make him his friend, thought, he woulde make him away, for being his enemie. The day was appointed, and all things appointed for that cruell blow, in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth tyrany in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of invincible valour, yet so unjustly subjected to such outragious wrong, carrying himselfe in all his demeanure so constatly, abiding extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest grouth. But so it fell out that his death was prevented by a rare ex- 5 ample of friendshippe in Musidorus : who being almost drowned, had bene taken up by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdome of Pontus ; and being there, and understanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case 197 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Pyrocles was; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to him then to Pyrocles, he founde meanes to acquaint him selfe with a noble-man of that Countrie, to whom largely discovering what he was, he found him a most fitte instrument to effecluate his desire. For this noble-man had bene one, who in many warres had served Euarchus, and had bene so mind-striken by the beautie of vertue in that noble King, that (though not borne his Subject) he even profeste himselfe his servaunt. His desire therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia understande, that if he would deliver Pyrocles, Musidorus woulde willingly put him selfe into his handes : knowing well, that how thirstie so ever he was of Pyrocles bloud, he woulde rather drinke that of Musidorus. The Nobleman was loath to preserve one by the losse of another, but time urging resolution: the importunitie of Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to over-live Pyrocles) with the affeftion he bare to Euarchus, so prevayled, that he carried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie accepted. 6 And so upon securitie of both sides, they were enterchanged. Where I may not omitte that worke of friendshippe in Pyrocles, who both in speache and coutenance to Musidorus, well shewed, that he thought himselfe injured, and not releeved by him : asking him, what he had ever scene in him, why he could not beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any man? and why he shoulde envie him the glorie of suffering death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus prevayled : because he was a more welcome prize to the unjuste King, that wisht none well, to them worse then others, and to him worste of all : and as chearefully going towardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly from- warde his death, he was delivered to the King, who could not be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies upon one, whom he had begon to feare, as soone as the other began to be. 7 Yet because he would in one a6te, both make ostentation of his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie was fallen) and withal cut of such hopes from his suspected subjects (when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much 198 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. more skilful cruelty, and horrible solemnitie he caused each thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyrannic. And so the day being come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of execution : where comming with a mind comforted in that he had done such service to Pyrodes, this strange encounter he had. The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner delivered by the kings ! servants to a place of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage, (and what would not they bring to passe ?) how ether to deliver Musidorus y or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that countrie no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring himselfe to die with him, (little hoping of better event) he put himselfe in poore rayment, and by the helpe of some few crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in such order from him) he (even he, born to the greatest expecta- tion, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) sub- mitted himselfe to be servant to the executioner that should put to death Musidorus : a farre notabler proofe of his friendship, considering the height of his minde, then any death could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being araied fit for such an estate, & having his beautie hidden by many foule spots he artificially put upon his face, gave him leave not onely to weare a sworde himselfe, but to beare his sworde prepared for the justified murther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musi- dorus was upon the scaffold (separated somewhat from the rest, as allowed to say something) he stept unto him, & putting the sworde into his hande not bound (a point of civility the officers used towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, never ma betweene joy before knowledge what to be glad of, and feare after cosider- ing his case, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw PyrocleSy so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled : and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; because he had (with the remembraunce of that plight he was in) forgotten in speaking of him selfe to use the third person. But Musidorus turned againe her thoughts from his cheekes to his tongue in this sorte : But (said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not turning backs one to the other (for there they knew was no place 199 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES of defence) but making that a preservation in not hoping to be preserved, and now acknowledging themselves subject to death, meaning onely to do honour to their princely birth, they flew amongst the all (for all were enimies) & had quickly either with flight or death, left none upon the scaffblde to annoy them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage, though he had bene borne a coward. But indeed, just rage & desperate vertue did such effects, that the popular sorte of the beholders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effecles beyond mortall power. But the King with angry threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed, the worlde should behold him a beholder) comaunded his garde, and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering. 9 But as they were stil fighting with weake armes, and strong harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (comauded to go up after his fellowes against the Princes) having received a light hurt, more wouded in his hart, went backe with as much diligence, as he came up with modestie: which another of his fellowes seeing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him upon the face, reviling him, that so accompanied, he would runne away from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) onely valiant, when he was angrie, in revenge thrust him through : which with his death was streight revenged by a brother of his: and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which scene, and not understood by the people (used to feares but not used to be bolde in them) some began to crie treason ; and that voice streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a guiltie conscience) before any man set upon him, fled away. Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men, or by such chaunce as such thinges often fall out by) ran from one to the other, that the King was slaine; wherwith certaine yong men of the bravest minds, cried with lowde voice, Libertie ; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them, set upon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instruments of Tyran- nic : and quickly, aided by the Princes, they had left none 2OO ARCADIA. LIB. 2. of them alive, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought had in any sorte set his hand to the worke of their servitude, and (God knowes) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many guiltles persons, either for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to the tyrant-killers. But some of the wisest (seeing that a popu- lar licence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) prevailed with the rest to make Mustdorus their chiefe : choosing one of them (because Princes) to defende them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom foorthwith they lifted up, Fortune (I thinke) smiling at her worke therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaf- fold of coronation. But by and by there came newes of more certaine truth, 10 that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his, neere had, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselves too farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and too well they knew the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget such an injury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practises might be used to dis- sever them : & with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to prevaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate) met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was slaine by Musidorus^ after he had scene his onely sonne (a Prince of great courage & beautie, but fostred in bioud by his naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory obteined, with great, and truly not undeserved honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gave the crowne and all other markes of soveraigntie to Musi- dorus ; desiring nothing more, then to live under such a govern- ment, as they promised theselves of him. But he thinking it a greater greatnes to give a kingdome, II then get a kingdome; understanding that there was left of the bloud Roiall, & next to the successio, an aged Gentleman of approved goodnes (who had gotten nothing by his cousins power, but danger fro him, and odiousnes for him) having past his time in modest secrecy, & asmuch from entermedling in matters of government, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him, 201 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES did (after having received the full power to his owne hands) resigne all to the noble-ma: but with such conditions, & cautions of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch assurace as worldly matters beare) that not onely that gover- nour, of whom indeed they looked for al good, but the nature of the government, should be no way apt to decline to Tyrany. CHAP. 9. 1 The two brothers escape to the shore of Pontus. 2 Incostancy, s and envie purtraied in the King & bis Counsellor. 4 The ad- vancement y overthrow by them of those two brothers. 5 The revenge thereof by the two Princes. 6 The cruelties of two revengefull Gyants, and their death by the Princes. 7 Their honours, and their honourable mindes. 1 r I "His dooing set foorth no lesse his magnificece, then the J. other aft did his magnanimitie: so that greatly praysed of al, and justly beloved of the newe King, who in all both wordes and behaviour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, or Liegeman, they were drawne thence to revenge those two servats of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most excellet Princesse) in willingly giving themselves to be drowned for their sakes : but drowned indeed they were not, but gat with painefull swimming upon a rocke : fro whence (after being come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking up, they were brought to the maine lande of Pontus ; the same coutry upon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so luckie a place. 2 For they were brought to the King of that country, a Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or unrevegeful- nes, as he of Phrygia, but (as I may terme it) of a wanton crueltie: inconstant of his choise of friends, or rather never having a fried, but a playfellow ; of whom when he was wearie, he could not otherwise rid himself, the by killing the: giving somtimes prodigally, not because he loved them to whom he gave, but because he lusted to give: punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punish- ment : delighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which 2O2 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. were not in him, at length making his vices vertues worthy the flattering : with like judgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischiefe. He chauced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted 3 with him) to have next in use about him, a ma of the most envious dispositio, that (I think) ever infe&ed the aire with his breath : whose eies could not looke right upon any happie ma, nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise : cotrary to the natures of al other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happines the ground of his unhappinesse, & good newes the argumet of his sorrow : in sum, a man whose favour no man could winne, but by being miserable. And so, because these two faithfull servants of theirs came 4 in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to favour them ; and the King understanding of their adventure, (wherein they had shewed so constant a faith unto their Lordes) suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extol- ling them with infinite prayses, and praysing him selfe in his harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when ad- vauncement (the most mortall offence to envy) stirred up their former friend, to overthrow his owne worke in them; taking occasion upon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who having bene a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this envious Coucellour, partly with suspition of practise, partly with glory of in-part reveging his cousins death, the King was suddainly turned, (and every turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke them up in prison, as servaunts to his enimies, whom before he had never knowne, nor (til that time one of his own subjects had entertained and dealt for them) did ever take heed of. But now earnest in every present humour, and making himselfe brave in his liking, he was content to give them just cause of offence, when they had power to make just revenge. Yet did the Princes send unto him before they entred into war, desiring their servants liberty. But he swelling in thier huble- nes, (like a bubble swollen up with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, or never knowing humanitie, caused their heads to be striken off, by the advice of his envious Councellor 203 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw the happines in having such, and so fortunate masters) and sent them with unroyall reproches to Musldorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traiterously, and not heroically in killing his tyrannicall Cosen. 5 But that injurie went beyond al degree of reconcilement; so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdome wholy at their commandement, by the love of the people, and gratefulnesse of the King) they entred his country; and wholy conquering it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke the King ; and by Musidorus commaundement (Pyrodes hart more enclined to pitie) he was slaine upon the tombe of their two true Servants ; which they caused to be made for them with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserve their deade lives. For his wicked Servant he should have felt the like, or worse, but that his harte brake even to death with the beholding the honour done to the deade carcasses? There might Pyrodes quietly have enjoyed that crowne, by all the desire of that people, most of whom had revolted unto him : but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well esteemed Ladie) looking for nothing more, then to be oppressed with her brothers ruines, gave her in marriage to the noble man his fathers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that kingdome. And not content with those publike actions, of princely, and (as it were) governing vertue, they did (in that kingdome and some other neere about) divers afts of particular trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, & monstrous men : all which in short time by private combats they delivered the countries of. 6 Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse & force, therefore commonly called giants, who kept theselves in a castle seated upon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because there was no comming unto it, but by one narrow path, where one mans force was able to keepe downe an armie. These brothers had a while served the King of Pontus, and in all his affaires (especially of war, wherunto they were onely apt) they had shewed, as uncoquered courage, so a rude faithfulnes: being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of deceipt ; not greatly ambitious, more then to be well and 204 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. uprightly dealt with; rather impatient of injury, then delighted with more then ordinary curtesies; and in injuries more sensible of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainely Jewels to a wise man, con- sidering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet were discarded by that unworthy Prince, after many notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more evident to them; because it sodainly fell from an excesse of favor, which (many examples having taught them) never stopt his race till it came to an headlong overthrow : they full of rage, retyred themselves unto this castle. Where thinking nothing juster the revenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger, that (according to the nature) ful of inward bravery and fierce- nes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it self faire, but when it is terrible, they immediately gave themselves to make all the countrie about them (subject to that King) to smart for their Lords folly : not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testi- fied their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with use of evill, growing more and more evill, they tooke delight in slaughter, and pleasing themselves in making others wracke the effecl of their power : so that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a serviceable power of the minde to doo publike good; so now unbridled, and blinde judge of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in excellencie of mischiefe ; almost to the ruine of the countrie, not greatly regarded by their carelesse and lovelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in crueltie, as not to be reclaimed, secreatly undertooke the matter alone : for accom- panied they would not have suffered them to have mounted ; and so those great fellowes scornefully receiving them, as foolish birds falne into their net, it pleased the eternall justice to make the suffer death by their hands: So as they were manifoldly ack- nowledged the savers of that countrie. It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the 7 numbers of wel-devised honors done unto them: But as high honor is not onely gotten and borne by paine, and daunger, but must be nurst by the like, or els vanisheth as soone as it appeares to the world : so the naturall hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered him not to account a resting seate of that, 205 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES which ever either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one a<5lion beget another ; whereby his doings might send his praise to others mouthes to rebound againe true contentment to his spirite. And therefore having well established those kingdomes, under good governours, and rid them by their valure of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to subdue, they determined in unknowne order to see more of the world, & to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankinde ; and therefore would themselves (under- standing that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his warres) goe privately to seeke exercises of their vertue ; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to heroycall effects by fortune, or necessitie (like Ulysses and jfeneas) as by ones owne choice, and working. And so went they away from verie unwilling people to leave them, making time haste it selfe to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the cofines of Pontus y but that as they ridde alone armed, (for alone they went, one serving the other) they mette an adventure ; which though not so notable for any great effecl: they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the un-used examples therein, as well of true natural goodnes, as of wretched ungratefulnesse. CHAP. 10. 1 The pitiful/ state , and storie of the Paphalgonian unkinde King, and his kind sonne, 2 first related by the son, 3 then by the blind father. * The three Princes assaulted by Plexirtus and his traine: 8 assisted by their King of Pontus and his troupes. 6 Plexirtus succoured and saved by two brothers, that vertuously loved a most vicious man. 7 Beseeged by the new King, e he submitteth) & is pardoned. 9 The two Princes depart to aide the Queene 0/"Lycia. I T T was in the kingdome of Galacia y the season being (as in J_ the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that never any 206 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child : so that the Princes were even compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place within a certaine hollow rocke offering it unto them, they made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiving them (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see unseene. There they perceaved an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-beaten ; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him : and yet through all those miseries, in both these seemed to appeare a kind of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to lead me to that which should end my griefe, & thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leave me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, & nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infeft thee with my wretchednes. But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father (answered he) doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I have power to doo you ser- vice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow strave to breake his harte,) how evill fits it me to have such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse upbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moved the Princes to goe out unto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miser- able. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull unto us as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous unto us, then to make our selves so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not over-runne 207 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare. 2 This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia y by the hard-harted ungratefulnes of a sonne of his, deprived, not onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were ever able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature grauts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, & by other his unnaturall dealings, he hath bin driven to such griefe, as even now he would have had me to have led him to the toppe of this rocke, thece to cast himselfe headlong to death : and so would have made me (who received my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if either of you have a father, and feele what duetifull affeftion is engrafted in a sonnes hart, let me intreate you to convey this afflicted Prince to some place of rest & securitie. Amongst your worthie a&es it shall be none of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so unjustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved. 3 But before they could make him answere, his father began to speake, Ah my sonne (said he) how evill an Historian are you, that leave out the chiefe knotte of all the discourse ? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my eares, (the onely sense nowe left me proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou dost mistake me. And I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast up his blinde eyes, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I do wish my selfe, which is as evill as may be, if I speake untruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whom from my harte I wish that it may not prove ominous foretoke of misfortune to have mette with such a miser as I am) that whatsoever my sonne (6 God, that trueth binds me to reproch him with the name of my sonne) hath said, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that having had in lawful manage, of a mother fitte to beare royall children, this sonne (such one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my shorte declaration) and so enjoyed the expectations in the world of him, till h^ was growe to justifie their expectations (so as I needed envie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leave an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastarde 208 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. sonne of mine (if at least I be bounde to beleeve the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) undeserving destruction. What waies he used to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I should tediously trouble you with as much poysonous hypocrisie, desperate fraude, smoothe malice, hidden ambition, & smiling envie, as in any living person could be harbored. But I list it not, no remembrance, (no, of naughtines) delights me, but mine own; & me thinks, the accusing his traines might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainly I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that I gave order to some servants of mine, whom I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to leade him out into a forrest, & there to kill him. But those theeves (better natured to my sonne then my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to live poorely : which he did, giving himselfe to be a private souldier, in a countrie here by. But as he was redy to be greatly advaunced for some noble peeces of service which he did, he hearde newes of me : who (dronke in my affe&ion to that unlawfull and un- naturall sonne of mine) suffered my self so to be governed by him, that all favors and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his favourites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my self nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly wearie of too, with many indignities (if any thing may be called an indignity, which was laid upon me) threw me out of my seat, and put out my eies; and then (proud in his tyrannic) let me goe, nether imprisoning, nor killing me : but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie ; miserit indeed, if ever there were any; full of wretchednes, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so unjust meanes, as unjustlie he kept it, by force of stranger souldiers in Cittadeh, the nestes of tyranny, & murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himself a wel-willer of mine: to say the trueth (I think) few of the being so (considering my cruell follie to my good sonne, and foolish kindnes to my unkinde bastard :) but if there were any who fell to pitie of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of unstained duety lefte in them towardes me, yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giving s. A. o 209 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES me almes at their doores; which yet was the onelie sustenaunce of my distressed life, no bodie daring to shewe so much charitie, as to lende me a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthie of a more vertuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abhominable wrongs, not recking danger, & neglecting the present good way he was in doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kind office you see him performe towards me, to my unspeakable griefe; not onely because his kindnes is a glasse eve to my blind eyes, of my naughtines, but that above all griefes, it greeves me he should desperatly adventure the losse of his soul-deserving life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if he would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, how much soever (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet he will not let slippe any advantage to make away him, whose just title (en- nobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a never secure tyrannic. And for this cause I craved of him to leade me to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since he was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient unto me. And now Gentlemen, you have the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischievous proceedinges may be the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me : for never was there more pity in saving any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserve this excellent young man, who els wilfully folowes his owne ruine. 4. The matter in it self lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not take to himselfe the gestures of pitie, since his face could not put of the markes thereof) greatly moved the two Princes to compassion, which could not stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented : for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone advertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came him selfe to be 210 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. a6lor, and spectator. And as soone as he came, not regarding the weake (as he thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) how falsely soever he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe : but bravely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assaulted him, warne his fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so just a defence deserving as much as old friendship) and so did behave them among that copanie (more injurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their lives for their wicked maister. Yet perhaps had the number of them at last prevailed, if 5 the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come unlocked for to their succour. Who (having had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehemently upon some great daunger, presently to follow those two Princes whom he most deerely loved) was come in all hast, following as well as he could their tracke with a hundreth horses in that countrie, which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fit place inough to make the stage of any Tragedie. But then the match had ben so ill made for P/exirtus, that 6 his ill-led life, & worse gotten honour should have tumbled together to destruftio ; had there not come in Tydeus & Telenor, with fortie or fiftie in their suit, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought up fro their infancie with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to know feare in themselves, and yet to teach it others that should deale with them : for they had often made their lives triumph over most terrible daungers; never dis- mayed, and ever fortunate; and truely no more setled in their valure, then disposed to goodnesse and justice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could have learned to make friendship a child, and not the father of Vertue. But bringing up (rather then choise) having first knit their minds unto him, (indeed craftie inough, eyther to hide his faultes, or never to shew them, but when they might pay home) they willingly held out the course, rather to satisfie him, then al the world; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the evill he did, yet they liked him that did 02 2U THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the evill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protestors of the offender. Now they having heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a country full of evil-wishing minds toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they found him in such case as they were to venture their lives, or else he to loose his : which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truly I may justly say, Pyrocles & Musidorus had never till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they overcame not; yet were they not overcome, but caried away that un- gratefull maister of theirs to a place of securitie ; howsoever the Princes laboured to the cotrary. But this matter being thus far begun, it became not the constacie of the Princes so to leave it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrygia, they had in fewe dayes, lefte him but only that one strong place where he was. For feare having bene the onely knot that had fastned his people unto him, that once untied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had bene broken. 7 In which season the blind King (having in the chief cittie of his Realme, set the crowne upo his sonne Leonatus head) with many teares (both of joy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his owne fault & his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his newe-become subject) eve in a moment died, as it should seeme : his hart broken with unkindnes & affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of cofort, as it was able no longer to keep safe his roial spirits. But the new King (having no lesse lovingly performed all duties to him dead, then alive) pursued on the siege of his unnatural brother, asmuch for the revenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truly I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whom the Princes never found in all their travell two men of greater habilitie to per- forme, nor of habler skill for condudl. But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing els, famin would at last bring him to destrudtio, thought better by hublenes to creepe, where by pride he could not march. For certainely so had nature formed him, & the exercise of craft conformed him 212 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. to all turnings of sleights, that though no ma had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the places whence argumets might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir pitie: no ma more impudet to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repenting maner of aggravating his owne evil, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way, that having gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he would put Plexirtus alive into his hads) to speak with the King his brother, he him selfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in brave defence) with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission he used, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne coscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to live, he begd life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie, then as the murderer of his father; & anger already began to paint revenge in many colours, ere long he had not only gotten pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the fault past, yet an opinion of a future amedment : while the poore villaines (chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author therof,) were delivered to many cruell sorts of death ; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, he had rather come into the defence of an unremediable mischiefe already comitted, then that they had done it at first by his consent. In such sort the Princes left these recociled brothers 9 (Plexirtus in all his behaviour carying him in far lower degree of service, then the ever-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) & taking likewise their leaves of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enjoy their benefite, both of his wife and kingdome) they privately went thence, having onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accopanie them, through divers places; they foure dooing adles more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but privat chivalries : till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene 213 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselves to her succour, both because the weaker (& weaker as being a Ladie,) & partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men living, for matters of armes, that were knowne to be in the worlde. Whereof one was the Prince Plangus, (whose name was sweetened by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last daie it pleased you to mention him unto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giant-like both hugenes and force : in which two especially, the trust the King had of vi<5lorie, was reposed. And of them, those two brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient judges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that the two yong Princes had even a youthfull longing to have some triall of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they were entred into Lycia they joyned theselves with them that faithfully served the poore Queene, at that time besieged : and ere long animated in such sort their almost overthrowne harts, that they went by force to relieve the towne, though they were deprived of a great part of their strength by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their old friend and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood- winking themselves from seeing his faultes, and binding them- selves to beleeve what he said) often abused the vertue of courage to defend his fowle vice of injustice. But now they were sent for to advaunce a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the deliverie of the Queene Erona. CHAP. ii. 1 Dorus his suite to Pamela interrupted by Mopsas waking. 2 The sisters going with Zelmane to wash themselves. s The pleasantnes of the river. 4 The pleasure Zelmane had in seeing them, uttered B in speach, ' and song. 1 She led by a spaniel, to know, and hurte her noble rivall. 8 The parting of that fraye. I Have heard (said Pamela] that parte of the story of Plangus whe he passed through this country: therfore you may (if you list) passe over that warre of Eronaes quarrell, lest if you 214 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. speake too much of warre matters, you should wake Mopsa y which might happily breed a great broile. He looked, and saw i that Mopsa indeed sat swallowing of sleepe with ope mouth, making such a noise withal, as no bodie could lay the stealing of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to use that occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, & harty earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) divine Lady, who have wrought such miracles in me, as to make a Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all principalities base, in respedt of the sheephooke, which may hold him up in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to heare in direft words my humble sute, while this drago sleepes, that keepes the golden fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination faine to my selfe any thing which may be the lest spot to that heavenly vertue, which shines in all your doings ; I pray the eternal powers, that the words I speak may be deadly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my riopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke their owne confusion. But if love, love of you, love of your vertues, seeke onely that favour of you, which becommeth that gratefulnes, which canot misbecome your excellencie, O doo not: He would have said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa^ she sodainly start up, staggering, and rubbing her eies, ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, before she knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pamela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela] but that you might heare some tales of your servants telling : and there- fore now (said she) Dorus go on. But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) 2 was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, & by and by after her, Afiso; so as for that time they were faine to let Dorus depart. But Pamela (delighted eve to preserve in her memory, the words of so wel a beloved speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and gone, to recreate themselves something, (even tyred with the noysomnes of Misos conversation) they determyned to goe (while the heate of the day lasted) to bath themselves (such being the maner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the river of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight 215 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES them under some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them : and as it lay in their way to passe by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stale downe after them: which she might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and Basi/ius (that day being his birth-day) according to his maner, was busie about his devotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea : but not a word could she beginne, but that Miso would be one of the audience; so that she was driven to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her trust, till they came to the rivers side ; which of all the rivers 3 of Greece had the price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse, in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accouted exceeding healthfull. It ranne upon so fine and delicate a ground, as one could not easely judge, whether the River did more wash the gravell, or the gravel did purifie the River; the River not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if thie lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the River had a delight to play with it selfe. The banckes of either side seeming armes of the loving earth, that faine would embrace it; and the River a wanton nymph which still would stirre from it: either side of the bancke being fringed with most beautifull trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from over- much pearcing the naturall coldnes of the River. There was the But among the rest a goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head over the water, it seemed she looked into it, and dressed her greene lockes, by that running River. There the Princesses deter- mining to bath themselves, though it was so priviledged a place, upon paine of death, as no bodie durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked round about, and could see nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the river, shew- ing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force coulde not as well prevaile thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & therefore wayting with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes getting up againe : but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out of the river, & shaking off the water (as great men 216 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. do their friends, now he had no further cause to use it) in- weeded himselfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sportfulnesse : and inviting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with them, and she excusing her selfe with having taken a late cold, they began by peece-meale to take away the eclipsing of their apparell. Zelmane would have put to her helping hand, but she was 4 taken with such a quivering, that she thought it more wise- dome to leane her selfe to a tree and looke on, while Mlso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the pure silver of their bodies out of the ure of their garments. But as the rayments went of to receave kisses of the ground, Zelmane envied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was even jealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Phi lode a remained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a Dyamond taken from out the rocke, or rather like the Sun getting from under a cloud, and shewing his naked beames to the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch, embrace, and kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, & leave Philoclea, who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefast- nesse pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moved her feete, unwonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come over her bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the River it selfe gave way unto her, so that she was streight brest high ; which was the deepest that there-about she could be : and when cold Ladon had once fully imbraced them, him- selfe was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold complexion had bene heated with love, so seemed he to play about every part he could touch. Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane} why dost 5 thou not stay thy course to have more full tast of thy happines ? But the reason is manifest, the upper streames make such haste to have their part of embracing, that the nether (though lothly) must needs. give place unto them. O happie Ladon, within whom she is, upon whom her beautie fals, thorow whom her eye perceth. O happie Ladon, which art now an unperfedl mirror of al perfection, canst thou ever forget 217 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the blessednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine gravel, to weeds & mudde; if thou doo, let some unjust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater river fal into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. Oh Ladon, happie Ladon^ rather slide then run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her ; and then, O happy Ladon^ who would then cal thee, but the most cursed Ladon ? But as the Ladies plaid them in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twentie bubbles, not to be content to have the pidlure of their face in large upon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them. 6 But Zelmane, whose sight was gaine-said by nothing but the transparent vaile of Ladon y (like a chamber where a great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her affedlion so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that nowe all her parts grudged, that her eyes should doo more ho- mage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In somuch that taking up the Lute, her wit began to be with a divine furie inspired ; her voice would in so beloved an occasion second her wit ; her hands accorded the Lutes musicke to the voice ; her panting hart daunced to the musicke ; while I thinke her feete did beate the time ; while her bodie was the roome where it should be celebrated ; her soule the Queene which shoulde be delighted. And so togither went the utterance and the inven- tion, that one might judge, it was Philocleas beautie which did speedily write it in her eyes ; or the sense thereof, which did word by word endite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an organ) did onely lend utterance. The song was to this purpose. w Hat toong can her perfections tell In whose each part all pens may dwell ? tier haire fine threeds of finest gould In curled knots mans thought to hold: But that her fore-head sayes in me A whiter beautie you may see. Whiter indeed ; more white then snow, Which on cold winters face doth grow. 2l8 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. That doth present those even browes, Whose equall line their angles bowes, Like to the Moone when after chaunge Her horned head abroad doth raunge : And arches be to heavenly lids, Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids. For the blacke starres those Spheares containe, The matchlesse paire, even praise doth staine. No lampe, whose light by Art is got. No Sunne, which shines, and seeth not, Can liken them without all peere, Save one as much as other cleere : Which onely thus unhappie be. Because themselves they cannot see. Her cheekes with kindly claret spred. Aurora like new out of bed, Or like the fresh Queene-apples side, Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride. Her nose, her chinne pure ivorie weares : No purer then the pretie eares. So that therein appeares some blood, Like wine and milke that mingled stood In whose Incirclets if ye gaze, Tour eyes may^Jread a Lovers maze. But with such turnes the voice to stray, No talke untaught can finde the way. The tippe no Jewell needes to weare : The tippe is Jewell of the eare. But who those ruddle lippes can misse? Which blessed still themselves doo kisse. Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new, In worth, in taste, in perfitte hewe : Which never part but that they showe Of pretious pearle the double rowe, The second sweetly-fenced warde, Her heav'nly-dewed tongue to garde. Whence never word in vaine did flowe. Faire under these doth stately growe, The handle of this pretious worke, The neck, in which strange graces lurke. 219 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers. So good a say invites the eye, A little downward to espie, The livelie clusters of her brests, Of Venus babe the wanton nests: Like pomels round of Marble cleere : Where azurde veines well mixt appeere. With dearest tops of porphyrie. Betwixt these two a way doth tie, A way more worthie beauties fame, Then that which beares the Milkie name. This leades into the joyous field, Which onely still doth Lillies yeeld: But Lillies such whose native smell The Indian odours doth excel/. Waste it is calde, for it doth waste Mens lives, untill it be imbraste. There may one see, and yet not see Her ribbes in white all armed be. More white then Neptunes fomie face, When strugling rocks he would imbrace. In those delights the wandring thought Might of each side astray be brought, But that her navel doth unite, In curious circle, busie sight : A daintie seale of virgin-waxe, Where nothing but impression lackes. Her bellie then gladde sight doth fill, yustly entitled Cupids hill. A hill most fitte for such a master, A spotlesse mine of Alablaster. Like Alablaster faire and sleeke, But soft and supple satten like. In that sweete seate the Boy doth sport : Loath, I must leave his chiefe resort. For such a use the world hath gotten, The best things still must be forgotten. Yet never shall my song omitte Thighes, for Ovids song more fitte ; 220 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. Which flanked with two sugred flankes, Lift up their stately swelling bankes; That Albion dives in whitenes passe: With hanches smooth as looking glasse. But bow all knees, now of her knees My tongue doth tell what fancie sees. The knottes of joy, the gemmes of love, Whose motion makes all graces move. Whose bought incav'd doth yeeld such sight, Like cunning Painter shadowing white. The gartring place with child-like signe, Shewes easie print in mettall fine. But then againe the flesh doth rise In her brave calves, like christall skies. Whose Atlas is a smallest small. More white then whitest bone of all. Thereout steales out that round cleane foote This noble Cedars pretious roote : In shewe and sent pale violets, Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets. But back unto her back, my Muse, Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes, Along whose ridge such bones are met, Like comfits round in marchpane set. Her shoulders be like two white Doves, Pearching within square royall rooves, Which leaded are with silver skinne, Passing the hate-sport Ermelin. And thence those armes derived are; The Phoenix wings are not so rare For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe, Ah woe is me, my woes renewe\ Now course doth leade me to her hand, Of my first love the fatall band. Where whitenes dooth for ever sitte : Nature her selfe enameld it. For there with strange compact dooth lie Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe ivorie. There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes, Which conduit-like with curious crookes, 221 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Sweete Hands make in that sweete land. As for the fingers of the hand. The bloudy shaftes of Cupids warre, With amatists they headed are. Thus hath each part his beauties part. But how the Graces doo impart To all her limmes a spetiall grace, Becomming every time and place. IVkicb doth even beautie beautifie, And most bewitch the wretched eye. How all this is but a faire Inne Of fairer guest 'es, which dwell within. Of whose high praise, and praisefull blisse, Goodnes the penne, heaven paper is. The inke immortal! fame dooth lende : As I began, so must I ende. No tongue can her perfections tell, In whose each part all tongues may dwell. But as Zelmane was coming to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniell which before had huted, come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloves ; whose fine pro- portion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dogge was therewith delighted, and so let him goe a little way withall, who quickly caried it out of sight among certaine trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by & by he came againe, & amongst the raiments (Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their comming out) the dog lighted upon a little booke of foure or five leaves of paper, & was bearing that away to. But then Zelmane (not knowing what importace it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliver it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, the Getle- man rose up, & with a courteous (though sad) countenance presented himselfe unto her. Ze/manes eies streight willed her mind to marke him: for she thought, in her life she had never scene a ma of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse : being indeed such a right manlike man, as Nature often erring, yet shewes 222 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. she would faine make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliver backe the glove & paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas ; telling him withall, that she would not willingly let the know of his close lying in that prohibited place, while they were bathing theselves ; because she knew they would be mortally offended withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my self the punish- met. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldnesse, not my presumption. With that he gave her backe the paper: But for the glove (said he) since it is my Ladie Philocleas^ give me leave to keepe it, since my hart canot per- suade it selfe to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direcl: my life to honour this glove with serving her. O villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with rinding an unlooked-for Rivall, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliver it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy soul (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drewe out her sworde, which (Amazon-Ilk^} she ever ware about her. The Gentlema retired himself into an open place fro among the bushes; & the drawing out his too, he offred to deliver it unto her, saying withall, God forbid I should use my sworde against you, since (if I be not deceived) you are the same famous Amazon, that both defended my Ladies just title of beautie against the valiant Phalantus, & saved her life in killing the Lion : therfore I am rather to kisse your hands, with ac- knowledging my selfe boud to obey you. But this courtesie was worse then a bastonado to Zelmane : so that againe with ragefull eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sworde that lesson, which hath ever used to turne it self to a shield in a Ladies presence. But Zelmane barkening to no more wordes, began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes & thrusts, that Nature & Vertue commanded the Gentleman to looke to his safetie. Yet stil courtesie, that seemed incorpo- rate in his hart, would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any offence, but only to stand upon the best defensive gard he could ; somtimes going backe, being content in that respeft to take on the figure of cowardise ; sometime with strong and well-met 223 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES wards ; sometime cunning avoiding? of his body ; and some- times faining some blowes, which himself puld backe before they needed to be withstood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choller any motions, which might grow out of her owne sweet dispositio, determining to kill him if he fought no better ; & so redoubling her blowes, drave the stranger to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe ; at that time seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length he found, that both in publike and private respedles, who standes onely upon defence, stands upon no defence: For Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall stept backe as he was accustomed, she stopt her blow in the aire, and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he was driven with the pommell of his sworde (having no other weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. But Zelmane retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was conquered by the before-conquered pittie ; and hartily sorie, and even ashamed with her selfe she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found could have done more. In so much that she said, truly I am sorie for your hurt, but your selfe gave the cause, both in refusing to deliver the glove, and yet not fighting as I knowe you could have done. But (saide shee) because I perceave you disdayne to fight with a woman, it may be before a yeare come about, you shall meete with a neere kinsman of mine, Pyroc/es Prince of Macedon, and I give you my worde, he for me shall maintaine this quarell against you. I would (answered Amph'ialus] I had many more such hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I love & admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see his person. 8 But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to who Mopsa (curious in any thing, but her own good behaviour) having followed & scene Zelmane fighting, had cried, what she had scene, while they were drying themselves, & the water (with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should parte from such bodies. But they carefull of Zelmane (assuring themselves 224 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. that any Arcadian would beare reverence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a loving (hastily hiding the beauties, whereof Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they made quicke worke to come to save Zelmane. But already they found them in talke, & Zelmane careful of his wound. But whe they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes they blamed for breaking their fathers commaundement, espe- cially while themselves were in such sort retired. But he craved pardon, protesting unto them that he had onely bene to seeke solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good while possest him, and guided to that place by his spaniell, where while the dog hunted in the river, he had withdrawne himselfe to pacific with sleepe his over-watched eyes : till a dreame waked him, and made him see that whereof he had dreamed, & withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne doings. But Philoclea (that was even jealous of her self for Zelmane} would needs have her glove, and not without so mighty a loure as that face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Ampbialus (said she) I have log desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good will, but still with honoring your vertue, though I love not your person: & at this time I pray you let us take care of your wound, upon codition you shal hereafter promise, that a more knightly combat shalbe performed betweene us. Ampbialus answered in honorable sort, but with such excusing himselfe, that more and more accused his love to Philoclea, & provoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certaine shepheards not far of (who knew & wel observed their limits) to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without daunger to straine it : and so he leaving himselfe with them, departed from them, faster bleeding in his hart, then at his wound : which bound up by the sheetes, wherwith Philoclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the wound, and blesse the sword for that favour. S. A. P 225 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES CHAP. 12. 1 How Basilius found Plangus : *his lametation. s Philoclea entreated by Zelmane to relate the storie of Erona. I "1 T E being gone, the Ladies (with mery anger talking, in JL J. what naked simplicitie their cousin had scene the) returned to the lodge-warde : yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to breake of so pleasing a company, with going to performe a cubersome obedience, Zelmane invited them to the little arbour, only reserved for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pamela having a while made the lute in his laguage, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers, Zelmane delivered up the paper, which Amphialus had at first yeelded unto her: and seeing written upon the backside of it, the complaint of Plangus y remembring what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it were any secret, or no. No truely (answered Philoclea} it is but even an exercise of my fathers writing, upon this occasion : He was one day (somwhile before your comming hether) walking abroade, having us two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis, he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the proprest and best-graced men that ever I sawe, being of middle age, and of a meane stature. He lay as then under a tree, while his servaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seeme he was tired with the extreme travaile he had taken, and yet not so tyred, that he forced to take any rest ; so hasty he was upon his journey: and withall so sorrowfull, that the very face thereof was painted in his face ; which with pitifull motions, even groanes, teares, and passionate talking to him selfe, moved my Father to fall in talke with him: who at first not knowing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of griefe, that my Father afterward tooke a delight to set it downe in such forme as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are hable to declare unto you. Zelmane willingly opened the leaves, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner. 226 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. Plangus. Basilius. A^as how long this pilgrimage doth last? Plangu What greater ills have now the heavens in store y To couple camming harmes with sorrowes past? Long since my voice is hoarce, and throte is sore, With cries to skies, and curses to the ground, But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more. Ah where was first that cruell cunning found, To frame of Earth a vessel! of the minde, Where it should be to selfe-destruftion bound? What needed so high sprites such mansions blind? Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine, But glorious name of wretched huma ine-kind ? Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne j Turnd from themselves, infefted with their cage, Where death is feard, and life is held with paine. Like players pla'st to fill a filthy stage, Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes, And all but jests, save onely sorrowes rage. The child feeles that ; the man that feeling knowes, With cries first borne, the presage of his life, Where wit but serves, to have true tast of woes. A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rife This bodie is : this bodie so composed, As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife. So divers be the Elements disposed In this weake worke, that it can never be Made uniforme to any state reposed. Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see {Even like a toppe which nought but whipping moves') This man, this talking beast, this walking tree. Griefe is the stone which finest judgement proves : For who grieves not hath but a blockish braine, Since cause of griefe no cause from life removes. How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine Basilius The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld, Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine ? P2 227 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Curst be good haps, and curst be they that build Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire For all these certaine blowes the surest shield. Shall I that saw Eronaes shining ha ire Torne with her hands, and those same hands of snow With losse of purest blood themselves to teare ? Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow, Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease, And saw those eyes (those Sonnes) such shoures to shew. Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze, Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath, Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease? No, no : Despaire my dayly lesson saith, And saith, although I seeke my life to flie, Plangus must live to see Eronaes death. Plangus must live some helpe for her to trie Though in despaire, so Love enforceth me ; Plangus doth live, and must Erona dye ? Erona dye? O heaven (if heaven there be) Hath all thy whirling course so small effett ? Serve all thy starrie eyes this shame to see ? Let doltes in haste some altars faire erett To those high powers, which idly sit above, And vertue do in greatest need negleft. O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do move To irefull wrath, which thou canst not resist. Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do prove. Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist Of our selfe-love (so passions do deceave) We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist. To harme us wormes should that high 'Justice leave His nature ? nay, himselfe ? for so it is. What glorie from our losse can he receave ? But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse, While that we do at his sweete scourge repine, The kindly way to beate us to our blisse. If she must dye, then hath she past the line Of lothsome dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone, That doost so well their miseries define? 228 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. But such we are with inward tempest blowne Of mindes quite contrarie in waves of will : We mone that lost, which had we did bemone. And shall shee dye ? shall cruell fier spill Plangu Those beames that set so many harts on fire? Hath she not force even death with love to kill ? Nay even cold Death enflamde with hot desire Her to enjoy, where joy it selfe is thrall, Will spoile the earth of his most rich attire. Thus Death becomes a rival! to us all, And hopes with foule embracements her to get, In whose decay Vertues faire shrine must fall. O Vertue weake, shall death his triumph set Upon thy spoiles, which never should lye waste ? Let Death first dye ; be thou his worthy let. By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste ? What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower ? What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra'st? The world the garden is, she is the flower That sweetens all the place ; she is the guest Of rarest price, both heav'n and earth her bower. And shall (o me] all this in ashes rest? Alas, if you a Phoenix new will have Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest. But well you know, the gentle Sunne would save Such beames so like his owne, which might have might In him, the thoughts of Phaetons damme to grave. Therefore, alas, you use vile Vulcans spight, Which nothing spares, to melt that f^irgin-waxe Which while it is, it is all Asias light. O Mars, for what doth serve thy armed axe ? To let that wit-old beast consume in flame Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes ? Venus (if her praise no envy frames, In thy high minde] get her thy husbands grace. Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes. O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face, Her face which was more lively in my hart ; O braine, where thought of her hath onely place ; 229 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES O band) which toucht her hand when she did part ; O lippes, that kist her hand with my teares sprent ; O toonge, then dumbe, not daring tell my smart ; O soule, whose love in her is onely spent. What ere you see, thinke, touch, kisse, speake, or love, Let all for her, and unto her be bent. silius. Thy wailing words do much my spirits move, They uttred are in such a feeling fashion, That sorrowes worke against my will I prove. Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion, And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie : Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion. Yet Reason saith, Reason should have abilitie, To hold these worldly things in such proportion, As let them come or go with even facilitie. But our Desires tyrannical extortion Doth force us there to set our chiefe delightfulnes, Where but a baiting place is all our portion. But still, although we faile of perfeft rightfulnes, Seeke we to tame the childish superfluities : Let us not winke though void of purest sight fulnes. For what can breed more peevish incongruities, Then man to yeeld to female lamentations ? Let us some grammar learne of more congruities. ngus. If through mine eares pearce any consolation By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fittion ; If ought I cease these hideous exclamations, While that my soule, she, she lives in affliction ; Then let my life long time on earth maintained be, To wretched me, the last worst malediction. Can /, that know her sacred parts restrained be, For any joy, know fortunes vile displacing her, In morall rules let raging woes contained be ? Can I forget, when they in prison placing her, With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfulnes She lay for dead, till I helpt with unlasing her ? Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes With Diamond in window-glasse she graved, Erona dye, and end thy ougly painefulnes ? 230 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craved That quickly they would her burne, drowne, or smother. As if by death she onely might be saved? Then let me eke forget one hand from other : Let me forget that Plangus / am called : Let me forget I am sonne to my mother, But if my memory must thus be thralled To that strange stroke which conquered all my senses, Can thoughts still thinking so rest unappalled? Who still doth seeke against himselfe offences, Basili What pardon can availe? or who employes him To hurt himselfe, what shields can be defenses ? Woe to poore man : ech outward thing annoyes him In divers kinds ; yet as he were not filled, He heapes in inward griefe, which most destroyes him. Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled : Thus be our noblest parts dryed up with sorrow : Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled. One day /ayes up stuffe of griefe for the morrow : And whose good haps do leave him unprovided, Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow. Betwixt the good and shade of good divided, We pittie deeme that which but weakenes is : So are we from our high creation slided. But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end. The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse. When Zelmane had read it over, marveyling verie much of 3 the speeche of Eronas death, and therefore desirous to know further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake, Most excellent Ladie (said she) one may be little the wiser for reading the Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorow : therefore I woulde humbly crave to understand the particular discourse thereof: because (I must confesse) some thing in my travaile I have heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to find by so sweet an authoritie confirmed. The trueth is (answered Philoclea) that 231 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES after he knew my father to be Prince of this countrie, while he hoped to prevaile something with him in a great request he made unto him, he was content to open fully unto him the estate both of himselfe, and of that Ladie ; which with my sisters help (said she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare unto you: and first of Erona, (being the chiefe Subject of this discourse) this storie (with more teares and exclamations then I liste to spende about it) he recounted. CHAP. 13. Erona ^irreligious gainst Love, *must love the base Antiphilus, *is love^ pursued^ and beleaguered by the great Tiridates. 4 The two Greeke Princes ayde her. 6< They combatte with two Kings ; Antiphilus with Plangus; they conquerors, he prisoner. "Eronas hard-choice to redeeme him. 7 Tiridates slaine, Anti- philus delivered^ Artaxia chased by the two Princes, s and her hate to them. late there raigned a King in Lycia, who had for the blessing of his manage, this onely daughter of his, Erona ; a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie may be praise- worthy. This Princesse Erona, being 19. yeres of age, seeing the countrie of Lycia so much devoted to Cupid, as that in every place his naked pidlures & images were super- stitiously adored (ether moved theruto, by the esteeming that could be no Godhead, which could breed wickednes, or the shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of her father, as utterly to pull downe, and deface all those statues and pictures. Which how terriblie he punished (for to that the Lycians impute it) quickly after appeared. 2 For she had not lived a yeare longer, when she was striken with most obstinate Love, to a yong man but of mean parentage, in her fathers court, named Antiphilus : so meane, as that he was but the sonne of her Nurse, & by that meanes (without other desert) became knowen of her. Now so evill could she conceale her fire, and so wilfully persevered she in it, that her father offering her the mariage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia 232 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. (who desired her more then the joyes of heaven) she for Antiphilus sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to withdrawe her from it; sometimes perswasions, sometimes threatnings; once hiding Antiphilus, & giving her to understand that he was fled the countrie: Lastly, making a solemne execution to be done of another, under the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threaten- inges, nor changed for absence : and when she thought him dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as by knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him. This so brake the tender fathers hart, that (leaving things as he found them) he shortly after died. Then foorthwith Erona (being seazed of the crowne, and arming her will with authoritie) sought to advance her affection to the holy title of matrimonie. But before she could accoplish all the solenities, she was 3 overtake with a war the King Tiridates made upon her, only for her person ; towards whom (for her ruine) Love had kindled his cruel hart ; indeed cruell & tyrannous : for (being far too strog in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie of his love, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonets of his Love, in the bloud, & tuned the in the cries of her sub- jects; although his fair sister Artaxia (who would accopany him in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury : till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall ; whe there came thether (following the course which Vertue & Fortune led the) two excellent youg Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus y the one Prince of Macedo, the other of TbfStaGa : two princes, as Plagus said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes & teares) the most acconplished both in body & mind, that the Sun ever lookt upon. While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought Ze/mane to her self) which are not onely a praise to me, but a praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth. These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswel to help the weaker 4 (especially being a Ladie) as to save a Greeke people from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering together such of the honestest Lycians y as woulde venture their lives to succour their Princesse: giving order by a secreat 2 33 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with all force at an appointed time j they set upon Tiridates campe, with so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be overthrowen : but that this Plangus (being Generall of Tiridates hors-men) especially ayded by the two mightie men, Euardes and Barzanes^ rescued the foot-men, even almost defeated : but yet could not barre the Princes (with their suc- coures both of men and vicluall) to enter the Citie. 5 Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse then a languishing con- sumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus : and that thereupon the quarrell should be decided; with compaft, that neither side should helpe his felow: but of whose side the more overcame, with him the viclorie should remaine. Antiphilus (though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since the two strangers that had no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie of the miseries of war) would rather give him up, if they saw him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine : considering that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then him selfe. So it was agreed upon ; and against Pyrocles was Euardes^ King of Bithinia ; Barzanes of Hircania, against Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: & against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus y being his own cousin germain, & sonne to the King of Iberia. Now so it fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes^ & Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Princes esteemed above all that ever they had: but of the other side Plagus tooke Antiphilus prisoner: under which colour (as if the matter had bene equal, though indeed it was not, the greater part being overcome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: & to bring Erona to a copelled yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walles of the towne strike of Antiphilus head ; with- out his suite in that space were graunted : adding withall (because he had heard of her desperate affeclio) that if in the meane time she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be devised should be layed upon Antiphilus. 6 Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our own 234 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. thoughts seeme as a God unto us. But whatsoever it was, then it did set foorth the miserablenes of his effeftes: she being drawne to two contraries by one cause. For the love of him comaunded her to yeeld to no other: the love of him comaunded him to preserve his life : which knot might well be cut, but untied it could not be. So that Love in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrell. What (said he of the one side) doost thou love Antiphilus, 6 Eronat and shal Tiridates enjoy thy bodie ? with what eyes wilt thou looke upon Antiphilusy when he shall know that another possesseth thee ? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man have thee, thou shalt never have more part of Antiphilus the if he were dead. But thus much more, that the affeclio shalbe gnawing, & the remorse, still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy affection : where thus, thou shalt ever love, and ever lacke. Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates, Antiphilus is so ex- cellent a man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place maried : canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now, or at another time he shall die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to make him live to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when Love had well kindled that parte of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) O Erona, and is thy Love of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a ques- tion, whether he shall die, or no ? O excellent affection, which for too much love, will see his head of. Marke well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but love of thy selfe which so disputeth. Thou canst not abide Tiridates : this is but love of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke upo him afterward; this is but feare of shame, & love of thy selfe : thou shalt want him as much then; this is but love of thy selfe: he shalbe married ; if he be well, why should that grieve thee, but for love of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these wordes if thou canst, let Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her understanding ; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying : an other time she thought Antiphilus saw her by Tiridates enjoyed: twenty times calling for a servaunt to carry message 235 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES of yeelding, but before he came the minde was altered. She blusht when she considered the effecl: of granting ; she was pale, whe she remebred the fruits of denial. As for weeping, sighing, wringing her hads, & tearing her haire, were indifferet of both sides. Easily she wold have agreed to have broken al disputatios with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder torments staied her. At legth, eve the evening before the day apointed of his death, the determinatio of yeelding prevailed, especially, growing upo a message of Antiphilus ; who with all the conjuring termes he could devise, besought her to save his life, upon any codition. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, & falling downe at their feet, desired the to trie some way for her deliverance; shewing her selfe resolved, not to over-live Antiphilus^ nor yet to yeeld to Tiridates. 7 They that knew not what she had done in private, prepared that night accordingly : & as sometimes it fals out, that what is incostancy, seemes cuning; so did this chage indeed stand in as good steed as a witty dissimulatio. For it made the King as reckles, as them diliget: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the towne ; with who she would needs go, either to die her self, or reskew Antiphilus, having no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what devise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderfull valour of the two Princes so prevailed, that Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slaine. Plangus was then the chiefe man left in the campe; and therefore seeing no other remedie, coveied in safety into her country Artaxia y now 8 Queene of Armenia-, who with true lametations, made known to the world, that her new greatnes did no way cofort her in respecl of her brothers losse, who she studied all meanes possible to revenge upon every one of the occasioners, having (as she thought) overthrowne her brother by a most abominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to any private man, and her selfe in mariage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility) married to Erona ; in which case the two Greeke Princes (being called away by an other adventure) left them. 236 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. CHAP. 14. ^hilocleas narration broken of by Miso. *Her old-wives tale, 3 'and ballad against Cupid. *Their drawing cuts for tales. 8 Mopsas tale of the old cut : 6 cut of by the Ladies to returne to their stories. BUt now me thinkes as I have read some Poets, who when i they inted to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares fro me, yet may I well desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her to this misery ; and withall wish you al, that fro al mankind indeed you stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loves one upon another. (And as she spake that worde, her cheekes in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And therefore since I have named Plangus^ I pray you sister (said she) helpe me with the rest, for I have helde the stage long inough; and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I have done Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood; & so betweene us both, my Ladie Ze/mane shall understand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me then (said Miso) I wil none of that, I promise you, as log as I have the governmet, I will first have my tale, & the my Lady Pamela^ my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned fro Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when you are married you wil have first, and last word of your husbands. The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnest- nesse she looked, having threatning not onely in her Ferret eies, but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey : & Miso (sitting on the groud with her knees up, & her hands upon her knees) tuning her voice with many a quavering cough, thus discoursed unto the. I tel you 2 true (said she) whatsoever you thinke of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my pennie as good silver, as some of you do: and if my father had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might have 237 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES had an other-gaines husbad, the Dametas. But let that passe, God amend him: and yet I speake it not without good cause. You are ful of your tittle tattling of Cupid : here is Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old woma told me, what an old wise ma told her, what a great learned clerke told him, and gave it him in writing; and here I have it in my praier booke. I pray you (said Philoclea] let us see it, & read it. No hast but good (said Mi so] you shal first know how I came by it. I was a young girle of a seven and twenty yeare old, & I could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare the young me talke ; O the pretie little eies of Mtso ; O the fine thin lips of Miso-, O the goodly fat hands of Mho: besides, how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me. Then the one would wincke with one eye, & the other cast daiseys at me : I must cofesse, seing so many amorous, it made me set up my peacocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this good old woma perceived (O the good wold woman, well may the bones rest of the good wold woma) she cald me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great losse of her : she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of wine to comfort her hart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candid^ which we pay so deere for now a daies, and in that good worlde was very good cheape) she cald me to her; Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies though I say it) I see a nuber of lads that love you; Wei (said she) I say no more: doo you know what Love is? With that she broght me into a corner, where ther was painted a foule fied I trow : for he had a paire of homes like a Bull, his feete cloven, as many eyes upon his bodie, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This moster sat like a hagman upo a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was painted holding a crowne of Laurell, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of his mouth honge a lace of two faire pictures, of a ma & a woma, & such a coutenance he shewed, as if he would perswade folks by those aluremets to come thither & be hanged. I, like a teder harted wench, skriked out for feare of the divell. Well (sayd she) this same is even Love : therefore do what thou list with all those fellowes, one after another; & it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secreat ; but upon my charge, never 238 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. love none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come fro the belly of the faire Fenus? for a few dayes before, our (priest betweene him & me) had tolde me the whole storie of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaved : and therewith gave me this Booke, which she said a great maker of ballets had given to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed both booke and picture of her. Reade there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false Argus his father. And so she gave me this Booke, & there now you may reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there. But while her teares came out, like raine falling upon durtie furrowes, the latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies, which contained this. POore Painters oft with silly Poets joyne, To fill the world with strange but vaine conceits : One brings the stujffe, the other stamps the coine, Which breeds nought else but gloses of deceits. Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do A naked god, young blind, with arrowes two. Is he a God, that ever flies the light ? Or naked he, disguised in all untruth ? If he be blind, how hitteth he so right ? How is he young, that tam'de old Phoebus youth f But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade : Some hurt accuse a third with horny head. No, nothing so ; an old false knave he is By Argus got on lo, then a cow : What time for her Juno her Jove did misse, And charge of her to Argus did allow. Mercury killed his false sire for this off, His damme a beast was pardoned beastly faff. With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame, With Joves disdaine at such a rivals seed, The wretch compelled a runnagate became, And learned what ill a miser state doth breed, To lye, faine, gloze, to steale, pry, and accuse, Naught in himselfe ech other to abuse. 2 39 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Yet beares he still his parents stately gifts, A horned head, cloven foote, and thousand eyes. Some gazing still, some winking wilye shiftes, With long large eares where never rumour dyes. His horned head doth seeme the heaven to spight : His cloven foote doth never treade aright. Thus halfe a man, with man he dayly haunts, Cloth'd in the shape which soonest may deceave : Thus halfe a beast, ech beastly vice he plants, In those weake harts that his advice receave. He proules ech place stil in new colours deckt, Sucking ones ill, another to infeft. To narrow brests he comes all wrapt in gaine : To swelling harts he shines in honours fire : To open eyes all beauties he doth raine; Creeping to ech with flattering of desire. But for that Loves desire most rules the eyes, Therein his name, there his chiefe triumph lyes. Millions of yeares this old drivell Cupid lives ; While still more wretch, more wicked he doth prove : Til! now at length that Jove him office gives, (At Junos suite who much did Argus love] In this our world a hang-man for to be, Of all those fooles that will have all they see. 4 These Ladies made sport at the description and storie of Cupid. But Zelmang could scarce suffer those blasphemies (as she tooke them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete smiling, and the sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not give ex- ample of disobedience. My governesse will have us draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let us do so: and so perhaps it will light upon you to entertaine this company with some storie of your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to heare, as your tongue is abler to deliver. I will thinke (answered Ze/mane) excellent Princesse my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to favour me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to have fortune their 240 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. judge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squea- mishnes going up & downe, with her head like a boate in a storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune (that saw not the coulor of them) gave her the preheminence : and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past (sayd she) there was a King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that ever did eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that every body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing upon a harpe, as sweete as any Rose; and combing her head with a combe all of precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, upo a goodly horse, one haire of gold, & the other of silver ; and so the Knight casting up his eyes to the window, did fall into such love with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate ; till many a sorry day going over his head, with Dayly Diligence and Grisly Grones, he wan her affection, so that they agreed to run away togither. A nd so in May, when all true hartes rejoyce, they stale out of the Castel, without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought up among the water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were ever askt his name, he must presently vanish away : and there- fore charged her upon his blessing, that she never aske him what he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept his commandement ; til once, passing through a cruell wildernes, as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the greevousest coplaints that would have melted a tree to have heard them, vanisht quite away: & she lay down, casting forth as pitifull cries as any shrich-owle. But having laien so, (wet by the raine, and burnt by the Sun) five dayes, & five nights, she gat up and went over many a high hil, & many a deepe river; till she came to an Aunts house of hers ; and came, & cried to her for helpe : and she for pittie gave her a Nut, and bad her never open her Nut, til she was come to the extremest misery that ever tongue could speake of. And so she went, & she went, & never rested the evening, wher she wet in the morning ; til she came to a second Aunt; and she gave her another Nut. s. A. Q 241 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 6 Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea] I pray thee at my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, & I promise thee that the best gowne I weare that day shalbe thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargaine, especially that it shuld grow a festival Tale : so' that Zelmane, who desired to finde the utter- most what these Ladies understood touching her selfe, and having understood the danger of Erona (of which before she had never heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this pursuit she now was in, was brought to any effecl:) to succour her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters per- fefter remebrace, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselves were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in this maner to their earnest request soone condiscended. CHAP. 15. 1 Plangus-^/V parentage. 2 His trick of youth, 3 espied, 4 ff turned over by, and to his old father. * An inveagling-womans arts. *A guilty stepmothers divellish promises against Plangus. 7 Her ministers false informations. 8 Plangus perplexities. 9 His fathers jelousies. The Queenes complots 10 to feede the ones suspicion, u & work the others overthrow. 12 Plangus taken ; u delivered flieth : " is pursued with old hate, 3" new treason. 15 Yet must he serve abroad, while a new heire is made at home. 16 This story broken off by Basilius. I '"T" v He father of this Prince Plangus as yet lives, and is King of Iberia : a man (if the judgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing evill, with- out himselfe mistake the evill, seeing it disguised under some forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princesse (who both from her auncesters, and in her selfe was worthy of him) by her had this son, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed the message for which she was sent into the world) returned again unto her maker. The King (sealing up al thoughts of 242 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. love under the image of her memorie) remained a widdower many yeares after ; recompencing the griefe of that disjoyning from her, in conjoyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being growne to mans age, as our owne eies may judge, could not but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education. This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused 2 by the greenenes of his youth, which tooke all the fault upon it selfe) loved a private mans wife of the principal Citie of that Kingdome, if that may be called love, which he rather did take into himselfe willingly, then by which he was take forcibly. It sufficeth, that the yong man perswaded himself he loved her: she being a woman beautiful enough, if it be possible, that the outside onely can justly entitle a beauty. But finding such a chase as onely fledde to be caught, the young Prince broght his affeclio with her to that point, which ought to engrave remorse in her harte, & to paint shame upon her face. And so possest he his desire without any interruption ; he constantly favouring her, and she thinking, that the enameling of a Princes name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I have scene one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake, but with pinching of him : so out of his sinfull sleepe his minde (unworthie so to be loste) was not to be cald to it selfe, but by a sharpe accident. It fell out, that his many-times leaving of the court (in 3 undue times) began to be noted ; and (as Princes eares be manifolde) from one to another came unto the King; who (carefull of his onely sonne) sought, and found by his spies (the necessarie evill servauntes to a King) what it was, whereby he was from his better delights so diverted. Whereupon, the King (to give his fault the greater blow) 4 used such meanes, by disguising himselfe, that he found them (her husband being absent) in her house together: which he did, to make him the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that way he tooke, laying threatnings upon her, and upon him reproaches. But the poore young Prince (deceived with that young opinion, that if it be ever lawfull to lie, it is for ones Lover,) employed all his witte to bring his father to a better opinion. And because he might bende him from that (as he counted it) crooked conceit of her, he wrested him, as much as Q2 243 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES he coulde possiblie, to the other side: not sticking with prodigall protestations to set foorth her chastitie; not denying his own attempts, but thereby the more extolling her vertue. His Sophistrie prevayled, his father beleeved ; and so beleeved, that ere long (though he were alredy stept into the winter of his age) he founde himselfe warme in those desires, which were in his sonne farre more excusable. To be short, he gave him- selfe over unto it; and (because he would avoide the odious comparison of a yong rivall) sent away his sonne with an armie, to the subduing of a Province lately rebelled against him, which he knewe could not be a lesse worke, the of three or foure yeares. Wherein he behaved him so worthilie, as even to this country the fame therof came, long before his own coming: while yet his father had a speedier succes, but in a far unnobler conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing onely in age & affeclio) folowed his suite with all meanes of unhonest servants, large promises, and each thing els that might help to countervaile his owne unlovelines. And she (whose husband about that time died) forgetting the absent Plangus^ or at lest not hoping of him to obtaine so aspiring a purpose, lefte no arte unused, which might keepe the line from breaking, wherat the fishe was alredy taken ; not drawing him violently, but letting him play himself upon the hooke, which he had greedely swalowed. For, accompanying her mourning with a doleful! countenaunce, yet neither for- getting hansomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetenes in her dolefull countenance; her wordes were ever seasoned with sighes; and any favour she shewed, bathed in teares, that affedlion might see cause of pity ; and pity might perswade cause of affection. And being growen skilfull in his humors, she was no lesse skilfull in applying his humors : never suffering his feare to fall to a despaire, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance : she was content he should thinke that she loved him ; and a certaine stolne looke should sometimes (as though it were against her will) bewray it : But if thereupon he grewe bolde, he straight was encountred with a maske of vertue. And that which seemeth most impossible unto me, (for as neere as I can I repeate it as Plangus tolde it) she could not onely sigh when she would, as all can doo; & weep when she would, as (they say) some can doo ; but (being most impudent in her 244 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. hart) she could, when she would, teach her chekes blushing, and make shamefastnes the cloake of shamelesnes. In summe, to leave out many particularities which he recited, she did not onely use so the spurre, that his Desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on, eve in such a careere as she would have it; that within a while, the king, seeing with no other eyes but such as she gave him, & thinking no other thoghts but such as she taught him; having at the first liberall measure of favors then shortned of the, when most his Desire was inflamed; he saw no other way but mariage to satisfie his longing, and her mind (as he thought) loving, but chastly loving. So that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious of the Rebels, he foud his father, not only maried, but alredy a father of a sonne & a daughter by this woma. Which though P/agus (as he had every way just cause) was grieved at; yet did his grief never bring forth ether cotemning of her, or repining at his father. But she (who besides she was growen 6 a mother, and a stepmother, did read in his eies her owne fault, and made his conscience her guiltines) thought still that his presence caried her condenation : so much the more, as that she (unchastly attempting his woted fades) foud (for the reverece of his fathers bed) a bitter refusall: which breeding rather spite then shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not onely (as hating him) thirst for a revenge, but (as fearing harm from him) endevoured to doo harme unto him. Therefore did she trie the uttermost of her wicked wit, how to overthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was, in the favour of his father : which because she saw strong both in nature and desert, it required the more cuning how to undermine it. And therfore (shunning the ordinary trade of hireling sycophants) she made her praises of him, to be accusations; and her ad- vauncing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (neerer admiration then liking) she would extoll his excellecies, the goodlines of his shape, the power of his witte, the valiantnes of his courage, the fortunatenes of his successes: so as the father might finde in her a singular love towardes him : nay, she shunned not to kindle some fewe sparkes of jelousie in him. Thus having gotten an opinion in his father, that she was farre from meaning mischiefe to the sonne, then fell she to praise 245 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES him with no lesse vehemencie of affeftion, but with much more cunning of malice. For then she sets foorth the liberty of his mind, the high flying of his thoughts, the fitnesse in him to beare rule, the singular love the Subjects bare him; that it was doubtfull, whether his wit were greater in winning their favors, or his courage in employing their favours: that he was not borne to live a subj eft-life, each aftion of his bearing in it Majestic, such a Kingly entertainement, such a Kingly mag- nificence, such a Kingly harte for enterprises: especially re- membring those vertues, which in a successor are no more honoured by the subjefts, then suspefted of the Princes. Then would she by putting-of obje&ios, bring in objeftios to her husbands head, alredy infefted with suspitio. Nay (would she say) I dare take it upon my death, that he is no such sonne, as many of like might have bene, who loved greatnes so well, as to build their greatnes upon their fathers ruine. Indeed Am- bition, like Love, can abide no lingring, & ever urgeth on his own successes; hating nothing, but what may stop the. But the Gods forbid, we should ever once dreame of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content, that you & the world should know, what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurte, the more admirable is his praise, that he wil not hurt. Then ever remembring to strengthen the suspition of his estate with private jelousie of her love, doing him excessive honour when he was in presence, and repeating his pretie speaches and graces in his absence; besides, causing him to be imployed in all such dangerous matters, as ether he should perish in them, or if he prevailed, they should increase his glory: which she made a weapon to woud him, untill she found that suspition began already to speake for it selfe, and that her husbands eares were growne hungry of rumours, and his eies prying into every accident. 7 Then tooke she help to her of a servant neere about her husband, whom she knew to be of a hasty ambitio, and such a one, who wanting true sufficiencie to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischiefe. Him she useth to deale more plainely in alleaging causes of jealousie, making him know the fittest times when her husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with divers wayes, nourished one humour, like Musitians, that singing divers parts, make one musicke. He 246 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. sometime with fearefull countenaunce would desire the King to looke to himselfe ; for that all the court and Cittie were full of whisperings, and expectation of some suddaine change, upon what ground himselfe knew not. Another time he would counsell the King to make much of his sonne, and holde his favour, for that it was too late now to keepe him under. Now seeming to feare himselfe, because (he said) Plangus loved none of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him direftly (making a sorrowful countenance, & an humble gesture beare false witnesse for his true meaning) that he foud, not only souldiery, but people weary of his govern- ment, & al their affections bent upon Plangus. Both he and the Queene concurring in strange dreames, & each thing else, that in a mind (already perplexed) might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus actions began to be translated into the language of suspition. Which though Plangus foud, yet could he not avoid, even 8 cotraries being driven to draw one yoke of argumet : if he were magnificet, he spent much with an aspiring intent : if he spared, he heaped much with an aspiring intent: if he spake curteously, he angled the peoples harts : if he were silent, he mused upon some daungerous plot. In summe, if he could have turned himself to as many formes as Proteus, every forme should have bene made tedious. But so it fell out, that a meere trifle gave the occasion of 9 further proceeding. The King one morning, going to a vine- yard that lay a long the hill where his castle stood, he saw a vine-labourer, that finding a bowe broken, tooke a branch of the same bowe for want of another thing, and tied it about the place broken. The King asking the fellow what he did, Marry (said he) I make the sonne binde the father. This word (finding the King alredy supersticious through suspitio) amazed him streight, as a presage of his owne fortune : so that, return- ing, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate, she made such gaine-saying answeres, as while they strave, strave to be overcome. But even while the doubtes most boiled, she thus nourished them. She under-hand dealt with the principall me of that coutry, 10 that at the great Parliamet (which was then to be held) they should in the name of all the estates perswade the King (being 247 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES now stept deeply into old age) to make Plangus^ his associate in governmet with him : assuring the, that not only she would joine with them, but that the father himself would take it kindly; chargeing the not to acquaint Plangus withal; for that perhaps it might be harmeful unto him, if the King should find, that he wer a party. They (who thought they might do it, not only willingly, because they loved him, & truly, because such indeed was the minde of the people, but safely, because she who ruled the King was agreed therto) accoplished her cousell : she indeed keeping promise of vehement perswading the same: which the more she & they did, the more she knew her husbad would fear, & hate the cause of his feare. Plangus foud this, & hubly protested against such desire, or wil to accept. But the more he protested, the more his father thought he dissebled, accouting his integritie to be but a cuning face of falshood: and therfore delaying the desire of his subjects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands upon his sonne : which his wife thus brought to passe. 1 1 She caused that same minister of hers to go unto Plagus, & (enabling his words with great shew of faith, & endearing them with desire of secresie) to tell him, that he found his ruine conspired by his stepmother, with certain of the noble men of that coutry, the King himselfe giving his consent, and that few daies should passe, before the putting it in praftize: with all discovering the very truth indeed, with what cunning his step- mother had proceeded. This agreing with Plangus his owne opinio, made him give him the better credit : yet not so far, as to flie out of his country (according to the naughty fellowes persuasion) but to attend, and to see further. Wherupon the fellow (by the direction of his mistresse) told him one day, that the same night, about one of the clocke, the King had appointed to have his wife, & those noble me together, to deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus: & therfore offered him, that if himselfe would agree, he would bring him into a place where he should heare all that passed ; & so have the more reason both to himselfe, and to the world, to seeke his safetie. The poore Plagus (being subjecl to that only dis- advantage of honest harts, credulitie) was perswaded by him : & arming himself (because of his late going) was closely conveied into the place appointed. In the meane time his stepmother 248 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. making all her gestures cunningly counterfait a miserable afflidtio, she lay almost groveling on the flower of her chaber, not suffering any body to comfort her; untill they calling for her husband, and he held of with long enquiry, at length, she told him (even almost crying out every word) that she was wery of her life, since she was brought to that plunge, either to conceale her husbads murther, or accuse her sonne, who had ever bene more deare, then a sonne unto her. Then with many interruptions and exclamations she told him, that her sonne Plangus (solliciting her in the old affection betweene them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of the King; assuring her, that though all the lawes in the world were against it, he would marrie her when he were King. She had not fully said thus much, with many pitifulli2 digressios, whe in comes the same fellow, that brought Plagus: & runing himself out of breath, fell at the Kings feet, beseech- ing him to save himself, for that there was a man with sword drawen in the next roome. The King affrighted, wet out, & called his gard, who entring the place, foud indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but stading sus- piciously inough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking he had put up his sworde because of the noise) never tooke leasure to heare his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death in the market place. But the day had no sooner opened the eies & eares of his 13 friends & followers, but that there was a little army of them, who came, and by force delivered him ; although nubers on the other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) tooke armes for the King. But Plangus, though he might have used the force of his friends to revenge his wrong, and get the crowne; yet the naturall love of his father, and hate to make their suspition seeme just, caused him rather to choose a volutarie exile, the to make his fathers death the purchase of his life : & therefore went he to Tiridates, whose mother was his fathers sister, living in his Court eleven or twelve yeares, ever hoping by his intercession, and his owne desert, to recover his fathers grace. At the end of which time, the warre of Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof discoursed unto you. But his father had so deeply engraved the suspicion in his 14 249 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES hart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearefuH guiltines, then of an humble faithfulnes; & therfore continued his hate, with such vehemencie, that he did ever hate his Nephew Tiridatesy and afterwards his neece Artaxia, because in their Court he received countenance, leaving no meanes unattepted of destroying his son; among other, employing that wicked servant of his, who undertooke to empoyson him. But his cuning disguised him not so well, but that the watchful servats of Plagus did discover him. Wherupo the wretch was taken, & (before his wel-deserved execution) by torture forced to confesse the particularities of this, which in generall I have told you. 15 Which cofession autentically set downe (though Tiridates with solemne Embassage sent it to the King) wrought no effect. For the King having put the reines of the government into his wives hande, never did so much as reade it ; but sent it streight by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred upon Plangus, for the death of their servaunt. And now finding, that his absence, and their reportes had much diminished the wavering peoples affeftion towardes Plangus, with advauncing fit persons for faction, and graunting great immunities to the commons, they prevailed so farre, as to cause the sonne of the second wife, called Palladius, to be proclaymed successour, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was driven to continue his serving Tiridates y as he did in the warre against Erona^ and brought home Artaxia, as my sister tolde you; when Erona by the treason of Antiphilus^ But at that word she stopped. For Basi/ius (not able longer to abide their absence) came sodainly among them, and with smiling counten- ance (telling Zelmane he was affraid she had stollen away his daughters) invited them to follow the Sunnes counsel in going then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was readie to set. They yeelded, Zelmane meaning some other time to understand the storie of Antiphilus treason, and Eronas daunger, whose case she greatly tendred. But Miso had no sooner espied Basiliusy but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could utter it, she set forth the sawcinesse of Amphialus. But Basi/ius onely attended what Zelmanes opinion was, who though she hated AmphialuSy yet the nobilitie of her courage prevailed over it, and she desired he might be pardoned that youthfull error; 250 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. considering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights in the world; so as hereafter he governed himselfe, as one remembring his fault. Basilius giving the infinite tearmes of praises to Zelmanes both valour in conquering, and pittifulnesse in pardoning, commanded no more words to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure. CHAP. 1 6. 1 The cumber of Zelmanes love and lovers. * Gynecias love- lamentations. * Zelmanes passions 4 fcf sonet. 5 Basilius-^/'j wooing^ and Zelmanes answeres. 6 Philoclea_/W atturney to plead her fathers cause. SO brought he them up to visite his wife, where betweene I her, & him, the poore Zelmane receaved a tedious enter- tainemet; oppressed with being loved, almost as much, as with loving. Basilius not so wise in covering his passion, could make his toong go almost no other pace, but to runne into those immoderate praises, which the foolish Lover thinkes short of his Mistres, though they reach farre beyond the heavens. But Gynecia (whome womanly modestie did more outwardly bridle) yet did oftentimes use the advantage of her sexe in kissing Zelmane y as she sate upon her bedde-side by her; which was but still more and more sweete incense, to cast upon the fire wherein her harte was sacrificed : Once Zelmane could not stirre, but that, (as if they had bene poppets, whose motion stoode onely upon her pleasure) Basilius with serviceable steppes, Gynecia with greedie eyes would follow her. Basilius mind Gynecia well knew, and could have found in her hart to laugh at, if mirth could have borne any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynecias a6lions were interpreted by Basilius^ as pro- ceeding from jealousie of his amorousnesse. Zelmane betwixt both (like the poore childe, whose father while he beates him, will make him beleeve it is for love; or like the sicke man, to whom the Phisition sweares, the ill-tasting wallowish medicine he prefers, is of a good taste) their love was hatefull, their courtesie troublesome, their presence cause of her absence 251 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES thence, where not onely her light, but her life consisted. Alas (thought she to her selfe) deare Dorus, what ods is there betweene thy destiny & mine? For thou hast to doo in thy pursuite but with shepherdish folkes, who trouble thee with a little envious care, and affected diligence. But I (besides that I have now fifiso, the worst of thy divels, let loose upon me) am waited on by Princes, and watched by the two wakefull eyes of Love and Jealousie. Alas, incomparable Philoclea, thou ever seest me, but dost never see me as I am : thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit for thee to heare. Alas who ever but I was imprisoned in libertie, and banished being still present? To whom but me have lovers bene jailours, and honour a captivitie ? 2 But the night comming on with her silent steps upon the, they parted ech from other (if at lest they could be parted, of whom every one did live in another) and went about to flatter sleepe with their beds, that disdained to bestow it selfe liberally upon such eies which by their will would ever be looking: and in lest measure upon Gynecia^ who (when Basllius after long tossing was gotten a sleepe, and the cheereful comfort of the lights removed from her) kneeling up in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swolne hart, to renue the curses of her birth; & the in a maner embracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of mine (said she) which never heretofore couldst accuse me of one defiled thought, how canst thou now receave this desastred changeling? Happie, happie be they onely which be not: and thy blessednes onely in this respecl: thou maist feele, that thou hast no feeling. With that she furiously tare off great part of her faire haire: Take here 6 forgotten vertue (said she) this miserable sacrifice; while my soule was clothed with modestie, that was a comely ornament : now why should nature crowne that head, which is so wicked, as her onely despaire is, she cannot be enough wicked? More she would have said, but that Basi/ius (awaked with the noise) tooke her in his armes, & bega to cofort her; the good-man thinking, it was all for a jealous love of him : which humor if she would a litle have maintained, perchance it might have weakned his new con- ceaved fancies. But he finding her answeres wandring fro the purpose, left her to her selfe (glad the next morning to take the advatage of a sleepe, which a little before day, overwatched 252 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. with sorow, her teares had as it were sealed up in her eyes) to have the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by these two lovers, & ever kept from any meane to declare herselfe, found in her selfe a dayly encrease of her violent desires; like a river the more swelling, the more his current is stopped. The chiefe recreation she could find in her anguish, was 3 somtime to visite that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her unhap. There would she kisse the ground, and thanke the trees, blisse the aier, & do dutifull reverence to every thing that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then returne again to her inward thoughts; somtimes despaire darkning all her imaginations, sometimes the active passion of Love cheering and cleering her invention, how to unbar that combersome hinderance of her two ill-matched lovers. But this morning Basi/ius himself gave her good occasion to go beyond them. For having combd and trickt himself more curiously, then any time fortie winters before, comming where Zelmane was, he found her given over to her musicall muses, to the great pleasure of the good old Basilius, who retired himselfe behinde a tree, while she with a most sweete voice did utter these passionate verses. E>ed I am, and yet complaine of Love: 4 As loving not, accused, in Love I die. When pittie most I crave, I cruell prove : Still seeking Love, love found as much I flie. Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire: What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more: Bard of my will, I have beyond desire : I waile for want, and yet am chokte with store. This is thy worke, thou God for ever blinde : Though thousands old, a Boy entitled still. Thus children doo the silly birds they finde, With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill. Yet thus much Love, O Love, I crave of thee : Let me be /ov'd, or els not loved be. Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till he 5 perceaved she had fully ended her musick. But then loth to 253 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES loose the pretious fruite of time, he presented himselfe unto her, falling downe upon both his knees, and holding up his hands, as the old governesse of Danae is painted, when she sodainly saw the golde shoure, O heavely woma, or earthly Goddesse (said he) let not my presence be odious unto you, nor my humble suit seeme of small weight in your eares. Vouchsafe your eies to descend upon this miserable old-ma, whose life hath hitherto bene maintained but to serve as an encrease of your beautiful triumphs. You only have over throwne me, & in my bondage cosists my glory. Suffer not your owne worke to be despised of you : but looke upon him with pittie, whose life serves for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a coutenace ascanses she understood him not) told him, It became her evil to suffer such excessive reverence of him, but that it worse became her to corredl him, to whom she owed duetie: that the opinion she had of his wisedome was such, as made her esteeme greatly of his words; but that the words themselves sounded so, as she could not imagine what they might intend. Intend? (said Basitius, proud that that was brought in question) what may they intend, but a refreshing of my soule, and a swaging of my heat, and enjoying those your excellencies, wherein my life is upheld, and my death threatned? Zelmane lifting up her face as if she had receaved a mortall injurie of him, And is this the devotion your ceremonies have bene bent unto? said she: Is it the disdaine of my estate, or the opinion of my lightnesse, that have emboldned such base fancies towards me ? enjoying quoth you ? now little joy come to them that yeeld to such enjoying. Poore Basi/ius was so appalled, that his legges bowed under him; his eyes lookt as though he would gladly hide himself; and his old blood going to his hart, a generall shaking all over his bodie possessed him. At length with a wanne mouth ; he was about to give a stammering answere, when it came into Zelmanes head by this devise to make her profile of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said unto him. Your words (mightie Prince) were unfit either for me to heare, or you to speaker but yet the large testimonie I see of your affection makes me willing to suppresse a great number of errors. Onely thus much I thinke good to say, that the same words in my Ladie Philocleas mouth, as from one woman to another (so as there were no other bodie by) 254 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. might have had a better grace; and perchance have found a gentler receipt. Basilius (whose senses by Desire were held open, and con- 6 ceipt was by Love quickned) heard scarcely halfe her answere out, but that (as if speedie flight might save his life) he turned away, and ran with all the speede his bodie would suffer him, towardes his daughter Philoclea : whom he found at that time duetifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiouslie watch- ing her; having left Mopsa to doo the like service to Pamela. Basilius foorthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the con- juring words which Desire could endite, and authoritie utter) besought her she would preserve his life, in who her life was begonne ; she would save his graye haires from rebuke, and his aged mind from despaire; that if she were not cloyed with his companie, and that she thought not the earth over-burdened with him, she would coole his fierie griefe, which was to be done but by her breath. That in fine, whatsoever he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirite depending of her: that if she continued cruell, he could no more sustaine his life, then the earth remaine fruitefull in the Sunnes continuall absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts : and that she needed not disdaine any service (though never so meane) which was warranted by the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more glad then ever she had knowen her selfe, that she might by this occasion, enjoy the private conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweete a feeling of vertue in her minde, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast over her faire thoughts; but with humble grace answered her father: That there needed nether promise nor perswasion to her, to make her doo her uttermost for her fathers service. That for Zelmanes favour, she would in all vertuous sort seeke it towards him : and that as she woulde not pearce further into his meaning, then himselfe should declare, so would she interprete all his doinges to be accomplished in goodnes: and therfore desired, (if otherwise it were) that he woulde not imparte it to her, who then should be forced to beginne (by true obedience) a shew of disobedience: rather perfourming his generall commandement, which had ever beene, to embrace vertue, then any new particular, sprong out of passion, and contrarie to the former. Basilius content to 255 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES take that, since he could have no more (thinking it a great point, if by her meanes, he could get but a more free accesse unto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, & took her proffer thakfully, desiring onely a speedy returne of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Mho streight behind her, like Alefto following Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much a doo, she being sharp-set upon the fulfilling of a shrewde office, in over-looking Philoclea : and so said to Basilius, that she did as she was comanded, and could not answere it to Gynecia, if she were any whitte from Philoclea: telling him true, that he did evill to take her charge from her. But Basilius, (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stird a foote to trouble his daughter) gave her a stoppe for that while. CHAP. 17. 1 Zelmanes teares, "and tearefull dittie. 'Philoclea enters con- ference with her. * She shues, and shewes her selfe Prince Pyrocles. 5 Philoclea feares much, but loves more. 6 Their conclusion, 7 with reentrie to their intermitted historiologie. SO away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her travayling mind. For well she sawe, her father was growen her adverse partie, and yet her fortune such, as she must favour her Rivall ; and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither that did hurt her, nor any contrarie meane helpe her. I But she walkt but a little on, before she saw Zelmane lying upon a banke, with her face so bent over Ladon, that (her teares falling into the water) one might have thought, that she began meltingly to be metamorphosed to the under-running river. But by and by, with speech she made knowen, as well that she lived, as that she sorrowed. Faire streames (said she) that do vouchsafe in your cleerenes to represent unto me my blubbered face, let the tribute-offer of my teares unto you, pro- cure your stay a while with me, that I may beginne yet at last, to finde some thing that pities me: and that all thinges of comfort and pleasure doo not flie away from me. But if the 256 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. violence of your spring commaund you to haste away, to pay your dueties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carrie with you these fewe wordes, and let the uttermost ends of the world know them. A Love more cleer then you selves, dedicated to a Love (I feare) more cold then your selves, with the cleerenes layes a night of sorow upon me; and with the coldenes en- flames a worlde of fire within me. With that she tooke a willowe stick, and wrote in a sandie banke these fewe verses. OVer these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes, 2 (Mine eyes even great in labour with their teares) I layde my face; my face wherein there lyes Clusters of clowdes, which no Sunne ever cleares. In watry glasse my watrie eyes I see: Sorrowes ill easde, where sorrowes painted be. My thoughts imprisonde in my secreat woes y With flamie breathes doo issue oft in sound : The sound to this strange aier no sooner goes, But that it dooth with Echoes force rebound. And make me heare the plaints I would refraine : Thus outward helps my inward griefes maintaine. Now in this sande I would discharge my minde, And cast from me part of my burdnous cares : But in the sand my tales foretolde I finde. And see therein how well the writer fares. Since streame, aier, sand, mine eyes and eares conspire: What hope to quench, where each thing blowes the fire ? And assoon as she had written them (a new swarme of3 thoughts stinging her mind) she was ready with her foot to give the new-borne letters both death and buriall. But Philoclea (to whom delight of hearing and seeing was before a stay from interrupting her) gave her self to be seen unto her, with such a lightning of Beauty upo Zelmane, that nether she could looke on, nor would looke of. At last Philoclea (having a little mused how to cut the threede even, betweene her owne hopelesse affection, and her fathers unbridled hope) with eyes, cheekes, and lippes, (whereof each sange their parte, to make up the harmonic of bashfulnesse) began to say, My Father to s. A. R 257 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES whom I owe my self, & therefore, When Zelmane (making a womanish habite to be the Armour of her boldnesse, giving up her life to the lippes of Philoclea^ and taking it againe by the sweetenesse of those kisses) humbly besought her to keepe her speach for a while within the Paradise of her minde. For well she knew her fathers errad, who should soon receive a sufficient answere. But now she demaunded leave not to loose this long sought-for commoditie of time, to ease her harte thus farre, that if in her agonies her destinie was to be condemned by Philocleas mouth, at lest Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned. Philoclea easily yeelded to graunt her owne desire: and so making the greene banke the situation, and the river the prospect of the most beautiful buildings of Nature, Zelmane doubting how to beginne, though her thoughts already had runne to the ende, with a minde fearing the unworthinesse of every worde that should be presented to her eares, at length brought it forth in this manner. 4 Most beloved Ladie, the incomparable excellencies of your selfe, (waited-on by the greatnesse of your estate) and the importaunce of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth require both many ceremonies before the beginning, and many circumstaunces in the uttering my speech, both bolde, and fearefull. But the small opportunitie of envious occasion (by the malicious eie hateful Love doth cast upon me) and the extreme bent of my affection (which will eyther breake out in wordes, or breake my harte) compell me, not onely to embrace the smallest time, but to passe by respects due unto you, in respecl; of your poore caitifes life, who is now, or never to be preserved. I doo therefore vowe unto you, hereafter never more to omit all dutifull forme: doo you onely now vouchsafe to heare the matter of a minde most perplexed. If ever the sound of Love have come to your eares, or if ever you have understood, what force it hath had to conquere the strongest hartes, and change the most setled estates : receive here an example of those straunge Tragedies ; one, that in him selfe conteineth the particularities of all those misfortunes: and from hencefoorth beleeve that such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see (I say) a living image, and a present storie of what Love can doo, when he is bent to ruine. But alas, whether goest thou my tongue ? or how doth my 258 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. harte consent to adventure the revealing his neerest touching secrete? But peace Feare, thou commest too late, when already the harme is taken. Therefore I say againe, O onely Princesse, attend here a miserable miracle of affedtion. Behold here before your eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon^ whome you onely have brought to this game of Fortune, and unused Metamorphosis: whome you onely have made neglect his countrie, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake to be Pyrocles : the same Pyrocles, who (you heard) was betrayed by being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. O most true presage : for these traytors, my eyes, putting me in a shippe of Desire, which dayly burneth, those eyes (I say) which betraied me, will never leave till they have drowned me. But be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath made to be the Load-starre of comfort, be not the Rocke of shipwracke: you whome vertue hath made the Princesse of felicitie, be not the minister of ruine: you, whom my choyse hath made the Goddesse of my safetie, O let not, let not, from you be powred upon me destruction. Your faire face hath manie tokens in it of amazement at my wordes: thinke then what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no wordes can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I desire, that my desire may be waied in the ballances of Honour, and let Vertue hold them. For if the highest Love in no base person may aspire to grace, then may I hope your beautie will not be without pittie. If otherwise you be (alas but let it never be so) resolved, yet shall not my death be comfortles, receiving it by your sentence. The joy which wrought into Pygmalions mind, while he found his beloved image was softer, & warmer in his folded armes, till at length it accoplished his gladnes with a perfect womans shape (still beautified with the former perfections) was even such, as by each degree of Ze/manes wordes creepingly entred into Philoclea : till her pleasure was fully made up with the manifesting of his being; which was such as in hope did over-come Hope. Yet Doubt would faine have playd his parte in her minde, and cald in question, how she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Love streight stood up & deposed, that a lie could not come from the mouth of Zelmane. Besides, a certain sparke of honour, which rose in her well- R2 259 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES disposed minde, made her feare to be alone with him, with whom alone she desired to be (with all the other cotradi<5tions growing in those minds, which nether absolutly clime the rocke of Vertue, nor freely sinke into the sea of Vanitie) but that sparke soone gave place, or at lest gave no more light in her mind, then a cadle doth in the Sunnes presence. But even sicke with a surfet of joy, and fearefull of she knewe not what (as he that newly findes huge treasures, doubtes whether he sleepe or no ; or like a fearfull Deere, which then lookes most about, when he comes to the best feede) with a shrugging kinde of tremor through all her principall partes, she gave these affectionate wordes for answere. Alas, how painefull a thing it is to a devided minde to make a wel-joyned answere ? how harde it is to bring inwarde shame to outward confession? and what handsomnes trow you can be observed in that speeche, which is made one knowes not to whom ? Shall I say 6 Zel- mane\ Alas your wordes be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your shew is manifest against it. But this, this I may well say; If I had continued as I ought, Philoclea, you had either never bene, or ever bene Zelmane: you had either never attempted this change, set on with hope, or never discovered it, stopt with despaire. But I feare me, my behaviour ill governed, gave you the first comfort : I feare me, my affeclion ill hid, hath give you this last assurance: I feare indeed, the weakenesse of my government before, made you thinke such a maske would be gratefull unto me: & my weaker governmet since, makes you to pull of the visar. What shall I doo then? shal I seeke far-fetched inventions? shall I labour to lay marble coulours over my ruinous thoughts? or rather, though the purenes of my virgin-minde be stained, let me keepe the true simplicitie of my word. True it is, alas, too true it is, 6 Zelmane (for so I love to call thee, since in that name my love first began, and in the shade of that name my love shall best lie hidden,) that even while so thou wert, (what eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fitter to desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sory, or that my love must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles? how may that wel be, since when thou wert Ze/mane y the despaire thou mightest not be thus, did most torment me. Thou hast then the viclorie: use it with vertue. Thy vertue 260 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. wan me; with vertue preserve me. Doost thou love me? keepe me then still worthy to be beloved. Then held she her tongue, and cast downe a self-accusing 6 looke, finding, that in her selfe she had (as it were) shot out of the bow of her affeclio, a more quick opening of her minde, then she minded to have done. But Pyrocles so caried up with joy, that he did not envy the Gods felicitie, presented her with some jewels of right princely value, as some litle tokens of his love, & qualitie: and withall shewed her letters from his father King Euarchus, unto him, which even in the Sea had amongst his jewels bene preserved. But little needed those proofes to one, who would have fallen out with her selfe, rather then make any contrarie conje&ures to Zelmanes speeches; so that with such imbracements, as it seemed their soules desired to meete, and their harts to kisse, as their mouthes did: which faine Pyrocles would have sealed with the chiefe armes of his desire, but Philoclea commaunded the contrary; and yet they passed the promise of mariage. And then at Philocleas entreaty, who was willing to pur- 7 loine all occasions of remayning with Zelmane, she tolde her the storie of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona^ for the rest she had already understood of her sister. For (saide she) I have understood, how you first in the companie of your Noble cousin Musidorus parted from Thessalia, and of divers adventures, which with no more daunger then glory you passed through, till your comming to the succour of the Queene Erona ; and the ende of that warre (you might perceive by my selfe) I had understood of the Prince Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, until you came, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poore me, that I know not, the fame thereof having rather shewed it by pieces; then delivered any full forme of it. Therefore, deere Pyrocles (for what can mine eares be so sweetly fed with as to heare you of you) be liberall unto me of those things which have made you indeede pretious to the worlde, and now doubt not to tell of your perils; for since I have you here out of them, even the remembraunce of them is pleasaunt. Pyrocles easily perceived she was content with kindnesse, to put of occasion of further kindnesse ; wherein Love shewed himselfe a cowardly boy, that durst not attempt for feare of offending. But rather Love prooved him selfe 261 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES valiant, that durst with the sworde of reverent dutie gaine-stand the force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that though he knewe this discourse was to entertaine him from a more streight parley, yet he durst not but kisse his rod, and gladly make much of the entertainement which she allotted unto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastning his brest for too much desiring, Sweete Princesse of my life (said he) what Trophees, what Triumph, what Monuments, what Histories may ever make my fame yeeld so sweete a Musicke to my eares, as that it pleaseth you to lend your minde to the knowledge of any thing touching Pyroc/es, onely therefore of value, because he is your Pyrocles ? And therefore grow I now so proud, as to thinke it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to give it hearing. Therefore (onely height of my hope) vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and setling Erona in her governement; for setled we left her, howsoever since (as I perceived by your speech the last day) the ungrateful treason of her ill-chosen husband overthrew her (a thing in trueth never till this time by me either heard, or suspected) for who could thinke without having such a minde as Antiphilus, that so great a beautie as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not have held his affeftion ? so great goodnes could not have bound gratefulnesse ? and so high advancement could not have satisfied his ambition ? But therefore true it is, that wickednesse may well be compared to a bottomlesse pit, into which it is farre easier to keepe ones selfe from falling, then being fallen, to give ones selfe any stay from falling infinitely. But for my Cosen, and me, upon this cause we parted from Erona. CHAP. 1 8. 1 Anaxius-/j surcuidrie ; 2 and challenge to Pyrocles, accepted. * The execution of Ladies done on a Light-of-love. 4 Pyrocles- his intercession in the cause. 6 The lewd parts of that light lecher. 6 His scoffing excuses. 7 Didos revenge on him stopped, 8 and his revenge on her stayed by Pyrocles. l/ardes (the brave & mighty Prince, whom it was my fortune to kill in the cobat for Erona} had three Nephewes, sonnes to a sister of his; all three set among the 262 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. foremost racks of Fame for great minds to attept, and great force to perfourme what they did attempt; especially the eldest, by name Anaxius; to whom al men would willingly have yeelded the height of praise, but that his nature was such, as to bestow it upon himselfe, before any could give it. For of so unsupportable a pride he was, that where his deede might well stirre envie, his demeanor did rather breed disdain. And if it be true that the Gyants ever made war against heaven, he had bene a fit ensigne-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing unjust, while his liking was his justice. Now he in these wars had flatly refused his aid; because he could not brooke, that the worthy Prince Plagus was by his cosen Tiridates preferred before him. For allowing no other weights, but the sword & speare in judging of desert, how-much he esteemed himselfe before Plangus in that, so much would he have had his allow- ance in his service. But now that he understood that his uncle was slaine by 2 me, I thinke rather scorne that any should kil his uncle, then any kindnesse (an un-used guest to an arrogant soule) made him seeke his revenge; I must confesse in manner gallant enough. For he sent a challenge to me to meete him at a place appointed, in the confines of the kingdome of Lycia ; where he would prove upon me, that I had by some trecherie overcome his uncle, whom els many hundreds such as I, could not have withstood. Youth & successe made me willing enough to accept any such bargaine ; especially, because I had heard that your cosen Amphialus (who for some yeares hath universally borne the name of the best Knight in the world) had divers times fought with him, & never bene able to master him ; but so had left him, that every man thought Anaxius in that one vertue of curtesie far short of him, in al other his match; Ana xius stil deeming himselfe for his superiour. There- fore to him I would goe, and I would needs goe alone, because so I understood for certaine, he was; and (I must confesse) desirous to do something without the company of the incom- parable Prince Musidorus, because in my hart I acknowledge that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in my self, whatsoever before I had done. For of him indeed (as of any worldly cause) I must grant, as received, what ever there is, or 263 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example, giving me in him so lively an Image of vertue, as ignorance could not cast such mist over mine eyes, as not to see, and to love it, and all with such deare friendship and care, as (6 heavens) how ca my life ever requite unto him? which made me indeed find in my selfe such a kind of depending upon him, as without him I found a weakenesse, and a mis- trustfulnes of my selfe, as one strayed from his best strength, when at any time I mist him. Which humour perceiving to over-rule me, I strave against it; not that I was unwilling to depend upon him in judgemet, but by weakenesse I would not ; which though it held me to him, made me unworthy of him. Therfore I desired his leave, and obtained it: such confidence he had in me, preferring my reputation before his owne tender- nesse; and so privately went from him, he determining (as after I knew) in secreat maner, not to be far from the place, where we appointed to meete, to prevent any foule play that might be offered unto me. Full loth was Erona to let us depart from her, (as it were) forefeeling the harmes which after fell to her. But I, (ridde fully from those combers of kind- nesse, and halfe a dayes journey in my way toward Anaxius) met an adventure, (though in it selfe of small importance) I will tell you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to as great comber and danger, as lightly any might escape. 3 As I past through a Laund (ech side whereof was so bordred both with high tymber trees, and copses of farre more humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitarie minde to looke for no other companions then the wild burgesses of the forrest) I heard certaine cries, which comming by pawses to mine eares from within the wood of the right hand, made me well assured by the greatnesse of the crie, it was the voice of a man, though it were a verie unmanlike voice, so to crie. But making mine eare my guide, I left not many trees behind me, before I saw at the bottome of one of them a gentle-man bound (with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tomble and tosse, but neither runne nor resist he could. Upo him (like so many Eagles upon an Oxe) were nine Gentle- women ; truely such, as one might well enough say, they were hansome. Each of them helde bodkins in their handes, wherewith they continually pricked him, having bene before-hand unarmed of 264 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. any defence from the wast upward, but onely of his shirte: so as the poore man wept and bled, cryed and prayed, while they sported themselves in his paine, and delighted in his prayers, as the arguments of their vidlorie. I was moved to compassion, and so much the more that he 4 straight cald to me for succour, desiring me at lest to kill him, to deliver him from those tormenters. But before my-self could resolve, much lesse any other tell what I would resolve, there came in cholericke hast towards me about seve or eight knights ; the foremost of which willed me to get me away, and not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due revenge, but with so over-mastring a maner of pride, as truly my hart could not brooke it: & therfore (answering them, that how I would have defended him from the Ladies I knew not, but from them I would) I began a combate first with him particularly, and after his death with the others (that had lesse good maners) joyntly. But such was the end of it, that I kept the fielde with the death of some, and flight of others. In so much as the women (afraid, what angrie viftorie would bring forth) ranne away; saving onely one; who was so flesht in malice, that neither during, nor after the fight, she gave any truce to her crueltie, but still used the little instrument of her great spight, to the well-witnest paine of the impatient patient : and was now about to put out his eies, which all this while were spared, because they should do him the discomfort of seeing who prevailed over him. When I came in, and after much ado, brought her to some conference, (for some time it was before she would harken, more before she would speake; & most, before she would in her speech leave off that remem- brance of her bodkin) but at length whe I puld off my head- peece, and humbly entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruell; out of breath more with choller (which increased in his owne exercise) the with the paine she tooke, much to this purpose she gave her griefe unto my knowledge. Gentle- man (said she) much it is against my will to forbeare any time the executing of my just revege upon this naughtie creature, a man in nothing, but in deceaving women ; But because I see you are young, and like enough to have the power (if you would have the mind) to do much more mischiefe, then he, 265 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES I am content upon this bad subject to reade a lecture to your vertue. 5 This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confesse is noble (but what is that to him, if it shalbe a staine to his deade auncestors to have left such an off[s]pring ?) in shape as you see not uncomely (indeed the fit maske of his disguised falshood) in conversation wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome ; his eyes full of merie simplicitie, his words of hartie companable- nesse; and such a one, whose head one would not think so stayed, as to thinke mischievously: delighted in al such things, which by imparting their delight to others, makes the user therof welcome ; as, Musicke, Daunsing, Hunting, Feasting, Riding, & such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can keepe him at armes ende, neede never wish a better copanio. But under these qualities lies such a poysonous addar as I will tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in all places acceptable) he creepes, nay (to say truely) he flies so into the favour of poore sillie women, that I would be too much ashamed to confesse, if I had not revenge in my hande, as well as shame in my cheekes. For his hart being wholy delighted in deceiving us, we could never be warned, but rather, one bird caught, served for a stale to bring in more. For the more he gat, the more still he shewed, that he (as it were) gave away to his new mistresse, whe he betrayed his promises to the former. The cunning of his flatterie, the readines of his teares, the infinitenes of his vowes, were but among the weakest threedes of his nette. But the stirring our owne passions, and by the entrance of them, to make himselfe Lord of our forces ; there lay his Masters part of cunning, making us now jealous, now envious, now proud of what we had, desirous of more; now giving one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many, Subjecl to her; now with an estranged looke, making her feare the losse of that minde, which indeede could never be had: never ceasing humblenes and diligence, till he had imbarked us in some such disadvantage, as we could not return dry-shod ; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a craftie tyrant. For so would he use his imperiousnes, that we had a delightfull feare, and an awe which made us loath to lose our hope. And, which is strangest (when sometimes with late repentance I thinke of it) 266 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. I must confesse, even in the greatest tempest of my judgemet was I never driven to think him excellent, and yet so could set my minde, both to gette and keepe him, as though therein had laien my felicitie: like them I have scene play at the ball, growe extremely earnest, who shoulde have the ball, and yet every one knew it was but a ball. But in the end, the bitter sauce of the sport was, that we had ether our hartes broken with sorrow, or our estates spoyled with being at his direction, or our honours for ever lost, partly by our owne faults, but principally by his faultie using of our faults. For never was there man that could with more scornefull eyes beholde her, at whose feete he had lately laine, nor with a more unmanlike braverie use his tongue to her disgrace, which lately had song Sonets of her praises: being so naturally inconstant, as I marvell his soule findes not some way to kill his bodie, whereto it had beene so long united. For so hath he dealt with us (unhappie fooles,) as we could never tell, whether he made greater haste after he once liked, to enjoy, or after he once enjoyed, to forsake. But making a glorie of his own shame, it delighted him to be challenged of unkindnesse : it was a triumph unto him to have his mercie called for: and he thought the fresh colours of his beautie were painted in nothing so well, as in the ruines of his Lovers: yet so farre had we engaged our selves, (unfortunate soules) that we listed not complaine, since our complaintes could not but carrie the greatest accusation to our selves. But everie of us (each for her selfe,) laboured all meanes how to recover him, while he rather daily sent us com- panions of our deceipt, then ever returned in any sound and faithfull manner. Till at length he concluded all his wronges with betrothing himselfe to one (I must confesse) worthie to be liked, if any worthinesse might excuse so unworthie a change- ablenesse; leaving us nothing but remorse for what was past, and despaire of what might followe. Then indeede, the common injurie made us all joyne in friendshippe, who till that time, had employed our endevours one against the other. For, we thought nothing was a more condemning of us, then the justifying of his love to her by manage: then Despaire made Feare valiant, and Revenge gave Shame countenance: whereupon, we (that you saw here) devised how to get him among us alone : which he (suspecting no such matter of them, 267 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still abused) easilie gave us opportunitie to doo. 6 And a man may see, even in this, how soone Rulers growe proude, and in their pride foolish: he came with such an authoritie among us, as if the Planets had done inough for us, that by us once he had beene delighted. And when we began in courteous manner, one after the other, to lay his unkindnesse unto him, he seeing himselfe confronted by so many (like a resolute Orator,) went not to deniall, but to justifie his cruell falshoode, and all with such jestes, and disdainfull passages, that if the injurie could not be made greater, yet were our conceiptes made the apter to apprehende it. Among other of his answeres (forsooth) I shall never forgette, how he woulde proove it was no inconstancie to chaunge from one Love to an other, but a great constancie; and contrarie, that which we call constancie, to be most changeable. For (said he) I ever loved my Delight, & delighted alwayes in what was Lovely: and where-soever I founde occasion to obtaine that, I constantly folowed it. But these constant fooles you speak of, though their Mistres grow by sicknes foule, or by fortune miserable, yet stil will love her, and so committe the absurdest inconstancie that may be, in changing their love from fairenes to foulenesse, and from lovelines to his contrarie ; like one not content to leave a friend, but will streight give over himself to his mortall enemie: where I (whom you call in- constant) am ever constant ; to Beautie, in others ; and Delight in my self. And so in this jollie scoffing braverie he went over us all, saying, He left one, because she was over-waiwarde ; another, because she was too soone woon ; a third, because she was not merie inough ; a fourth, because she was over-game- some ; the fifth, because she was growen with griefe subject to sicknesse ; the sixt, because she was so foolish, as to be jelous of him; the seventh, because she had refused to carie a letter for him, to another that he loved; the eight, because she was not secrete; the ninth, because she was not liberall: but to me, who am named Dido, (and indeede have mette with a false Mneeas) to me, I say, (6 the ungratefull villaine) he could finde no other fault to objecl:, but that (perdie) he met with many fayrer. 7 But when he had thus plaide the carelesse Prince, we 268 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. (having those servants of ours in readines, whom you lately so manfully overcame) laide holde of him ; beginning at first but that trifling revenge, in which you found us busie; but meaning afterwardes to have mangled him so, as should have lost his credit for ever abusing more. But as you have made my fellowes flie away, so for my part the greatnesse of his wrong overshadowes in my judgement the greatnesse of any daunger. For was it not inough for him, to have deceived me, & through the deceipt abused me, & after the abuse forsaken me, but that he must now, of al the company, & before all the company lay want of beautie to my charge? Many fairer? I trow eve in your judgemet, Sir, (if your eies do not beguile me) not many fairer; & I know (whosoever saies the cotrary) there are not many fairer. And of whom should I receive this reproch, but of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many fairer? And therefore how-soever my fellowes pardon his injuries, for my parte I will ever remember, & remember to revenge this scorne of al scornes. With that she to him afresh; & surely would have put out his eies (who lay muet for shame, if he did not sometimes crie for feare) if I had not lept from my horse, & mingling force with intreaty, staied her furie. But, while I was perswading her to meekenes, comes a < number of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they should kill that woma, that had thus betraied and disgraced him. But then I was faine to forsake the ensigne; under which I had before served, and to spend my uttermost force in the protecting of the Ladie ; which so well prevailed for her, that in the ende there was a faithfull peace promised of all sides. And so I leaving her in a place of securitie (as she thought) went on my journey towards Anaxius^ for whom I was faine to stay two daies in the apointed place, he disdaining to waite for me, till he was sure I were there. 269 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES CHAP. 19. 1 The monomachie betweene Anaxius and Pyrocles ; 2 adjourned by Pyrocles to resuccour Dido. 8 The course of Didos daunger. 4 The miserablenesse of her father. 8 His carlish entertaine- ment to Pyrocles ; 6 and his treason against him. 7 Pyrocles hard bestead. 8 succoured by Musidorus: 9 both saved by the King of Iberia. 10 The execution of the traitors, and death of Dido. I T Did patientlie abide his angrie pleasure, till about that J. space of time he came (indeede, according to promise) alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to clime over any daunger. And assoone as ever he came neere me, in fit distaunce for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury skilfully guided) ran upon me; which I (in the best sort I could) resisted, having kept my selfe ready for him, because I had understood, that he observed but few complements in matters of armes, but such as a proud anger did indite unto him. And so putting our horses into a full careere, we hit ech other upon the head with our Launces: I think he felte my blowe; for my parte (I must confesse) I never received the like: but I thinke though my senses were astonished, my minde forced them to quicken themselves, because I had learned of him, how little favour he is woont to show in any matter of advantage. And indeede'he was turned, and comming upon me with his sworde drawne, both our staves having bene broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to answere him, that truely I know not who gave the first blowe. But whoso- ever gave the first, it was quickly seconded by the second. And indeed (excellentest Ladie) I must say truely, for a time it was well fought betweene us; he undoubtedly being of singular valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too much loftinesse) but as by the occasion of the combate, winning and loosing ground, we chaunged places, his horse happened to come upon the point of the broken speare, which fallen to the ground chaunced to stand upward; so as it lighting upon his hart, the horse died. He driven to dismount, threatned, if I 270 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. did not the like, to doo as much for my horse, as Fortune had done for his. But whether for that, or because I would not be beholding to Fortune for any part of the vi&orie, I descended. So began our foote-fight in such sort, that we were well 2 entred to bloud of both sides, when there comes by, that unconstant Pamphilus^ whom I had delivered (easie to be knowne, for he was bare faced) with a dozen armed men after him; but before him he had Dido (that Ladie, who had most sharpely punished him) riding upon a palfrey, he following her with most unmanlike crueltie ; beating her with wandes he had in his hande, she crying for sense of payne, or hope of succour : which was so pittifull a sight unto me, that it mooved me to require Anaxius to deferre our combate, till an other day, and now to perfourme the duties of Knighthood in helping this distressed Ladie. But he that disdaines to obey any thing but his passion (which he cals his mind) bad me leave of that thought ; but when he had killed me, he would then (perhaps) go to her succour. But I well finding the fight would be long betweene us (longing in my hart to deliver the poore Dido] giving him so great a blowe, as somewhat staied him, (to terme it a right) I flatly ran away from him toward my horse, who trotting after the copanie, in mine armour I was put to some paine, but that use made me nimble unto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed me : but his prowde harte did so disdaine that exercise, that I had quickly over-run him, & over- taken my horse ; being (I must cofesse) ashamed to see a number of country folks, who happened to passe thereby, who hallowed & howted after me as at the arrantest coward, that ever shewed his shoulders to his enemie. But when I had leapt on my horse (with such speedy agility, that they all cried, O see how feare gives him wings) I turned to Anaxius, & aloud promised him to returne thether again, as soone as I had relieved the injuried Ladie. But he railing at me, with all the base wordes angry contempt could endite; I said no more, but, Anaxius^ assure thy self, I nether feare thy force, nor thy opinion. And so using no weapon of a Knight as at that time, but my spurres, I ranne in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in al their conceipts from Anaxius, which as far as I could heare, I might well heare testified with such laughters and games, that I was some few times moved to turne backe againe. 271 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 3 But the Ladies misery over-balanced my reputation so that after her I went, & with six houres hard riding (through so wild places, as it was rather the cunning of my horse sometimes, then of my selfe, so rightly to hit the way) I overgat the a little before night, neere to an old il-favoured castle, the place where I perceived they meant to perfourme their unknightly errand. For there they began to strip her of her clothes, when I came in among them, & running through the first with a lauce, the justnesse of the cause so enhabled me against the rest (falsharted in their owne wrong doing) that I had, in as short time almost as I had bene fighting with only dnaxius, delivered her from those injurious wretches : most of whom carried newes to the other world, that amongst men secret wronges are not alwaies left unpunished. As for Pamphilus, he having once scene, & (as it should seeme) remembred me, even from the beginning began to be in the rereward, and before they had left fighting, he was too far of to give them thanks for their paines. But when I had delivered to the Ladie a ful libertie, both in effecl:, & in opinion, (for some time it was before she could assure her selfe she was out of their handes, who had layd so vehement apprehension of death upon her) she then tolde me, how as she was returning toward her fathers, weakely accompanied (as too soone trusting to the falshood of reconcile- ment) Pamphilus had set upon her, and killing those that were with her, carried her selfe by such force, and with such maner as I had scene, to this place, where he meant in cruell and shamefull manner to kill her, in the sight of her owne Father; to whom he had already sent worde of it, that out of his castle windowe (for this castle, she said, was his) he might have the prospedt of his onely childes destruction, if my comming, whom (she said) he feared (as soone as he knew me by the armour) had not warraunted her from that neere approching crueltie. I was glad I had done so good a deede for a Gentlewoman not unhandsome, whome before I had in like sorte helped. But the night beginning to perswade some retiring place, the Gentlewoman, even out of countenaunce before she began her speach, much after this manner invited me to lodge that night with her father. 4 Sir (said she) how much I owe you, can be but abased by wordes, since the life I have, I holde it now the second time of 272 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. you: and therefore neede not offer service unto you, but onely to remember you, that I am your servaunt: and I would, my being so, might any way yeeld any small contentment unto you. Now onely I can but desire you to harbour your selfe this night in this castle; because the time requires it; and in truth this countrie is very daungerous for murthering theeves, to trust a sleeping life among them. And yet I must confesse, that as the love I beare you makes me thus invite you, so the same love makes me ashamed to bring you to a place, where you shalbe so (not spoke by ceremonie but by truth) miserably entertained. With that she tolde me, that though she spake of her father (whom she named Chremes] she would hide no truth from me, which was in summe, that as he was of all that region the man of greatest possessions, and riches, so was he either by nature, or an evill received opinion, given to sparing, in so unmeasurable a sorte, that he did not onely barre him selfe from the delightfull, but almost from the necessarie use thereof; scarsely allowing him selfe fitte sustenaunce of life, rather then he would spende of those goods, for whose sake onely he seemed to joye in life. Which extreame dealing (descending from himselfe upon her) had driven her to put her selfe with a great Lady of that countrie, by which occasion she had stumbled upon such mischance, as were little for the honour either of her, or her familie. But so wise had he shewed himselfe therein, as while he found his daughter maintained without his cost, he was content to be deafe to any noise of infamie : which though it had wronged her much more then she deserved, yet she could not denie, but she was driven thereby to receave more then decent favours. She concluded, that there at lest I should be free from injuries, & should be assured to her-wards to abound as much in the true causes of welcomes, as I should want of the effedts thereof. I, who had acquainted my selfe to measure the delicacie of 5 foode and rest, by hunger and wearinesse, at that time well stored of both, did not abide long entreatie ; but went with her to the Castle : which I found of good strength, having a great mote rounde about it; the worke of a noble Gentleman, of whose unthriftie sonne he had bought it. The bridge drawne up, where we were faine to crie a good while before we coulde have answeare, and to dispute a good while before answeare s. A. s 273 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES would bee brought to acceptance. At length a willingnesse, rather then a joy to receave his daughter, whome hee had lately scene so neere death, and an opinion rather brought into his heade by course, because he heard himselfe called a father; rather then any kindnesse that hee found in his owne harte, made him take us in; for my part by that time growne so wearie of such entertainement, that no regard of my selfe, but onely the importunitie of his daughter made me enter. Where I was met with this Chremes, a driveling old fellow, leane, shaking both of head and hands, alredie halfe earth, and yet then most greedie of Earth : who scarcely would give me thankes for that I had done, for feare I suppose, that thankeful- nesse might have an introduction of reward. But with a hollow voice, giving me a false welcome, I might perceave in his eye to his daughter, that it was hard to say, whether the displeasure of her company did not over-way the pleasure of her owne comming. But on he brought me, into so bare a house, that it was the pifture of miserable happinesse, and rich beggerie (served onely by a company of rusticall villaines, full of sweate and dust, not one of them other, then a labourer) in summe (as he counted it) profitable drudgerie: and all preparations both for foode and lodging such, as would make one detest nigard- nesse, it is so sluttish a vice. His talke nothing but of his povertie, for feare belike lest I should have proved a young borrower. In summe, such a man, as any enemy could not wish him worse, then to be himselfe. But there that night bidde I the burthen of being a tedious guest to a loathsome host ; over-hearing him sometimes bitterly warne his daughter of bringing such costly mates under his roofe : which she grieving at, desired much to know my name, I thinke partly of kindnesse to remember who had done some-thing for her, and partly because she assured her selfe I was such a one as would make even his miser-minde contented, with what he had done. And accordingly she demaunded my name, and estate, with such earnestnesse, that I whom Love had not as then so robbed me of my selfe, as to be another then I am, told her direftly my name and condition: whereof she was no more gladde then her father, as I might well perceave by some ill-favoured cheerefulnesse, which then first began to wrinckle it selfe in his face. 274 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. But the causes of their joyes were farre different ; for as the 6 shepheard and the butcher both may looke upon one sheepe with pleasing conceipts, but the shepheard with minde to profite himselfe by preserving, the butcher with killing him: So she rejoyced to finde that mine owne benefits had tyed me to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatnesse, and lovingly rejoyced : but his joy grew, (as I to my danger after perceived) by the occasion of the Queene Artaxias setting my head to sale, for having slaine her brother Tiridates; which being the summe of an hundreth thousand crownes (to who- soever brought me alive into her hands) that old wretch, (who had over-lived all good nature) though he had lying idly by him much more then that, yet above all things loving money, for monies owne sake determined to betray me, so well deserving of him, for to have that which he was determined never to use. And so knowing that the next morning I was resolved to go to the place where I had left Anaxius, he sent in all speed to a Captaine of a Garrison hard by; which though it belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the Captaines humor to delight so in riotous spending ; as he cared not how he came by the meanes to maintaine it) doubted not, that to be halfe with him in the gaine, he would play his quarters part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the fittest places where they might surprise me in the morning, the old caitiffe was growne so ceremonious, as he would needs ac- companie me some myles in my way ; a sufficient token to me, if Nature had made me apte to suspedt; since a churles curtesie rathely comes but either for gaine, or falshood. But I suffered him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which purpose he came out with all his clownes, horst upon such cart-jades, and so furnished, as in good faith I thought with my selfe, if that were thrift, I wisht none of my friends or subje6r.es ever to thrive. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she would also (but in my conscience with a farre better minde) prolong the time of farewell, as long as he. So we went on togither : he so old in wickednes, that he 7 could looke me in the face, and freely talke with me, whose life he had alreadie contracted for : till comming into the falling of a way which ledde us into a place, of each-side whereof men might easily keepe themselves undiscovered, I was encompassed S2 275 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES sodainly by a great troupe of enimies, both of horse and foote, who willed me to yeelde my selfe to the Queene Artaxia. But they coulde not have used worse eloquence to have per- swaded my yeelding, then that; I knowing the little good will Artaxia bare me. And therefore making necessitie and justice my best sword and shield, I used the other weapons I had as well as I could ; I am sure to the little ease of a good number, who trusting to their number more then to their valure, and valewing money higher then equitie, felt, that guiltlesnesse is not alwayes with ease oppressed. As for Chremes, he withdrew himselfe, yet so guilding his wicked conceipts with his hope of gaine, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be taken to make his pray. 8 But I was growne so wearie, that I supported my selfe more with anger then strength, when the most excellent Musi- dorus came to my succour ; who having followed my trace as well as he could, after he had found I had left the fight with AnaxiuSy came to the niggards Castell, where he found all burnd and spoiled by the countrie people, who bare mortall hatred to that covetous man, and now tooke the time, when the castell was left almost without garde, to come in, and leave monuments of their malice therein: which Musidorus not staying either to further, or impeach, came upon the spurre after me (because with one voice many told him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant unto me) and in this extremitie found me. But when I saw that Cosen of mine,' me thought my life was doubled, and where before I thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble vi&orie. For who can feare that hath Musidorus by him ? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not straunger for the number, then for the straunge blowes wherwith he sent them to a wel- deserved death, might well delight me to speake off, but I should so holde you too long in every particular. But in trueth, there if ever, and ever, if ever any man, did Musidorus shew himselfe second to none in able valour. 9 Yet what the unmeasurable excesse of their number woulde have done in the ende I knowe not, but the triall thereof was cutte off by the chaunceable comming thither of the King of Iberia, that same father of that worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you somtimes to mention : who, (not yeelding over to 276 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. old age his country delights, especially of hauking) was at that time (following a Merline) brought to see this injurie offred unto us: and having great numbers of Courtiers waiting upon him, was straight known by the souldiers that assaulted us, to be their King, and so most of them with-drew themselves. He by his authoritie knowing of the Captaines owne con- IO strained confession, what was the motive of this mischievous practise; misliking much such violece should be offred in his countrie to men of our ranke : but chiefely disdaining it should be done in respecl: of his Niece, whom (I must confesse wrong- fully) he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his sonne Plangus against him, caused the Cap- taines head presently to be striken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged : though truely for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter, who (alas the poore Gentlewoman) was by chaunce slaine among his clownes, while she over-boldly for her weake sex sought to hold the from me, nor yet his owne shamefull ende was so much in his mouth as he was ledde to execution, as the losse of his goods, and burning of his house: which often, with more laughter then teares of the hearers, he made pittifull exclamations upon. CHAP. 20. 1 The two Princes passage to the Iberian Court. z Andromanas omniregende. s Her parti-love to them both. * Her faire and foule meanes to inveigle them. "Palladius love to Zel- mane. 6 Zelmanes love to Pyrocles, and practise with her Lover to release her beloved. * I A His justice thus done, and we delivered, the King indeede I J_ in royall sorte invited us to his Court, not farre thence: in all points entertaining us so, as truely I must ever acknow- ledge a beholdingnesse unto him: although the streame of it fell out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some dayes being there (curing our selves of such wounds as we had 2 77 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES received, while I, causing diligent search to be made of Anaxius, could learne nothing, but that he was gone out of the countrie, boasting in everie place, how he had made me run away) we were brought to receive the favour of acquaintace with this Queene Andromana, whom the Princesse Pamela did in so lively colours describe the last day, as still me thinkes the figure therof possesseth mine eyes, confirmed by the knowledge my selfe had. And therefore I shall neede the lesse to make you know what kinde of woman she was; but this onely, that first with the rarenes of affection, and after with the very use of directing, she had made her selfe so absolute a maister of her husbands minde, 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 thoughtes wholly to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royall affaires. A thing that may luckely fall out to him that hath the blessing, to match with some Heroicall minded Ladie. But in him it was nether guided by wisdome, nor followed by Fortune, but thereby was slipte insensiblie into such an estate, that he lived at her undiscreete discretion: all his subjecles having by some yeares learned, so to hope for good, and feare of harm, onely fro her, that it should have neded a stronger vertue the his, to have unwound so deeply an entred vice. So that either not striving (because he was contented) or contented (because he would not strive) he scarcelie knewe what was done in his owne chamber, but as it pleased her Instrumentes to frame the relation. 3 Now we being brought knowen unto her (the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner then our selves expected) she continuallie 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 evill minde in authentic, dooth not onely folow the sway of the desires alreadie within it, but frames to it selfe new desires, not before thought of. For, with equall ardour she affecled us both: and so did her greatnes disdaine shamefastnes, that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (having many times torne the vaile of modestie) it seemed, for a laste delight, 278 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. that she delighted in infamy : which often she had used to her husbands shame, filling all mens eares (but his) with reproch ; while he (hoodwinkt with kindnes) lest of al me knew who strake him. But her first degree was, by setting foorth her beauties, (truely in nature not to be misliked, but as much advaced to the eye, as abased to the judgemet by arte) thereby to bring us (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her baite. And thereto had she that scutchion of her desires supported by certain badly-diliget ministers, who ofte cloyed our eares with her praises, & would needs teach us a way of felicitie by seeking her favor. But when she found, that we were as deaf to the, as dumb to her ; then she listed no loger stay in the suburbs of her foolish desires, but direftly entred upo the; making her self an impudent suter, authorizing her selfe very much with making us see that all favor & power in that realm, so depeded upon her, that now (being in her hands) we were ether to keep, or lose our liberty, at her discretio ; which yet she so tepred, as that we might rather suspecl, the she threate. But whe our wouds grew so, as that they gave us leave to travell, & that she found we were purposed to use all meanes we could to depart thence, she (with more & more importunatnes) craved that, which in all good maners was ether of us to be desired, or not granted. Truely (most faire & every way excellet Lady) you would have wondred to have scene, how before us she would confes the contends in her own mind, between that lovely (indeed most lovely) brounes of Musidorus his face, & this colour of mine, which she (in the deceivable stile of affedlion) would intitle beautifull: how her eyes wandered (like a glutton at a feast) from the one to the other; and how her wordes would beginne halfe of the sentence to Aiusidorus, & end the other half to Pyrocles : not ashamed (seeing the friend- shippe betweene us) to desire either of us to be a mediator to the other; as if we should have played a request at Tennis betweene us: and often wishing, that she might be the angle, where the lines of our friendshippe might meet; and be the knotte which might tie our hartes together. Which pro- ceeding of hers I doo the more largely set before you (most deare Lady) that by the foyle therof, you may see the noblenes of my desire to you, & the warrantablenes of your favour to me. 279 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 4 At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (saide Pyroclei) when she perceived no hope by suite to prevaile, then (perswaded by the rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to doo any thing) she founde meanes to have us accused to the King, as though we went about some practise to overthrowe him in his owne estate. Which, because of the straunge successes we had in the kingdomes of Phrigia, Pontusk Galatid) seemed not unlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that came before him) was disciplined to leave the through-handling of all, to his gentle wife: who foorthwith caused us to be put in prison, having (while we slept) deprived us of our armour: a prison, indeede injurious, because a prison, but els well testify- ing affeftion, because in all respecles as commodious, as a prison might be: and indeede so placed, as she might at all houres, (not scene by many, though she cared not much how many had scene her) come unto us. Then fell she to sause her desires with threatnings, so that we were in a great per- plexitie, restrained to so unworthie a bondage, and yet restrained by Love, which (I cannot tell how) in noble mindes, by a certain duety, claimes an answering. And how much that love might moove us, so much, and more that faultines of her mind removed us; her beautie being balanced by her shame- lesnes. But that which did (as it were) tie us in captivitie, was, that to graunt, had ben wickedly injurious to him, that saved our lives: and to accuse a Ladie that loved us, of her love unto us, we esteemed almost as dishonorable: & but by one of those waies we sawe no likelihood of going out of that place, where the words would be injurious to your eares, which should expresse the manner of her suite : while yet many times earnestnes died her cheekes with the colour of shamefastnes ; and wanton languishing borrowed of her eies the downe-cast looke of modestie. But we in the meane time far from loving her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompence her husbandes saving of our lives; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him sende us worde, that upon our lives, we should doo whatsoever she commaunded us: good man, not knowing any other, but that all her pleasures bent to the preservation of his estate. But when that made us rather pittie, then obey his folly, then fel she to servile entreating us, as though force could have bene the 280 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. schoole of Love, or that an honest courage would not rather strive against, then yeelde to injurie. All which yet could not make us accuse her, though it made us almost pine awaie for spight, to loose any of our time in so troublesome an idlenesse. But while we were thus full of wearinesse of what was 5 past, and doubt of what was to follow, Love (that I thinke in the course of my life hath a sporte sometimes to poison me with roses, sometimes to heale me with wormewood) brought forth a remedy unto us : which though it helped me out of that distres, alas the coclusion was such, as I must ever while I live, think it worse then a wracke, so to have bene preserved. This King by this Queene had a sonne of tender age, but of great expectation, brought up in the hope of themselves, & already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successour of his fathers crowne : whereof he was as worthy, considering his partes, as unworthie, in respect of the wrong was therby done against the most worthy Plangus: whose great desertes now either forgotten, or ungratefully remembred, all men set their sayles with the favourable winde, which blewe on the fortune of this young Prince, perchaunce not in their harts, but surely not in their mouths, now giving Plangus (who some yeares before was their only chapion) the poore cofort of calamitie, pittie. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that regio, by name Palladius^ did with vehement affection love a young Ladie, brought up in his fathers court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischievously unhappie Prince Plexirtus (of whom already I have, and sometimes must make, but never honorable mention) left there by her father, because of the intricate changeablenes of his estate; he by the motherside being halfe brother to this Queene Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as Love (alas) doth not alwaies reflect it selfe, so fel it out that this Zelmane, (though truely reason there was inough to love Palladium] yet could not ever perswade her harte to yeelde thereunto: with that paine to Pa/Iadius, as they feele, that feele an unloved love. Yet loving indeede, and therefore constant, he used still the inter- cession of diligece and faith, ever hoping, because he would not put him selfe into that hell, to be hopelesse: untill the time of our being come, and captived there, brought foorth this ende, 281 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES whiche truely deserves of me a further degree of sorrow then teares. 6 Such was therein my ill destinie, that this young Ladie Zelmane (like some unwisely liberall, that more delight to give presentes, then pay debtes) she chose (alas for the pittie) rather to bestowe her love (so much undeserved, as not desired) upon me, then to recopence him, whose love (besides many other things) might seeme (even in the court of Honour) justly to claime it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) whereby it came to passe, that (as nothing doth more naturally follow his cause, then care to preserve, and benefite doth follow unfained affection) she felt with me, what I felte of my captivitie, and streight laboured to redresse my paine, which was her paine: which she could do by no better meanes, then by using the helpe therein of Palladius : who (true Lover) considering what, and not why, in all her commaundements ; and indeed she con- cealing from him her affection (which she intituled compassion,) immediatly obeyed to imploy his uttermost credite to relieve us : which though as great, as a beloved son with a mother, faulty otherwise, but not hard-harted toward him, yet it could not prevaile to procure us libertie. Wherefore he sought to have that by practise, which he could not by praier. And so being allowed often to visit us (for indeed our restraints were more, or lesse, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit, or intermission) he used the opportunitie of a fit time thus to deliver us. CHAP. 21. 1 The cause of the Iberian yearely justes. * Queene Helens prayses. 3 The prize borne by her Knights, which Palladius and the Princes set them to reverse. 4 The inventions and aftions of seven titters. 8 Palladius and the Princes entry into the field, honour in it, and flight from it. 6 Andromanas pursuite of them ''to the death of her sonne' 6 and her selfe. ^ I A He time of the maryinge that Queene was every year, by JL the extreame love of her husband, & the serviceable love of the Courtiers, made notable by some publike honours, which 282 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. indeede (as it were) proclaymed to the worlde, how deare she was to the people. Among other, none was either more grate- full to the beholders, or more noble in it selfe, then justs, both with sword and launce, mainteined for a seven-night together : wherein that Nation dooth so excell, bothe for comelines and hablenes, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarily come, some to strive, some to learne, and some to behold. This day it happened that divers famous Knights came 2 thither fro the court of He/en, Queene of Corinth-, a Ladie, whom Fame at that time was so desirous to honor, that she borrowed all mens mouthes to joyne with the sounde of her Trumpet. For as her beautie hath wonne the prize from all women, that stande in degree of comparison (for as for the two sisters of Arcadia^ they are farre beyond all conceipt of com- parison) so hath her government bene such, as hath bene no lesse beautifull to mens judgements, then her beautie to the eiesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a yong woman, a faire woman, to governe a people, in nature mutinously prowde, and alwaies before so used to hard governours, as they knew not how to obey without the sworde were drawne. Yet could she for some yeares, so carry her selfe among them, that they found cause in the delicacie of her sex, of admiration, not of cotempt: & which was notable, even in the time that many countries were full of wars (which for old grudges to Corinth were thought still would conclude there) yet so ha'dled she the matter, that the threatens ever smarted in the threatners; she using so strauge, and yet so well-succeeding a temper, that she made her people by peace, warlike; her courtiers by sports, learned ; her Ladies by Love, chast. For by continuall martiall exercises without bloud, she made them perfect in that bloudy art. Her sportes were such as caried riches of Knowledge upo the streame of Delight : & such the behaviour both of her selfe, and her Ladies, as builded their chastitie, not upon waywardnes, but by choice of worthines: So as it seemed, that court to have bene the mariage place of Love and Vertue, & that her selfe was a Diana apparelled in the garments of Venus. And this which Fame onely delivered unto me, (for yet I have never scene her) I am the willinger to speake of to you, who (I knowe) knowe her better, being your neere neighbour, because you may see by her example (in her 283 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES selfe wise, and of others beloved) that neither follie is the cause of vehement Love, nor reproch the effeft. For never (I thinke) was there any woman, that with more unremoveable deter- minatio gave her selfe to the coucell of Love, after she had once set before her mind the worthines of your cousin Am- pkia/us; & yet is nether her wisedome doubted of, nor honour blemished. For (O God) what doth better become wisdome, then to discerne, what is worthy the loving? what more agre- able to goodnes, then to love it so discerned? and what to greatnesse of hart, then to be constant in it once loved? But at that time, that Love of hers was not so publikely knowne, as the death of Philoxenus y and her search of Ampbialus hath made it : but then seemed to have such leasure to sende thither diverse choyse Knights of her court, because they might bring her, at lest the knowledge, perchaunce the honour, of that Triumph. 3 Wherein so they behaved themselves as for three daies they caried the prize; which being come from so farre a place to disgrace her servaunts, Palladius (who himselfe had never used armes) persuaded the Queene Andromana to be content (for the honour sake of her court) to suffer us two to have our horse and armour, that he with us might undertake the recoverie of their lost honour: which she graunted; taking our oth to go no further then her sonne, and never to abandon him. Which she did not more for saving him, then keeping us : and yet not satisfied with our oth, appointed a band of horsemen to have eye, that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratifie the young Prince, who (we saw) loved us. And so the fourth day of that exercise, we came into the fielder where (I remember) the manner was, that the forenoone they should run at tilt, one after the other: the afternoone in a broad field, in manner of a battell, till either the strangers, or that countrie Knights wan the field. 4 The first that ran was a brave Knight, whose devise was to come in, all chayned with a Nymph leading him: his Impresa was Against him came forth an Iberian whose manner of entring was, with bagpipes in steed of trumpets; a shepheards boy before him for a Page, and by him a dosen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in 284 ARCADIA LIB. 2. stuffe, who caried his launces, which though strong to give a launcely blow indeed, yet so were they couloured with hooks neere the mourn, that they pretily represeted shephooks. His own furniture was drest over with wooll, so enriched with Jewels artificially placed, that one would have thought it a manage betweene the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was a sheepe marked with pitch, with this word Spotted to be knowne. And because I may tell you out his conceipt (though that were not done, till the running for that time was ended) before the Ladies departed from the windowes, among them there was one (they say) that was the Star, wherby his course was only directed. The shepherds attending upo PH1LI- SIDES went amog the, & sag an eclogue ; one of the answer- ing another, while the other shepheards pulling out recorders (which possest the place of pipes) accorded their musick to the others voice. The Eclogue ha"d great praise: I onely remember sixe verses, while having questioned one with the other, of their fellow-shepheards sodaine growing a man of armes, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said. ME thought some staves he mist : if so, not much amisse : For where he most would hit y he ever yet did misse. One said he brake acrosse; full well it so might be: For never was there man more crossely crost then he. But most cryedy O well broke : O foole full gaily blest : Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best. Thus I have digrest, because his maner liked me wel : But when he began to run against Lelius, it had neere growne (though great love had ever bene betwixt them) to a quarrell. For Philisides breaking his staves with great commendation, Lelius (who was knowne to be second to none in the perfection of that Art) ranne ever over his head, but so finely to the skilfull eyes, that one might well see, he shewed more know- ledge in missing, then others did in hitting. For with so gallant a grace his staffe came swimming close over the crest of the Helmet, as if he would represent the kisse, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moved with it, while he thought Lelius would shew a contempt of his youth: till Lelius (who therefore would satisfie him, because he was his friend) made him know, that to such bondage he was for so 285 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES many courses tyed by her, whose disgraces to him were graced by her excellency, and whose injuries he could never otherwise returne, then honours. But so by Lelius willing-missing was the odds of the Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excellent riining of a Knight, though fostred so by the Afuses, as many times the verie rustick people left both their delights and profites to harken to his songs; yet could he so well perfourme all armed sports, as if he had never had any other pen, then a Launce in his hand. He came in like a wild man ; but such a wildnes, as shewed his eye-sight had tamed him, full of withered leaves, which though they fell not, still threatned falling. His Impresa was, a mill-horse still bound to goe in one circle; with this word, Data fata sequutus. But after him the Corinthian Knights absolutely prevailed, especially a great noble man of Corinth ; whose devise was to come without any devise, all in white like a new knight, as indeed he was; but so new, as his newnes shamed most of the others long exercise. Then another from whose tent I remember a birde was made flie, with such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies, that one might say, If a live bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made ? Then he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure lively representing the Phoenix: the fire tooke so artificially, as it consumed the birde, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frosen Knight, frosen in despaire ; but his armor so naturally representing Ice, and all his furniture so lively answering therto, as yet did I never see any thing that pleased me better. 5 But the delight of those pleasing sights have carried me too farre in an unnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most excellent Ladie) that you know the Corinthians that morning in the exercise (as they had done the dayes before) had the better; Palladium neither suffring us, nor himselfe to take in hand that partie till the afternoone; when we were to fight in troopes, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpenesse of the weapons was taken away. But in the triall Palladium (especially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me) himselfe truely behaving himselfe nothing like a beginner, brought the honor to rest it selfe that night of the Iberian side : And the next day, both morning, and after-noone being kept 286 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. by our party, He (that saw the time fitte for that deliverie he intended) called unto us to follow him; which we both bound by oth, and willing by good-wil, obeyed: and so the gard not daring to interrupt us (he commanding passage) we went after him upon the spur to a little house in a forrest neere by: which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till we might go further from his mothers fury, whereat he was no lesse angry, & ashamed, then desirous to obay Zelmane. But his mother (as I learned since) understanding by the 6 gard her sonnes convaying us away (forgetting her greatnes, & resining modesty to more quiet thoughts) flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she her-selfe would follow us. But what she did (being rather with vehemency of passion, then conduct of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by her owne confusion hinder her owne desires. For so im- patiently she commanded, as a good while no body knew what she comanded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be alredy past the confines of her kingdome before she over- tooke us : and overtake us she did in the kingdome of Bythinia, not regarding shame, or daunger of having entred into anothers dominions : but (having with her about a three score hors-men) streight commaunded to take us alive, and not to regard her sonnes threatening therein: which they attempted to do, first by speach, & then by force. But neither liking their eloquence, nor fearing their might, we esteemed few swordes in a just defence, able to resist any unjust assaulters. And so Musidorus incredible valour (beating downe all lets) made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to doo to overcome weake wrong. And now had the viftorie in effect without bloud, when 7 Palladius (heated with the fight, and angrie with his mothers fault) so pursued our assaylers, that one of them (who as I heard since had before our comming bene a speciall minion of AndromanaSy and hated us for having dispossest him of her hart) taking him to be one of us, with a traiterous blow slew his youg Prince: who falling downe before our eyes, whom he specially had delivered, judge (sweetest Lady) whether anger might not be called justice in such a case : once, so it wroght in us, that many of his subjects bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world. 287 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 8 All this while disdaine, strengthened by the furie of a furious love, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat: & whe she saw us light down, to see what help we might do to the helplesse Palladius, she came runing madly unto us, then no lesse threatning, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceived it was her onely sonne that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that alredy his life had loste the use of the reasonable, and almost sensible part ; then onely did misfortune lay his owne ouglinesse upon his faulte, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come : especiallie, finding in us rather detestation then pittie (con- sidering the losse of that young Prince) and resolution presently to depart, which stil she laboured to stay. But deprived of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ranne to her sonnes dagger, and before we were aware of it (who else could have stayed it) strake her selfe a mortall wound. But then her love, though not her person, awaked pittie in us, and I went to her, while Musidorus labored about Palladium. But the wound was past the cure of a better surgeon then my selfe, so as I could but receave some few of her dying words j which were cursings of her ill set affection, and wishing unto me many crosses & mischances in my love, whesoever I should love, wherin I feare, and only feare that her prayer is from above granted. But the noise of this fight, & issue thereof being blazed by the country people to some noble-me there-abouts, they came thither, and finding the wrong offered us, let us go on our journey, we having recommended those royal bodies unto the to be conveyed to the King of Iberia. With that Philoclea^ seeing the teares stand in his eyes with remembrance of Palladium, but much more of that which therupon grew, she would needs drinke a kisse from those eyes, and he sucke another from her lippes; whereat she blushed, & yet kissed him againe to hide her blushing. Which had almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweete a rigor forbad him, that he durst not rebell, though he found it a great war to keepe that peace, but was faine to go on his storie : for so she absolutely badde him, and he durst not know how to disobey. 288 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. CHAP. 22. 1 A new complaint of Pamphilus new change, * to a gracelesse curtisan. 3 Zelmane loves, and as a Page serves Pyrocles. 4 The two Princes policie to reconcile two warring brothers. 5 The unbrotherly brave combat of Tydeus and Telenor. 6 Plexirtus his viperine unkindnes to the kindest Leonatus. 7 His conquest by the two brothers, 8 and his dogtrick to destroy them by themselves. 9 The regreete of the dying brothers. SO (said he) parting from that place before the Sunne had i much abased himselfe of his greatest height, we sawe sitting upon the drie sandes (which yeelded at that time a verie hotte reflection) a faire Gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorow, & every way shewed she cared not what paine she put her body to, since the better parte (her minde) was laide under so much agonie : and so was she dulled withall, that we could come so neare, as to heare her speeches, and yet she not perceive the hearers of her lamentation. But wel we might understand her at times, say, Thou doost kill me with thy unkind falshood : and, It greeves me not to die, but it greeves me that thou art the murtherer : neither doth mine owne paine so much vexe me, as thy errour. For God knowes, it would not trouble me to be slaine for thee, but much it tormets me to be slain by thee. Thou art untrue Pamphilus, thou art untrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft didst thou sweare unto me, that the Sun should loose his light, and the rocks runne up and down like little kiddes, before thou wouldst falsifie thy faith to me ? Sunne therefore put out thy shining, & rockes runne mad for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But alas, the Sun keepes his light, though thy faith be darckned ; the rockes stand still, though thou change like the wethercocke. O foole that I am, that thought I coulde graspe water, and binde the winde. I might well have knowe thee by others, but I would not ; & rather wished to learne poison by drinking it my selfe, while my love helped thy wordes to deceive me. Well, yet I would thou hadst made a better choise, when thou didst forsake thy unfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha (thy new mistres) will revenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus live happie, though I die. s. A. T 289 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 2 And much more to such like phrase she spake, but that I (who had occasion to know some-thing of that Pamphilus) stept to comfort her : & though I could not doo that, yet I gotte thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to whom the unconstante Paphilus had betrothed himselfe, which had moved the other Ladies to such indigna- tion as I tolde you : nether her woorthinesse (which in truthe was great) nor his owne suffering for her (which is woont to endeare affeftion) could fetter his ficklenes, but that before his mariage-day appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccha, of whom she complayned; one, that in divers places I had heard before blazed, as the most impudentlie unchaste woman of all Asia; and withall, of such an imperiousnes therein, that she would not stick to employ them (whom she made unhappie with her favour) to draw more companions of their follie : in the multitude of whom she did no lesse glorie, then a Captaine would doo, of being followed by brave souldiers: waiwardly proud ; and therefore bold, because extreamely faultie : and yet having no good thing to redeeme both these, and other unlovely parts, but a little beautie, disgraced with wandring eyes, and unwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe, and withall, left his faith : Leucippe^ of whom one looke (in a cleere judgement) would have bene more acceptable, then all her kindenesses so prodigallie bestowed. For my selfe, the remem- brance of his crueltie to Dido, joyned to this, stirred me to seeke some revenge upon him, but that I thought, it shoulde be a gayne to him to lose his life, being so matched : and therefore (leaving him to be punished by his owne eledlion) we conveyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestall Nunnes, where she resolved to spende all her yeares (which her youth promised shoulde be many) in bewayling the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong-dooer. 3 But the next morning, we (having striven with the Sunnes earlines) were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets of that building, when there overtoke us a young Gentleman, for so he seemed to us, but indeede (sweete Ladie) it was the faire Zelmane, Plexirtus daughter; whom unconsulting affe&ion (unfortunately borne to me-wards) had made borrowe so much of her naturall modestie, as to leave her more-decent rayments, and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing us, had 290 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. apparrelled her selfe like a Page, with a pittifull crueltie cutting of her golden haire, leaving nothing, but the short curies, to cover that noble head, but that she ware upon it a faire head- peece, a shielde at her back, and a launce in her hand, els disarmed. Her apparrell of white, wrought upon with broken knots, her horse, faire & lustie, which she rid so, as might shew a fearefull boldnes, daring to doo that, which she knew that she knew not how to doo : and the sweetnes of her countenance did give such a grace to what she did, that it did make hansome the unhansomnes, and make the eye force the minde to beleeve, that there was a praise in that unskilfulnesse. But she straight approached me, and with fewe words (which borowed the help of her countenance to make themselves understood) she desired me to accept her in my service; telling me, she was a noble- mans sonne of Iberia^ her name Daiphantus^ who having scene what I had done in that court, had stolne from her father, to follow me. I enquired the particularities of the maner of Andromanas following me, which by her I understood, she hiding nothing (but her sexe) from me. And still me thought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memorie: but liking very well the yong Gentleman, (such I tooke her to be) admitted this Daiphantus about me : who well shewed, there is no service like his, that serves because he loves. For, though borne of Princes bloud, brought up with tenderest education, unapt to service (because a woman) & full of thoughts (because in a strange estate ;) yet Love enjoyned such diligence, that no apprentise, no, no bondslave could ever be by feare more readie at all commaundementes, then that yong Princesse was. How often (alas) did her eyes say unto me, that they loved ? and yet, I (not looking for such a matter) had not my conceipt open, to understand them. How ofte would she come creeping to me, betweene gladnes to be neere me, & feare to offend me ? Truly I remember, that then I marvailing, to see her receive my comandements with sighes, and yet do them with cheere- fulnes : sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then thought childish in experiece : but since returning to my remebrance, they have come more neere unto my knowledge: & pardon me (onely deare Lady) that I use many words : for her affection to me deserves of me an affectionate speach. T2 291 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES 4 In such sort did she serve me in that kingdom of Bythinia y for two moneths space. In which time we brought to good end, a cruell warre long maintained betweene the King of Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I (dividing our selves to either side) found meanes (after some triall we had made of our selves) to get such credite with them, as we brought them to as great peace betweene theselves, as love towards us, for having made the peace. Which done, we intended to returne through the Kingdome of Galatia y towarde Thrace, to ease the care of our father and mother, who (we were sure) first with the shipwracke ; and then with the other daungers we dayly past, should have litle rest in their thoughts, till they saw us. 5 But we were not entred into that Kingdome, whe by the noise of a great fight, we were guided to a pleasaunt valey, which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities some- where doth give a pleasant spectacle of runing horses; so of either side stretching it selfe in a narrow length was it hemd in by wooddy hilles; as if indeed Nature had meant therein to make a place for beholders. And there we behelde one of the cruellest fights betweene two Knights, that ever hath adorned the martial storie. So as I must cofesse, a while we stood wondring, another while delighted with the rare bravery therof; till seing such streames of bloud, as threatned a drowning of life, we galloped towarde them to part them. But we were prevented by a dosen armed Knights, or rather villains, who using this time of their extreame feeblenesse, all together set upon them. But common daunger brake of particular discorde, so that (though with a dying weakenes) with a lively courage they resisted, and by our help drave away, or slue those murdering attempters: among whom we hapt to take alive the principall. But going to disarme those two excellent Knights, we found with no lesse wonder to us, then astonishment to themselves, that they were the two valiaunt, and indeede famous Brothers, Tydeus and Telenor-, whose adventure (as afterwarde we made that ungratious wretch confesse) had thus fallen out. 6 After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death succeeded in the kingdome of Galatia, he (forgetting all former injuries) had received that naughtie Plexirtus into a streight 292 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. degree of favour, his goodnesse being as apt to be deceived, as the others crafte was to deceive. Till by plaine proofe finding, that the ungratefull man went about to poyson him, yet would not suffer his kindnesse to be overcome, not by justice it selfe : but calling him to him, used wordes to this purpose. Plexirtus (said he) this wickednesse is founde by thee. No good deedes of mine have bene able to keepe it downe in thee. All men counsell me to take away thy life, likely to bring foorth nothing, but as daungerous, as wicked effects. But I cannot finde it in my harte, remembring what fathers sonne thou arte. But since it is the violence of ambition, which perchaunce puls thee from thine owne judgement, I will see, whether the satisfying that, may quiet the ill working of thy spirites. Not farre hence is the great cittie of Trebisonde\ which, with the territorie about it, aunciently pertained unto this crowne, now unjustly possessed, and as unjustly abused by those, who have neither title to holde it, nor vertue to use it. To the conquest of that for thy selfe I will lende thee force, and give thee my right. Go therfore, and with lesse unnaturalnesse glut thy ambition there ; and that done, if it be possible, learne vertue. Plexirtus^ mingling forsworne excuses with false-meant 7 promises, gladly embraced the offer : and hastilie sending backe for those two Brothers (who at that time were with us suc- couring the gratious Queen Erond] by their vertue chiefly (if not onely) obteyned the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeede done by them, gave them such an authoritie, that though he raigned, they in effe6l ruled, most men honour- ing them, because they onely deserved honour; and many, thinking therein to please Plexirtus^ considering how much he was bound unto them: while they likewise (with a certaine sincere boldenesse of selfe-warranting friendship) accepted all openly and plainely, thinking nothing should ever by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his. But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could costrue no 8 other end of mes doings, but self seking) sodely feared what they could doo ; and as sodainely suspected, what they would doo, and as sodainely hated them, as having both might, and minde to doo. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their owne valour, & others affection, he durst not take open way against them : and as harde it was to take a secrete, they 293 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES being so continually followed by the best, & every way hablest of that region : and therfore used this divelish sleight (which I wil tel you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turne their owne friedship toward him to their owne destruction. He, (knowing that they wel knew, there was no friendship betweene him and the new King of Pontus^ never since he succoured Leonatus and us, to his overthrow) gave them to understand that of late there had passed secrete defiance betweene them, to meete privately at a place apointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatnes, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go backe. Yet faining to find himself weake by some counterfait infirmitie, the day drawing neere, he requested each of them to go in his stead j making either of the sweare, to keep the matter secret, ever ech fro other, delivering the selfe same particularities to both, but that he told Tydeus, the King would meet him in a blew armour ; & Telenor , that it was a black armour : & with wicked subtiltie (as if it had bene so apointed) caused Tydeus to take a black armour, & Telenor a blew ; appointing them waies how to go, so as he knew they should not meet, til they came to the place appointed, where each had promised to keep silence, lest the King should discover it was not Plexirtus: and there in await had he laied these murtherers, that who overlived the other, should by them be dispatched : he not daring trust more then those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few, till themselves by themselves were weakened. 9 This we learned chiefly, by the chiefe of those way-beaters, after the death of those worthie brothers, whose love was no lesse, then their valour : but well we might finde much thereof by their pitifull lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw each other (in despite of the Surgerie we could doo unto them) striving who should runne fastest to the goale of death : each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, then in himselfe : cursing their owne hands for doing, and their breastes for not sooner suffering : detesting their unfortunately- spent time in having served so ungrateful a Tyraunt: and accusing their folly in having beleeved, he could faithfully love, who did not love faithfulnes : wishing us to take heed, how we placed our good wil upon any other ground, then proofe of vertue : since length of acquaintance, mutuall secrecies, nor 294 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. height of benefits could binde a savage harte ; no man being good to other, that is not good in himself. Then (while any hope was) beseeching us to leave the cure of him that besought, and onely looke to the other. But when they found by them- selves, and us, no possibilitie, they desired to be joined; and so embracing and craving that pardon each of other, which they denied to themselves, they gave us a most sorrowfull speclacle of their death; leaving fewe in the world behind them, their matches in any thing, if they had soone inough knowne the ground and limits of friendship. But with wofull hartes, we caused those bodies to be conveyed to the nexte towne of Bythinia^ where we learning thus much (as I have tolde you) caused the wicked Historian to coclude his history, with his owne well-deserved death. CHAP. 23. 1 Zelmanes grief e for Plexirtus fault. 2 Otaves, and his Gyants warre on Pontus. 3 Plexirtus endaungered, needes helpe of the dead brothers. 4 Zelmane thought-sicke, unmaskes her selfe. 5 Her dying teares 6 and last requestes. 7 Musidorus to Pontus, Pyrocles hardly partes to save Plexirtus. 8 The sourse and course of his deaths-doome^ 9 stayed by Pyrocles. 10 The combat of Pontus well ended. u The Asian Princes meeting, to honour the two Greekes. BUt then (I must tell you) I found such wofull countenances i in Daiphantus, that I could not but much marvaile (finding them continew beyond the first assault of pittie) how the cause of strangers (for further I did not conceive) could so deepely pearce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the shame & sorrow she tooke of her fathers faultinesse, partly with the feare, that the hate I coceived against him, would utterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoever I should know her, so vehemently perplexed her, that her fayre colour decaied ; and dayly, and hastily grew into the very extreme working of sorowfulnesse : which oft I sought to learne, & helpe. But she, as fearefull as loving, still concealed it; and so decaying 295 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES still more and more, in the excellencie of her fairenesse, but that whatsoever weakenesse took away, pitie seemed to adde : yet still she forced her selfe to waite on me, with such care and diligence, as might well shew had bene taught in no other schoole, but Love. 2 While we returning againe to embarke our selves for Greece, understood that the mighty Otaves (brother to Barzanes slaine by Musidorus, in the battaile of the six Princes) had entred upo the kingdome of Pontus, partly upon the pretences he had to the crowne, but principally, because he would revenge upon him (whom he knew we loved) the losse of his brother: thincking (as indeede he had cause) that wheresoever we were, hearing of his extremitie, we would come to relieve him ; in spite whereof he doubted not to prevaile, not onely upon the confidence of his owne vertue and power, but especially because he had in his copany two mighty Giants, sonnes to a couple whom we slue in the same realme : they having bene absent at their fathers death, and now returned, willingly entered into his service, hating (more then he) both us, and that King of Pontus. We therefore withall speede went thetherwarde, but by the way this fell out, which whensoever I remember without sorrow, I must forget withall, all humanitie. 3 Poore Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquere the delicacie of her constitution, and force her selfe to waite on me: till one day going towarde Pontus, we met one, who in great hast went seeking for Tydeus & Telenor, whose death as yet was not knowne unto the messenger ; who (being their servaunt and knowing how dee rely they loved Plexirtui) brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in pre[se]nt daunger of a cruel death, if by the valiantnesse of one of the best Knightes of the world, he were not reskewed : we enquired no further of the matter (being glad he should now to his losse finde what an unprofitable treason it had bene unto him, to dismember himselfe of two such friendes) and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his masters destruction, by the falshood of Plexirtus. 4 But the griefe of that (finding a bodie alreadie brought to the last degree of weakenesse) so overwhelmed the little remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell sodainely. into deadly soundings; never comming to her selfe, but that withall 296 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. she returned to make most pittifull lamentations ; most straunge unto us, because we were farre from ghessing the ground thereof. But finding her sicknesse such, as beganne to print death in her eyes, we made al hast possible to convey her to the next towne: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, & she might find in herselfe, that the harbinger of over-hastie death, had prepared his lodging in that daintie body, which she undoubtedly feeling, with a weake chearefulnes, shewed cofort therin; and then desiring us both to come neere her, & that no bodie els might be present; with pale, and yet (even in palenes) lovely lippes, Now or never, and never indeed, but now it is time for me (said she) to speake: and I thanke death which gave me leave to discover that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath bene the sharpest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and master, Pyrocles, that your page Daiphantus is the unfortunat Zelmane^ who for your sake caused my (as unfortunate) lover, and cosen, Palladium to leave his fathers court, and cosequently, both him & my Aunt his mother, to loose their lives. For your sake my selfe have become, of a Princesse a Page : and for your sake have put off the apparell of a woman, & (if you judge not more mercifully) modestie. We were amazed at her speach, and the had (as it were) new eyes give us to perceve that which before had bene a present strager to our minds. For indeed, we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelmane, who before we had knowen in the court of Iberia. And sorrow and pittie laying her paine upon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tendernes of good-will, pretending indeed better hope then I had of her recovery. But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrat that 5 should shortly oppresse her. No, my deere master (said she) I neither hope nor desire to live. I know you would never have loved me (& with that she wept) nor, alas, had it bene reason you should, considering manie wayes my unworthines. It sufficeth me that the strange course I have take, shall to your remembrance, witnesse my love : and yet this breaking of my harte, before I would discover my paine, will make you (I hope) think I was not altogether unmodest. Thinke of me so, deare Master, and that thought shal be my life: and with that, languishingly looking upon me ; And I pray you (said she) 297 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES even by these dying eies of mine (which are onely sorrie to dye, because they shall lose your sight) and by these pouled loclces of mine (which while they were long, were the orna- ment of my sex, now in their short curies, the testimonie of my servitude) and by the service I have done you (which God knowes hath beene full of love) thinke of me after my death with kindnes, though ye cannot with love. And whensoever ye shall make any other Ladie happie with your placed affeclio, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speake of it, not with scorne, but with pitie. I assure you (deare Princesse of my life, for how could it be otherwise ?) her words and her manners, with the lively consideration of her love, so pearced me, that I, though I had diverse griefes before, yet me thought I never felt till then, how much sorow enfeebleth all resolution. For I coulde not chuse, but yeeld to the weakenes of abundant weeping; in trueth with such griefe, that I could willingly at that time have chaunged lives with her. 6 But when she saw my teares, O God (said she) howe largely am I recompenced for my losses? why then (said shee) I may take boldnesse to make some requests unto you. I besought her to doo, vowing the performance, though my life were the price therof. She shewed great joy : The first (said she) is this, that you will pardon my father the displeasure you have justly conceived against him, and for this once succour, him out of the daunger wherin he is: I hope he will amende: and I pray you, whensoever you remember him to be the faultie P/exirtuSy remember withall that he is Zelmanes father. The second is, that when you come into Greece, you will take unto your selfe this name (though unlucky) of Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it : for so shal I be sure, you shall have cause to remember me : and let it please your noble cousin to be called Palladius, that I doo that right to that poore Prince, that his name may yet live upon the earth in so excellent a person : and so betwene you, I trust sometimes your unluckie page shall be (perhaps with a sigh) mencioned. Lastly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to knowe my fortune, till (when you are safely returned to your own countrie) you cause my bones to be conveied thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where your selfe vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitions for 298 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. such a suter; which yet she so earnestly craved, that I was faine to sweare the accomplishment. And then kissing me, & often desiring me not to condemne her of lightnesse, in mine armes she delivered her pure soule to the purest place: leaving me as full of agonie, as kindnes, pitie, and sorow could make an honest harte. For I must confesse for true, that if my starres had not wholy reserved me for you, there els perhaps I might have loved, & (which had bene most strange) begun my love after death : whereof let it be the lesse marvaile, because somwhat shee did resemble you : though as farre short of your perfeftio, as her selfe dying, was of her flourishing: yet somthing there was, which (when I saw a picture of yours) brought againe her figure into my reme- brance, and made my harte as apte to receive the wounde, as the power of your beauty with unresistable force to pearce. But we in wofull (& yet privat) manner burying her, per- 7 formed her commandement : & then enquiring of her fathers estate, certainly learned that he was presentlie to be succoured, or by death to passe the neede of succour. Therfore we deter- mined to divide our selves; I, according to my vowe, to helpe him, and Musidorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in no lesse need then immediate succour, and even readie to depart one from the other, there came a messenger from him, who after some enquirie found us, giving us to understand, that he trusting upon us two, had apointed the combat betweene him & us, against Otaves, and the two Gyants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to succour P/exirtus, & be there, where my honour was not onely gaged so far, but (by the straunge working of unjust fortune) I was to leave the standing by Musidorus^ whom better then my selfe I loved, to go save him whom for just causes I hated. But my promise given, & given to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, pre- vailed more with me, then my friendship to Musidorus : though certainely I may affirme, nothing had so great rule in my thoughts as that. But my promise caried me the easier, because Musidorus himselfe would not suffer me to breake it. And so with heavy mindes (more careful each of others successe, the of our owne) we parted ; I towarde the place, where I understood Plexirtus was prisoner to an auncient Knight, absolutely governing a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it, 299 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES whereof he acknowledged no other soveraigne, but himselfe: whose hate to Plexirtus, grew for a kinsman of his, who he malitiously had murdered, because in the time that he raigned in Galatia, he foud him apt to practise for the restoring of his vertuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for revenge, used (as the way to it) a pollicie, which this occasion I will tell you, prepared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had maried Zelmanes mother, who dying of that only child-birth, he a widdower, and not yet a King, haunted the Court of Armenia ; where (as he was comming to winne favour) he obteined great good liking of Artaxia, which he pursued, till (being called home by his father) he falsly got his fathers king- dome ; and then neglecled his former love : till throwen out of that (by our meanes) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by and by again placed in Trebisonde, understanding that Artaxia by her brothers death was become Queen of Armenia, he was hotter then ever, in that pursuit, which being understood by this olde Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, entreating his present (but very privie) repaire thether, giving him faithfull promise of presente mariage : a thing farre from her thought, having faithfully, and publiquely protested, that she would never marrie any, but some such Prince who woulde give sure proofe, that by his meanes we were destroyed. But he (no more wittie to frame, then blinde to judge hopes) bitte hastely at the baite, and in private maner poasted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight, far better accompanied, who quickly laid holde of him, & con- demned him to death, cruell inough, if any thing may be both cruell and just. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliver him to be devoured by a monstrous beast, of most ugly shape, armed like a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a Lion, as nimble as a Leopard, and as cruell as a Tigre : whom he having kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now thought no fitter match, then such a beastly monster with a monstrous Tyrant: proclaiming yet withall, that if any so well loved him, as to venture their lives against this beast, for him, if they overcame, he should be saved: not caring how many they were (such confidence he had in the monsters strength) but especially hoping to entrappe therby the great courages of 300 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. Tydeus and Telenor^ whom he no lesse hated, because they had bene principall instruments of the others power. I dare say, if Zelmane had knowen what daunger I should o, have passed, she would rather have let her father perishe, then me to have bidden that adventure. But my word was past, and truely, the hardnes of the enterprise, was not so much a bitte, as a spurre unto me; knowing well, that the jorney of" high honor lies not in plaine wayes. Therefore, going thether, and taking sufficient securitie, that Plexirtus should be delivered D * if I were victorious, I undertooke the combatte : and (to make shorte, excellent Ladie, and not trouble your eares with re- counting a terrible matter) so was my weakenes blessed from above, that without dangerous wounds I slewe that monster, which hundreds durste not attempt : to so great admiration of many (who from a safe place might looke on) that there was order given, to have the fight, both by sculpture and piclure, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the olde nobleman so well liked me, that he loved me ; onely bewayling, my vertue had beene imployed to save a worse monster then I killed : whom yet (according to faith given) he delivered, and accom- panied me to the kingdome of Pontus, whether I would needes in all speede go, to see whether it were possible for me (if per- chance the day had bene delaied) to come to the combat. But that (before I came) had bene thus finished. The vertuous Leonatus understanding two so good friends of 10 his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one him selfe : where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the truthe is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants, and the taking of Otaves prisoner. To whom as he gave his life, so he gotte a noble friend : for so he gave his worde to be, and he is well knowen to thinke him selfe greater in being subject to that, then in the greatnes of his principalitie. But thither (understanding of our being there) flocked great 1 1 multitudes of many great persons, and even of Princes; especially those, whom we had made beholding unto us: as, the Kings of Phrygia, Bytbinia, with those two hurte, of Pontus and Galatia, and Otaves the prisoner, by Musidorus set free; and thither came Plexirtus of Trebisonde, and Antiphilus, then King of Lycia ; with as many mo great Princes, drawen ether 301 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES by our reputation, or by willingnes to acknowledge them selves obliged unto us, for what we had done for the others. So as in those partes of the world, I thinke, in many hundreds of yeares, there was not scene so royall an assemblie : where nothing was let passe to doo us the highest honors, which such persons (who might commaund both purses and inventions) could perfourme. All from all sides bringing unto us right royall presents (which we to avoide both unkindnes, and im- portunitie, liberally received,) & not content therewith, would needes accept, as from us, their crownes, and acknowledge to hold them of us: with many other excessive honors, which would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe unto you. CHAP. 24. 1 The causes and provisions of the Princes embarking for Arcadia. 2 Plexirtus his treason against them disclosed by one^ 3 at- tempted by another of his ministers. * Sedition and slaughter in the shippe about it. 8 Their shipwrack by fire. 6 Pyrocles fight with the Captaine, and escape from sea. 7 The amorous concluding the olde, and beginning a newe storie^ both broken of by Miso. BUt wee quickely aweary thereof, hasted to Grm*-ward, led thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened principally, because I understoode that Anaxius with open mouth of defamation had gone thither to seeke mee, and was nowe come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he made enquyrie of me, doing yet himselfe so noble deedes, as might hap to audlhorize an ill opinion of me. We therefore suffred but short delayes, desiring to take this countrey in our way, so renowmed over the worlde, that no Prince coulde pretend height, nor begger lownesse, to barre him from the sound thereof: renowmed indeede, not so much for the ancient prayses attributed thereunto, as for the having in it Argalus and Amphialus (two knights of such rare prowes, as we desired especially to know) and yet by farre, not so much for that, as without suffering of comparison for the beautie of you 302 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. and your sister, which makes all indifferent judges, that speake thereof, account this countrie as a temple of deities. But these causes indeed moving us to come by this land, we embarked our selves in the next porte, whether all those Princes (saving Antiphilus, who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry long from Erona) conveied us. And there found we a ship most royally furnished by Plexirtus, who made all thinges so proper (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other Princes greatly commended him for it : who (seeming a quite altered man) had nothing but repetance in his eies, friendship in his gesture, & vertue in his mouth : so that we who had promised the sweete Zelmane to pardon him, now not onely forgave, but began to favour; perswading our selves with a youthfull credulitie, that perchance things were not so evil as we tooke them, & as it were desiring our owne memorie, that it might be so. But so were we licensed from those Princes, truly not without teares, especially of the vertuous Leonatus, who with the king of Potus, would have come with us, but that we (in respedl of the ones young wife, & both their new settled kingdomes) would not suffer it. Then would they have sent whole fleets to guard us: but we, that desired to passe secretely into Greece, made them leave that motion, when they found that more ships, then one, would be displeasing unto us. But so comitting our selves to the uncertaine dis- cretio of the wind, we (then determining as soone as we came to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, as well for our owne promise to Zelmane, as because we desired to come unknowne into Greece) left the Asian shore full of Princely persons, who even upon their knees, recommended our safeties to the devotion of their chiefe desires : among whom none had bene so officious (though I dare affirme, all quite contrarie to his unfaithfulnes) as Plexirtus. So having sailed almost two daies, looking for nothing but 2 when we might looke upon the land, a grave man (whom we had scene of great trust with Plexirtus, and was sent as our principall guide) came unto us, and with a certaine kinde manner, mixt with shame, and repentaunce, began to tell us, that he had taken such a love unto us (considering our youth and fame) that though he were a servaunt, and a servaunt of such trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed unto him 33 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES even those secretes of his hart, which abhorde all other know- ledge; yet he rather chose to reveale at this time a most pernitious counsell, then by concealing it bring to ruin those, whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and tolde us, that Plexirtus (in hope thereby to have Artaxia, endowed with the great Kingdome of Armenia, to his wife) had given him order, when we were neere Greece, to finde some opportunitie to murder us, bidding him to take us a sleepe, because he had scene what we could do waking. Now sirs (said he) I would rather a thousand times loose my life, then have my remembrance (while I lived) poysoned with such a mischiefe : and therefore if it were onely I, that knewe herein the Kings order, then should my disobedience be a warrant of your safetie. But to one more (said he) namely the Captaine of the shippe, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the effecl: of murdering you, though I think, laying the cause rather upon old grudge, then his hope of Artaxia. And my selfe, (before the consideration of your excellencies had drawne love and pittie into minde) imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such a mischiefe. Therefore, I wishe you to stand upon your garde, assuring you, that what I can doo for your safetie, you shall see (if it come to the pushe) by me per- fourmed. We thanked him, as the matter indeed deserved, and from that time would no more disarme our selves, nor the one sleepe without his friendes eyes waked for him : so that it delaied the going forwarde of their bad enterprize, while they thought it rather chaunce, then providence, which made us so behave our selves. But when we came within halfe a daies sayling of the shore, soone they saw it was speedily, or not at all to be done. Then (and I remember it was about the first watch in the night) came the Captaine and whispered the Councellour in the eare: But he (as it should seem) disswading him from it, the Captaine (who had bene a pyrate from his youth, and often blouded in it) with a lowde voice sware, that if Plexirtus bad him, he would not sticke to kill God him selfe. And there- with cald his mates, and in the Kings name willed them to take us, alive or dead; encouraging the with the spoile of us, which he said, (& indeed was true) would yeeld many exceed- ing rich jewels. But the Councellour (according to his promise) 34 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. commanded them they should not comit such a villany, pro- testing that he would stad betweene them and the Kings anger therein. Wherewith the Captaine enraged: Nay (said he) the we must begin with this traitor him selfe : and therewith gave him a sore blow upon the head, who honestly did the best he could to revenge himselfe. But then we knew it time rather to encounter, then waite 4 for mischiefe. And so against the Captaine we weitt, who straight was environned with most parte of the Souldiers and Mariners. And yet the truth is, there were some, whom either the authoritie of the councellour, doubt of the Kings minde, or liking of us, made draw their swords of our side : so that quickly it grew a most confused fight. For the narrow- nesse of the place, the darkenesse of the time, and the uncertainty in such a tumult how to know frieds from foes, made the rage of swordes rather guide, then be guided by their maisters. For my cousin and me, truly I thinke we never perfourmed lesse in any place, doing no other hurte, then the defence of our selves, and succouring them who came for it, drave us to: for not discerning perfedllie, who were for, or against us, we thought it lesse evill to spare a foe, then spoyle a friend. But from the hiest to the lowest parte of the shippe there was no place lefte, without cries of murdring, and murdred persons. The Cap- taine I hapt a while to fight withall, but was driven to parte with him, by hearing the crie of the Councellour, who re- ceived a mortall wounde, mistaken of one of his owne side. Some of the wiser would call to parley, & wish peace, but while the wordes of peace were in their mouthes, some of their auditours gave them death for their hire. So that no man almost could conceive hope of living, but being lefte alive : and therefore every one was willing to make him selfe roome, by dispatching almost any other : so that the great number in the ship was reduced to exceeding few, when of those few the most part weary of those troubles leapt into the boate, which was fast to the ship : but while they that were first, were cutting of the rope that tied it, others came leaping in, so disorderly, that they drowned both the boate, and themselves. But while even in that little remnant (like the children of 5 Cadmus] we continued still to slay one an other, a fire, which (whether by the desperate malice of some, or intention to s. A. u 305 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES separate, or accidentally while all things were cast up and downe) it should seeme had taken a good while before, but never needed of us, (who onely thought to preserve, or revenge) now violently burst out in many places, and began to maister the principall partes of the ship. Then necessitie made us see, that, a common enimy sets at one a civill warre : for that little all we were (as if we had bene waged by one man to quench a fire) streight went to resist that furious enimie by all art and labour: but it was too late, for already it did embrace and devoure from the sterne, to the wast of the ship: so as labouring in vaine, we were driven to get up to the prowe of the ship, by the worke of nature seeking to preserve life, as long as we could : while truely it was a straunge and ougly sight, to see so huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be, in the Sea, and in the night, as if it had come to light us to death. And by and by it had burned off the maste, which all this while had prowdly borne the sayle (the winde, as might seeme, delighted to carrie fire and bloud in his mouth) but now it fell over boord, and the fire growing neerer us, it was not onely terrible in respedt of what we were to attend, but insupportable through the heat of it. 6 So that we were constrained to bide it no longer, but disarming and stripping our selves, and laying our selves upon such things, as we thought might help our swimming to the lande (too far for our owne strength to beare us) my cousin and I threw our selves into the Sea. But I had swomme a very little way, when I felt (by reason of a wound I had) that I should not be able to bide the travaile, and therefore seeing the maste (whose tackling had bene burnt of) flote cleare from the ship, I swamme unto it, and getting on it, I found mine owne sworde, which by chaunce, when I threw it away (caught by a peece of canvas) had honge to the maste. I was glad, because I loved it well; but gladder, when I saw at the other end, the Captaine of the ship, and of all this mischiefe; who having a long pike, belike had borne him selfe up with that, till he had set him selfe upon the mast. But when I perceived him, Villaine (said I) doost thou thinke to overlive so many honest men, whom thy falsehood hath brought to destruction ? with that bestriding the mast, I gat by little and little towards him, after such a manner as boies are wont (if ever you saw that 306 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. sport) when they ride the wild mare. And he perceiving my intention, like a fellow that had much more courage then honestie, set him selfe to resist. But I had in short space gotten within him, and (giving him a sound blowe) sent him to feede fishes. But there my selfe remainde, untill by pyrates I was taken up, and among them againe taken prisoner, and brought into Laconia. But what (said Philoclea) became of your cousin Musidorus? 7 Lost said Pyrocles. Ah my Pyroc/es, said Philoclea^ I am glad I have take you. I perceive you lovers do not alwaies say truely : as though I know not your cousin Dorus, the sheepeheard ? Life of my desires (saide Pyrocles) what is mine, even to my soule is yours : but the secret of my friend is not mine. But if you know so much, then I may truely say, he is lost, since he is no more his owne. But I perceive, your noble sister & you are great friends, and well doth it become you so to be. But go forward deare Pyrocles^ I log to heare out till your meeting me : for there to me-warde is the best part of your storie. Ah sweet Philoclea (said Pyrocles) do you thinke I can thinke so precious leysure as this well spent in talking. Are your eyes a fit booke (thinke you) to reade a tale upon? Is my love quiet inough to be an historian ? Deare Princesse, be gracious unto me. And then he faine would have remembred to have forgot himselfe. But she, with a sweetly disobeying grace, desired that her desire (once for ever) might serve, that no spotte might disgrace that love which shortly she hoped shold be to the world warrantable. Faine he would not have heard, til she threatned anger. And then the poore lover durst not, because he durst not. Nay I pray thee, deare Pyrocles (said she) let me have my story. Sweet Princesse (said he) give my thoughts a litle respite : and if it please you, since this time must so be spoiled, yet it shall suffer the lesse harme, if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice, and let me know, how the good Queene Erona was betraied into such dager, and why Plangus sought me. For in deede, I should pitie greatly any mischance fallen to that Princesse. I will, said Philoclea smiling, so you give me your worde, your handes shall be quiet auditours. They shal, said he, because subject. Then began she to speake, but with so prettie and delightfull a majestic, when she set her counten- aunce to tell the matter, that Pyrocles could not chuse but U2 307 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES rebell so far, as to kisse her. She would have puld her head away, and speake, but while she spake he kist, and it seemed he fedde upon her wordes : but shee gate away. Howe will you have your discourse (said she) without you let my lips alone ? He yeelded and tooke her hand. On this (said he) will I revenge my wrong: and so began to make much of that hand, when her tale, & his delight were interrupted by Miso: who taking her time, while Basilius backe was turned, came unto them: and told Philoclea, she deserved she knewe what, for leaving her mother, being evill at ease, to keepe companie with straungers. But Philoclea telling her, that she was there by her fathers commandemet, she went away muttering, that though her back, and her shoulders, and her necke were broken, yet as long as her tongue would wagge, it should do her errand to her mother. CHAP. 25. 1 Gynecias divining dreame. 2 Her passionate je/ousie in aflions, 3 speach, and 4 song described 6 Her troubling Philoclea and Zelmane, 6 The rebels troubling her. 7 Rebels resisted by Zelmane. 8 Zelmane assisted by Dorus. 9 Dorus and Zel- manesyfzv memorable strokes. O went up Miso to Gynecia, who was at that time miserably vexed with this manner of dreame. It seemed unto her to be in a place full of thornes, which so molested her, as she could neither abide standing still, nor treade safely going forward. In this case she thought Zelmane, being upon a faire hill, delightfull to the eye, and easie in apparance, called her thither: whither with much anguish being come, Zelmane was vanished, and she found nothing but a dead bodie like unto her husband, which seeming at the first with a strange smell to infedt her, as she was redie likewise within a while to die, the dead bodie, she thought, tooke her in his armes, and said, Gynecia, leave all; for here is thy onely rest. 2 With that she awaked, crying very loud, Zelmane, Zelmane. But remembring her selfe, and seeing Basilius by, (her guiltie conscience more suspecting, then being suspected) she turned 308 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. her call, and called for Philoclea. Miso forthwith like a valiant shrew, (looking at Basi/ius, as though she would speake though she died for it) tolde Gynecia, that her daughter had bene a whole houre togither in secrete talke with Zelmane : And (sayes she) for my part I coulde not be heard (your daughters are brought up in such awe) though I tolde her of your pleasure sufficiently. Gynecia, as if she had heard her last doome pro- nounced agaynst her, with a side-looke and chaunged counten- ance, O my Lorde (said she) what meane you to suffer these yong folkes together? Basilius (that aymed nothing at the marke of her suspition) smilingly tooke her in his armes, sweete wife (said he) I thanke you for your care of your childe : but they must be youthes of other mettall, then Zelmane, that can endaunger her. O but; cryed Gynecia y and therewith she stayed: for then indeede she did suffer a right conflict, betwixt the force of love, and rage of jealousie. Manie times was she about to satisfie the spite of her minde, and tell Basilius^ how she knewe Zelmane to be farre otherwise then the outwarde appearance. But those many times were all put backe, by the manifolde objections of her vehement love. Faine she would have barde her daughters happe, but loth she was to cut off her owne hope. But now, as if her life had bene set uppon a wager of quicke rysing, as weake as she was, she gat up ; though Basilius, (with a kindnesse flowing onely from the fountaine of unkindnesse, being in deede desirous to winne his daughter as much time as might be) was loth to suffer it, swearing he sawe sickenesse in her face, and therefore was loath she should adven- ture the ayre. But the great and wretched Ladie Gynecia, possessed with 3 those devils of Love and Jealousie, did rid herselfe from her tedious husbande : and taking no body with her, going toward the ; O Jealousie (said she) the phrensie of wise folkes, the well-wishing spite, and unkinde carefulnesse, the selfe-punishment for others faults, and selfe-miserie in others happinesse, the cousin of envie, daughter of love, & mother of hate, how couldest thou so quietly get thee a seate in the unquiet hart of Gynecia^ Gynecia (said she sighing) thought wise, and once vertuous? Alas it is thy breeders power which plantes thee there: it is the flaming agonie of affection, that works the chilling accesse of thy fever, in such sort, that nature gives place; the growing 309 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES of my daughter seemes the decay of my selfe; the blessings of a mother turne to the curses of a copetitor ; and the faire face of Philoclea, appeares more horrible in my sight, then the image of death. Then remembred she this song, which she thought tooke a right measure of her present mind. WTth two strange fires of equall heate possest. The one of Love, the other yealousie, Both still do worke, in neither finde I rest : For both y alas, their strengthen together tie: The one aloft doth holde, the other hie. Love wakes the jealous eye least thence it moves : The jealous eye, the more it lookes, it loves. 4 These fires increase : in these I dayly burne : They feede on me, and with my wings do flie : My lovely joyes to dolefull ashes turne: Their flames mount up, my powers prostrate lie : They live in force, I quite consumed die. One wonder yet farre passeth my conceate : The fuell small: how be the fires so great? 5 But her unleasured thoughtes ran not over the ten first wordes; but going with a pace, not so much too fast for her bodie, as slowe for her minde, she found them together, who after Misos departure, had left their tale, and determined what to say to Basilius. But full abashed was poore Philoclea, (whose conscience nowe began to knowe cause of blushing) for first salutation, receyving an eye from her mother, full of the same disdainefull scorne, which Pallas shewed to poore Arachne, that durst contende with her for the prize of well weaving: yet did the force of love so much rule her, that though for Ze/manes sake she did detest her, yet for Ze/manes sake she used no harder words to her, then to bid her go home, and accompany her solitarie father. 6 Then began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of her deadly desires, when sodainly the confused rumor of a mutinous multitude gave just occasion to Zelmane to breake of any such conference, (for well she found, they were not friendly voices they heard) and to retire with as much diligence as conveniently they could, towards the lodge. Yet before they could winne 310 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. the lodge by twentie paces, they were overtaken by an unruly sort of clownes, and other rebels, which like a violent floud, were caried, they themselves knewe not whether. But assoone as they came within perfect discerning these Ladies, like enraged beastes, without respect of their estates, or pitie of their sexe, they began to runne against them, as right villaines, thinking abilitie to doo hurt, to be a great advancement : yet so many as they were, so many almost were their mindes, all knitte together onely in madnes. Some cried, Take ; some, Kill ; some, Save : but even they that cried save, ran for companie with them that meant to kill. Everie one commaunded, none obeyed, he only seemed chief Captain, that was most ragefull. Ze/mane (whose vertuous courage was ever awake) drew out 7 her sword, which upon those il-armed churls giving as many wounds as blowes, & as many deathes almost as wounds (lightning courage, and thundering smart upon them) kept them at a bay, while the two Ladies got theselves into the lodge: out of the which, Basilius (having put on an armour long untried) came to prove his authentic among his subjects, or at lest, to adventure his life with his deare mistresse, to who he brought a shield, while the Ladies tremblingly attended the issue of this dangerous adventure. But Ze/mane made them perceive the ods betweene an Eagle and a Kight, with such a nimble stayednes, and such an assured nimblenes, that while one was running backe for feare, his fellow had her sword in his guts. And by and by was both her harte and helpe well encreased 8 by the comming of Dorus^ who having been making of hurdles for his masters sheepe, hearde the horrible cries of this madde multitude; and having streight represented before the eies of his carefull love, the perill wherein the soule of his soule might be, he went to Pamelas lodge, but found her in a cave hard by, with Mopsa and Dametas^ who at that time would not have opened the entrie to his father. And therfore leaving them there (as in a place safe, both for being strong, and unknowen) he ranne as the noise guyded him. But when he saw his friend in such danger among them, anger and contempt (asking no counsell but of courage) made him roome among them, with no other weapon but his sheephooke, and with that over- throwing one of the villaines, took away a two-hand sword 3 11 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES from him, and withall, helpt him from ever being ashamed of losing it. Then lifting up his brave head, and flashing terror into their faces, he made armes & legs goe complaine to the earth, how evill their masters had kept them. Yet the multi- tude still growing, and the verie killing wearying them (fearing, lest in long fight they should be conquered with coquering) they drew back toward the lodge; but drew back in such sort, that still their terror went forwarde: like a valiant mastiffe, whom when his master pulles backe by the taile from the beare (with whom he hath alreadie interchanged a hatefull imbrace- ment) though his pace be backwarde, his gesture is foreward, his teeth and eyes threatening more in the retiring, then they did in the advancing: so guided they themselves homeward, never stepping steppe backward, but that they proved themselves masters of the ground where they stept. o Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellowe, a tayler by occupation, who fetching his courage onelie from their going back, began to bow his knees, & very fencer-like to draw neere to Zelmane. But as he came within her distace, turning his swerd very nicely about his crown, Basilius, with a side blow, strake of his nose. He (being a suiter to a seimsters daughter, and therfore not a little grieved for such a disgrace) stouped downe, because he had hard, that if it were fresh put to, it would cleave on againe. But as his hand was on the grounde to bring his nose to his head, Zelmane with a blow, sent his head to his nose. That saw a butcher, a butcherlie chuffe indeed (who that day was sworn brother to him in a cup of wine) & lifted up a great leaver, calling Zelmane all the vile names of a butcherly eloquence. But she (letting slippe the blowe of the leaver) hitte him so surely on the side of his face, that she lefte nothing but the nether jawe, where the tongue still wagged, as willing to say more, if his masters remebrance had served. O (said a miller that was halfe dronke) see the lucke of a good fellow, and with that word, ran with a pitch- forke at Dorus : but the nimblenes of the wine caried his head so fast, that it made it over-runne his feet, so that he fell withall, just betwene the legs of Dorus : who setting his foote on his neck (though he offered two milche kine, and foure fatte hogs for his life) thrust his sword quite through, from one eare to the other ; which toke it very unkindlie, to feele such newes 312 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. before they heard of them, in stead of hearing, to be put to such feeling. But Dorus (leaving the miller to vomit his soul out in wine and bloud) with his two-hand sword strake of another quite by the waste, who the night before had dreamed he was growen a couple, and (interpreting it he should be maried) had bragd of his dreame that morning among his neighbors. But that blow astonished quite a poore painter, who stood by with a pike in his handes. This painter was to counterfette the skirmishing betwene the Centaures and Lapithes, and had bene very desirous to see some notable wounds, to be able the more lively to expresse them; and this morning (being caried by the streame of this companie) the foolish felow was even delighted to see the effedt of blowes. But this last, (hapning neere him) so amazed him, that he stood still, while Dorus (with a turne of his sword) strake of both his hands. And so the painter returned, well skilled in wounds, but with never a hand to performe his skill. CHAP. 26. 1 Zelmanes confident attempt to appease the mutinie. z A bone of division cast by her, 3 and caught by them. 4 Her pacificatorie oration. 5 The acceptation and issue of it. IN this manner they recovered the lodge, and gave the rebels i a face of wood of the out-side. But they then (though no more furious, yet more couragious when they saw no resister) went about with pickaxe to the wall, and fire to the gate, to gette themselves entrance. Then did the two Ladies mixe feare with love, especially Philoclea, who ever caught hold of Zelmane, so (by the follie of love) hindering the help which she desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, nor time to deliberate (the number of those villaines still encreasing, and their madnesse still encreasing with their number) thought it onely the meanes to goe beyond their expectation with an unused boldenesse, and with danger to avoide danger : and therfore opened againe the gate, and (Dorus and Basilius standing redie for her defence) she issued againe among them. The blowes she had dealt before (though all in generall were 3*3 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES hastie) made each of them in particular take breath, before they brought them sodainly over-neere her, so that she had time to gette up to the judgement-seate of the Prince, which (according to the guise of that countrie) was before the gate. There she paused a while, making signe with her hand unto them, & withall, speaking aloud, that she had something to say unto them, that would please them. But she was answered a while with nothing but shouts and cries; and some beginning to throw stones at her, not daring to approach her. But at length, a young farmer (who might do most among the countrie sort, and was caught in a little affeclion towardes Zelmane) hoping by this kindenesse to have some good of her, desired them, if they were honest men, to heare the woman speake. Fie fellowes, fie, (said he) what will all the maides in our towne say, if so many tall men shall be afraide to heare a faire wench ? I sweare unto you by no little ones, I had rather give my teeme of oxen, then we should shewe our selves so uncivill wights. Besides, I tell you true, I have heard it of old men counted wisdome, to heare much, & say little. His sen- tentious speech so prevailed, that the most parte began to listen. Then she, with such efficacie of gracefulnes, & such a quiet magnanimitie represented in her face in this uttermost perill, as the more the barbarous people looked, the more it fixed their looks upon her, in this sorte began unto them. 2 It is no small comfort unto me (said she) having to speake something unto you for your owne behoofs, to find that I have to deale with such a people, who shew indeed in theselves the right nature of valure, which as it leaves no violence unat- tempted, while the choller is nourished with resistance; so when the subjeft of their wrath, doth of it self unloked-for offer it self into their hands, it makes the at lest take a pause before they determine cruelty. Now then first (before I come to the principall matter) have I to say unto you; that your Prince Basilius himselfe in person is within this Lodge, & was one of the three, who a few of you went about to fight withall: (& this she said, not doubting but they knew it well inough ; but because she would have them imagine, that the Prince might think that they did not know it) by him am I sent unto you, as fro a Prince to his well approoved subjects, nay as from a father to beloved children, to know what it is that hath bred 3H ARCADIA. LIB. 2. just quarrell among you, or who they be that have any way wroged you? what it is with which you are displeased, or of which you are desirous ? This he requires : and indeed (for he knowes your faithfulnes) he commaunds you presently to set downe, & to choose among your selves some one, who may relate your griefes or demaundes unto him. This (being more then they hoped for from their Prince) 3 asswaged well their furie, & many of them consented (especially the young farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the demauds that he might have Zelmane for his wife) but when they began to talke of their grieves, never Bees made such a cofused burning : the towne dwellers demanding putting downe of imposts : the country felowes laying out of comons : some would have the Prince keepe his Court in one place, some in another. Al cried out to have new coucellors: but when they should think of any new, they liked the as well as any other, that they could remeber, especially they would have the treasure so looked unto, as that he should never neede to take any more subsidies. At length they fel to diredt contrarieties. For the Artisans, they would have corne & wine set at a lower price, and bound to be kept so stil : the plowmen, vine-laborers, & farmers would none of that. The coutrimen demaunded that every man might be free in the chief townes: that could not the Burgesses like of. The peasats would have the Gentleme destroied, the Citizens (especially such as Cookes, Barbers, & those other that lived most on Gentlemen) would but have them refourmed. And of ech side were like divisions, one neigh- bourhood beginning to find fault with another. But no confusion was greater then of particular mens likings and dislikings: one dispraising such a one, who another praised, & demanding such a one to be punished, whom the other would have exalted. No lesse ado was there about choosing him, who should be their spokes-man. The finer sort of Burgesses, as Marchants Prentises, & Clothworkers, because of their riches, disdaining the baser occupations, & they because of their number as much disdaining them : all they scorning the countrimens ignoraunce, & the countrymen suspecting as much their cuning: So that Zelmane (finding that their united rage was now growne, not only to a dividing, but to a crossing one of another, & that the mislike growne among theselves did THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES is embraced. For al what is done, he doth not only pardon you, but thanke you; judging the aftion by the minds, & not the minds by the aftio. Your grieves, and desires, whatsoever, & whensoever you list, he wil consider of, and to his considera- tion it is reason you should refer them. So then, to coclude; the uncertainty of his estate made you take armes; now you see him well, with the same love lay them downe. If now you end (as I know you will) he will make no other account of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must cofesse over-vehement affe&ion : the only continuaunce might prove a wickednes. But it is not so, I see very wel, you bega with zeale, & wil end with reverece. 5 The action Zelmane used, being beautified by nature and apparelled with skill, her gestures beyng such, that as her wordes did paint out her minde, so they served as a shadow, to make the picture more lively and sensible, with the sweete cleernesse of her voice, rising & falling kindly as the nature of the worde, and efficacie of the matter required, altogether in such admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felte, whose beautie did pearce through the thicke dulnes of their senses, gave such a way unto her speach through the rugged wildernesse of their imaginations, who (besides they were striken in admiration of her, as of more then a humane creature) were coold with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leasure, that in steed of roaring cries, there was now heard nothing, but a cofused muttring, whether her saying were to be followed, betwixt feare to pursue, & lothnesse to leave : most of them could have bene cotent, it had never bene begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they knew not, finding it far easier to tie then to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no evil way in such mutinies, to give the mutinous some occasio of such service, as they might thinke (in their own judgement) would countervaile their trespasse, withal, to take the more assured possession of their mindes, which she feared might begin to waver, Loiall Arcadians (said she) now do I offer unto you the manifesting of your duties: all those that have taken armes for the Princes safetie, let the turne their backs to the gate, with their weapons bent against such as would hurt his sacred person. O weak trust of the many- headed multitude, whom inconstancie onely doth guide to well 318 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. doing : who can set confidence there, where company takes away shame, and ech may lay the fault of his fellow ? So said a craftie felow among them, named Clinias, to himselfe, when he saw the worde no sooner out of Zelmanes mouth, but that there were some shouts of joy, with, God save Basilius, and divers of them with much jollity growne to be his guard, that but litle before met to be his murderers. CHAP. 27. 1 A verball craftie coward purtrayed in Clinias. 2 His first raising, and with the first, relenting in this mutinie, 3 punished by the farmer. 4 The uprore reenforced, 3" weakned by themselves. 5 Clinias-^zV Sinon-//'/^ narration of this druken rebellions original. 6 The kings order in it. THis Clinias in his youth had bene a scholler so farre, as to I learne rather wordes then maners, and of words rather plentie then order ; and oft had used to be an aclor in Trage- dies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language, acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to beare the figure of them : long used to the eyes and eares of men, and to recken no fault, but shamefastnesse ; in nature, a most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely venturous in privie practises. This fellowe was become of neere trust to Cecropia,2 Amphialus-\\\s mother, so that he was privy to al the mis- chievous devises, wherewith she went about to mine Basilius, and his children, for the advauncing of her sonne : and though his education had made him full of tongue, yet his love to be doing, taught him in any evill to be secret; and had by his mistresse bene used (ever since the strange retiring of Basilius) to whisper rumors into the peoples eares : and this time (finding great aptnes in the multitude) was one of the chiefe that set them in the uprore (though quite without the cosent of Amphialus, who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so have advetured the life of Philoclea.} Bujt now perceiving the flood of their furie began to ebbe, he thought it policie to take 3'9 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES is embraced. For al what is done, he doth not only pardon you, but thanke you; judging the aftion by the minds, & not the minds by the aftio. Your grieves, and desires, whatsoever, & whensoever you list, he wil consider of, and to his considera- tion it is reason you should refer them. So then, to coclude ; the uncertainty of his estate made you take armes; now you see him well, with the same love lay them downe. If now you end (as I know you will) he will make no other account of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must cofesse over-vehement affec-tion : the only continuaunce might prove a wickednes. But it is not so, I see very wel, you bega with zeale, & wil end with reverece. 5 The action Zelmane used, being beautified by nature and apparelled with skill, her gestures beyng such, that as her wordes did paint out her minde, so they served as a shadow, to make the picture more lively and sensible, with the sweete cleernesse of her voice, rising & falling kindly as the nature of the worde, and efficacie of the matter required, altogether in such admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felte, whose beautie did pearce through the thicke dulnes of their senses, gave such a way unto her speach through the rugged wildernesse of their imaginations, who (besides they were striken in admiration of her, as of more then a humane creature) were coold with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leasure, that in steed of roaring cries, there was now heard nothing, but a cofused muttring, whether her saying were to be followed, betwixt feare to pursue, & lothnesse to leave : most of them could have bene cotent, it had never bene begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they knew not, finding it far easier to tie then to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no evil way in such mutinies, to give the mutinous some occasio of such service, as they might thinke (in their own judgement) would countervaile their trespasse, withal, to take the more assured possession of their mindes, which she feared might begin to waver, Loiall Arcadians (said she) now do I offer unto you the manifesting of your duties: all those that have taken armes for the Princes safetie, let the turne their backs to the gate, with their weapons bent against such as would hurt his sacred person. O weak trust of the many- headed multitude, whom inconstancie onely doth guide to well ARCADIA. LIB. 2. doing : who can set confidence there, where company takes away shame, and ech may lay the fault of his fellow ? So said a craftie felow among them, named C/inias, to himselfe, when he saw the worde no sooner out of Ze/manes mouth, but that there were some shouts of joy, with, God save Basilius, and divers of them with much jollity growne to be his guard, that but litle before met to be his murderers. CHAP. 27. 1 A verball craftie coward pur tray ed in Clinias. 2 His first raising, and with the first, relenting in this mutinie^ 3 punished by the farmer. * The uprore reenforced, & weakned by themselves. 5 Clinias-^/5 Sinon-/;^ narration of this druken rebellions original. 6 The kings order in it. THis Clinias in his youth had bene a scholler so farre, as to I learne rather wordes then maners, and of words rather plentie then order ; and oft had used to be an aclor in Trage- dies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language, acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to beare the figure of them : long used to the eyes and eares of men, and to recken no fault, but shamefastnesse ; in nature, a most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely venturous in privie practises. This fellowe was become of neere trust to Cecropia, 2 dmphia/us-his mother, so that he was privy to al the mis- chievous devises, wherewith she went about to mine Basi/ius, and his children, for the advauncing of her sonne : and though his education had made him full of tongue, yet his love to be doing, taught him in any evill to be secret; and had by his mistresse bene used (ever since the strange retiring of Basilius) to whisper rumors into the peoples eares : and this time (finding great aptnes in the multitude) was one of the chiefe that set them in the uprore (though quite without the cosent of AmphialuS) who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so have advetured the life of Philoclea.} Bujt now perceiving the flood of their furie began to ebbe, he thought it policie to take 3*9 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES the first of the tide, so that no ma cried lowder then he, upon Basilius. And som of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his comandement to lift him up, & then as if he had had a prologue to utter, he began with a nice gravitie to demand audience. But few attending what he said, with vehement gesture, as if he would teare the stars from the skies, he fell to crying out so lowde, that not onely Zelmane, but Basilius might heare him. O unhappie men, more madde then the Giants that would have plucked *Jupiter out of heaven, how long shal this rage continue? why do you not all throw downe your weapons, and submit your selves to our good Prince, our good Basilius^ the Pelops of wisdom, & Minos of all good governmet ? when will you begin to beleve me, and other honest and faithfull subjects, that have done all we could to stop your furie? 3 The farmer that loved Zelmane could abide him no longer. For as at the first he was willing to speake of coditions, hoping to have gotten great soverainties, & among the rest Zelmane: so now perceiving, that the people, once any thing downe the hill from their furie, would never stop till they came to the bottom of absolute yeelding, and so that he should be nearer feares of punishment, then hopes of such advancement, he was one of them that stood most against the agreement : and to begin withall, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher, who had bin one of the chiefest make-bates, strake him a great wound upon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch fell down, crying for succour, & (scrambling through the legs of them that were about him) gat to the throne, where Zelmane tooke him, and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and quaking for feare of more. 4 But as soone as that blow was given (as if /Eolus had broke open the doore to let all his winds out) no hand was idle, ech one killing him that was next, for feare he should do as much to him. For being divided in minds & not divided in copanies, they that would- yeeld to Basilius were intermingled with the that would not yeeld. These men thinking their ruine stood upo it ; those men to get favor of their Prince, converted their ungracious motion into their owne bowels, & by a true judge- ment grew their owne punishers. None was sooner killed the those that had bene leaders in the disobedience : who by being 320 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. so, had taught them, that they did leade disobediece to the same leaders. And many times it fel out that they killed them that were of their owne faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But then came downe Ze/mane; and Basi/ius with Dorus issued, and somtimes seeking to draw together those of their party, somtimes laying indifferently among them, made such havocke (amog the rest Zel-mane striking the farmer to the hart with her sworde, as before she had done with her eyes) that in a while all they of the contrary side were put to flight, and fled to certaine woods upon the frontiers; where feeding coldly, and drinking onely water, they were disciplined for their dronken riots ; many of them being slaine in that chase, about a score onely escaping. But when these late rebels, nowe souldiers, were returned from the chase, Basi/ius calling them togither, partly for policy sake, but principally because Zelmane before had spoken it (which was to him more the a divine ordinance) he pronounced their generall pardon, willing them to returne to their houses, and therafter be more circuspecl: in their proceedings: which they did most of them with share-marks of their folly. But imagin- ing Clinias to be one of the chiefe that had bred this good alteration, he gave him particular thanks, and withall willed him to make him know, how this frenzie had entred into the people. Clinias purposing indeede to tell him the trueth of al, saving 5 what did touch himself, or Cecropia, first, dipping his hand in the blood of his woud, Now by this blood (said he) which is more deare to me, then al the rest that is in my body, since it is spent for your safety : this togue (perchance unfortunate, but never false) shall not now begin to lie unto my Prince, of me most beloved. Then stretching out his hand, and making vehement countenaces the ushers to his speches, in such maner of tearms recounted this accident. Yesterday (said he) being your birth-day, in the goodly greene two mile hence before the city of EnispuSj to do honour to the day, were a four or five thousand people (of all conditions, as I thinke) gathered together, spending al the day in dancings and other exercises : and when night came, under tents and bowes making great cheare, and meaning to observe a wassaling watch all that night for your sake. Bacchus (the learned say) was begot with thunder: I s. A. x 321 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES think, that made him ever since so full of stur & debate. Bacchus indeed it was which souded the first triipet to this rude alaru. For that barbarous opinion being generally among them, to thinke with vice to do honor, & with aftivitie in beastlines to shew abundace of love, made most of the seeke to shew the depth of their affedlio in the depth of their draught. But being once wel chafed with wine (having spent al the night, & some peece of the morning in such revelling) & imboldned by your absented maner of living, there was no matter their eares had ever heard of that grew not to be a subject of their winie conference. I speake it by proofe : for I take witnes of the gods (who never leave perjuries unpunished) that I ofte cried out against their impudency, & (whe that would not serve) stopt mine eares, because I wold not be partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me to have mine eares & eies defiled. Publike affairs were mingled with private grudges, neither was any man thought of wit, that did not pretende some cause of mislike. Rayling was counted the finite of freedome, and saying nothing had his uttermoste prayse in ignoraunce. At the length, your sacred person (alas why did I live to heare it? alas how do I breath to utter it? But your comandement doth not onely enjoine obedience, but give me force : your sacred person (I say) fell to be their table- talke: a proud word swelling in their stomacks, & disdainfull reproches against so great a greatnes, having put on the shew of greatnes in their little mindes: till at length the very un- brideled use of words having increased fire in their mindes (which God knowes thought their knowledge notable, because they had at all no knowledge to codemne their own want of knowledge) they descended (O never to be forgotten presump- tion) to a direct mislike of your living from among them. Whereupon it were tedious to remember their far-fetched constructions. But the summe was, you disdained them : and what were the pompes of your estate, if their armes mainteyned you not? Who woulde call you a Prince, if you had not a people ? When certaine of them of wretched estates, and worse mindes (whose fortunes, change could not impaire) began to say, that your government was to be looked into; how the great treasures (you had levied amog the) had bene spent; why none but great men & gentlemen could be admitted into 322 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. counsel, that the comons (forsooth) were to plain headed to say their opinios: but yet their blood & sweat must maintain all. Who could tell whether you were not betraied in this place, where you lived ? nay whether you did live or no ? Therefore that it was time to come & see; and if you were here, to know (if Arcadia were growne lothsome in your sight) why you did not ridde your selfe of the trouble ? There would not want those that would take so faire a cumber in good part. Since the Countrie was theirs, and the governement an adherent to the countrie, why should they not consider of the one, as well as inhabite the other? Nay rather (said they) let us beginne that, which all Arcadia will followe. Let us deliver our Prince from daunger of practises, and our selves from want of a Prince. Let us doo that, which all the rest thinke. Let it be said, that we onely are not astonished with vaine titles, which have their force but in our force. Lastly, to have saide & heard so much, was as dagerous, as to have attepted : & to attept they had the name of glorious liberty with them. These words being spoke (like a furious storme) presently caried away their wel inclined braines. What I, and some other of the honester sort could do, was no more, then if with a puffe of breath, one should goe about to make a saile goe against a mightie winde: or, with one hand, stay the ruine of a mightie wall. So generall grewe this madnes among them, there needed no drumme, where each man cried, each spake to other that spake as fast to him, and the disagreeing sounde of so many voices, was the chiefe token of their unmeete agreement. Thus was their banquette turned to a battaile, their winie mirthes to bloudie rages, and the happie prayers for your life, to monstrous threatning of your estate; the solemnizing your birth-day, tended to have been the cause of your funerals. But as a dronken rage hath (besides his wickednes) that follie, that the more it seekes to hurt, the lesse it considers how to be able to hurt: they never weyed how to arme theselves, but tooke up every thing for a weapon, that furie offered to their handes. Many swordes, pikes, and billes there were: others tooke pitchforkes and rakes, converting husbandrie to souldierie: some caught hold of spittes (thinges serviceable for life) to be the instruments of death. And there was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he drank to your health, to use it (as he could) to your mischiefe. Thus X2 323 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES armed, thus governed, forcing the unwilling, and hartening the willing, adding furie to furie, and encreasing rage with running, they came headlong towarde this lodge: no man (I dare say) resolved in his own hart, what was the uttermost he would doo when he came hether. But as mischief is of such nature, that it cannot stand but with strengthning one evill by an other, and so multiplie in it selfe, till it come to the highest, and then fall with his owne weight: so to their mindes (once passed the bounds of obedience) more and more wickednes opened it selfe, so that they who first pretended to preserve you, then to reforme you, (I speak it in my conscience, and with a bleeding hart) now thought no safetie for them, without murdering you. So as if the Gods (who preserve you for the preservation of Arcadia) had not shewed their miraculous power, and that they had not used for instruments, both your owne valour (not fit to be spoken of by so meane a mouth as mine) and some (I must confesse) honest minds, (who alas why should I mention, since what we did, reached not the hundred part of our duetie ?) our hands (I tremble to think of it) had destroyed all that, for which we have cause to rejoyce that we are Arcadians. 6 With that the fellow did wring his hands, & wrang out teares: so as Basiling that was not the sharpest pearcer into masked minds, toke a good liking to him; & so much the more as he had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his mistres. And therfore pitying his woud, willed him to get him home, and looke well unto it, & make the best search he could, to know if there were any further depth in this matter, for which he should be well rewarded. But before he went away, certain of the shepheards being come (for that day was ap- pointed for their pastorals) he sent one of them to Philanax, and an other to other principal noble-men, and cities there abouts, to make through-inquirie of this uprore, and withall, to place such garrisons in all the townes & villages neere unto him, that he might thereafter keep his solitary lodge in more security, upo the making of a fire, or ringing of a bell, having them in a redines for him. 324 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. CHAP. 28. 1 The praises of Zelmanes att. a Dametas his caroll for saving himself, and his charge. z Basilius his conference with Philanax of the Oracle (the ground of all this storie.} *His wrong-construffion of it. * His hymne to Apollo. 6 His courting turnde over to tale-telling. * I A His, Clinias (having his eare one way when his eye was I an other) had perceived; & therefore hasted away, with mind to tell Cecropia that she was to take some speedie resolu- tion, or els it were daunger those examinations would both discover, & ruine her : and so went his way, leaving that little companie with embracements, and praising of Zelmanes excellent proceeding, to shew, that no decking sets foorth any thing so" much, as affeclion. For as, while she stoode at the discretion of those indiscreete rebelles, everie angrie countenance any of them made, seemed a knife layde upon their owne throates; so unspeakable was now their joy, that they saw (besides her safetie & their owne) the same wrought, and safely wrought by her meanes, in whom they had placed all their delightes. What examples Greece could ever alledge of witte and fortitude, were set in the ranke of trifles, being compared to this adlion. But as they were in the midst of those unfained ceremonies, 2 a Gitterne, ill-played on, accompanied with a hoarce voice (who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be merie in spite of Fortune) made them looke the way of the ill-noysed song. The song was this. A Hateful! cure with hate to heale : 2~\_ A blooddy helpe with blood to save: A foolish thing with fooles to deale: Let him be bold that bobs will have. But who by meanes of wisdome hie Hath sav d his charge? it is even I. Let other deck their pride with skarres, And of their wounds make brave lame showes : First let them die, then passe the starres, When rotten Fame will tell their blowes. But eye from blade, and eare from crie : Who hath sav'd all? it is even I. 325 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES They had soone found it was Dametas, who came with no lesse lifted up countenance, then if he had passed over the bellies of all his enemies: so wise a point he thought he had perfourmed, in using the naturall strength of a cave. But never was it his dooing to come so soone thence, till the coast were more assuredly clearer for it was a rule with him, that after a great storme there ever fell a fewe droppes before it be "fully finished. But Pamela (who had now experienced how much care doth sollicite a Lovers hart) used this occasion of going to her parents and sister, indeed aswel for that cause, as being unquiet, till her eye might be assured, how her shepheard had gone through the daunger. But Basi/ius with the sight of Pamela (of whom almost his head otherwise occupied, had left the wonted remembrance) was sodainly striken into a devout kind of admiration, remembring the oracle, which (according to the fauning humour of false hope) he interpreted now his owne to his owne best, and with the willing blindnesse of affection (because his minde ran wholly upon Ze/mane) he thought the Gods in their oracles did principally minde her. 3 But as he was deepely thinking of the matter, one of the shepheards tolde him, that Philanax was already come with a hundred horse in his company. For having by chaunce rid not farre of the little desert, he had heard of this uprore, and so was come upon the spurre (gathering a company of Gentlemen as fast as he could) to the succour of his Master. Basi/ius was glad of it ; but (not willing to have him, nor any other of the Noble men, see his Mistresse) he himselfe went out of the Lodge, and so giving order unto him of placing garrisons, and examining these matters; and Philanax with humble earnest- nesse beginning to entreate him to leave of his solitarie course (which already had bene so daungerous unto him) Well (said Basilius) it may be ere long I wil codiscend unto your desire. In the meane time, take you the best order you can to keepe me safe in my solitarinesse. But, (said he) doo you remember, how earnestly you wrote unto me, that I should not be moved by that Oracles authoritie, which brought me to this resolution? Full well Sir (answered Philanax] for though it pleased you not as then to let me knowe, what the Oracles words were, yet all Oracles holding (in my conceipt) one degree of reputatio, it suffised me to know, it was but an Oracle, which led you fro 326 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. your owne course. Well (said Basi/ius) I will now tell you the wordes; which before I thought not good to doo; because when al the events fall out (as some already have done) I may charge you with your incredulitie. So he repeated them in this sorte. THy elder care shall from thy care full face By princely meane be stolne, and yet not lost. Thy yonger shall with Natures blisse embrace An uncouth love, which Nature hateth most. Both they themselves unto such two shall wed. Who at thy beer, as at a barre, shall plead} Why thee (a living man) they had made dead. In thy owne seate a forraine state shall sit. And ere that all these blowes thy head doo hit, Thou, with thy wife, adultry shall commit. For you forsoth (said he) when I told you, that some super- naturall cause sent me strange visios, which being cofirmed with presagious chaunces, I had gone to Delphos, & there received this answere : you replied to me, that the onely super- naturall causes were the humors of my body, which bred such melancholy dreames; and that both they framed a mind full of conceipts, apt to make presages of things, which in theselves were meerly chaungeable: & with all as I say, you remeber what you wrot unto me, touching authoritie of the Oracle: but now I have some notable triall of the truth therof, which herafter I wil more largly comunicate unto you. Only now, know that the thing I most feared is alredy performed ; I mean that a forraine state should possesse my throne. For that hath ben done by Zelmane, but not as I feared, to my ruine, but to my preservatio. But whe he had once named Zelmane, that name was as good as a pully, to make the clocke of his praises run on in such sort, that (Philanax found) was more exquisite then the only admiration of vertue breedeth : which his faithful hart inwardly repining at, made him shrinke away as soone as he could, to go about the other matters of importance, which Basi/ius had enjoyned unto him. Basi/ius returned into the Lodge, thus by him selfe con- 4 struing the oracle, that in that he said, his elder care should by Princely meane be stolne away from him, and yet not lost, it 327 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES was now perfourmed, since Zelmane had as it were robd from him the care of his first begotten childe, yet was it not lost, since in his harte the ground of it remained. That his younger should with Natures blisse embrace the love of Zelmane, because he had so commaunded her for his sake to doo ; yet shoulde it be with as much hate of Nature, for being so hatefull an opposite to the jealousie hee thought her mother had of him. The sitting in his seate he deemed by her already perfourmed : but that which most coforted him, was his interpretation of the adulterie, which he thought he should commit with Ze/mane y whom afterwards he should have to his wife. The point of his daughters marriage, because it threatned his death withall, he determined to prevent, with keeping them unmaried while he lived. But having as he thought, gotten thus much under- standing of the Oracle, he determined for three daies after to perfourme certaine rites to AptOti and even then began with his wife and daughters to singe this Hymne, by them yearely used. 5 A Polio great, whose beames the greater world do light, 2~\_ And in our little world do cleare our inward sight, Which ever shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade, Whose lights do ever live, but in our darkenesse fade; Thou God, whose youth was deckt with spoiles of Pythos skin : "(So humble knowledge can throw downe the snakish kinne] Latonas sonne, whose birth in paine and travaile long Doth teach, to learne the good what travailes do belong: " In travaile of our life (a short but tedious space) While brickie houreglas runnes, guide thou our panting pace : Give us foresightfull mindes : give us minds to obaye What foresight tels; our thoughts upon thy knowledge staye. Let so our fruites grow up, that nature be maintainde : But so our hartes keepe downe, with vice they be not stainde. Let this assured holde our judgements overtake, " That nothing winnes the heaven, but what doth earth forsake. 6 Assone as he had ended his devotion (all the priviledged shepheards being now come) knowing well inough he might lay all his care upon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the tast of this passed tumult, with some rurall pastimes. For which while the shepheards prepared themselves in their best 328 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. maner, Basilius tooke his daughter Philoclea aside, and with such hast, as if his eares hunted for wordes, desired to know how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered him, according to the agreement betwixt them, that thus much for her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former resolutio, as to heare him, whesoever he would speake; & further then that (she said) as Zelmane had not graunted, so she nether did, nor ever would desire. Basilius kist her with more then fatherly thanks, and straight (like a hard-kept warde new come to his lands) would faine have used the benefite of that graunt, in laying his sicknes before his onely physition. But Zelmane (that had not yet fully determined with her selfe, how to beare her selfe toward him) made him in a few words under- stand, that the time in respect of the copanie was unfit for such a parley, & therfore to keep his braines the busier, letting him understand what she had learned of his daughters, touching Eronas distresse (whom in her travaile she had knowne, and bene greatly beholding to) she desired him to finish the rest, for so far as Pldgus had told him; Because she said (& she said truly) she was full of care for that Ladie, whose desart (onely except an over-base choise) was nothing agreable to misfortune. Basilius glad that she would commaund him any thing, but more glad, that in excusing the unfitnesse of that time, she argued an intention to graunt a fitter, obeyed her in this manner. CHAP. 29. 1 Antiphilus his base-borne pride borne high by flatterie. *His unkinde hating the loving Erona, and fond loving of hating Artaxia. 3 Artaxias trap to take them both. * The mans weakenesse, and the womans strength in bearing captivitie. 6 Plangus love to her, employed by her to save Antiphilus, 6 who againe betraies himselfe and them. 7 His execution by women. 8 Plangus hardy attempts to save Erona. 9 The conditions of her death. Her sorrow for Antiphilus, u and Plangus travaile for her: with his crosses, and course therein. MAdame (said he) it is very true, that since yeares enhabled me to judge what is, or is not to be pitied, I never saw anything that more moved me to justifie a vehemet com- 3*9 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES passion in my self, then the estate of that Prince, whom strong against al his owne afflictions (which yet were great, as I perceave you have heard) yet true and noble love had so pulled downe, as to lie under sorrow for another. In so much as I could not temper my long idle pen in that subjedt, which I perceive you have scene. But then to leave that unrepeated, which I finde my daughters have told you, It may please you to understad, since it pleaseth you to demaud, that Antiphilus being crowned, & so left by the famous Princes Musidorus & Pyroc/es (led thece by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in these provinces of Greece^ making a dishonorable enquirie after that excellent prince Pyroc/es alreadie perished) Antiphilus (I say) being crowned, and delivered from the presence of those two, whose vertues (while they were present, good schoolmasters) suppressed his vanities, he had not stregth of mind enough in him to make long delay, of discovering what maner of man he was. But streight like one caried up to so hie a place, that he looseth the discerning of the ground over which he is; so was his mind lifted so far beyod the levell of his owne discourse, that remembring only that himselfe was in the high seate of a King, he coulde not perceive that he was a king of reasonable creatures, who would quickly scorne follies, and repine at injuries. But imagining no so true propertie of sovereigntie, as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoever pleased his fansie, he quickly made his kingdome a Teniscourt, where his subjects should be the balles; not in truth cruelly, but licenciously abusing them, presuming so far upon himselfe, that what he did was liked of every bodie: nay, that his disgraces were favours, and all because he was a King. For in Nature not able to conceyve the bonds of great matters (suddenly borne into an unknowne Ocean of absolute power) he was swayed withall (he knewe not howe) as everie winde of passions puffed him. Whereto nothing helped him better, then that poysonous sugar of flatterie : which some used, out of the innate basenesse of their hart, straight like dogges fawning uppon the greatest; others secretely hating him, and disdayning his great rising so suddenly, so undeservedly (finding his humour) bent their exalting him only to his overthrow; like the bird that caries the shell-fish high, to breake him the easier with his fall. But his minde (being an apt matter to receive what forme their 33 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. amplifying speeches woulde lay upon it) daunced so prettie a musicke to their false measure, that he thought himselfe the wysest, the woorthyest, and best beloved, that ever gave honour to a royall tytle. And being but obscurely borne, he had found out unblushing pedegrees, that made him not onely of the blood royall, but true heyre, unjustly dispossest by Eronas auncestours. And like the foolish birde, that when it so hides the heade that it sees not it selfe, thinkes no bodie else sees it : so did he imagine, that no bodie knew his basenesse, while he himselfe turned his eyes from it. Then vainenesse (a meager friend to gratefulnesse) brought 2 him so to despise Erona, as of whom he had received no benefit, that within halfe a yeeres manage he began to pretend barren- nesse : and making first an unlawfull law of having mo wives then one, he still keeping Erona, under-had, by message sought Artaxia, who no lesse hating him, then loving (as unluckie a choise) the naughtie King Plexirtus^ yet to bring to passe what he purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, till alreadie his imagination had crowned him King of Armenia^ & had made that, but the foundation of more, and more mon- archies; as if fortune had only gotte eies to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of most part of al the Princes of Asia being to do honour to the never sufficiently praised Pyrodes & Musidorus^ he would be one not to acknowledge his obligation (which was as great as any of the others,) but looking to have bene yong master among those great estates, as he was amog his abusing underlings. But so many valorous Princes, in-deed farre neerer to disdaine him then otherwise, he was quickly (as standing upon no true ground, inwardly) out of countenance with himselfe, till his seldom-cofortlesse flatterers (perswading him, it was envie & feare of his expected greatnes) made him hast away fro that company, & without further delay appointed the meeting with A rtaxia ; so incredibly blinded with the over-bright shining of his roialty, that he could thinke such a Queene could be content to be joined-patent with an other to have such an husband. Poore Erona to all this obeied, either vehemecy of affedtion making her stoop to so overbase a servitude, or astonished with an unlooked-for fortune, dull to any behoofeful resolutio, or (as many times it falles out even in great harts when they can accuse none but theselves) desperatly 331 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES bent to maintaine it. For so went she on in that way of her love, that (poore Lady) to be beyond all other examples of ill- set affeftion, she was brought to write to Artaxia, that she was content, for the publike good, to be a second wife, and yeeld the first place to her : nay to extoll him, and even woo Artaxia for him. 3 But Artaxia (mortally hating them both for her brothers sake) was content to hide her hate, til she had time to shewe it: and pretending that all her grudge was against the two paragons of vertue, Musidorus & Pyrocles, even met them halfe way in excusing her brothers murder, as not being principall actors; and of the other-side, driven to what they did by the ever-pardonable necessitie : and so well handled the matter, as, though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himselfe all that she woulde have him thinke. And so a solemne enter- view was appointed. But (as the Poets say) Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured cote. For Artaxia laying men secretly (and easily they might be secret, since Antiphilus thought she overran him in love) when he came even readie to embrace her, shewing rather a countenaunce of accepting then offering, they came forth, and (having much advauntage both in number, valure, and fore-preparation) put all his companie to the sword ; but such as could flie away. As for Antiphilus she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, hasting backe toward her brothers tombe, upo which she ment to sacrifice them ; making the love of her brother stand betwene her and all other motions of grace, from which by nature she was alienated. 4 But great diversitie in them two quickely discovered it selfe for the bearing of that affliction. For Antiphilus that had no greatnesse but outwarde, that taken away, was readie to fall faster then calamitie could thrust him ; with fruitlesse begging (where reason might well assure him his death was resolved) and weake bemoning his fortune, to give his enemies a most pleasing musique, with manie promises, and protestations, to as little purpose, as from a little minde. But Erona sadde in- deede, yet like one rather used, then new fallen to sadnesse (as who had the joyes of her hart alreadie broken) seemed rather to welcome then to shunne that ende of miserie, speaking little, but what she spake was for Antiphilus, remembring his guiltles- 33* ARCADIA. LIB. 2. nesse, being at that time prisoner to Tiridates, when the valiant princes slue him: to the disgrace of men, shewing that there are women more wise to judge what is to be expedted, and more constant to beare it when it is happened. But her witte endeared by her youth, her affliction by her 5 birth, and her sadnesse by her beautie, made this noble prince Plangus, who (never almost from his cousin Artaxid] was nowe present at Eronaes taking, to perceyve the shape of lovelinesse more perfectly in wo, then in joyfulnesse (as in a pidlure which receives greater life by the darkenesse of shadowes, then by more glittering colours) and seeing to like ; and liking to love ; and loving straight to feele the most incident effecls of love, to serve and preserve. So borne by the hastie tide of short leysure, he did hastily deliver together his affection, and affe&ionate care. But she (as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mencioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attend) desired him if he loved her, to shew it, in finding some way to save Antiphilus. For her, she found the world but a wearisom stage unto her, where she played a part against her will : and therefore besought him, not to cast his love in so unfruitfull a place, as could not love it selfe : but for a testimonie of constancie, and a sutablenes to his word, to do so much comfort to her minde, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saved. He tolde me how much he argued against her tendering him, who had so ungratefully betraied her, and foolishly cast away himselfe. But perceiving she did not only bend her very good wits to speake for him against her-selfe, but when such a cause could be allied to no reaso, yet love would needs make it-self a cause, & barre her rather fro hearing, then yeeld that she should yeeld to such arguments : he likewise in who the power of Love (as they say of spirits) was subjecl to the love in her, with griefe cosented, & (though backwardly) was diliget to labor the help of Antiphilus : a man whom he not onely hated, as a traitour to Erona y but envied as a possessor of Erona. Yet Love sware, his hart, in spite of his hart, should make him become a servant to his rivall. And so did he, seeking all the meanes of perswading Artaxia, which the authority of so neere, and so vertuous a kinsma would give unto him. But she to whom the eloquence of hatred had given revenge the face of delight, rejected all such motions; 333 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chiefe citie, where she kept them with intention at the birth-day of Tiridates (which was very nere) to execute Antiphilus, & at the day of his death (which was about halfe a yeere after) to use the same rigor towar[ds] Erona. Plangus much grieved (because much loving) attempted the humors of the Lyeians, to see, whether they would come in with forces to succor their Princesse. But there the next inheritor to the crowne (with the true play that is used in the game of kingdos) had no sooner his mistres in captivity, but he had usurped her place, & making her odious to her people, because of the unfit ele6lio she had made, had so left no hope there: but which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, perswading the justicing her, because that unjustice might give his title the name of justice. Wating that way, Plangus practised with some deere friends of his, to save Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was much neerer then Eronaes y & that he wel found, she had twisted her life upo the same threed with his, he determined first to get him out of prison : & to that end having prepared al matters as wel as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tiridates old servants to have well-marking eyes, he coferred with Antiphilus^ as (by the aufthoritie he had) he found meanes to do; & agreed with him of the time and maner, how he should by the death of some of his jaylors escape. 6 But all being well ordered, and Plangus willinglie putting himselfe into the greatest danger, Antiphilus (who, like a bladder, sweld redie to breake, while it was full of the winde of prosperitie, that being out, was so abjedted, as apt to be trode on by every bodie) when it came to the point, that with some hazard, he might be in apparant likelihoode to avoide the uttermost harm, his harte fainted, and (weake foolS, neither hoping, nor fearing as he should) gat a conceite, that with bewraying his practise, he might obtaine pardon : and there- fore, even a little before Plangus should have come unto him, opened the whole practise to him that had the charge, with unpittyed teares idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxias commaundement, then against her will escape : yet begging life upon any the hardest, and wretchedest conditions that she woulde lay upon him. His keeper provided accordingly, so that when Plangus came, he was like, himself to have bene 334 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. entrappud : but that finding (with a luckie in-sight) that it was discovered, he retired; and (calling his friendes about him) stood upon his guard, as he had good cause. For, Artaxia (accounting him most ungrateful considering that her brother and she, had not onely preserved him against the malice of his father, but ever used him much liker his birth, then his fortune) sent forces to apprehend him. But he among the martiall men had gotten so great love, that he could not onely keepe himself from the malice, but worke in their mindes a compassion of Eronas adversitie. But for the succour of Antiphilus he could gette no bodie to 7 joyne with him, the contempt of him having not bene able to qualifie the hatred ; so that Artaxia might easilie upon him perfourme her will; which was (at humble suite of all the women of that citie) to deliver him to their censure, who mortally hating him for having made a lawe of Polygamie, after many tortures, forste him to throwe himselfe from a high PyramiSy which was built over Tiridates tombe, and so to end his fallse-harted life, which had planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be unkinde. But Plangus well perceiving that Artaxia staied onely for 8 the appointed day, that the faire Eronas bodie, (consumed to ashes) should make a notorious testimonie, how deepely her brothers death was engraven in her brest, he assembled good numbers of friendes, who his vertue (though a stranger) had tied unto him, by force to give her libertie. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom Anger gave more courage then her sexe did feare, used her regall authoritie (the most she could) to suppresse that sedition, and have her will : which (she thought) is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who indeede (as all men witnes) is one of the best captains (both for policie and valour) that are trained in the schoole of Mars, in a conflict overthrew Artaxias power, though of far greater number : and there toke prisoner a base sonne of her brothers, whom she deerly affecled, & then sent her word that he should run the same race of fortune (whatsoever it was) that Erona did: & happy was that threatning for her ; for els Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respefte of those tumults. But now (some principal noble-me of that countrie inter- 9 posing theselves) it was agreed, that all persons els fullie 335 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES pardoned, and all prisoners (except Erona} delivered, she should be put into the hands of a principall nobleman, who had a castle of great strength, upon oath, that if by the day two yeare fro Tiridates death, Pyrocles and Musidorus did not in person combat, & overcome two knights, who she appointed to maintain her quarrell against Erona and them, of having by treason destroyed her brother, that the Erona should be that same day burned to ashes: but if they came, and had the vi&orie, she should be delivered ; but upon no occasion, neither freed, nor executed, till that day. And hereto of both sides, all toke solemne oath, and so the peace was concluded ; they of Plangus partie forcing him to agree, though he himselfe the sooner condiscended, knowing the courtesie of those two excellent Princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrell, 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 newes fro Plexirtus, that upon the sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held her selfe sure of the match. 10 But poore Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his partie (as most times it falles out in like case) hungry of conditions of peace, accepted them ; & then obteined leave of the Lord, that indifferently kept her, to visite Erona, whom he founde full of desperate sorowe, not suffering, neither his un- woorthinesse, nor his wronges, nor his death (which is the naturall conclusion of all worldly a6ls) either to cover with forgetfulnes, or diminish with consideration, the affection she had borne him : but even glorying in affliction, and shunning all comforte, she seemed to have no delight, but in making her selfe the picture of miserie. So that when Plangus came to her, she fell in deadlie traunces, as if in him she had scene the death of Antiphilus, because he had not succoured him: and yet (her vertue striving) she did at one time acknowledge her selfe bound, and professe her selfe injured; in steede of allowing the conclusion they had made, or writing to the Princes (as he wisht her to doo) craving nothing but some speedie death to followe, her (in spite of just hate) beloved Antiphilus. 11 So that Plangus having nothing but a ravisht kisse from "her hande at their parting, went away towarde Greece, whether- ward he understoode the Princes were embarked. But by the 33 6 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. way it was his fortune to intercept letters, written by Artaxia to P/exirtus : wherein she signified her accepting him to her husband, whom she had ever favoured, so much the rather, as he had perfourmed the conditions of her manage, in bringing to their deserved end, her greatest enemies: withall, thanking the sea, in such tearmes, as he might well perceive, it was by some treason wrought in Plexirtus shippe. Whereupon (to make more diligent search) he tooke shippe himselfe, and came into Laconia^ enquiring, and by his enquirie finding, that such a shippe was indeede with fight, and fire, perished, none (almost) escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus y it was assuredly determined that they were cast away : for the name of such Princes (especially in Greece] would quickly els have bene a large witnesse to the contrarie. Full of griefe with that, for the losse of such, who left the world poor of per- fedtion : but more sorie for Eronas sake, who now by them could not be relieved. A new advertisement from Armenia overtooke him, which multiplied the force of his anguish. It was a message from the Nobleman who had Erona in ward, giving him to understad, that since his departure, Artaxia (using the benefite of time) had besieged him in his castell, demaunding 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, log he should not do for want of vidtuall, which he had not so wisely provided, because he trusted upon the generall oth taken for two yeares space: & therfore willed him to make hast to his succour, & come with no small forces; for all they that were of his side in Armenia^ were consumed, & Artaxia had encreased her might by mariage of Plexirtus y who now crowned King there, stickt not to glory in the murder of Pyrocles and Musidorus^ as having just cause thereto, in respedt of the deaths of his sister Andromana, her sonne his nephew, and his own daughter Ze/mane, all whose losse he unjustly charged them withal, & now openly stickt not to cofesse, what a revenge his wit had brought forth. Plangus much astonished herewith, bethought himselfe what to doo. For to returne to Armenia was vaine, since his friends there were utterly overthrowne. The thought he of going to his father ; but he had already (even since the death of his stepmother, & brother) attempted the recovering his favour, & s. A. Y 337 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES all in vaine. For they, that had before joined with Andromana to do him the wrong, thought now no life for the if he returned, & therfore kept him stil (with new forged suspicions) odious to his father. So that Plangus reserving that for a worke of longer time, then the saving of Erona could beare, determined to go to the mighty and good King Euarchus : who lately having (to his eternall fame) fully, not onely conquered his enimies, but established good government in their countries, he hoped he might have present succour of him, both for the justnes of the cause, & revenge of his childrens death, by so hainous a treason murthered. Therefore with diligence he went to him; & by the way (passing through my country) it was my hap to find him, the most overthrowne ma with griefe, that ever I hope to see againe. For stil it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eies ; such an apprehension he had taken of her daunger; 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 passe, till he had made full declaration, which by peeces my daughters & I have delivered unto you. Fayne he would have had succour of my selfe, but the course of my life being otherwise bent, I onely accompanied him with some that might safely guide him to the great Euarchus : for my parte having had some of his speeches so feelingly in my memory, that at an idle time (as I tolde you) I set them downe Dialogue-wise, in such manner as you have scene. And thus, excellent Ladie, I have obeyed you in this storie; wherein if it well please you to consider, what is the straunge power of Love, and what is due to his authoritie, you shall exercise therein the true noblenesse of your judgement, and doo the more right to the unfortunate Historian. Ze/mane (sighing for Eronaes sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she assured her selfe, Euarchus would not spare to take in hande the just delivering of her, joyned with the just revenge of his childrens losse) having now what she desired of Basilius^ to avoide his further discourses of affection, encouraged the shepheards to begin, whom she saw all ready for them. 338 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. The second Eclogues. THe rude tumulte of the Enispians gave occasion to the honest shepheards to beginne their pastorals this day with a dauce, which they called the skirmish betwixt Reason and Passion. For seven shepheards (which were named the Reasonable shepheards) joined theselves; foure of them making a square, and the other two going a litle wide of either side, like winges for the maine battell; and the seventh man for- most, like the forlorne hope to begin the skirmish. In like order came out the seven appassionated shepheards; all keeping the pase of their foote by their voice, and sundry consorted instrumets they held in their armes. And first, the formost of Reasonable side began to sing. R. Thou Rebel! vile, come, to thy master yelde. And the other that met with him answered. P. No, Tyrant, no : mine, mine shall be the fielde. Reason. Can Reason then a Tyraunt counted be? Passion. If Reason will, that Passions be not free. R. But Reason will, that Reason governe most. P. And Passion will, that Passion rule the rost. R. Tour will is will; but Reason reason is. P. Will hath his will, when Reasons will doth misse. R. Whom Passion leades unto his death is bent. P. And let him die, so that he die content. R. By nature you to Reason faith have sworne. P. Not so, but fellowlike together borne. R. Who Passion doth ensue, lives in annoy. P. Who Passion doth forsake, lives void of joy. R. Passion is blinde, and treades an unknowne trace. P. Reason hath eyes to see his owne ill case. Then as they approched neerer, the two of Reasons sides, as if they shot at the other, thus sange. R. Dare Passions then abide in Reasons light? P. And is not Reason dimde with Passions might? R. foolish thing, which glory doth destroye. P. glorious title of a foolish toye. R. Weakenes you are, dare you with our strength fight? P. Because our weaknes weakeneth all your might. Y2 339 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES R. O sacred Reason, helpe our vertuous toiles. P. O Passion, passe on feeble Reasons spoiles. R. We with ourselves abide a daily strife. P. We gladly use the sweetnes of our life. R. But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breede. P. We now have peace, your peace we doo not neede. Then did the two square battailes meete, & in steed of fighting embrace one another, singing thus. R. We are too strong: but Reason seekes no blood. P. Who be too weake, do feigne they be too good. R. Though we cannot orecome, our cause is just. P. Let us orecome, and let us be unjust. R. Yet Passion, yeeld at length to Reasons stroke. P. What shall we winne by taking Reasons yoke? R. The joyes you have shall be made permanent. P. But so we shall with griefe learne to repent. R. Repent indeed, but that shall be your blisse. P. How know we that, since present joyes we misse? R. You know it not: of Reason therefore know it. P. No Reason yet had ever skill to show it. R. P. Then let us both to heavenly rules give place, Which Passions skill, and Reason do deface. THen embraced they one another, and came to the King, who framed his praises of the according to Zelmanes liking; whose unrestrained parts, the minde & eie, had their free course to the delicate Philoclea, whose looke was not short in well requiting it, although she knew it was a hatefull sight to her jealous mother. But Dicus (that had in this time taken a great liking of Dorus for the good partes he found above his age in him) had a delight to taste the fruites of his wit, though in a subject which he him selfe most of all other despised: and so entred to speach with him in the manner of this following Eclogue. Dicus. Dorus. Dicus. T~\Orus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion \^__J To make these woods resounde thy lamentation ? Thy sainte is dead, or dead is thy devotion. 340 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. For who doth holde his love in estimation, To witnes, that he thinkes his thoughts delicious, Thinks to make ech thing badge of his sweet passion. But what doth make thee Dicus so suspicious Doru Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable ? Who others vertue doubt, themselves are vicious. Not so', although my mettall were most mutable, Her beames have wrought therin most faire impression : To such a force some chaunge were nothing sutable. The harte well set doth never shunne confession: Dicu: If noble be thy bandes, make them notorious: Silence doth seeme the maske of base oppression. Who glories in his love, doth make Love glorious : But who doth feare, or bideth muet wilfully, Showes, guilty harte doth deeme his state opprobrious. Thou then, that framste both words & voice most skilfully, Yeeld to our eares a sweet and sound relation, If Love tooke thee by force, or caught thee guilefully. If Sunnie beames shame heav'nly habitation ; Doru If three-leav'd grasse seeme to the sheepe unsavorie, Then base and sower is Loves most high vocation. Or if sheepes cries can helpe the Sunnes owne braverie, Then may I hope, my pipe may have abilitie, To helpe her praise, who decks me in her slaverie. No, no : no wordes ennoble selfe-nobilitie. As for your doubts ; her voice was it deceaved me, Her eye the force beyond all possibilitie. Thy words well voiced, well gra'ste had almost heaved me Dicu Quite from my selfe to love Loves contemplation ; Till of these thoughts thy sodaine ende bereaved me. Goe on therefore, and tell us, by what fashion In thy owne proofs he gets so straunge possession, And how possest he strengthens his invasion? Sight is his roote, in thought is his progression, Don His childhood woonder, prenticeship attention, His youth delight, his age the soules oppression : 341 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Doubte is his sleepe, he waketh in invention ; Fancie his foode, bis clothing is of carefulnes ; Beautie his boote, his play lovers dissention : His eyes are curious search, but vailde with warefulnesse : His wings desire oft dipt with desperation : Largesse his hands could never skill of sparefulnesse. But how he doth by might , or by persuasion To conquere, and his conquest how to ratifie, Experience doubts, and schooles holde disputation. Dicus. But so thy sheepe may thy good wishes satisfie With large encrease, and wool/ of fine perfection, So she thy love, her eyes thy eyes may gratifie, As thou wilt give our soules a deare refection, By telling how she was, how now she framed is To helpe, or hurt in thee her owne infection. Dorus. Blest be the name, wherewith my mistres named is: Whose wounds are salves, whose yokes please more then pleasure doth: Her staines are beames; vertue the fault she blamed is. The hart, eye, eare here onely find his treasure doth : All numbring artes her endlesse graces number not: Time, place, life, wit scarcely her rare gifts measure doth. Is she in rage? so is the Sunne in sommer hot, Yet harvest brings. Doth she alas absent herselfe? The Sunne is hid; his kindly shadows cumber not. But when to give some grace she doth content herselfe, O then it shines; then are the heav'ns distributed, And Venus seemes, to make up her, she spent herselfe. Thus then (I say) my mischiefes have contributed A greater good by her divine reflection ; My harmes to me, my blisse to her attributed, Thus she is framde : her eyes are my direction ; Her love my life; her anger my destruction. Lastly what so she is, that's my protection. Dicus. Thy safetie sure is wrapped in destruction : For that construction thine owne wordes do beare. A man to feare a womans moodie eye, Makes Reason lie a slave to servile Sense. A weake defence where weakenesse is thy force : So is remorse in follie dearely bought. 342 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. If I had thought to heare blasphemous wordes, Dorus My brest to swords, my soule to hell have solde I rather would, then thus mine eares defile With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed. O beards take heed; for I a woolfe have found; Who hunting round the strongest for to kill, His breast doth fill with earth of others joyes, And laden so puls downe, puld downe destroyed. O sheepheards boyes, eschue these tongues of venome, Which do envenome both the soule and senses. Our best defenses are to flie these adders. O tongues like ladders made to clime dishonour, Who judge that honour, which hath scope to slander, Dorus you wander farre in great reproches ; Dicus So love encr aches on your charmed reason, But it is season for to end our singing. Such anger bringing : as for me, my fancie In sicke-mans frenzie rather takes compassion, Then rage for rage : rather my wish I send to thee, Thou soone may have some helpe, or change of passion. She oft her lookes, the Starr es her favour bend to thee : Fortune store, Nature health, Love grant perswasion. A quiet mind none but thy selfe can lend to thee, Thus I commend to thee all our former love, Well do 1 prove, errour lies oft in zeale, Doi Yet it is seale, though errour, of true hart. Nought could impart such heates to friendly mind. But for to find thy words did her disgrace, Whose onely face the little heaven is, Which who doth misse his eyes are but delusions, Barr'd from their chiefest objett of delightfulnesse, Throwne on this earth the Chaos of confusions. As for thy wish to my enraged spitefulnesse, The lovely blowne with rare reward, my prayer is * Thou mayest love her that I may see thy sightfulnesse. The quiet mind {whereof my selfe empairer is, As thou doest thinke) should most of all disquiet me Without her love, then any mind who fairer is. Her onely cure from surfet-woes can diet me : 343 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES She holdes the ballance of my contentation : Her cleared eyes, nought els, in stormes can quiet me. Nay rather then my ease discontentation Should breed to her, let me for aye dejefted be From any joy, which might her griefe occasion. With so sweete plagues my happie harmes infefted be: Paine willes me die, yet will of death I mortifie : For though life irkes, in life my loves protected be. Thus for ech change my changelesse hart I fort'ifie. WHen they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants, especially of Zelmane, who never forgat to give due comedations to her friend Dorus, the more to advance him in his pursute (although therein he had brought his matters to a more wished conclusion then yet she knew of) out starte a jolly yonker, his name was Nico, whose tongue had borne a very itching silence all this while. And having spied one Pas, a mate of his, as mad as himselfe (both indeed lads to clime any tree in the world) he bestowed this maner of salutation upon him, and was with like reverence requited. Nico. Dorus. Nico. \Nd are you there old Pasr* in troth I ever thought, \. Among us all we should find out some thing of nought. Pas. And I am here the same, so mote I thrive and thee, Despairde in all this flocke to find a knave, but thee. Nico. Ah now I see, why thou art in thy selfe so blind: Thy gray-hood hides the thing, that thou despairst to find. Pas. My gray-hood is mine owne, all be it be but gray, Not like the scrippe thou stoTste, while Dorcas sleeping lay. Nico. Mine was the scrippe: but thou, that seeming raid with love, Didst snatch from Cosmas hand her greeny wrought? glove. Pas. Ah Joole; so Courtiers do. But who did lively skippe, When for a treene-dish stolne, thy father did thee whippe ? Nico. In deed the witch thy dam her crouch from shoulder spred, For pilfring Lalus lambe, with crouch to blesse thy head. 344 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. My voice the lambe did winne, Menalcas was our judge : Pas. Of singing match was made, whence he with shame did trudge. Couldst thou make Lalus flie ? so nightingales avoide, N ' co When with the kawing crowes their musicke is annoide. Nay like to nightingales the other birds give eare : Pas. My pipe and song made him both pipe and song forsweare. I thinke it well: such voice would make one musicke hate: Nico, But if I had bene there, th'adst met another mate. Another sure as is a gander from a goose : Pas. But still when thou dost sing, me thinkes a colt is loose. Well aimed by my hat : for as thou sangst last day ; Nico. The neighbours all did crie, alas what asse doth bray? But here is Dicus old', let him then speake the woord, Pas. To whether with best cause the Nymphes faire flowers affbord. Content: but I will lay a wager hereunto, Nico That profit may ensue to him that best can do. I have (and long shall have] a white great nimble cat, A king upon a mouse, a strong foe to the rat, Fine eares, long taile he hath, with Lions curbed clawe, Which oft he lifteth up, and stayes his lifted pawe, Deepe musing to himselfe, which after-mewing showes, Till with lickt beard, his eye of fire espie his foes. If thou (alas poore if] do winne, then winne thou this, And if I better sing, let me thy Cosma kisse. Kisse her ? now mayst thou kisse. I have a better match ; Pas. A prettie curre it is ; his name iwis is Catch, No eare nor taile he hath, least they should him disgrace, A ruddie haire his cote, with fine long spe filed face : tie never musing standes, but with himselfe will play Leaping at every flie, and angrie with a flea : He eft would kill a mouse, but he disdaines to fight, And makes our home good sport with dauncing bolt upright. This is my pawne ; the price let Dicus judgement show : Such oddes I willing lay; for him and you I know. Sing then my lads, but sing with better vaine then yet, Dicu Or else who singeth worst, my skill will hardly hit. 345 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Who doubts but Pas fine pipe againe will bring The auncient prayse to Arcad shepheards skill ? Pan is not dead, since Pas beginnes to sing. Who evermore will love Apollos quill, Since Nico doth to sing so widely gape? Nico his place farre better furnish will. Was not this he, who did for Syrinx scape Raging in woes teach pastors first to plaine? Do you not heare his voice, and see his shape ? This is not he that failed her to gaine, Which made a Bay, made Bay a holy tree : But this is one that doth his music ke staine. O Faunes, Fairies all, and do you see, And suffer such a wrong ? a wrong I trowe, That Nico must with Pas compared be? O Nymphes, I tell you newes, for Pas you knowe : While I was warbling out your woonted praise, Nico would needes with Pas his bagpipe blowe. If never I did faile your holy-dayes, With daunces, carols, or with barlybreake : Let Pas now know, how Nico makes the layes. If each day hath bene holy for your sake. Unto my pipe, O Nimphes, helpe now my pipe, For Pas well knowes what layes can Nico make. Alas how oft I looke on cherries ripe, Me thinkes I see the lippes my Leuca hath, And wanting her, my weeping eyes I wipe. Alas, when I in spring meete roses rathe, And thinke from Cosmas sweet red lips I live, I leave mine eyes unwipte my cheekes to bathe. ' As I of late, neer bushes usde my sive, I spied a thrush where she did make her nest, That will I take, and to my Leuca give. But long have I a sparrow gailie drest, As white as milke, and camming to the call, To put it with my hand in Cosmas brest. 346 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. / oft doo sue, and Leuca saith, I shall, But when I did come neere with heate and hope, She ranne away, and threw at me a ball. Cosma once said, she left the wicket ope, For me to come, and so she did: I came, But in the place found nothing but a rope. When Leuca dooth appeare, the Sunne for shame Dooth hide himself e : for to himself e he sayes, If Leuca live, she darken will my fame. When Cosma doth come forth, the Sun displaies His utmost light : for well his witte doth know, Cosmas faire beames emblemish much his rates. Leuca to me did yester-morning showe In perfeft light, which could not me deceave, Her naked legge, more white then whitest snowe. But yesternight by light I did receave From Cosmas eyes, which full in darkened shine, 1 sawe her arme, where purest Lillies cleave. She once starke nak'd did bathe a little tine; But still (me thought] with beauties from her fell, She did the waters wash, and make more fine. She once, to coole her selfe, stood in a well, But ever since that well is well besought, And for Rose-water sould of rarest smell. To rivers banke, being on walking brought, She bad me spie her babie in the brooke, Alas (said /) this babe dooth nurce my thought. As in a glasse I held she once did looke, I said, my hands well paide her for mine eyes, Since in my hands selfe goodly sight she tooke. O if I had a ladder for the skies, I would climbe up, and bring a prettie starre, To we are upon her neck, that open lies. O if I had Apollos golden carre, I would come downe, and yeeld to her my place, That (shining now] she then might shine more farre. 347 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Nothing (0 Leuca) shall thy fame deface, While shepheards tunes be heard, or rimes be read, Or while that shepheards love a lovely face. Thy name (0 Cosma) shall with praise be spread, As farre as any shepheards piping be : As farre as Love possesseth any head. Thy monument is layd in many a tree, With name engrav'd: so though thy bodie die, The after-folkes shall wonder still at thee. So oft these woods have heard me Cosma crie, That after death, to heav'n in woods resound, With Echoes help, shall Cosma, Cosma file. Peace, peace good Pas, thou weeriest even the ground With sluttish song: I pray thee learne to blea, For good thou mayst yet proove in sheepish sound. My father hath at home a prettie Jay, Goe winne of him (for chattering) praise or shame : For so yet of a conquest speake thou may. Tell me (and be my Pan) the monsters name, That hath foure legs, and with two onely goes, That hath foure eyes, and onely two can frame. Tell me (and Phoebus be) what monster growes With so strong lives, that bodie cannot rest In ease, untill that bodie life forgoes. Enough, enough : so ill hath done the best, That since the having them to neither*! due, Let cat and dog fight which shall have both you. SOme speech there streight grew among the hearers, what they should meane by the riddles of the two monsters. But Zelmane, whose harte better delighted in wailefull ditties, as more according to her fortune, she desired Lamon, he would againe repeatesome other lamentation of the still-absent Strephon and Klaius. Basilius (as soone as he understood Zelmanes pleasure) commaunded Lamon upon paine of his life (as though every thing were a matter of life and death, that pertained to his mistresse service) immediately to sing it: who with great 348 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. cunning, varying his voice according to the diversitie of the persons, began this Dizaine, answered in that kinde of verse, which is called the Crowne. I Strephon. Klaius. Joye in griefe, and doo detest all joyes : Strep Despise delight, and tyrde with thought of ease I turne my minde to all formes of annoyes, And with the chaunge of them my fancie please. I studie that which may me most displease. And in despite of that displeasures might. Embrace that most, that most my soule destroyes. Blinded with beames, fell darkenes is my sight : Dole on my ruine feedes, with sucking smarte, I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte. I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte, Klaii And loth this time, calld life, nay thinke, that life Nature to me for torment did emparte ; Thinke, my horde haps have blunted deaths sharpe knife, Not sparing me, in whom his workes be rife: And thinking this, thinke Nature, Life, and Death Place Sorrowes triumph on my conquered brest : Whereto I yeeld, and seeke none other breath, But from the sent of some infectious grave: Nor of my fortune ought, but mischieve crave. Nor of my fortune ought but mischiefe crave, Strej And seeke to nourish that, which now contaynes All what I am : if I my selfe will save, Then must I save, what in me chiefly raignes, Which is the hatefull web of Sorowes paines. Sorow then cherish me, for I am sorowe : No being now, but sorowe I can have: Then decke me as thine owne; thy helpe I borowe, Since thou my riches arte, and that thou haste Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste. Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste Klai Is that huge storme, which powres it selfe on me : Hailestones of teares, of sighes a monstrous blast, 349 THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES Thunders of cries ; lightnings my wilde lookes be, The darkened heav'n my soule which nought can see; The flying sprites which trees by rootes up teare Be those despaires, which have my hopes quite wast. The diffrence is ; all folkes those stormes forbear e : But I cannot ; who then my selfe should flie So dose unto my selfe my wrackes doo lie. So close unto my selfe my wrackes doo lie; Both cause, effett, beginning, and the ende Are all in me : what helpe then can I trie ? fify ship) my selfe ; whose course to love doth bende, Sore beaten doth her mast of Comforte spende : Her cable. Reason, breakes from anchor, Hope : Fancie, her tackling, torne away doth flie: Ruine, the winde, hath blowne her from her scope : Brused with waves of Cares, but broken is On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse. On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse I long doo plowe with plough of deepe Desire : The seed Fast-meaning is, no truth to misse : I harowe it with Thoughts, which all conspire Favour to make my chiefe and onely hire. But, woe is me, the yeare is gone about, And now I faine would reape, I reape but this, Hate fully growne, Absence new sprongen out. So that I see, although my sight empaire, Vaine is their paine, who labour in Despaire. Paine is their paine, who labour in Despaire. For so did I, when with my angle, Will, / sought to catch the fish Torpedo faire. Ev'n then Despaire did Hope already kill: Yet Fancie would perforce employ his skill, And this hath got; the catcher now is caught, Lamde with the angle, which it selfe did beare, And unto death, quite drownde in Dolours, brought To death, as then disguisde in her faire face. Thus, thus I had, alas, my losse in chase. 35 ARCADIA. LIB. 2. Thus, thus I ha^ a/as, my losse in chase, Klaius When first that crowned Basiliske / knewe, Whose footesteps I with kisses oft did trace, Till by such hap, as I must ever rewe, Mine eyes did light upon her shining hewe, And hers on me, astonisht with that sight. Since then my harte did loose his wonted place, InfeEled so with her sweet poysons might, That, leaving me for dead, to her it went : But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent. But ah her /light hath my dead reliques spent, Strephoi Her flight from me, from me, though dead to me, Yet living still in her, while her beames lent Such vitall sparke, that her mine eyes might see. But now those living lights absented be, Full dead before, I now to dust should fall, But that eternal! paines my soule should hent, And keepe it still within this body thrall: That thus I must, while in this death I dwell, In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell. In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell Klaius. Alas I doo; from which to finde release, I would the earth, I would the heavens fell. But vaine it is to thinke these paines should cease, Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace. faire, o onely faire, from thee, alas, These foule, most foule, distresses to me fell ; Since thou from me (p me] o Sunne didst passe. Therefore esteeming all good blessings toyes 1 joy in griefe, and doo detest all joyes. I joye in griefe, and doo detest all joyes. Strephoi And now an ende, (o Claius) now an ende For even the hearbes our mournefull musique stroyes, And from our burning breath the trees doo bende. SO wel did Lamons voice expresse the passios of those shepheards, that all the Princely beholders were striken in a silent cosideration of them ; indeed every one making, that THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES he heard of another the balace of his own troubles. And Basilius perceiving such melancholique musique best consorted to the humor of his mistresse, entreated againe the young melancholy shepheard, that he would emparte some part of the sorow his coutenaunce so well witnessed unto them. Which he in parte to satisfie, began an Eclogue betwixt himself and the Echo: framing his voice in those deserte places, as what words he would have the Echo replie, unto those he would singe higher then the rest, and so kindly framed a disputation betwixt himselfe and it. Which with these Hexa- meters in the following order he uttered. Echo. FA'ire rocks, goodly rivers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace ? Peace. Peace ? who debars me my tongue ? who is it that comes me so nie ? I. I doo know what guest I doo meete : it is Echo. T'is Echo. Well mett Echo ; aproch, and tell me thy will too. I