The
Countess
of
Pembroke's Arcadia (1590). Book II.
Sir
Philip
Sidney.
Note on the e-text: this Renascence
Editions text was transcribed by Risa
Bear, November, 2003, from the Sommer facsimile of a British
Museum
copy of the Ponsonby edition of 1590. The text is in the public domain.
Content unique to this presentation is copyright © 2003 The
University
of Oregon. For nonprofit and educational uses only.
THE SECOND BOOKE
OF
THE COVNTESSE OF
PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
CHAP. I.
The loue-complaintes l
of Gynecia, 2 Zelmane, 3 and Ba-
silius. 4 Her, 5 and his wooing of
Zelmane, and her
shifting of both, 6 to bemone
her selfe.
N these pastorall 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 neuer manifesting his venomous worke,
till once, that the night (parting away angerly, that she could distill
no more sleepe into the eies of louers) had no sooner giuen place to
the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his
beames vpon 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 vp and
downe with such vnquiet motions, as a grieued & hopeles mind is
wont to bring forth. There appeered vnto the eies of her iudgement the
euils she was like to run into, with ougly infamie waiting vpon them:
she felt the terrou[r]s of her owne conscience: she was guilty of a
long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie.
The vttermost of the good she could aspire vnto, was a mortall wound to
her vexed spirits: and lastly no small part of her euils was, that she
was wise to see her euils. In so much, that hauing a great while
throwne her cou[n]tenaunce ghastly about her (as if she had called all
the
powers of the worlde to witnesse of her wretched estate) at length
casting vp her watrie eyes to heauen, O Sunne (said she) whose
vnspotted 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 heauens (which continually keepe
the course allotted vnto you) can none of your influences preuaile so
much vpon the miserable Gynecia, as to make her preserue a
course so
lo[n]g embraced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for
you,
since my hart can people you with wild rauenous 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
neuer but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left
thy professed seruant, when she had most need of thy louely presence?
O imperfect proportio[n] of reason, which ca[n] too much forsee, &
too
little preuent. 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 euill deseruing
doth exceed my euill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this
straunge resolutio[n] to liue so solitarily: for nothing els haue the
winds deliuered this straunge guest to my country: for nothing els haue
the destinies reserued 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 vniust so euer it be) might take
effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and euery death were
followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my sepulcher receiue me
without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is
such as can answere my loue; yet as sure I am, that this disguising
must needs come for some foretake[n] co[n]ceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia,
where cast thou find any smal grou[n]d-plot for hope to dwel vpon? No, no,
it is Philoclea his hart is set vpon: it is my daughter I haue
borne to
supplant me. But if it be so, the life I haue giuen thee (vngratefull Philoclea)
I will sooner with these handes bereaue thee of, then my
birth shall glory, she hath bereaued me of my desires. In shame there
is no co[m]fort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame.
Hauing spoke[n] thus, she began to make a
piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far fro[m]
her)
an extremely doleful voice,
but so suppressed with a kind of
whispering note, that she could not conceaue 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 co[m]panio[n] of her
misery.
And as she passed on, she was stopped with a nu[m]ber of trees, so
thickly
placed together, that she was afraid she should (with rushing thorow)
stop the speach of the lamentable partie, which she was so desirous to
vnderstand. And therefore setting her downe as softly as she could (for
she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceaue a Lute
excellently well played vpon, 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 sends;
That her I see, though you did lose your light.
In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd,
With sighes you seeke to coole your hotte desire:
Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd)
For bellowes serue to kindle more the fire.
Reason, in vaine (now you haue lost my hart)
My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte:
Since there mine eyes
haue played so false a parte,
That to your strength your foes haue 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 serued but for a beginning of
new plaints, as if
the mind (oppressed with too heauy 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 euill ioined with the voice) threw it to the ground
with such like words: Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiu'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 ioyfull minde then receiue
euery thing to a ioyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes
ech thing tast like the bitter iuyce of care. The euill is inward, my
Lute, the euill is inward; which all thou doost doth serue 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 ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not
ashamed to leaue thy master, since he is not afraide to forsake
himselfe.
And thus much spoke[n] (in steed of a conclusion) was closed vp with so
harty a groning, that Gynecia could not
refraine to shew her selfe,
thinking such griefes could serue 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 astonishment. Zelmane fearing, least
shee had
heard some part of those complaints, which shee had risen vp that
morning of purpose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia
a
great while stoode still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking
stedfastly vpon her: at length returning to some vse of her selfe,
shee began to aske Zelmane, what cause carried her so early
abroad?
But as if the opening of her mouth to Zelmane, had opened some
great
flood-gate of sorrow (wherof her heart could not abide the viole[n]t
issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hands ouer her face, crying
vehemently, Zelmane helpe me, O Zelmane haue pittie
on me. Zelmane ranne to her, maruelling what sodaine sicknesse
had thus possessed her:
and beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, and offring her
seruice to be imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly
vpon
her, pricked with the flames of loue, and the torments of her owne
conscience: O Zelmane, Zelmane, (said she) doost thou
offer me
phisicke, which art my onely poyson? Or wilt thou doo me seruice,
which hast alredie brought me into eternall slauerie? Zelmane then
knowing well at what marke she shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most
excellent Ladie (said she) you were best retire your selfe into your
lodging, that you the better may passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my
selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had retyred my selfe into my selfe,
when
thou to me (vnfortunate guest) earnest to draw me fro[m] 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 iudge of my cause, who art the onely author of my
mischiefe. Zelmane the more astonished, the more she
vnderstood 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 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 brought to
this streight. But as shee was thinking what to
answere her; they might
see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without euer seeing
them: complayning likewise of loue verie freshly; and ending his
complaint with this song, Loue hauing renewed both his inuention, and
voyce.
LEt not old age disgrace my high desire,
O heauenly soule, in humaine
shape conteind:
Old wood inflam'de, doth yeeld the brauest 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 vnto you.
Old age is wise and full of constant truth;
Old age well stayed from raunging humor liues:
Old age hath knowne what
euer was in youth:
Old age orecome, the greater honour giues.
And to
old age since you your selfe aspire,
Let not old age disgrace my
high
desire.
Which
being done, he looked verie curiously vpon himselfe, sometimes
fetching a little skippe, as if he had said, his strength had not yet
forsaken him. But Zelmane hauing in this time gotten leasure
to thinke
for an answere; looking vpon 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 vsed. If my seruice may please you,
imploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudgeing of me. Alas Zelmane
(said Gynecia) I perceiue you know ful little, how
percing the
eyes are of a true louer. There is no one beame of those thoughts you
haue 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 loue into violent extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought
to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that way thorow the
trees, perceiued his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the
most louely countenance he could, he came straightway towards them;
and at the first word (thanking his wife for hauing entertained Zelmane,)
desired her she would now returne into the lodge, because
hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane.
The
Queene (being nothing troubled with ielousie in that point) obeyed the
kings commaundement; full of raging agonies, and determinatly bent,
that as she would seeke all louing meanes to winne Zelmane, so
she
would stirre vp 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 ouerthrow giuen to her best resolutions,
that euen her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed
withall: making a languishing sicknesse waite vpon the triumph of
passion; which the more it preuailed in her, the more it made her
ielousie watchfull, both ouer her daughter, and Zelmane; hauing
euer
one of them entrusted to her owne eyes.
But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his
wiues presence, falling downe
on his knees, O Lady (said he) which hast onely had the power to stirre
vp 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 vnco[n]quered, to become a slaue to a
stranger. And whe[n] you see that power of yours, loue that at lest in
me,
since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loued. Worthy
Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him vp from his kneeling) both
your
manner, and your speech are so straunge vnto me, as I know not how to
answere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the
king) it shal neuer 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 conuay your words to such a mind, which is
with the humblest degree of reuere [n]ce to receiue 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 therewith,
with a braue counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leauing
him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in 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
haue growne into a prettie kind of dotage.
But Zelmane being ridde of this louing, but
little-loued company,
Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles, was there euer one,
but I, that had
receiued wrong, and could blame no body? that hauing more then I
desire, am still in want of that I would? Truly Loue, I must needes
say thus much on thy behalfe; thou hast imployed my loue there, where
all loue is deserued; and for recompence hast sent me more loue then
euer 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 liue in darkenesse: and to her am reuealed, from whom I
would be most secreat. What shift shall I finde against the diligent
loue 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? Wel, well, sweete Philoclea, my whole confidence
must be builded in thy diuine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the
cruell
wound I haue receiued by you.
CHAP.
2.
1 Dametas-his enstructing of Dorus. 2 Zelmanes discourse
to Dorus of her
difficulties; 3 & his to her of his successe in
loue. 4 His
loue-suits made to Mopsa, meant to Pamela:
with their answeres.
Vt as sicke folkes, when they are alone,
thinke companie would relieue
them, & yet hauing company do find it noysome; changing willingly
outward obiects, when indeed the euill is inward: So poore Zelmane was
no more weery of Basilius, then she was of her selfe, when Basilius
was
gone: and euer the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her
owne iudges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus;
that vpon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of
sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certaine
Beeches she found Dorus, apparelled in flanen, with a goats
skin cast vpon him, & a garland of Laurell mixt with Cypres leaues
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 co[m]panie. And while Dorus
was practising, one might see Dametas hold his hand vnder his
girdle behind him, nodding from the wast vpwards, & swearing he
neuer knew man go more aukewardly to worke: & that they might talke
of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he neuer saw more
vnfeatlie fellowes, then great clearks were.
But Zelmanes comming saued Dorus from
further chiding. And so she
beginning to speake with him of the number of
his masters sheepe, and
which Prouince 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 vnto him, vpon what
briers the roses of her affections grew: how time still seemed to
forget her, bestowing no one houre of comfort vpon her; she remaining
stil in one plight of ill fortune, sauing so much worse, as continuance
of euill dooth in it selfe increase euill. Alas my Dorus (said
she)
thou seest how long and languishingly the weekes are paste ouer vs
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 gaue vnto
them) procured his eyes with teares to giue testimonie, how much they
suffered for her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it
selfe) made Zelmane (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, vpon her; that she might see, whether it
were troubled with such vnhabitable climes of colde despaires, and
hotte rages, as hers was. And so walking vnder a fewe Palme trees,
(which being louing in their own nature, seemed to giue their shadow
the willinglier, because they held discourse of loue) Dorus thus
entred
to the description of his fortune.
Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the
high powers to
throwe vs 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 remember the light, of which he is depriued: or like a
scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde him
selfe vtterly ignorant.
But thus stands it with me: After that by your meanes I was exalted to
serue in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my
agonies, this refreshing; that (because of the seruice 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
vpon 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
extraordinarie deuotion I bare to her seruice: and withall, straue to
appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, ioyned to so great
affection, might preuaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well
(alas) I founde, that a shepheards seruice was but considered of as
from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted to no further
proportion, then of a good seruant. And when my countenance had once
giuen notice, that there lay affection vnder it, I sawe straight,
Maiesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) draw foorth such a sworde of
iust disdaine, that I remayned 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
(according to the
constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shewe him selfe
wise, then by suspecting euery thing in his way. Which suspition Miso
(for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for
a very vnlikely enuie she hath stumbled vpon, against the Princesses
vnspeakeable beautie) were very gladde to execute. So that I (finding
my seruice by this meanes lightlie regarded, my affection despised, and
my selfe vnknowen) remayned 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 haue I stoode here, bewailing my
selfe vnto them: many times haue I, leaning to yonder Palme, admired
the blessednes of it, that coulde beare Loue 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 loue. But
how? with proud lookes, and ioyfulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then
to my selfe) in whom witte (which should be the gouerner 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, euen as foundlinges to be trayned vp by griefe and
sorrow. Their mindes grudge not their bodies comfort, nor their sences
are letted from enioying their obiects: we haue the impediments of
honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogitatio[n]s
haue I
somtimes so long stood, that me thought my feete began to grow into the
ground, with such a darkenes and heauines of minde, that I might
easilie haue bene perswaded to haue resigned ouer my very essence. But
Loue, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giueth wings) when
I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled vp my harte to
reme[m]ber, that nothing is atchieued before it be throughlie
attempted;
and that lying still doth neuer goe forward: and that therefore it was
time, now or neuer, to sharpen my inuention, to pearce thorow the
hardnes of this enterprise; neuer ceasing to assemble al my conceites,
one after the other; how to manifest both my minde and estate. Till at
last, I lighted and resolued on this way, which yet perchaunce you will
think was a way rather to hide it.
I began to counterfeite the extremest
loue towards Mopsa, that might be: and as for the loue, so
liuely it
was indeed
within me, (although to
another subiect) 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 brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye
conueyed my
tongue. So that Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my
singing; Mopsa,
(that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion vpon a filthy
fauour, setting foorth both in sluttishnesse) she was the load-starre
of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the ouerthrowe of my
desires, and yet the recompence of my ouer-throwe; she the sweetnesse
of my harte, euen sweetning the death, which her sweetnesse drew vpon
me. In summe, what soeuer 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 fauour 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 indignation did rise
in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of hers,
how meanely soeuer 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 perceiued well enough, whither
they were
directed: and therefore 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 loue, and
estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone
with Pamela, I came in vnto them, and with a face (I am sure)
full of clowdy
fancies, tooke a harpe, and songe this songe.
SInce so mine eyes are subiect to your
sight,
That in your sight they
fixed haue my braine:
Since so my harte is filled 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 liuing image liues in me,
That in
my selfe your selfe true loue doth plant;
How can you him vnworthy then
decree,
In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?
The
song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with
grieuous sighes, which ouertooke euery verse I sange, I let fall my
harpe fro[m] me; & casting my eie sometime vpon Mopsa, but
setting my
sight principally vpon 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 vpon 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 subiect, and the heauenly Sunne disdaines not to giue light to
the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be
as manifest to
you, as it is vncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my
thoughts should well counteruaile 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 vniting of al beauties, which
remaineth & dwelleth with you? who knowes not, that al these are
but orname[n]ts of that diuine sparke within you, which being dese[n]ded
from heauen 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
excellencies together, it is a kinde of mercyfulnesse to such a one, as
is in his soule deuoted 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 com[m]only 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 iest with me: you
are a merry man indeede. But the euer-pleasing Pamela (that
well found
the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her
parte)
was co[n]tent to vrge 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 seruaunt; since she is not worthy to be
loued, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a
good while after her words, in hope she would haue continued her speech
(so great a delight I receaued in hearing her) but seeing her say no
further, (with a quaking all ouer 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 rebellious
handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you haue
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 worthinesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the
condemned man (euen at his death) haue leaue to speake, let my mortall
wound purchase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such
in the partie I loue, as the feeling of them cannot come into any
vnnoble 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 vp 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 loued; there can be any vnworthinesse, since the
weakest mist is not easilier driuen away by the Sunne, then that is
chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the
gratious Pamela) but that the loue you beare to Mopsa,
hath brought you
to the consideration of her vertues, and that consideration may haue
made you the more vertuous, and so the more worthie: But euen that
then (you must confesse) you haue receiued 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 haue so
ouertaken you, it becomes a true Loue to haue your harte more set vpon
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 vpon me) you haue euen touched
mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that the pollicie
that I had vsed, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse vnto
me, as that I might euen in my Ladies presence, discouer the sore which
had deepely festered within me, and that she could better conceaue my
reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would haue 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 vpon Pamela, as
if I had
rather bene co[n]demned 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 the wise knitting together of your
answere, that any disputatio[n] I can vse is asmuch too weake, as I
vnworthy. I find my loue shalbe proued no loue, without I leue to loue,
being too vnfit a vessell in who so high thoughts should be engraued.
Yet since the Loue I beare you, hath so ioyned it self to the best part
of my life, as the one can[n]ot depart, but that th'other will follow,
before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which
is my vnworthines, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was
about to
say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tu[m]bled with ouer much
kindnesse,
when Pamela with a more fauourable countenance the[n] before
(finding how
apt I was to fall into dispaire) told me, I might therein haue answered
my selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling
of Mopsaes perfectio[n]s had greatly beautified my minde,
there was none
could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserued great allowance. But Dorus
(sayd she) you must be so farre maister of your loue,
as to
consider, that since the iudgement of the world stands vpon matter of
fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to
haue regardfull eie to mens iudgements, it is not for vs to play the
philosophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues: since that, which in
a wise prince would be cou[n]ted wisdome, in vs wil be taken for a
light-grounded affectio[n]: so is not one thing, one, done by diuers
persons. There is no man in a burning feuer feeles so great
contentme[n]t
in cold water greedily receiued (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth,
the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly
pronouced words; & newly, & more viole[n]tly againe enflamed,
assoone as she had closed vp her delightfull speach, with no lesse wel
graced silence. But reme[m]bring in my self that aswell the Souldier
dieth which standeth still, as he that giues the brauest onset: &
seeing that to the making vp of my fortune, there wanted nothing so
much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face wel witnessing
how deeply my soule was possessed, & with the most submissiue
behauior, that a thralled hart could expresse, eue[n]as my words had
bene
too thicke for my mouth, at le[n]gth spake to this purpose. Alas, most
worthy Princesse (said I) & do not then your owne sweet words
sufficie[n]tly testifie, that there was neuer ma[n] could haue a iuster
actio[n] against filthy fortune, the I, since all other things being
granted me,
her blindnesse is my onely let? O heauely 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 haue 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 vpon
him, and by that onely hath aspired to enioy a mightie Princesse. Pamela
gratiously harkened, and I told my tale in this sort.
CHAP.
3.
Dorus-his tale of his owne 1 education, 2 trauaile,
3 enamoring,
4 meta-morphosing, 5 sauing from sea,
6 and being Musido-
rus. 7 His octaue. 8 Pamelas and Mopsas
answere to his suit.
9 His present to them; 10 and
perplexitie in himselfe.
N 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
serue exclamations, where there are no eares to receiue the sounde?
This Musidorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy
father paied
to nature (with a violent death) her last dueties, leauing his childe
to the faith of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gaue him not
such pangs as the foresight-full care hee had of his silly successour.
And yet if in his foresight he could haue seene 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
haue preuented, nor relieued. The young Musidorus (being thus,
as for
the first pledge of the destinies good will, depriued of his principall
stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath
themselues for a greater mischiefe) lulled vp in as much good luck, as
the heed-full loue of his dolefull mother, and the florishing estate of
his country could breed vnto him.
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
heauenly & earthly things, to
frame fit occasion to leade him vnto it. His people (to whom all
forraine matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their
beloued Prince, experience by trauaile: his deare mother (whose eyes
were held open, onely with the ioy of looking vpon him) did now
dispense with the comfort of her widowhead life, desiring the same her
subiectes 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 prouoke him: for indeed thus much I must say
for him, although the likenesse of our mishaps makes me presume to
patterne my selfe vnto 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 vncle the king of Macedon;
who hauing lately before gotte[n] such victories, as were beyond
expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne
(brought vp togither, to auoid the warres, with Musidorus) and
for Musidorus himselfe, that his ioy might be the more full,
hauing 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 Nauie 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 heauens had
gotten this Subiect of their wrath vpon 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 Nauie, he
onely with the Prince his cosin, were cast a land, farre off from the
place whether their desires would haue guided them. O cruell winds in
your vnconsiderate 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 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 vpon
those laborsome adue[n]tures,
nor loathsome misaduentures, 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 pestile[n]t diseases do gather into themselues 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 his
endlesse ouerthrow. Arcadia was, (alas well might I
say it is) the
charmed circle, where all his spirits for euer should be enchaunted.
For here (and no where els) did his infected eyes make his minde know,
what power heauenly 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 ioy, and ioyfull 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 beleeue, whom
seeing cannot perswade? Those paines must be felt before they ca[n] be vnderstood; no outward vtterance can
command a conceipt. 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 captiued wil, as he could delay no
time of seeking her.
In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a
shepheards weede,
that vnder the basenesse of that forme, he might at
lest haue free
accesse to feed his eyes with that, which should at length eate vp his
hart. In which doing, thus much without doubt he hath manifested, that
this estate is not alwayes to be reiected, since vnder that vaile there
may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might with taking on a
shepherds look cast vp his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that
time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine need no more to be
disdained, 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 haue, 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
vnderstood, I haue said enough, 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.
Thus hauing deliuered my tale in
this perplexed manner, to the end the Princesse might iudge 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 vs 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 haue told (said she) Dorus,
a prettie tale; but you are much deceiued in the latter end of it. For
the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both
perish vpon 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 ioyes in my hart? ô blessed name (thought I) of
mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through those
lips, though I can neuer 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 haue
it) and yet affirmed no lye vnto her, since I onely said, I would not
deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceiue indeed you haue
neither
heard or read the story of that vnhappy Prince; for this was the verie
obiection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make vnto him, whe[n] he
sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome: and thus as I haue
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 deceaued:
but that
he himselfe was cast vpon the coast of Laconia, where he was
taken vp by a couple of shepheards, who liued in those dayes famous;
for that
both louing 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 Mantinea,
whose sonne
had a little before his mariage, bene taken prisoner, and by the helpe
of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by another
name) was
deliuered. Now these circumlocutions I did vse, because of the one side
I knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I merit; and of the
other, if I should haue named Strephon, Claius, Kalander,
and Clitophon, perhappes it would haue rubd some coniecture
into the heauie
heade of Mistresse Mopsa.
And therfore (said I) most diuine Lady, he iustly
was to argue against
such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be
satisfied, that vpon that wrack such a one was taken vp: and therefore
that Plangus might well erre, who
knew not of anies taking vp
againe:
that he that was so preserued, 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) vpon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called.
Besides, the Princesse must needes iudge, that no lesse then a Prince
durst vndertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the
fauour of the Princesse) he could neuer defend with lesse the[n] a Princes
power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (said he) for a
certaine
demonstration, he presumed to shew vnto 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 aduertised, whether the age, the complexion, and
particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with this Prince Musidorus.
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 euen here the Historiographer stopped, saying,
The rest belonged to Astrologie. And therewith, thinking her silent
imaginations began to worke vpon somewhat, to mollifie them (as the
nature of Musick is to do) and withal, to shew what kind of shepheard I
was, I took vp my Harpe, and sang these few verses.
MY sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide
and
serue:
Their pasture is faire
hilles of
fruitlesse Loue:
On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterue:
I
waile their Iotte, but will not other proue.
My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all vpholdes:
My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes.
What wooll my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they
liue,
In you it is, you must the iudgement giue.
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 moue Mopsa in my
behalfe,
that she would vnarme her hart of that steely resistace against the
sweet blowes of Loue: that since all her parts were decked with some
particular orname[n]t; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome,
her
eyes with maiestie, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with
louelines, her tongue with victorie; that she woulde make her hart the
throne of pitie, being the most excellent rayment of the most excellent
part.
Pamela,
without shew either of fauour or
disdaine, either of heeding or neglecling what I had said, turned her
speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and acttion, 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 prooue 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 euen 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 neuer a foote
further, till my maister her father had spoken the whole word him
selfe, no she would not. But euer and anon turning her muzzell toward
me, she threwe such a prospect vpon me, as might well haue giuen a
surfet to any weake louers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to
mingle that driuels speeches among my noble thoughts? but because she
was an Actor in this Tragedie, to geue you a ful knowledge, and to
leaue nothing (that I can remember) vnrepeated.
Now the
Princesse
being about to withdrawe her selfe from vs, I tooke a iewell, made in
the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes
another, I thought it did 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 giue
it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make
acceptable vnto
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 vp, the
plow-share lighted vpon a great stone: we puld that vp, & so found
both that, and some other prety thinges which we had deuided betwixt vs.
Mopsa was benummed with ioy when the
Princesse gaue it 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, iustly as we
doo by their speeches, who neither in matter nor person doo any way
belong vnto vs) which kind of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of
her naturall maiestic, is of all others most terrible vnto me: for yet
if I found she contemned me, I would desperatly labour both in fortune
and vertue to ouercome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in
heauen; 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 serue, then I would giue her my hart-bloud to
quench it. But this cruell quietnes, neither retiring to mislike, nor
proceeding to fauour; gratious, but gratious still after one maner; all
her courtesies hauing this engrauen in them, that what is done, is for
vertues sake, not for the parties; euer keeping her course like the
Sun, who neither for our prayses, nor curses, will spare or stoppe his
horses. This (I say) heauenlines of hers, (for how so euer my miserie
is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach vnto, that I
almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannic of despaire, not
knowing any way of perswasio[n], where wisdome seemes to be vnsensible.
I
haue appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a deuice I vsed with my
master, perswading him, that we two might put on a certaine rich
apparrel I had prouided, 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 of the
Princes stable. But how soeuer I show, I am no base
bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome.
CHAP.
4.
1 Basilius his hauking. 2 Gynecias hurte by Dametas ouer-
turning her
coache. 3 Her ielousie ouer Zelmane. Philo-
cleas 4 loue-passions, 5 vowe
of chastitie, 6 reuocation;
7 lamentation.
Vt as Dorus was about to tell
further, Dametas (who came
whistling, & counting vpon his fingers, how
many loade of hay his
seuenteen fat oxen eat vp 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 leaue) the sum is this, that you may
wel find
you haue beate your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of
rebound may wel make your sorrow stro[n]ger. But Zelmane turning her
speach to Dametas, I shall grow (said she) skilfull in country
matters,
if I haue often conference with your seruaunt. In sooth (answered Dametas
with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may proue wel enough, if he
ouersoon 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 haue spe[n]t her time better with him, he
began with a wilde Methode to runne ouerall the art of husbandrie:
especially 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 atte[n]ded 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 moued in her minde, to haue kissed their feete
for the fauour of so
blessed a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them ioine from
the foote to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch wherof
though it were barred by their enuious apparell, yet as a perfect
Magnes, though put in an iuorie boxe, will thorow the boxe send forth
his imbraced vertue to a beloued needle; so this imparadised
neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleaue vnto her, both thorow
the iuory case of her body, and the apparell which did ouer-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 beloued
guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines
his libertie, before the grate; not panting, but striuing violently (if
it had bene possible) to haue leapt into the lappe of Philoclea.
But Dametas, euen 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, draue the coach (the
couer
whereof was made with such ioints, that as they might (to auoid the
weather) pull it vp close when they listed, so when they would they
might put each ende downe, and remaine as discouered & open sighted
as on horsebacke) till vpon 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
ouer certaine bushes, would beate the birdes (that rose) downe vnto the
bushes, as Faulcons will doo wilde-foule ouer a riuer. But the sporte
which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane,
was
the mountie at a Hearne, which getting vp 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 giue example to great
persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should show: whe[n] a
ierfaulcon was cast of after her, who streight spying where the pray
was, fixing her eie with desire, & guiding her wing by her eie,
vsed no more stre[n]gth then industry. For as a good builder
to a hie
tower will not make his stayre vpright, but winding almost the ful
co[m]passe about, that the steepnes be the more vnsensible: so she,
seing
the towring of her pursued chase, went circkling, & co[m]passing
about, rising so with the lesse sence of rising; & yet finding that
way scantly serue 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 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 driuen to the best defence of force, since flight would not
serue; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by
the ouerpartiall beholders.
Diuers 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
driue homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of
a vine-presse) guided the horses so ill, that the wheele comming ouer a
great stub of a tree, it ouerturned the coach. Which though it fell
violently vpon the side where Zelmane & Gynecia sat,
yet for Zelmanes part, she would haue bene glad of the fall,
which made her
beare the sweete burthen of Philoclea, but that she feared she
might
receaue some hurt. But indeede neither she did, nor any of the rest, by
reason they kept their armes and legs within the coach, sauing Gynecia,
who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of
ioinct; 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 feuer with him) draue her to
entertaine them both in her bedde.
But neither
was the feuer of such impatient heate, as the inwarde
plague-sore of her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the
iealousie she conceaued of her daughter Philoclea, lest this
time of
her sicknesse might giue 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 memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the
slacknes to come to those woes, which hauing caused in others, thou
didst feele in thy selfe.
The sweete
minded Philoclea was in their degree of well doing, to
whom the not knowing of euill serueth for a ground of vertue, and hold
their inward powers in better forme with an vnspotted simplicitie, then
many, who rather cuningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly
take into themselues the following of it. But as that sweet &
simple breath of heauenly goodnesse, is the easier to be altered,
because it hath not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor
feelingly found the euill, that euill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea
(whose eyes and senses had receaued nothing, but according as
the naturall course of each thing required; which fro[m] the tender
youth
had obediently liued vnder her parents behests, without framing out of
her own wil the fore-chosing of any thing) whe[n] now she came to appoint,
wherin her iudgeme[n]t was to be practized, in knowing
faultines by his
first toke[n]s, 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 liued 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 conuersatio[n]; her wit & behauiour, a liking &
silent admiration; at length the excellency of her natural gifts,
ioined with the extreme shewes she made of most deuout honouring Philoclea,
(carying thus in one person the only two ba[n]ds of good will,
louelines & louingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a
most frie[n]dly affectio[n]; which when it had gotten so ful
possession of
the keies of her mind, that it would receaue no message fro[m] her
senses,
without that affection were the interpreter; the[n] streight grew an
exceeding delight stil to be with her, with an vn-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 co[n]forming 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 vpon so much
an esteemed authentic: 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
enacted, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed vnto 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 obserued. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate
the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of her speech, but
euen their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often
eye her,
she would often eye Zelmane; & as Zelmanes eyes
would deliuer a
submissiue, 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 iealousie
would
suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea; Philoclea, as
much as Gynecias iealousie 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[n] Zelmane was sad, she deemed it
wisdome, and therefore she would be
sad too. Zelmanes la[n]guishing cou[n]tenace with crost armes, and sometimes
cast-vp eyes, she thought to haue 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
seruice; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it
were, that her wit in co[n]tinuace did finde, that Zelmanes friendship
was
full of impatient desire, hauing more the[n] ordinarie limits, &
therfore shee was content to second Zelmane, though her selfe
knew not
the limits; or that in truth, true-loue (well considered) haue an
infectiue power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loues harbinger,
wishing. First she would wish, that they two might liue all their liues
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 haue their part in Zelmane. The[n] would she wish, that she
were her sister, that such a natural band might make her more speciall
to her. But against that, she considered, 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 vnto 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 preuent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was
past preuenting; like a riuer, no rampiers being built against it, till
alreadie it haue ouerflowed. For now indeed, Loue puld of his maske,
and shewed his face vnto 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 giues 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 iealous her mother was,
the more she thought the iewell precious, which was with so many lookes
garded. But that preuailing so far, as to keepe the two louers from
priuate conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a louers
solitarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were
present, shee might giue 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 commandement, with dolefull gestures and
vncertaine 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 gaue
thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of deuotion to looke vpon
it. But true thoughts of loue 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 Phœbus of looking vpon her:
There had
she enioyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and
had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.
But the
principall cause that inuited 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 vpon it, as a
testimonie of
her mind, against the suspition her captiuitie made her thinke she
liued in. The writing was this.
YOu liuing powres enclosed in stately
shrine
Of growing trees; you
rurall Gods that wield
Your scepters here, if to your eares diuine
A
voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld:
This vowe receaue, this
vowe ô 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
Vnto my
selfe let after-liuers know.
No fancy mine, nor others wronge suspect
Make me, ô vertuous Shame, thy lawes neglect.
O
Chastitie, the chiefe of heauenly lightes,
Which makst vs most
immortall shape to weare,
Holde thou my hart, establish thou my
sprights:
To onely thee my constant course I beare.
Till spotlesse
soule vnto thy bosome flye,
Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.
But now that her memorie serued as an accuser of her
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 perceiue the goodly stone, which serued as an altar in
that wooddie deuotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the
words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted:
which as she perceaued, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which neuer
receiuedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted
writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she haue
chaunged since. Enioy, enioy 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 haue adioyned as a
retractation to the other. They were to this effect.
MY words, in hope to blaze my stedfast
minde,
This marble chase, 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 vnseene, 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 ioyne as the
this recantation to
the former vow, (laying all her faire length vnder
one of the trees)
for a while she did nothing but turne vp and downe, as if she had hoped
to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she
could haue hidden her selfe from her owne fancies. At length with a
whispring note to her selfe; O me vnfortunate wretch (said she) what
poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight
of this strange guest inuaded 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 ouercome this let; or els that you were
for euer thus darkned, to serue for an excuse of my outragious folly.
Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then beautified the
cleere skie: My pare[n]ts (said she) haue told me, that in these faire
heauenly bodies, there are great hidde[n] deities, which haue their
working in the ebbing & flowing of our estates. If it be so, then
(O you Stars) iudge rightly of me, & if I haue with wicked inte[n]t
made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I framed my
harte fit for such an impression, then let this plague dayly encrease
in me, till my name bee made odious to womankind. But if extreame and
vnresistable violence haue oppressed me, who will euer do any of you
sacrifice (ô 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 affection. And yet are these but childish
obiections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibilitie that
dooth torment
me: for, vnlawfull desires are punished after the effect of enioying;
but vnpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then,
ô
tenne times vnhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth
loue; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my affection: and of all
despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The
most couetous man longs not to get riches out of a grou[n]d which neuer
can beare any thing; Why? because it is impossible. The most ambitious
wight vexeth not his wittes to clime into heauen; Why? because it is
impossible. Alas then, Loue, 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 Loue hath prepared for me ? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at
lest as furiouslie as my selfe, loue Zelmane? And should I be
wiser
then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I think
impossible, or els impossible loues neede not 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 loue me with like ardour? I see it,
her eyes depose it to be true; what then? and if she can loue poore me,
shall I thinke scorne to loue such a woman as Zelmane? Away
then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou louest me, excellent Zelmane,
and I loue thee: and with that, embrasing the very grounde whereon she
lay, she said to her selfe (for euen to her selfe she was ashamed to
speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, gouerne and direct me;
for I am wholy giuen ouer vnto thee.
CHAP.
5.
1 The bedfellow communication of Philoclea and Pamela.
2 Pamelas
narration of her shepheardes making loue,
3 of Dorus and
Dametas horsemanshippe, 4 of his
hote pursuite, and her colde
acceptance. 5 His letter. 6 Her
relenting, 7 and Philocleas
sole complaint.
N this depth of muzes, and diuers sorts
of discourses, would she haue rauingly remained, but that
Dametas and Miso (who
were rounde about to seeke her, vnderstanding 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 saue a chicken from a kites
foote, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing
that if it were her daughter Mopsa,
she woulde giue her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her
keepe within dores for one fortnight. But their iangling 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 vpon her mother) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her
parents discipline, as well as her sister, to serue her selfe) she went
alone vp to Pamelas chamber: where meaning to delight her
eies,
and ioy her thoughts with the sweet conuersation of her beloued sister,
she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth
blow sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire,
lying
backward, with her head almost ouer the back of it, & looking vpon
a wax-ca[n]dle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in
the other her hand-kerchiefe, which had lately dronk vp the teares of
her eyes, leauing 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 perceiued 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 cou[n]trey, and which name (me
thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your
fauour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you loue
your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I
shall not loue a sadde Pamela, so well as a ioyfull? Or be my
eares vnwoorthie, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that
you
should conceale from your sister, yea and seruant Philoclea?
These
wordes wanne no further of Pamela, but that telling her they
might
talke better as they lay together, they impouerished 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
embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Loue
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 vs talke
of some
other thing: & tell me whether you did euer see any thing so ameded
as our Pastoral sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O
Loue, how
farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found
her, and
therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I haue often wondred to
my selfe how such excelle[n]cies could be in so meane a person; but
belike
Fortune was afraide 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 vnder 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 lecture vnto 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 vse the goade, & when the voice: giuing him rules
of a heardma[n], though he prete[n]ded to make him a shepheard) to see all
the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne vpon his base
estate) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but
to what serues this? no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these
idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I haue
caught you, the
constantnes of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disiointed
speeches: you loue, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela)
now
you haue it; and with lesse adoo should, if my hart could haue thoght
those words suteable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea)
take heed:
for I thinke vertue itself 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 Loue, went away
a maine withall, telling her how his noble
qualities had drawne her
liking towardes him; but yet euer waying his meanenes, & so held
continually in due limits; till seeking many meanes to speake with her,
& euer kept from it (as wel because she shund it, seing and
disdaining his mind, as because of her iealous iaylours) he had at
length vsed the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting loue to
Mopsa, & saying to Mopsa what soeuer he would
haue her know: and in
how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person,
making poore Mopsa beleue, that it was a matter fallen out
many ages
before. And in the end, because you shal know my teares come not,
neither of repe[n]tance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus
fallen out
to be? euen the Prince Musidorus, famous ouer all Asia,
for his
heroical enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the straunger Plangus
told my father; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought)
though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if
you had
heard his words, or seene his gestures, when he made me know what, and
to whom his loue was, you would haue 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 vngratefulnesse abstaine from louing 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
actes) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas seruaunt
for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus,
since
the handmaid of wisdome is slow belief? That co[n]sideratio[n] did not
want
in me, for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receiue
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 haue I had of him, not onely by necessary
arguments to any of comon sense, but by sufficient demonstrations.
Lastly he would haue me send to Thessalia: but truly I am not
as now in
mind to do my honorable Loue so much wrong, as so far to suspect him:
yet poor soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspect,
neglect, yea & detest him. For euery day he finds one way or other
to set forth him selfe vnto me, but all are rewarded with like
coldnesse of acceptation.
A few daies since, he & Dametas had
furnished theselues 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 ô how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a
grace he presented
him selfe before me on horseback, making maiestic wait vpon humblenes?
how at the first, standing stil with his eies bent vpo[n] me, as though
his motio[n]s were chained to my looke, he so staide till I caused Mopsa
bid him doo something vpon his horse: which no sooner said, but
(with a
kinde rather of quick gesture, then shew of viole[n]ce) you might see him
come towards me, beating the grou[n]d in so due time, as no daunce can
obserue better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, whe[n]
the
Sea went hie vpon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he
(as if
Ce[n]taurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moued,
then one is with the going of his owne legges: and in effect so did he
command him, as his owne limmes, for though he had both spurres and
wande, they seemed rather markes of soueraintie, then instruments of
punishment; his hand and legge (with most pleasing grace) comma[n]ding
without threatning, & rather reme[m]bring 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 co[m]plaine of it, he euer going
so
iust 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 perceiue the bridle-hand somthing gently stir, but
indeed so gently, as it did rather
distill vertue, then vse violence.
Him self (which me thinkes is straunge) shewing at one instant both
steadines & nimblenes; somtimes making him turne close to the
grou[n]d, like a cat, when scratchingly she
wheeles about after a mouse:
sometimes with a little more rising before, now like a Rauen leaping
from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bound
ouer 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, euer 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, giuing his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it
had an inside. But as before he had euer said, he wanted but horse
& apparell to be as braue a courtier as the best, so now brused
with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put
himselfe vnder 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[n] descending it
a little downe, the getting of it vp into the rest, the letting of the
point fall, and taking the ring was but all one motion, at lest (if
they were diuers motions) they did so stealingly slippe one into
another, as the latter parte was euer 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.
But how
delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it
neuer 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 haue tolde me, that when one is cold
outwardly, he is not inwardly; so truly the colde ashes layed vpon my
fire, did not take the nature of fire from it. Full often hath my brest
swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full often haue the teares,
I draue 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 vnto him no other newes, but
discomfortable. I thinke no day past, but by some one inuention he
would appeare vnto me to testifie his loue. 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 vp 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 sauage apparell, with
naked necke, armes, and legges, he made loue 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 euer see
such a
shepheard? tell me, did you euer heare of such a Prince? And then tell
me, if a small or vnworthy assaulte haue 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
iudgement. Yet hetherto haue my lookes bene as I told you, which
continuing after many of these his fruitles trials, haue wrought such
change in him, as I tell you true (with that worde she laid her hand
vpon 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 vnder
the pillowe) which to daie (with an afflicted humblenesse) he deliuered
me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read it vnto her, to
mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter
containing thus much.
MOst blessed paper, which shalt kisse that
had,
where to al blessednes is in nature a serua[n]t, 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 diuine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse
shall be turned to most hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my
Inke; for while she lookes vpo[n] you, your blacknes wil shine: crie
out
boldly my Lametatio[n]; for while she reads you, your cries wil be
musicke. Say then (O happy messenger of a most vnhappy 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, vnto
her heauenly 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 vnto her
sacred iudgement: O you, the onely, the onely honour to women, to men
the onely admiration, you that being armed by Loue, defie him that
armed you, in this high estate wherein you haue 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 euer it be)
it is reaso[n] you haue an account of him. The wretch (yet your wretch)
though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his graue, and will you
suffer a temple (how poorely-built soeuer, but yet a temple of your
deitie) to be rased ? But he dyeth: it is most true, he dyeth; and he
in whom you liue, to obey you, dieth. Whereof though he plaine, he doth
not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath receiued.
He dyes, because in wofull language all his senses tell him, that such
is your pleasure: for since you will not that he liue, alas, alas, what
followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his
ende? Ende
then, euill destinyed Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofull letter,
end;
for it suffiseth her wisedome to know, that her heauenly will shalbe
accomplished.
O my Philoclea, is hee a person
to write
these words? and are these words lightly to be
regarded? But if you had
seene, when with trembling
hand he
had deliuered 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 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 euer since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found
me. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) leaue sorrow. The
riuer of your
teares will soone loose his fountaine; it is in your hand as well to
stitch vp his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though
with self-grieued mind) she comforted her sister, till sleepe came to
bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes.
Which when Philoclea found, wringing
her
hands, O me (said she) indeed the onely subiect of the destinies
displeasure, whose greatest
fortunatenes is more vnfortunate, then my
sisters greatest vnfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because she would
be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can neuer be happie; her teares
flow from pittie, mine from being too farre lower then the reach of
pittie. Yet doo I not enuie thee, deare Pamela, I do not enuy 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 vprising, 2 and interrogatories to Dorus con-
cerning Pyrocles and Euarchus. 3 His
historiologie of E-
uarchus kingly
excellencies, 4 his entry on a most corrupt
estate, 5 and reformation
thereof by royall arts and actions.
6 His, and Dorilaus crosse-mariage
to ech others sister, ha-
uing by ech a sonne; their mutuall defence, with
Dorilaus
death.
Vt the darkenesse of sorrow
ouershadowing her mind, as the night did
her eyes, they were both content to hide themselues vnder the wings of
sleepe, till the next morning had almost lost his name, before the two
sweet sleeping sisters awaked fro[m] dreames, which flattered them with
more comfort, then their waking could, or would consent vnto. For then
they were called vp by Miso; who hauing bene with Gynecia,
had
receiued commaundement to be continually with her daughters, and
particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea haue
any priuate co[n]ferece,
but that she should be present to heare what passed. But Miso hauing
now her authentic encreased, came with skowling eyes to deliuer a
slauering 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 haue made a handkerchiefe by that time of the day. The two sweete
Princes with a smiling silence answered her entertainement, and obeying
her direction, couered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes.
But as soone as Pamela was readie (& sooner she was then
her
sister) the agony of Dorus giuing a fit to her selfe, which
the words
of his letter (liuely 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 iudgement of him, before she
would moue Dametas to graunt her in mariage vnto 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
giue some comfort
to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some part of his life
past; which although fame had alreadie deliuered vnto her, yet she
desired in more particular certainties to haue it from so beloued an
historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues disposition iealous, euen ouer
it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus
(whom she was halfe ashamed she did loue so well, and more
then halfe sorie she could loue 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 deceaued
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 haue heard) he was a young Prince,
of who[m] al me expected as much, as mans power could bring forth,
&
yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaued.
Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus) no expectatio[n] in others,
nor hope in
himself could aspire to a higher mark, the[n] to be thought worthy to
be
praised by your iudgement, & made worthy to be praised by your
mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no meanes get so
sweete & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so could not
you (leauing your selfe aside) finde in the world a fitter subiect of
commendation; as noble, as a long succession of royall ancestors,
famous, and famous of victories could make him: of shape most louely,
and yet of mind more louely; valiant, curteous, wise, what should I say
more? sweete Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can my
words but wrong
thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst
bequethed to him that euer must haue thy vertues in admiration; that
masked at least in them, I might haue found some more gratious
acceptation? with that he imprisoned his looke for a while vpon 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 neuer 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 perceaue 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
vnderstood.
Incomparable Lady (said he) your
commandement doth not onely giue me the wil, but the power to obey you,
such
influence 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 soueraintie ouer all the
prouinces of Greece, that eue[n]the particular kings therin did
acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kind of fealty
thereunto: as among the rest, euen this now most noble (and by you
ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, whe[n] 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 neuer stirre
vp old titles (how apparant soeuer) whereby the publike peace (with the
losse of manie not guiltie soules) should be broken; but contenting
himselfe to guide that shippe, wherein the heauens 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 witnesses, that it was no want of true
courage. Who[m] as he was most wise to see what was best, and most iust
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 vpon him. A Prince, that indeed especially
measured his greatnesse by his goodnesse: and if for any thing he loued
greatnesse, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodnes. A
Prince of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a graue maiestie,
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
loue of the
worlds paragon, as I now weare.
This King left Orphan both of father and mother, (whose father &
grandfather likewise had dyed yong) he found his
estate, when he came
to age (which allowed his authentic) so disioynted euen in the noblest
& strongest lims of gouernmet, that the name of a King was growne
eue[n]odious to the people, his autority hauing bin abused by those
great
Lords, & litle kings: who[m] in those betweene-times of raigning
(by
vniust fauouring those that were partially theirs, & oppressing
them that woulde defende their libertie against them had brought in (by
a more felt then seene maner of proceeding) the worst kind of
Oligarchic; that is, whe[n] men are gouerned in deede by a fewe, and
yet
are not taught to know what those fewe be, to whom they should obey.
For they hauing the power of kinges, but not the nature of kings, vsed
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 loued: and (which is worst of all) making
the Royall countenance serue to vndermine the Royall soueraintie. For
the Subiectes could taste no sweeter fruites of hauing a King, then
grieuous taxations to serue vaine purposes; Lawes
made rather to finde faults, then to preuent faultes: the Court of a
Prince rather deemed as a priuiledged place of vnbrideled
licentiousnes, then as a biding of him, who as a father, should giue a
fatherly example vnto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all
estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition neuer
satisfied) grew factious among themselues: and the vnderlings, glad
indeede to be vnderlings to them they hated lest, to preserue them from
such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining
should discouer 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
reformation; 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 euill, glad to change though oft for a worse;
marchandise abused, and so townes decayed for want of iust and naturall
libertie; offices, euen of iudging soules, solde; publique defences
neglected; 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.
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 tooke vpon him
the regiment: which by reason
of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some euen
extreme seueritie, not so much for the very faultes themselues, (which
he rather sought to preuent then to punish) as for the faultie ones;
who strong, euen in their faultes, scorned his youth, and coulde not
learne to disgest, that the man which they so long had vsed 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 subiects hartes, he soone shewed, no basenes of
suspition, nor the basest basenes of enuie, could any whit rule such a
Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all loue among them, when an
awfull feare, ingendred by iustice, did make that loue most louely; his
first & principall care being to appeare vnto hi people, such as
he would haue them be, & to be such as he appeared; making his life
the example of his lawes, as it were, his actions arising out of his
deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular loue in his
people, and engraffed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but
loue him, whom they found so truely to loue the[m]? He euen in reason
disdayning, that they that haue charge of beastes, should loue their
charge, and care for them; and that he that was to gouerne the most
excellent creature, should not loue so noble a charge. And therefore,
where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde vpon false grounds
of gouernment) make themselues (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 themselues most
Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: he contrariwise,
vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all
but one politike bodie, whereof him-selfe was the head; euen so cared
for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: neuer restrayning their
liberty, without it stretched to licenciousncs, nor pulling from them
their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a
greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight to their
welfare, broght that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by
their loue he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as
easily sette downe the whole Arte of gouernement, 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 action of leauing
his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of magnanimitie,
as before he had done of iustice.
He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie fall to
partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be iustly said,
that she was no
vnfit bra[n]ch to the noble stock wherof she came. Her he had giuen in
manage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to
make a
fre[n]dship, as to co[n]firm the fre[n]dship 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
valia[n]t, wise,
and iust Dorilaus, whose vnripe death doth yet (so many yeares
since)
draw teares fro[m] vertuous eyes? And indeede, my father is wont to
speak
of nothing with greater admiration, then of the notable friendshippe (a
rare thing in Princes, more rare betwene Princes) that so holily was
obserued to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) goe on
I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) hauing maried his sister, had
his manage
in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how vnhappie soeuer
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 vpon 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 heauens at that time listed to
play with ignorant mankind, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as
euen at times to borow the face of Diuinitie. But certainly, so did the
boldnes of their affirmation accompanie the greatnes of what they did
affirme (euen descending to particularities, what kingdomes he should
ouercome) that the King of Phrygia (who ouer-superstitiously
thought
him selfe touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant,
to preuent his after-expectations: because a skilful man (hauing
compared his natiuity with the child) so told him. Foolish ma[n],
either
vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering, that if
it were a worke of the superiour powers, the heauens at length are
neuer children. But so he did, & by the aid of the Kings of Lydia
and Crete (ioining together their armies) inuaded 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 iust 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, driuen 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
inuaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be vnknowne to
your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame hath glory to come vnto.
But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his frie[n]ds
helpe) in a
great battaile depriued of his life, his obsequies being no more
sole[m]nised by the teares of his partakers, the[n] 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 deliuered. For what fortune onely southsayers
foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in
Pyrocles; both Heauens & Earth giuing toke[n]s of the
comming forth of
an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was at no time to
set, for the decreeing of perfectio[n] in a man, as at that time all
folkes skilful therin did acknowledge: onely loue was threatned, and
promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and hauen of
their best yeares. But as death may haue preuented Pyrocles, so
vnworthinesse must be the death to Musidorus.
CHAP.
7.
1 The education of Pyrocles & Musidorus. 2 Their
friend-
ship, 3 nauigation, 4 and first
shipwracke. 5 The straunge
gratitude of two
brothers to them, vpon their libera-
litie to those two brothers.
Vt the mother of Pyrocles (shortly
after her childe-birth) 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 euil 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
conceats: Musidorus (per-chaunce because among his subiectes)
exceedingly
beloued: and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by
his
sister) they were so brought vp, that all the sparkes of vertue, which
nature had kindled in the[m], were so blowne to giue forth their
vttermost
heate that iustly it may be affirmed, they enflamed the affections of
all that knew the[m]. For almost before they could perfectly speake,
they
began to receaue co[n]ceits not vnworthy of the best speakers:
excellent
deuises being vsed, to make euen their sports profitable; images of
battailes, & fortificatio[n]s being then deliuered to their memory,
which after, their stronger iudgeme[n]ts might dispens, the delight of
tales being co[n]uerted to the knowledge of al the stories of worthy
Princes, both to moue 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 dil
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