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The Complete Works

Sir Philip Sidney

In Three Volumes
Volume I

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

Born 1554
Died 1586

THE

COVNTESSE

OF pembrokes

ARCADIA,

WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIPPE
SIDNEI.

I-ONDON
Printed for William Ponfonbie.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

THE

COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

ARCADIA

EDITED BY

ALBERT FEUILLERAT

Professor of English Literature in the University of Rennes

Cambridge :

at the University Press

1912

(library)

ffj

MAR 1 9 1958

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

EonUon: FETTER LANE, E.G.

C. F. CLAY, Manager

CFllinburfll) ; loo, PRINCES STREET

JSnlin: A. ASHER AND CO.

leipjiij: F. A. BROCKHAUS

J&fto Horfe: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

Bombap. ant) Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.

A// rig^hts reserved

PREFATORY NOTE

REPRINTS of the separate works of Sir Philip
Sidney are numerous ; yet, however incredible
this may seem, no complete edition has hitherto been
accessible. The object of the volumes now offered to
Elizabethan students is to collect all the literary produc-
tions of Sidney : The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia^ the
Poems and ne Defence of Poesie as well as the Correspon-
dence and the Political Pamphlets. I even propose to
include the translations of the Psalms and of Mornay's
Vhiti de la Religion Chrestienne^ it being possible to
ascertain Sidney's share in these works.

The fact that such an important author should have
had to wait so long for his due is probably referable to
the difficulties with which a modern editor has to
struggle in choosing an authentic text. Sir Philip Sidney
was blessed with a most charming and most talented
sister ; but this fascinating lady made no scruple to
revise and, as she probably thought, to better the
writings of her deceased brother. Hence, the danger
of printing, as Sir Philip's, passages which fell from
the pen of Mary. In many cases, it is hopeless to
determine how much is due to her collaboration ; in
others, unauthorised editions fortunately permit us to
escape the effects of her revisory spirit. For this reason,
my principle has been — whenever this was possible — to

PREFATORY NOTE

choose as a basis of the text the earliest editions known,
even when these, from a literary point of view, are
inferior to ** amended" texts.

As regards the present volume, my choice has
proved simple enough. Two forms of Arcadia have
been preserved. The earlier, known as "the old Ar-
cadia," contained five books and was circulated in
manuscript, several copies of which still exist, three
having been discovered by Mr B. Dobell. With this
first form, the author, it appears, was not satisfied
and he set about revising it; or, rather, he enlarged
it by the addition of several new stories dovetailed
into the principal one, after the manner of Spanish
romances. At the time of his death, Sidney had not
proceeded further than a portion of the third Book,
and thus his manuscript was left unfinished. This
manuscript, having come to the hands of Ponsonby, was
printed and published in a quarto volume, in 1590.
Three years later, another edition in folio, pretending
to wipe away " those spottes wherewith the beauties "
of Arcadia " were unworthely blemished," appeared
with rearrangements and additions said to have been
worked up from " severall loose sheets " sent by the
author to the Countess of Pembroke. As a matter of
fact, the editor of this new edition — as I shall show in
due course — contented himself with slightly modifying
the text of the quarto and completing the story from
that ** old Arcadia " already mentioned, thus giving the
unnatural combination of a rejected work and of a work
which represented the final form adopted by the author.
Such being the case, I have thought it best to give in
a separate volume — the first — the text of the quarto
of 1 590, reserving for the second volume that part of
the original Arcadia which was added in 1593. Thus,
viii

PREFATORY NOTE

the incongruity of blending two incompatible forms
has been avoided without omitting what is, after all, an
interesting part of Sir Philip Sidney's works.

In accordance with the scheme of The Cambridge
English Classics^ the text adopted is printed without any
deviations from the original^ in the matter of spelling and
punctuation, save those recorded in the list found on
page 520. These exceptions consist of evident mis-
prints which it has been thought useless to preserve.
In the Notes, I have given the variant readings supplied
by all the editions published from 1593 down to 1674'.
These are fourteen in number, or, rather, twelve, for the
1623 and 1629 folios are duplicates of the 1621 and
1627 editions respectively. This long and self-imposed
task has been, I need not say, tedious and has involved
sacrifices of many sorts. To some, it may even seem
foolish to have wasted so much time upon mere colla-
tion. Yet I do not regret my pains, for it is now
possible to solve most of the bibliographical problems
which present themselves, that of the Edinburgh edition
amongst others.

In the next volumes, I shall have the very pleasant
duty to acknowledge various and numerous obligations.
In the present volume, my debts are few, though im-
portant. First of all, I must mention the courtesy of
Mr A. W. Pollard, who, hearing that I was working
upon Arcadia^ spontaneously offered me the use of a
valuable copy belonging to him. I owe also many
thanks to Mr A. R. Waller, who incited me to undertake

1 In the British Museum (Press Mark: G. 10440).

' The manuscripts of *' the old Arcadia " have not been collated ; to
include their variants would have meant practically printing the whole of
the earlier form. It also goes without saying that I have not recorded
differences in spelling. In the Notes, the spelling given is that of the earliest
edition where the difference appears.

PREFATORY NOTE

this edition, and who, after the printing of the text,
patiently — and silently — waited for two long years, till
I had fought out my battle with the ponderous mass of
the fourteen folios above-mentioned. Lastly, I ought not
to forget my wife, for without her constant help I should
never have been able to bring my work to an end.

A. FEUILLERAT

1 o November 1 9 1 1

CONTENTS

PAGE

The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia ... i

List of Misprints in the Quarto which have been

corrected . . . . . . . 520

Notes (variants) . . . . . . . 522

Appendix (the Eclogues as printed in 1593) • • 5^3

Alphabetical Table of the Personages in Arcadia . 567

Index of First Lines of Poems . . . . 571

Corrigenda . 572

THE

COUNTESSE

OF PEMBROKES
ARCADIA,

WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIPPE
SIDNEI.

LONDON

Printed for William Ponsonbie.
Anno Domini, 1590.

TO MY DEARE LADIE

AND SISTER, THE COUN-
TESSE OF PEMBROKE.

T_7"Ere now have you (most deare^ and most worthy
-^ ^ to be most deare Lady) this idle worke of
mine : which I fear (like the Spiders webhe) will be
thought fitter to be swept away^ then worn to any
other purpose. For my part^ in very trueth (as the
crue II fathers among the Greekes^ were woont to doo
to the babes they would not foster) I could well find
in my harte^ to cast out in some desert of forge tfulnes
this child^ which I am loath to father. But you
desired me to doo it^ and your desire^ to my hart is
an absolute commandement, Now^ it is done onelie
for you^ onely to you : if you keepe it to your selfe^ or
to such friendes^ who will weigh errors in the bal-
launce of good will, I hope, for the fathers sake, it
will be pardoned, perchance made much of, though in
it selfe it have deformities. For indeede,for severer
eyes it is not, being but a trifie, and that trifiinglie
handled. Tour deare selfe can best witnes the
maner, being done in loose sheetes of paper, most of
it in your presence, the rest, by sheetes, sent unto you,
as fast as they were done. In summe, a young head,
not so well stayed as I would it were, (and shall be
when God will) having many many fancies begotten
in it, if it had not ben in some way delivered, would
have growen a monster, & more sorie might I be that
they came in, then that they gat out. But his chief e

safetie^ s ha I be the not walking abroad; & his chief e
protedlion^ the bearing the liverye of your name ;
nibhich (if much much good will do not deceave me)
is worthy to be a saBuary for a greater offender.
This say /, because I knowe the vertue so ; and this
say /, because it may be ever so\ or to say better^
because it will be ever so. Read it then at your
idle tymes^ and the follyes your good judgement wil
finde in it., blame not^ but laugh at. And so^ looking
for no better stuffe^ then, as in an Haberdashers
shoppe, glasses, or feathers, you will continue to love
the writer, who doth excedinglie love you ; and most
most hartelie praies you may long live, to be a princi-
pall ornament to the familie of the Sidneis.

Your loving Brother
Philip Sidnei.

^ / "He division and summing of the Chapters was not of
■i Sir Philip Sidneis dooing, but adventured by the
over-seer of the print, for the more ease of the
Readers. He therfore submits himself e to their judgement^
and if his labour answere not the worthines of the booke,
desire th pardon for it. As also if any defeat be found in the
Eclogues, which although they were of Sir Phillip Sidneis
writing, yet were they not perused by him, but left till the
worke had bene finished, that then choise should have bene
made, which should have bene taken, and in what manner
brought in. At this time they have bene chosen and disposed
as the over-seer thought best.

THE COUNTESSE OF

PEMBROKES ARCADIA WRIT-
TEN BY SIR PHILIP

SIDNEI.

THE FIRST BOOKE.

CHAP. I.

^ The sheperdish complaints of the absented lovers Strephon and
Claius. ^ The second shipwrack of Pyrocles and Musidorus.
Their strange saving^ ^ entervieWy and * parting.

IT was in the time that the earth begins to put on her new i
aparrel against the approch of her lover, and that the Sun
runing a most eve course becums an indifferent arbiter betweene
the night and the day ; when the hopelesse shepheard Strephon
was come to the sandes, which lie against the Island of Citheraj
where viewing the place with a heavy kinde of delight, and
sometimes casting his eyes to the Ileward, he called his friendly
rivall, the pastor Claius unto him, and setting first downe in
his darkened countenance a dolefuU copie of what he would
speake : O my Claius^ said he, hether we are now come to pay
the rent, for which we are so called unto by over-busie Re-
membrance, Remembrance, restlesse Remembrance, which
claymes not onely this dutie of us, but for it will have us
forget our selves. I pray you when wee were amid our flocke,
and that of other shepeheardes some were running after their
sheep strayed beyond their bounds, some delighting their eyes
with seeing them nibble upon the short and sweete grasse,
some medicining their sicke ewes, some setting a bell for an
ensigne of a sheepish squadron, some with more leasure invent-
ing new games of exercising their bodies & sporting their wits:
did Remembrance graunt us any holiday, eyther for pastime

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

or devotion, nay either for necessary foode or naturall rest ? but
that still it forced our thoughts to worke upo this place, where
we last (alas that the word last should so long last) did gaze our
eyes upon her ever florishing beautie : did it not still crie
within us? Ah you base minded wretches, are your thoughts
so deeply bemired in the trade of ordinary worldlings, as for
respedt of gaine some paultry wooll may yeeld you, to let so
much time passe without knowing perfedtly her estate,
especially in so troublesome a season? to leave that shore
unsaluted, from whence you may see to the Island where she
dwelleth? to leave those steps unkissed wherein Urania printed
the farewell of all beautie ? Wei then, Remembraunce com-
maunded, we obeyed, and here we finde, that as our remem-
brance came ever cloathed unto us in the forme of this place, so
this place gives newe heate to the feaver of our languishing
remembrance. Yonder my C/aiuSy Urania lighted, the verie
horse (me thought) bewayled to be so disburdned: and as for
thee, poore Claius, when thou wentst to help her downe, I saw
reverence and desire so devide thee, that thou didst at one
instant both blushe and quake, and in stead of bearing her,
weart ready to fall downe thy selfe. There shee sate, vouch-
safing my cloake (then most gorgeous) under her: at yonder
rising of the ground she turned her selfe, looking backe toward
her woonted abode, and because of her parting bearing much
sorrow in hir eyes, the lightsomnes whereof had yet so naturall
a cherefulnesse, as it made even sorrow seeme to smile ; at that
turning she spake unto us all, opening the cherrie of hir lips,
& Lord how greedily mine eares did feed upon the sweete
words she uttered ? And here she laide her hand over thine
eyes, when shee saw the teares springing in them, as if she would
conceale them from other, and yet her selfe feele some of thy
sorrow : But woe is me, yonder, yonder, did she put her foote
into the boate, at that instant as it were deviding her heavenly
beautie, betweene the Earth and the Sea. But when she was
imbarked, did you not marke how the windes whistled, & the
seas daunst for joy, how the sailes did swel with pride, and all
because they had Urania ? O Urania, blessed be thou Urania,
the sweetest fairenesse and fairest sweetnesse : with that worde
his voice brake so with sobbing, that he could say no further;
and Claim thus answered. Alas my Strephon (said he) what
6

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

needes this skore to recken up onely our losses ? What doubt
is there, but that the light of this place doth call our thoughtes
to appeare at the court of afFedtion, held by that racking
steward, Remembraunce ? Aswell may sheepe forget to feare
when they spie woolves, as wee can misse such fancies, when
wee see any place made happie by her treading. Who can
choose that saw her but thinke where she stayed, where she
walkt, where she turned, where she spoke ? But what is all
this ? truely no more, but as this place served us to thinke of
those thinges, so those thinges serve as places to call to memorie
more excellent matters. No, no, let us thinke with considera-j
tion, and consider with acknowledging, and acknowledge with!
admiration, and admire with love, and love with joy in thqj
midst of all woes : let us in such sorte thinke, I say, that our
poore eyes were so inriched as to behold, and our low hearts so
exalted as to love, a maide, who is such, that as the greatest
thing the world can shewe, is her beautie, so the least thing that
may be praysed in her, is her beautie. Certainely as her eye-
lids are more pleasant to behold, then two white kiddes climing
up a faire tree, and browsing on his tendrest braunches, and yet
are nothing, compared to the day-shining starres contayned in
them; and as her breath is more sweete then a gentle South-
west wind, which comes creeping over flowrie fieldes and
shaddowed waters in the extreeme heate of summer, and yet is
nothing, compared to the hony flowing speach that breath doth
Carrie : no more all that our eyes can see of her (though when
they have seene her, what else they shall ever see is but drie
stuble after clovers grasse) is to bee matched with the flocke of
unspeakeable vertues laid up delightfully in that best builded
_foldje. But in deede as wee can better consider the sunnes
beautie, by marking how he guildes these waters, and moun-
taines them by looking upon his owne face, too glorious for our
weake eyes: so it may be our conceits (not able to beare her
sun-stayning excellencie) will better way it by her workes upon
some meaner subjeft employed. And alas, who can better
witnesse that then we, whose experience is grounded upon
feeling? hath not the onely love of her made us (being silly
ignorant shepheards) raise up our thoughts above the ordinary ^nnc
l&vell _of the . worlde, so _as_great clearkes do not disdaine our ■ouiM.
conference^ hath not the desire to seeihe worthie in her eyes

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

made us when others were sleeping, to sit vewing the course of
heavens ? when others were running at base, to runne over
learned writings ? when other marke their sheepe, we to marke
our selves ? hath not shee throwne reason upon our desires, and,
as it were given eyes unto Cupid ? hath in any, but in her, love-
fellowship maintained friendship betweene rivals, and beautie
taught the beholders chastitie ? He was going on with his
praises, but Strephon bad him stay, & looke: & so they both
perceaved a thing which floted drawing nearer and nearer to
the banke ; but rather by the favourable working of the Sea,
then by any selfe industrie. They doubted a while what it
should be; till it was cast up even hard before the: at which
time they fully saw that it was a man: Wherupon running for
pitie sake unto him, they found his hands (as it should appeare,
constanter frends to his life then his memorie) fast griping upon
the edge of a square small coflFer, which lay all under his breast:
els in him selfe no shew of life, so as the boord seemed to bee
but a beere to carry him a land to his Sepulchre. So drew
they up a young man of so goodly shape, and well pleasing
favour, that one would think death had in him a lovely counte-
nance; and, that though he were naked, nakednes was to him
an apparrell. That sight increased their compassion, and their
compassion called up their care; so that lifting his feete above
his head, making a great deale of salt water to come out of his
mouth, they layd him upon some of their garments, and fell to
rub and chafe him, till they brought him to recover both breath
the servant, & warmth the companion of living. At length,
opening his eyes, he gave a great groane, (a dolefull note but a
pleasaunt dittie) for by that, they found not onely life, but
strength of life in him. They therefore continued on their
charitable office, until (his spirits being well returned,) hee
(without so much as thanking them for their paines) gate up,
and looking round about to the uttermost lymittes of his sight,
and crying upon the name of Pyroc/eSy nor seeing nor hearing
cause of comfort: what (said he) and shall Musidorus live after
Pyrocles F therewithall hee offered wilfully to cast destruction Sc
himselfe againe into the sea: a strange sight to the shepheards,
to whom it seemed, that before being in apparance dead had
yet saved his life, and now comming to his life, shoulde be a
cause to procure his death; but they ranne unto him, and

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

pulling him backe, (then too feeble for them) by force stickled
that unnaturaLJray. I pray you (said he) honest men, what
such right have you in me, as not to suffer me to doe with my
self what I list ? and what poUicie have you to bestow a benefite
where it is counted an injury ? They hearing him speake in
Greek (which was their naturall language) became the more
tender hearted towards him ; and considering by his calling and
looking, that the losse of some deare friend was great cause of
his sorow; told him they were poore men that were bound by
course of humanitie to prevent so great a mischiefe ; and that
they wisht him, if opinion of some bodies perishing bred such
desperate anguish in him, that he should be comforted by his
owne proofe, who had lately escaped as apparant danger as any
might be. No, no (said hee) it is not for me to attend so high
a blissefulnesse : but since you take care of mee, I pray you
finde meanes that some Barke may be provided, that will goe
out of the haven, that if it be possible we may finde the body
farre farre too precious a foode for fishes : and for the hire (said
he) I have within this casket, of value sufficient to content
them. Claius presently went to a Fisherman, & having agreed
with him, and provided some apparrell for the naked stranger,
he imbarked, and the Shepheards with him : and were no sooner
gone beyond the mouth of the haven, but that some way into
the sea they might discerne (as it were) a stayne of the waters
colour, and by times some sparkes and smoke mounting thereout.
But the young man no sooner saw it, but that beating his brest,
he cried, that there was the beginning of his ruine, intreating
them to bend their course as neere unto it as they could:
telling, how that smoake was but a small relique of a great fire,
which had drive both him & his friend rather to committe
themselves to the cold mercie of the sea, then to abide the bote
crueltie of the fire: and that therefore, though they both had
abandoned the ship, that he was (if any where) in that course
to be met withall. They steared therefore as neere thether-
ward as they could: but when they came so neere as their
eies were ful masters of the objeft, they saw a sight full of
piteous strangenes: a ship, or rather the carkas of the shippe,
or rather some few bones of the carkas, hulling there, part
broken, part burned, part drowned: death having used more
then one dart to that destruction. About it floted great store

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of very rich thinges, and many chestes which might promise
no lesse. And amidst the precious things were a number of
dead bodies, which likewise did not onely testifie both elemets
violence, but that the chiefe violence was growen of humane
inhumanitie: for their bodies were ful of grisly wounds, &
their bloud had (as it were) filled the wrinckles of the seas
visage: which it seemed the sea woulde not wash away, that
it might witnes it is not alwaies his fault, when we condemne
his crueltie : in summe, a defeate, where the conquered kept both
field and spoile : a shipwrack without storme or ill footing : and
a wast of fire in the midst of water.

But a litle way off^ they saw the mast, whose proude height
now lay along; like a widdow having lost her make of whom
she held her honor: but upon the mast they saw a yong man
(at least if he were a man) bearing shew of about i8. yeares of
age, who sate (as on horsback) having nothing upon him but
his shirt, which being wrought with blew silk & gold; had a
kind of resemblance to the sea: on which the sun (then neare
his Westerne home) did shoote some of his beames. His haire
(which the young men of Greece used to weare very long) was
stirred up & down with the wind, which seemed to have a
sport to play with it, as the sea had to kisse his feet ; himselfe
full of admirable beautie, set foorth by the strangenes both of
his seate & gesture : for, holding his head up full of unmoved
majestie, he held a sworde aloft with his faire arme, which often
he waved about his crowne as though he would threaten the
world in that extremitie. But the fishermen, when they came
so neere him, that it was time to throwe out a rope, by which
hold they might draw him, their simplicity bred such amase-
ment, Sc their amasement such a superstitio, that (assuredly
thinking it was some God begotten betweene Neptune and
Fenusy that had made all this terrible slaughter) as they went
under sayle by him, held up their hands, and made their
prayers. Which when Mmidorus sawe, though he were almost
as much ravished with joy, as they with astonishment, he lept
to the Mariner, and tooke the rope out of his hande and (saying,
doest thou live, and arte well ? who answered, thou canst tell
best, since most of my well beyng standes in thee,) threwe it
out, but alreadie the shippe was past beyond Pyrocles: and
therefore Musidorus could doo no more but perswade the
10

•

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Mariners to cast about againe, assuring them that hee was but
a man, although of most divine excellencies, and promising
great rewardes for their paine.

And now they were alreadie come upon the staies; when
one of the saylers descried a Galley which came with sayles
and oares diredlie in the chase of them ; and streight perceaved
it was a well knowne Pirate, who hunted not onely for goodes
but for bodies of menne, which hee imployed eyther to bee his
Galley slaves, or to sell at the best market. Which when the
Maister understood, he commaunded forthwith to set on all the
canvasse they could, and flie homeward, leaving in that sort
poore Pyrocles so neere to be reskewed. But what did not
Musidorus say ? what did he not offer to perswade them to
venture the fight ? But feare standing at the gates of their
eares, put back all perswasions: so that hee had nothing to
accompanie Pyrocles^ but his eyes; nor to succour him, but his
wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long look
that way he saw the Galley leave the pursuite of them, &
turne to take up the spoiles of the other wrack: and lastly
he might well see them lift up the yong man; and alas (said
he to himselfe) deere Pyrocles shall that bodie of thine be en-
chayned ? shall those victorious handes of thine be commaunded
to base offices ? shall vertue become a slave to those that be
slaves to viciousnes ? Alas, better had it bene thou hadst
ended nobly thy noble daies: what death is so evill as unworthy
servitude ? But that opinion soone ceased when he saw the
gallie setting upon an other ship, which held long and strong
fight with her : for then he began a fresh to feare the life of his
friende, and to wish well to the Pirates whome before he hated,
least in their ruyne hee might perish. But the fishermen made
such speed into the haven, that they absented his eyes from
beholding the issue : where being entred, he could procure
neither them nor any other as then to put themselves into the
sea : so that beyng as full of sorrow for being unable to doe any
thing, as voide of counsell how to doe any thing, besides, that
sicknesse grew something upon him, the honest shepheards
Strephon and Clatus (who being themselves true friends, did the
more perfectly judge the justnesse of his sorrowe) advise him,
that he should mitigate somwhat of his woe, since he had gotten
an amendment in fortune, being come from assured persuasion

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of his death, to have no cause to dispaire of his life : as one that
had lamented the death of his sheepe, should after know they
were but strayed, would receive pleasure though readily hee
knew not where to finde them.

CHAP. 2.

^ The pastors comfortes to the wracked Musidorus. ^ His passage
into Arcadia. The descriptions of ' Laconia, * Arcadia^
Kalanders * person^ ^ house^ and ' entertainement to Musi-
dorus, now called Palladius. His ^ sicknes, recovery , " and
perfeSlions.

1 "V T Ow sir (saide they) thus for our selves it is. Wee are in
l\| profession but shepheards, and in this countrie of Laconia
little better then strangers, and therefore neither in skill, nor
habilitie of power greatly to stead you. But what we can pre-
sent unto you is this : Arcadia, of which countrie wee are, is
but a little way hence, and even upon the next confines.

5 There dwelleth a Gentleman, by name Kalander^ who
vouchsafeth much favour unto us : A man who for his hos-
pitalitie is so much haunted, that no newes sturre, but comes to
his eares ; for his upright dealing so beloved of his neighbours,
that he hath many ever readie to doe him their uttermost
service, and by the great good will our Prince beares him, may
soone obtaine the use of his name and credit, which hath a
principall swaie, not only in his owne Arcadia but in al these
coQtries of Peloponnesus : and (which is worth all) all these
things give him not so much power, as his nature gives him
will to benefit : so that it seemes no Musicke is so sweet to
his eare as deserved thankes. To him we will bring you, &
there you may recover againe your helth, without which you
canot be able to make any diligent search for your friend : and
therefore but in that respe6l, you must labour for it. Besides,
we are sure the cofort of curtesie, & ease of wise counsell shall
not be wanting.

2 Musidorus (who besides he was meerly unacquainted in the
coutrie had his wits astonished with sorow) gave easie consent

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

to that, fro which he saw no reason to disagree : & therefore

(defraying the Mariners with a ring bestowed upon the) they

tooke their journey together through Laconia ; Claius & Stre-

phon by course carying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing

in his coutenance evidet marks of a sorowfulmind supported

with a weak bodie, which they perceiving, & knowing that the

violence of sorow is not at the first to be strive withal : (being

like a mighty beast, soner tamed with folowing, tha overthrowe

by withstading) they gave way unto it for that day & the next $

never troubling him, either with asking questions, or finding

fault with his melacholie, but rather fitting to his dolor dolorous

discourses of their own & other folks misfortunes. Which

speeches, thogh they had not a lively entrace to his seces shut

up in sorow, yet like one half asleep, he toke hold of much of

the matters spoken unto him, so as a man may say, ere sorow

was aware, they made his thoughts beare away something els

beside his own sorow, which wrought so in him, that at legth

he grew cotent to mark their speeches, then to marvel at such

wit in shepheardes, after to like their company, & lastly to

vouchsafe confer ece : so that the 3. day after, in the time that

the morning did strow roses & violets in the heavenly floore

against the coming of the Sun, the nightingales (striving one

with the other which coulde in most dainty variety recount

their wrong-caused sorow) made the put of their sleep, &

rising fro under a tree (which that night had bin their pavilio)

they went on their jorney, which by & by welcomed Musidorus

eyes (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightfuU

prospedls. There were hilles which garnished their proud 4

heights with stately trees: huble valleis, whose base estate

semed coforted with refreshing of silver rivers: medows,

enameld with al sorts of ey-pleasing floures: thickets, which

being lined with most pleasat shade, were witnessed so to by

the chereful depositio of many wel- tuned birds: each pasture

stored with sheep feeding with sober security, while the prety

labs with bleting oratory craved the dams cofort : here a shep-

heards boy piping, as though he should never be old: there a

yong shepherdesse knitting, and withall singing, & it seemed

that her voice coforted her hands to work, & her hads kept

time to her voices musick. As for the houses of the coutry

(for many houses came under their eye) they were all scattered,

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

no two being one by th'other, & yet not so far off as that it
barred mutual succour : a shew, as it were, of an accopanable
solitarines, & of a civil wildnes. I pray you (said Musidorus,
then first unsealing his long silent lips) what coutries be these
we passe through, which are so divers in shew, the one wating
no store, th'other having no store but of want.

3 The country (answered Claius) where you were cast a
shore, & now are past through, is Laconia, not so poore by the
barrennes of the soyle (though in it selfe not passing fertill) as
by a civill warre, which being these two yeares within the
bowels of that estate, betweene the gentlemen & the peasants
(by them named Helots) hath in this sorte as it were disfigured
the face of nature, and made it so unhospitall as now you have
found it: the townes neither of the one side nor the other,
willingly opening their gates to strangers, nor strangers willingly
entring for feare of being mistaken.

4 But this countrie (where now you set your foote) is Arcadia :
and even harde by is the house of Kalander whether we lead
you : this countrie being thus decked with peace, and (the
childe of peace) good husbandrie. These houses you see so
scattered are of men, as we two are, that live upon the com-
moditie of their sheepe: and therefore in the division of the
Arcadian estate are termed shepheards ; a happie people, want-
ing litle, because they desire not much. What cause then, said
Musidorusy made you venter to leave this sweete life, and put
your selfe in yonder unpleasant and dangerous realme ? Garded
with povertie (answered Strephon) & guided with love: But now
(said Claius) since it hath pleased you to aske any thing of us
whose basenes is such as the very knowledge is darknes : geve
us leave to know somthing of you, & of the young man you so
much lament, that at least we may be the better instruded to
enforme Kalander^ and he the better know how to proportion
his entertainment. Musidorus (according to the agreement
betweene Pyrocles and him to alter their names) answered, that
he called himself Palladius^ and his friend Daiphantus\ but till
I have him againe (said he) I am in deed nothing: and
therefore my storie is of nothing, his entertainement (since so
good a man he is) cannot be so lowe as I account my estate:
and in summe, the summe of all his curtesie may be to helpe
me by some meanes to seeke my frend.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

They perceived he was not willing to open himselfe further,
and therefore without further questioning brought him to the 6
house: about which they might see (with fitte consideration
both of the ayre, the prospe6l, and the nature of the ground) all
such necessarie additions to a great house, as might well shewe,
Kalander knew that provision is the foundation of hospitalitie,
and thrift the fewell of magnificence. The house it selfe was
built of faire and strong stone, not afFedling so much any
extraordinarie kinde of finenes, as an honorable representing of
a firme statelines. The lightes, doores and staires, rather
direded to the use of the guest, then to the eye of the
Artificer: and yet as the one cheefly heeded, so the other not
neglected ; each place handsome without curiositie, and homely
without lothsomnes: not so daintie as not to be trode on, nor
yet slubberd up with good felowshippe: all more lasting then
beautifull, but that the consideration of the exceeding lasting-
nesse made the eye beleeve it was exceeding beautifull. The
servants not so many in number, as cleanlie in apparell, and
serviceable in behaviour, testifying even in their countenaunces,
that their maister tooke aswell care to be served, as of the that
did serve. One of them was forth-with readie to welcome the
shepheards, as men, who though they were poore, their maister
greatly favoured: and understanding by them, that the young
man with them was to be much accounted of, for that they had
scene tokens of more then common greatnes, how so ever now
eclipsed with fortune: He ranne to his master, who came
presentlie foorth, and pleasantly welcomming the shepheardes,
but especially applying him to Musidorus^ Strephon privately
told him all what he knew of him, and particularly that hee
found this stranger was loath to be knowen.

No said Kalander (speaking alowd) I am no herald to enquire 7
of mens pedegrees, it sufficeth me if I know their vertues:
which (if this young mans face be not a false witnes) doe better
apparrell his minde, then you have done his body. While hee
was speaking, there came a boy in shew like a Merchants
prentice, who taking Strephon by the sleeve, delivered him a
letter, written joyntly both to him and Claius from Urania :
which they no sooner had read, but that with short leave-
taking of Kalander (who quickly ghest and smiled at the
matter) and once againe (though hastely) recommending the

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yong man unto him, they went away, leaving Musidorus even
lothe to part with them, for the good conversation he had of
them &^ obligation he accounted himselfe tied in unto them :
and therefore, they delivering his chest unto him, he opened it,
and would have presented the with two very rich jewels, but
they absolutelie refused them, telling him they were more then
enough rewarded in the knowing of him, and without herken-
ing unto a replie (like men whose harts disdained all desires but
one) gate speedely away, as if the letter had brought wings to
make them flie. But by that sight Kalander soone judged that
his guest was of no meane calling; and therefore the more
respedfullie entertaining him, Musidorus found his sicknes
(which the fight, the sea, and late travell had layd upon him)
grow greatly: so that fearing some suddaine accident, he
delivered the chest to Kalander', which was full of most
pretious stones, gorgeously & cunningly set in diverse maners,
desiring him he would keep those trifles, and if he died, he
would bestow so much of it as was needfull, to finde out and
redeeme a young man, naming himselfe Daiphantus, as then in
the handes of Laconia pirates.

8 But Kalander seeing him faint more and more, with care-
full speede conveyed him to the most comodious lodging in his
house : where being possest with an extreeme burning fever, he
cotinued some while with no great hope of life : but youth at
length got the vi6torie of sicknesse, so that in six weekes the
excellencie of his returned beautie was a credible embassadour
of his health ; to the great joy of Kalander : who, as in this
time he had by certaine friendes of his that dwelt neare the
Sea in Messenia, set foorth a shippe and a galley to seeke and
succour Daiphantus : so at home did hee omit nothing which
he thought might eyther profite or gratifie Palladius.

9 For having found in him (besides his bodily giftes beyond
the degree of Admiration) by dayly discourses which he de-
lighted him selfe to have with him, a mind of most excellent
composition (a pearcing witte quite voide of ostentation, high
ered^ed thoughts seated in a harte of courtesie, an eloquence as
sweete in the uttering, as slowe to come to the uttering, a
behaviour so noble, as gave a majestic to adversitie : and all in
a man whose age could not be above one & twenty yeares,)
the good old man was even enamoured with a fatherly love

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

towards him ; or rather became his servaunt by the bondes such
vertue laid upon him; once hee acknowledged him selfe so to
be, by the badge of diligent attendance.

CHAP. 3.

The ^piSfures of Ka landers dainty garden-house. His narration of
the ^ Arcadian estate^ ^ the King, * the Queene, '^ their two
daughters^ and ^ their gardians^ with their qualities^ which is
the ground of all this storie.

BUt Palladius having gotten his health, and onely staying
there to be in place, where he might heare answere of
the shippes set foorth, Kalander one afternoone led him abroad
to a wel arayed ground he had behind his house, which hee
thought to shewe him before his going, as the place him selfe
more then in any other delighted : the backeside of the house
was neyther field, garden, nor orchard ; or rather it was both
fielde, garden, and orcharde : for as soone as the descending of
the stayres had delivered them downe, they came into a place
cunninglie set with trees of the moste tast-pleasing fruites : but
scarcelie they had taken that into their consideration, but that
they were suddainely stept into a delicate greene, of each side
of the greene a thicket bend, behinde the thickets againe newe
beddes of flowers, which being under the trees, the trees were
to them a Pavilion, and they to the trees a mosaical floore : so
that it seemed that arte therein would needes be delightfull by
counterfaiting his enemie error, and making order in confusion.

In the middest of all the place, was a faire ponde, whose I
shaking christall was a perfe<5l mirrour to all the other beauties,
so that it bare shewe of two gardens; one in deede, the other in
shaddowes : and in one of the thickets was a fine fountaine made
thus. A naked Fenus of white marble, wherein the graver had
used such cunning, that the naturall blew veines of the marble
were framed in fitte places, to set foorth the beautifull veines of
her bodie. At her brest she had her babe /EneaSy who seemed
(having begun to sucke) to leave that, to looke upon her fayre
eyes, which smiled at the babes follie, the meane while the

S. A. B 17

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

breast running. Hard by was a house of pleasure builte for a
Sommer retiring place, whether Kalander leading him, he found
a square roome full of delightfull pictures, made by the most
excellent workeman of Greece. There was Diana when
ASlaon sawe her bathing, in whose cheekes the painter had set
such a colour, as was mixt betweene shame & disdaine : & one
of her foolish Nymphes, who weeping, and withal lowring, one
might see the workman meant to set forth teares of anger. In
another table was Atalanta \ the posture of whose lims was so
livelie expressed, that if the eyes were the only judges, as they
be the onely seers, one would have sworne the very pidture had
runne. Besides many mo, as of Helena^ Omphale^ lole : but in
none of them all beautie seemed to speake so much as in a
large table, which contained a comely old man, with a lady of
midle age, but of excellet beautie ; & more excellet would have
bene deemed, but that there stood betweene the a yong maid,
whose wonderfulnesse tooke away all beautie from her, but
that, which it might seeme shee gave her backe againe by her
very shadow. And such difFerece, being knowne that it did in
deed counterfeit a person living, was there betweene her and al
the other, though Goddesses, that it seemd the skill of the
painter bestowed on the other new beautie, but that the beautie
of her bestowed new skill of the painter. Though he thought
inquisitivenes an uncomely guest, he could not choose but aske
who she was, that bearing shew of one being in deed, could
with natural gifts go beyond the reach of inventio. Kalander
answered, that it was made by Philocleay the yonger daughter of
his prince, who also with his wife were conteined in that Table:
the painter meaning to represent the present condition of the
young Ladie, who stood watched by an over-curious eye of her
parents: & that he would also have drawne her eldest sister,
estemed her match for beautie, in her shepheardish attire ; but
that the rude clown her gardia would not suffer it: nether
durst he aske leave of the Prince for feare of suspitio. Palladius
perceaved that the matter was wrapt up in some secresie, and
therefore would for modestie demaund no further : but yet his
countenance could not but with dumme Eloquence desire it:
Which Kalander perceaving, well said he, my deere guest, I
know your minde, and I will satisfie it : neyther will I doo it
like a niggardly answerer, going no further then the boundes of

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

the question, but I will discover unto you, aswell that wherein
my knowledge is common with others, as that which by extra-
ordinarie means is delivered unto me : knowing so much in you,
though not long acquainted, that I shall find your eares faithfiill
treasurers. So then sitting downe in two chaires, and some-
times casting his eye to the picture, he thus spake.

This countrie Arcadia among all the provinces of Greece, 2
hath ever beene had in singular reputation: partly for the
sweetnesse of the ayre, and other natural benefites, but princi-
pally for the well tempered minds of the people, who (finding
that the shining title of glorie so much affected by other
nations, doth in deed helpe little to the happinesse of life) are
the onely people, which as by their Justice and providence geve
neither cause nor hope to their neyghbours to annoy them, so
are they not sturred with false praise to trouble others quiet,
thinking it a small reward for the wasting of their owne lives in
ravening, that their posteritie should long after saie, they had
done so. Even the Muses seeme to approve their good de-
terminatio, by chosing this countrie for their chiefe repairing
place, & by bestowing their perfections so largely here, that
the very shepheards have their fancies lifted to so high conceits,
as the learned of other nations are content both to borrow their
names, and imitate their cunning.

Here dwelleth, and raigneth this Prince (whose pi6ture you 3
see) by name BasiliuSy 2l Prince of sufficient skill to governe so
quiet a countrie, where the good minds of the former princes
had set down good lawes, and the well bringing up of the
people doth serve as a most sure bond to hold the. But to be
plaine with you, he excels in nothing so much, as in the zealous
love of his people, wherein he doth not only passe al his owne
fore-goers, but as I thinke al the princes living. Wherof the
cause is, that though he exceed not in the vertues which get
admiration ; as depth of wisdome, height of courage and large-
nesse of magnificence, yet is hee notable in those whiche stirre
affection, as trueth of worde, meekeriesse, courtesie, merciful-
nesse, and liberalitie.

He being already well striken in yeares, maried a young 4
princes, named Gynecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of
notable beautie, as by her picture you see : a woman of great
wit, and in truth of more princely vertues, then her husband :

B2 ig

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of most unspotted chastitie, but of so working a minde, and so
vehement spirits, as a man may say, it was happie shee tooke a
good course : for otherwise it would have beene terrible.

Of these two are brought to the worlde two daughters, so
beyonde measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable
creatures, that wee may thinke they were borne to shewe, that
Nature is no stepmother to that sex, how much so ever some
men (sharpe witted onely in evill speaking) have sought to
disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela; by many men
not deemed inferiour to her sister : for my part, when I marked
them both, me thought there was (if at least such perfections
may receyve the worde of more) more sweetnesse in Philoclea^
but more majestic in Pamela : mee thought love plaide in
Philocleas eyes, and threatned in Pamelas: me thought Philo-
cleas beautie onely perswaded, but so perswaded as all harts
must yeelde : Pamelas beautie used violence, and such violence
as no hart could resist: and it seemes that such proportion is
betweene their mindes; Philoclea so bashfuU as though her
excellencies had stolne into her before shee was aware: so
humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance: in
summe, such proceeding as will stirre hope, but teach hope
good maners. Pamela of high thoughts, who avoides not pride
with not knowing her excellencies, but by making that one of
her excellencies to be voide of pride; her mothers wisdome,
greatnesse, nobilitie, but (if I can ghesse aright) knit with a
more constant temper. Now then, our Basilius being so
publickly happie as to be a Prince, and so happie in that
happinesse as to be a beloved Prince, and so in his private
blessed as to have so excellent a wife, and so over-excellent
children, hath of late taken a course which yet makes him
more spoken of then all these blessings. For, having made a
journey to Delphos, and safely returned, within short space hee
brake up his court, and retired himselfe, his wife, and children
into a certaine Forrest hereby, which hee calleth his desert,
where in (besides a house appointed for stables and lodgings
for certaine persons of meane calling, who do all houshold
services,) hee hath builded two fine lodges. In the one of them
him selfe remaines with his younger daughter Philoclea^ which
was the cause they three were matched together in this pidure,
without having any other creature living in that lodge with him.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Which though it bee straunge, yet not so straunge, as the 6
course he hath taken with the princesse Pamela^ whom hee
hath placed in the other lodge: but how thinke you ac-
copanied? truly with none other, but one Dametas, the most
arrant doltish clowne, that I thinke ever was without the
priviledge of a bable, with his wife Miso, and daughter Mopsa^
in whome no witt can devise anie thing wherein they maie
pleasure her, but to exercise her patience, and to serve for a
foile of her perfe6lions. This loutish clowne is such, that you
never saw so ill favourd a visar; his behaviour such, that he is
beyond the degree of ridiculous; and for his apparrel, even as I
would wish him : Miso his wife, so handsome a beldame, that
onely her face and her splayfoote have made her accused for a
witch ; onley one good point she hath, that she observes decoru^
having a froward mind in a wretched body. Betweene these
two personages (who never agreed in any humor, but in dis-
agreeing) is issued forth mistresse Mopsa^ a fitte woman to
participate of both their perfedtions: but because a pleasant
fellow of my acquaintance set forth her praises in verse, I will
only repeate them, and spare mine owne tongue, since she goes
for a woman. These verses are these, which I have so often
caused to be song, that I have them without booke.

What length of verse can serve brave Mopsas good to show ?
Whose vertues strange, & beuties such, as no ma the may know
Thus shrewdly burdned the, how ca my Muse escape F
The gods must help, and pretious things must serve to shew her shape.
Like great god ^2X\xxvi faire, and like fair e Venus chaste :
As smothe as Pan, as Juno milde, like goddesse Iris faste.
With Cupid she fore-sees, and goes god Vulcans pace :
And for a tast of all these gifts, she steales god Momus grace.
Her forhead jacinth like, her cheekes of opall hue.
Her twinkling eies bedeckt with pearle, her lips as Saphir blew :
Her haire like Crapal-stone-, her mouth O heavenly wyde\
Her skin like burnisht gold, her hands like silver ure untryde.
As for her parts unknowne, which hidden sure are best:
Happie be they which well beleeve, & never seeke the rest.

Now truely having made these descriptions unto you, me
thinkes you should imagine that I rather faine .some pleasant

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

devise, then recount a truth, that a Prince (not banished from
his own wits) could possibly make so unworthie a choise. But
truely (deare guest) so it is, that Princes (whose doings have
beene often soothed with good successe) thinke nothing so
absurde, which they cannot make honourable. The beginning
of his credite was by the Princes straying out of the way, one
time he hunted, where meeting this fellow, and asking him the
way; & so falling into other questios, he found some of his
aunswers (as a dog sure if he could speake, had wit enough to
describe his kennell) not unsensible, & all uttered with such
rudenes, which he enterpreted plainnesse (though there be
great difference betweene them) that Basilius conceaving a
sodaine delight, tooke him to his Court, with apparant shew of
his good opinion : where the flattering courtier had no sooner
take the Princes minde, but that there were straight reasons to
confirme the Princes doing, & shadowes of vertues found for
Dametas. His silence grew wit, his bluntnesse integritie, his
beastly ignorance vertuous simplicitie: & the Prince (according
to the nature of great persons, in love with that he had done
himselfe) fancied, that his weaknesse with his presence would
much be mended. And so like a creature of his owne making,
he liked him more and more, and thus having first given him
the office of principall heardman, lastly, since he tooke this
strange determination, he hath in a manner put the life of
himselfe and his children into his hands. Which authoritie
(like too great a sayle for so small a boate) doth so over-sway
poore Dametas^ that if before he were a good foole in a
chamber, he might be allowed it now in a comedie : So as
I doubt me (I feare mee in deede) my master will in the end
(with his cost) finde, that his office is not to make men, but to
use men as men are; no more then a horse will be taught to
hunt, or an asse to mannage. But in sooth I am afraide I
have geven your eares too great a surfette, with the grosse dis-
courses of that heavie peece of flesh. But the zealous greefe
I conceve to see so great an error in my Lord, hath made me
bestow more words, then I confesse so base a subjeft deserveth.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

CHAP. 4.

The ^ cause of Basilius his discourting. ^ Philanax his disswasive
letter. ' Basilius his priviledged companie. ^ Foure causes
why old men are discoursers. ^ The state, the skil, and
exercise of the Arcadian shepheards.

THus much now that I have tolde you, is nothing more I
then in ejBFed: any Arcadian knowes. But what moved
him to this strange solitarines hath bin imparted (as I thinke)
but to one person living. My selfe ca c6je6ture, & in deed
more then conje6lure, by this accident that I will tell you : I
have an onely sonne, by name Clitophon, who is now absent,
preparing for his owne mariage, which I meane shortly shalbe
here celebrated. This sonne of mine (while the Prince kept
his Court) was of his bed-chamber; now since the breaking up
thereof, returned home, and shewed me (among other things he
had gathered) the coppy which he had taken of a letter: which
when the prince had read, he had laid in a window, presuming
no body durst looke in his writings: but my sonne not only
tooke a time to read it, but to copie it. In trueth I blamed
Clitophon for the curiositie, which made him break his duetie in
such a kind, whereby kings secrets are subje6t to be revealed :
but since it was done, I was content to take so much profite, as
to know it. Now here is the letter, that I ever since for my
good liking, have caried about me : which before I read unto
you, I must tell you from whom it came. It is a noble-man of
this countrie, named Philanax, appointed by the Prince, Regent
in this time of his retiring, and most worthie so to be: for,
there lives no man, whose excellent witte more simplie im-
braseth integritie, besides his unfained love to his master,
wherein never yet any could make question, saving, whether
he loved Basilius or the Prince better: a rare temper, while
most men either servile-ly yeeld to al appetites, or with an
obstinate austeritie looking to that they fansie good, in effect
negledl the Princes person. This then being the man, whom
of all other (and most worthie) the Prince cheefly loves, it
should seeme (for more then the letter I have not to ghesse by)

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

that the Prince upon his returne from Delphos, {Philanax then
lying sick) had written unto him his determination, rising (as
evidently appeares) upon some Oracle he had there receaved :
whereunto he wrote this answere.

Philanax his letter to Basilius.

2 Most redouted & beloved prince, if aswel it had pleased
you at your going to Delphos as now, to have used my humble
service, both I should in better season, and to better purpose
have spoken : and you (if my speech had prevayled) should have
beene at this time, as no way more in danger, so much more in
quietnes; I would then have said, that wisdome and vertue be
the only destinies appointed to ma to follow, whece we ought
to seeke al our knowledge, since they be such guydes as cannot
faile; which, besides their inward cofort, doo lead so diredt a
way of proceeding, as either prosperitie must ensue ; or, if the
wickednes of the world should oppresse it, it can never be said,
that evil hapneth to him, who falles accompanied with vertue :
I would then have said, the heavenly powers to be reverenced,
and not searched into; & their mercies rather by prayers to
be sought, then their hidden councels by curiositie. These
kind of soothsayers (since they have left us in our selves
sufficient guides) to be nothing but fansie, wherein there must
either be vanitie, or infalliblenes, & so, either not to be
respedled, or not to be prevented. But since it is weakenes
too much to remember what should have beene done, and that
your commandemet stretcheth to know what is to be done, I
do (most deare Lord) with humble boldnes say, that the maner
of your determination dooth in no sort better please me, then
the cause of your going. These thirtie yeares you have so
governed this Region, that neither your Subjeftes have wanted
justice in you, nor you obediece in them; & your neighbors
have found you so hurtlesly strong, that they thought it better
to rest in your friendshippe, then make newe triall of your
enmitie. If this then have proceeded out of the good consti-
tution of your state, and out of a wise providence, generally to
prevent all those things, which might encober your happines :
why should you now seeke newe courses, since your owne
ensample comforts you to continue, and that it is to me most
certaine (though it please you not to tell me the very words of

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

the Oracle) that yet no destinie, nor influence whatsoever, can
bring mans witte to a higher point, then wisdome and goodnes ?
Why should you deprive your selfe of government, for feare of
loosing your government ? like one that should kill himselfe for
feare of death ? nay rather, if this Oracle be to be accouted of,
arme up your courage the more against it : for who wil stick to him
that abandones himselfe ? Let your subjedls have you in their
eyes ; let them see the benefites of your justice dayly more and
more ; and so must they needes rather like of present sureties,
then uncertaine changes. Lastly, whether your time call you
to live or die, doo both like a prince. Now for your second
resolution ; which is, to suffer no worthie prince to be a suiter
to either of your daughters, but while you live to keep the both
unmaried; &, as it were, to kill the joy of posteritie, which in
your time you may enjoy : moved perchance by a mis-under-
stoode Oracle : what shall I say, if the afFedlion of a father to
his owne children, cannot plead sufficietly against such fancies ?
once certaine it is, the God, which is God of nature, doth
never teach unnaturalnes : and even the same minde hold I
touching your banishing them from companie, least, I know
not what strange loves should follow. Certainly Sir, in my
ladies, your daughters, nature promiseth nothing but goodnes,
and their education by your fatherly care, hath beene hetherto
such, as hath beene most fit to restraine all evill : geving their
mindes vertuous delights, and not greeving them for want of
wel-ruled libertie. Now to fall to a sodain straightning them,
what can it doo but argue suspition, a thing no more unpleasant,
then unsure, for the preserving of vertue ? Leave womens
minds, the most untamed that way of any : see whether any
cage can please a bird ? or whether a dogge growe not fiercer
with tying? what dooth jelousie, but stirre up the mind to
thinke, what it is from which they are restrayned ? for they are
treasures, or things of great delight, which men use to hide, for
the aptnesse they have to catch mens fancies : and the thoughtes
once awaked to that, harder sure it is to keepe those thoughts
from accomplishment, then it had been before to have kept the
minde (which being the chiefe part, by this meanes is defiled)
from thinking. Lastly, for the recommending so principall a
charge of the Princesse Pamela^ (whose minde goes beyond the
governing of many thousands such) to such a person as Dametas

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is (besides that the thing in it self is strange) it comes of a very
evil ground, that ignorance should be the mother of faithfulnes.

0 no; he cannot be good, that know^es not why he is good,
but stands so farre good, as his fortune may keepe him un-
assaied : but comming once to that, his rude simplicitie is either
easily changed, or easily deceived : & so growes that to be the
last excuse of his fault, which seemed to have been the first
foundation of his faith. Thus farre hath your commaunde-
ment and my zeale drawn me ; which I, like a man in a valley
that may discern hilles, or like a poore passenger that may spie
a rock, so humbly submit to your gracious consideration, be-
seeching you againe, to stand wholy upon your own vertue, as
the surest way to maintaine you in that you are, and to avoyd
any evill which may be imagined.

By the contents of this letter you may perceive, that the
cause of all, hath beene the vanitie which possesseth many,
who (making a perpetuall mansion of this poore baiting place of
mans life) are desirous to know the certaintie of things to come;
wherein there is nothing so certaine, as our continual uncer-
taintie. But what in particular points the oracle was, in faith

1 know not : nether (as you may see by one place of Philanax
letter) he himselfe distinctly knew. But this experience shewes
us, that Basilius judgement, corrupted with a Princes fortune,
hath rather heard then followed the wise (as I take it) counsel!
of Philanax. For, having lost the sterne of his government,
with much amazement to the people, among whom many
strange bruits are received for currant, and with some apparance
of daunger in i-espe6l of the valiant Amphalusy his nephew, &
much envy in the ambitious number of the Nobilitie against
Philanax^ to see Philanax so advaunced, though (to speake
simply) he deserve more the as many of us as there be in
Arcadia: the prince himself hath hidden his head, in such sort
as I told you, not sticking plainly to cofesse, that he means not
(while he breathes) that his daughters shal have any husbad, but

3 keep the thus solitary with him : wher he gives no other body
leve to visit him at any time, but a certain priest, who being
excellent in poetrie, he makes him write out such thinges as he
best likes, he being no les delightful in coversatio, the needfull
for devotio, & about twety specified shepheards, in who (some
for exercises, & some for Eglogs) he taketh greater recreatio.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

And now you know as much as my self: wherin if I have 4
held you over long, lay hardly the fault upon my olde age,
which in the very disposition of it is talkative: whether it be
(said he smiling) that nature loves to exercise that part most,
which is least decayed, and that is our tongue : or, that know-
ledge being the only thing whereof we poore old men can brag,
we cannot make it knowen but by utterance : or, that mankinde
by all meanes seeking to eternize himselfe so much the more,
as he is neere his end, dooth it not only by the children that
come of him, but by speeches and writings recommended to
the memorie of hearers and readers. And yet thus much I wil
say for my selfe, that I have not laid these matters, either so
openly, or largely to any as your selfe: so much (if I much
fayle not) doo I see in you, which makes me both love and
trust you. Never may he be old, answered Pal/adius, that
dooth not reverence that age, whose heavines, if it waie downe
the frayl and fleshly ballance, it as much lifts up the noble and
spirituall part : and well might you have alledged another reason,
that their wisdome makes them willing to profite others. And
that have I received of you, never to be forgotten, but with
ungratefulnes. But among many strange conceits you tolde
me, which have shewed effedls in your Prince, truly even the
last, that he should conceive such pleasure in shepheards dis-
courses, would not seeme the least unto me, saving that you
told me at the first, that this countrie is notable in those wits,
and that in deed my selfe having beene brought not onely to
this place, but to my life, by Strephon and C/aius, in their
conference found wits as might better become such shepheards
as Homer speakes of, that be governors of peoples, then such
senatours who hold their councell in a shepecoate: for them
two (said Kalander) especially ClaiuSy they are beyond the rest
by so much, as learning commonlie doth adde to nature : for,
having negledled their wealth in respe6l of their knowledge,
they have not so much empayred the meaner, as they bettered
the better. Which all notwithstanding, it is a sporte to heare
howe they impute to love, whiche hath indewed their thoughts
(saie they) with suche a strength.

But certainely, all the people of this countrie from high to 5
lowe, is given to those sportes of the witte, so as you would
wonder to heare how soone even children will beginne to

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versifie. Once, ordinary it is among the meanest sorte, to
make Songes and Dialogues in meeter, either love whetting
their braine, or long peace having begun it, example and emu-
lation amending it. Not so much, but the clowne Dametas
will stumble sometimes upon some Songs that might become a
better brayne : but no sorte of people so excellent in that kinde
as the pastors; for their living standing but upon the looking to
their beastes, they have ease, the Nurse of Poetrie. Neither
are our shepheards such, as (I heare) they be in other countries ;
but they are the verie owners of the sheepe, to which eyther
themselves looke, or their children give daylie attendaunce.
And then truely, it would delight you under some tree, or by
some rivers side (when two or three of them meet together) to
heare their rurall muse, how pretely it will deliver out, some-
times joyes, sometimes lamentations, sometimes chalengings one
of the other, sometimes under hidden formes uttering such
matters, as otherwise they durst not deale with. Then they
have most commonly one, who judgeth the price to the best
doer, of which they are no lesse gladde, then great Princes are
of triumphes : and his parte is to sette downe in writing all that
is saide, save that it may be, his pen with more leasure doth
polish the rudenesse of an unthought-on songe. Now the
choise of all (as you may well thinke) either for goodnesse of
voice, or pleasantnesse of wit, the Prince hath : among whom
also there are two or three straungers, whom inwarde melan-
cholies having made weery of the worldes eyes, have come to
spende their lives among the countrie people of Arcadia ; &
their conversation being well approved, the prince vouchsafeth
them his presence, and not onely by looking on, but by great
courtesie and liberalitie, animates the Shepheardes the more
exquisitely to labour for his good liking. So that there is no
cause to blame the Prince for somtimes hearing them; the
blame-worthinesse is, that to heare them, he rather goes to
solitarinesse, then makes them come to companie. Neyther
doo I accuse my maister for advauncing a countriman, as
Dametas is, since God forbid, but where worthinesse is (as
truely it is among divers of that fellowship) any outward low-
nesse should hinder the hiest raysing, but that he would needes
make election of one, the basenesse of whose minde is such,
that it sinckes a thousand degrees lower, then the basest bodie

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

could Carrie the most base fortune: Which although it might
bee aunswered for the Prince, that it is rather a trust hee hath
in his simple plainnesse, then any great advauncement, beyng
but chiefe heardman : yet all honest hartes feele, that the trust
of their Lord goes beyond all advauncement. But I am ever
too long uppon him, when hee crosseth the waie of my speache,
and by the shaddowe of yonder Tower, I see it is a fitter time,
with our supper to pay the duties we owe to our stomacks, the
to break the aire with my idle discourses: And more witte I
might have learned of Homer (whome even now you mentioned)
who never entertayned eyther guestes or hostes with long
speaches, till the mouth of hunger be throughly stopped. So
withall he rose, leading Palladius through the gardeine againe
to the parler, where they used to suppe; Palladius assuring him,
that he had alreadie bene more fed to his liking, then hee could
bee by the skilfullest trencher-men of Media.

CHAP. 5.

The ^ sorow of K.3.\a.ndeT for his sonne Clitophon. The ^ storie of
Argalus and Parthenia, their ^ perfections^ their * love^ their
^ troubles^ her ^ impoysoning^ '^ his rare constancies ^ her straunge
refusall, ^ their pathologies ^ her '^^ fight ^ his '"■ revenge on his
rival! the mischief e-worker Demagoras, then Captaine of the
retell Helots, who ^^ take him^ and " Clitophon that sought to
helpe him : but ^^ both are kept alive by their new captaine.

BUt beeing come to the supping place, one of Kalanders I
servaunts rounded in his eare ; at which (his collour
chaungyng) hee retired him selfe into his chamber; com-
maunding his men diligentlie to waite and attend upon
Palladius^ and to excuse his absence with some necessarie
busines he had presentlie to dispatch. Which they according-
lie did, for some fewe dayes forcing theselves to let no change
appeare: but though they framed their countenaunces never
so cunningly, Palladius perceaved there was some il-pleasing
accident fallen out. Whereupon, being againe set alone at
supper, he called to the Steward, and desired him to tell him

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the matter of his suddaine alteration : who after some trifling
excuses, in the ende confessed unto him, that his maister had
received newes, that his sonne before the daie of his neere
marriage, chaunst to be at a battaile, which was to be fought
betweene the Gentlemenne of Lacedaemon and the Helots:
who winning the viftorie, hee was there made prisoner, going
to dehvera friend of his taken prysoner by the Helots \ that the
poore young Gentleman had offered great raunsome for his life :
but that the hate those paysaunts conceaved agaynst all Gentle-
men was suche, that everie houre hee was to looke for nothing,
but some cruell death : which hether-unto had onely beene
delayed by the Captaines vehement dealing for him, who
seemed to have a hart of more manlie pittie then the rest.
Which losse had stricken the old Gentleman with such sor-
rowe, as if aboundance of teares did not seeme sufficiently to
witnesse it, he was alone retyred, tearing his bearde and hayre,
and cursing his old age, that had not made his grave to stoppe
his eares from such advertisements: but that his faithfull ser-
vaunts had written in his name to all his friends, followers, and
tenants (Philanax the governour refusing to deale in it, as a
private cause, but yet giving leave to seeke their best redresse,
so as they wronged not the state of Lacedaemon) of whom
there were now gathered upon the frontiers good forces, that
he was sure would spende their lives by any way, to redeeme
or revenge Clitophon. Now sir (said he) this is my maisters
nature, though his grief be such, as to live is a griefe unto him,
& that even his reason is darkened with sorrow ; yet the lawes
of hospitality (long and holily observed by him) give still such a
sway to his proceeding, that he will no waie suffer the straunger
lodged under his roofe, to receyve (as it were) any infedion of
his anguish, especially you, toward whom I know not whether
his love, or admiration bee greater. But Palladius could scarce
heare out his tale with patience: so was his hart torne in peeces
with compassion of the case, liking of Kalanders noble behaviour,
kindnesse for his resped: to himwarde, and desire to finde some
remedie, besides the image of his deerest friend Daiphantus,
whom he judged to suffer eyther a like or a worse fortune:
therefore rising from the boorde, he desired the steward to tell
him particularly, the ground, and event of this accident, because
by knowledge of many circumstaunces, there might perhaps

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

some waie of helpe be opened. Whereunto the Steward easilie
in this sorte condiscended.

My Lord (said he) when our good king Basilius, with better 2
successe then expectation, tooke to wife (even in his more then
decaying yeares) the faire yong princes Gynecia-, there came
with her a young Lord, cousin german to her selfe, named
ArgaluSy led hether, partly with the love & honour of his noble
kinswoma, partly with the humour of youth, which ever thinkes
that good, whose goodnes he sees not: & in this court he
received so good encrease of knowledge, that after some yeares
spent, he so manifested a most vertuous mind in all his actions,
that Arcadia gloried such a plant was transported unto them, 3
being a Gentleman in deede most rarely accomplished, ex-
cellentlie learned, but without all vayne glory : friendly,
without faftiousnes : valiaunt, so as for my part I thinke the
earth hath no man that hath done more heroicall adles then
hee ; how soever now of late the fame flies of the two princes
of Thessalta and Macedon^ and hath long done of our noble
prince Amphialus : who in deede, in our partes is onely ac-
counted likely to match him : but I say for my part, I thinke
no man for valour of minde, and habilitie of bodie to bee
preferred, if equalled to Argalus ; and yet so valiant as he never
durst doo any bodie injurie : in behaviour some will say ever
sadde, surely sober, and somewhat given to musing, but never
uncourteous; his worde ever ledde by his thought, and followed
by his deede ; rather liberall then magnificent, though the one
wanted not, and the other had ever good choise of the receiver :
in summe (for I perceive I shall easily take a great draught of
his praises, whom both I and all this countrie love so well) such
a man was (and I hope is) Argalus, as hardly the nicest eye can
finde a spot in, if the over-vehement constancie of yet spotles
afFedion, may not in harde Avrested constructions be counted a
spot: which in this manner began that worke in him, which
hath made bothe him, and it selfe in him, over all this country
famous. My maisters sonne Clitophon (whose losse gives the
cause to this discourse, and yet gives me cause to beginne with
ArgaluSy since his losse proceedes from Argalus) beyng a young
Gentleman, as of great birth (being our kings sisters sonne) so
truely of good nature, and one that can see good and love it,
haunted more the companie of this worthie Argalus, then of any

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Other : so as if there were not a friendship (which is so rare, as
it is to bee doubted whether it bee a thing in deede, or but a
worde) at least there was such a liking and friendlines, as hath
brought foorth the efFedles which you shall heare. About two
yeares since, it so fell out, that hee brought him to a great
Ladies house, sister to my maister, who had with her, her
onely daughter, the faire Parthenia-, faire in deede (fame I
thinke it selfe daring not to call any fayrer, if it be not Helena
queene of Corinth^ and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia)
and that which made her fairenesse much the fayrer, was, that
it was but a faire embassadour of a most faire minde, full of
wit, and a wit which delighted more to judge it selfe, then to
showe it selfe : her speach being as rare as pretious ; her silence
without suUennesse; her modestie without affedtation; her
shamefastnes without ignorance : in summe, one, that to praise
well, one must first set downe with himselfe, what it is to
be excellent: for so she is.

4 I thinke you thinke, that these perfedtions meeting, could
not choose but find one another, and delight in that they
found; for likenes of manners is likely in reason to drawe
liking with afFedlion : mens adions doo not alwaies crosse with
reason : to be short, it did so in deed. They loved, although
for a while the fire therof (hopes winges being cut of) were
blowen by the bellowes of dispaire, upon this occasion.

5 There had beene a good while before, and so continued, a
suter to this same lady, a great noble ma, though of Laconia,
yet neere neighbour to Parthenias mother, named Demagoras : A
man mightie in riches & power, and proude thereof, stubbornly
stout, loving no bodie but him selfe, and for his owne delights
sake Parthenia : and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches
had so guilded over all his other imperfections, that the olde
Ladie (though contrarie to my Lord her brothers minde) had
given her consent; and using a mothers authoritie upon her
faire daughter, had made her yeeld thereunto, not because shee
liked her choise, but because her obedient minde had not yet
taken uppon it to make choyse; and the daie of their assurance
drew neere, when my young Lord Clitophon brought this noble
Argalus^ perchaunce principallie to see so rare a sight,
Parthenia by all well judging eyes was judged.

But though fewe dayes were before the time of assurant

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

appointed, yet love that sawe hee had a great journey to make
in shorte time, hasted so him selfe, that before her worde could
tie her to Demagoras^ her harte hath vowed her to Argalus^ with
so gratefuU a receipte in mutuall afFeftion, that if shee desired
above all thinges to have Argalus^ Ar gains feared nothing but to
misse Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned both liking
and misliking, loving and lothing, and out of passion began to
take the authoritie of judgement ; in so much, that when the
time came that Demagoras (full of proude joy) thought to
receave the gifte of her selfe, shee with woordes of resolute
refusall (though with teares shewing she was sorie she must
refuse) assured her mother, she would first be bedded in her
grave, then wedded to Demagoras. The chaunge was no more
straunge, then unpleasant to the mother : who beyng determi-
nately (least I shoulde say of a great Lady, wilfully) bent to
marrie her to Demagoras^ tryed all wayes which a wittie and
hard-harted mother could use, upon so humble a daughter: in
whome the onely resisting power was love. But the more shee
assaulted, the more shee taught Parthenia to defende : and the
more Parthenia defended, the more she made her mother
obstinate in the assault : who at length finding, that Argalus
standing betweene them, was it that most eclipsed her affection
from shining upon Demagoras^ she sought all meanes how to
remove him, so much the more, as he manifested himself an
unremoveable suiter to her daughter: first, by imploying him
in as many dagerous enterprises, as ever the evill stepmother
luno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his
vertue was tried, the more pure it grew, while all the things
she did to overthrow him, did set him up upon the height of
honor ; inough to have moved her harte, especially to a man
every way so worthy as Argalus : but she strugling against all
reason, because she would have her will, and shew her
authoritie in matching her with Demagoras^ the more vertuous
Argalus was, the more she hated him : thinking her selfe con-
quered in his coquests, and therefore still imploying him in
more and more dangerous attempts : meane while, she used all
extremities possible upon her faire daughter, to make her geve
over her selfe to her direftion. But it was hard to judge,
whether he in doing, or she in suffering, shewed greater
constancie of afFedlion: for, as to Argalus the world sooner

s. A. c 33

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wanted occasions, then he valour to goe thorow them; so to
Parthenia, malice sooner ceased, the her unchanged patience.
Lastly, by treasons, Demagoras and she would have made away
Argalus: but hee with providence & courage so past over all,
that the mother tooke such a spitefuU grief at it, that her hart
brake withall, and she died.

6 But then, Demagoras assuring himselfe, that now Parthenia
was her owne, she would never be his, and receiving as much
by her owne determinate answere, not more desiring his owne
happines, then envying Argalus^ whom he saw with narrow
eyes, even ready to enjoy the perfection of his desires ; strength-
ning his conceite with all the mischievous counsels which dis-
dayned love, and envious pride could geve unto him ; the
wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was gone to his
countrie, to fetch some of his principall frendes to honour the
mariage, which Parthenia had most joyfully consented unto,)
the wicked Demagoras (I say) desiring to speake with her, with
unmercifull force, (her weake armes in vaine resisting) rubd all
over her face a most horrible poyson : the effedt whereof was
such, that never leaper lookt more ugly the she did : which
done, having his men & horses ready, departed away in spite of
her servats, as redy to revenge as they could be, in such an
unexpected mischiefe. But the abhominablenes of this fa6t
being come to my L. Kalander^ he made such meanes, both by
our kings intercession, & his own, that by the king, & Senat of
Lacedaemo, Demagoras was upon paine of death, banished the
countrie: who hating the punishment, where he should have
hated the fault, joynde himselfe, with al the powers he could
make, unto the Helots^ lately in rebellion against that state:
and they (glad to have a man of such authority among the)
made him their general: & under him have committed divers
the most outragious villanies, that a base multitude (full of
desperate revenge) can imagine.

7 But within a while after this pitifuU fa6t committed upon
Parthenia J Argalus returned (poore gentleman) having her faire
image in his heart, and alredy promising his eies the uttermost
of his felicitie, when they (no bodie els daring to tell it him)
were the first messengers to themselves of their owne misfortune.
I meane not to move passions with telling you the griefe of
both, when he knew her, for at first he did not, nor at first

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

knowledge could possibly have Vertues aide so ready, as not
even weakly to lament the losse of such a Jewell, so much the
more, as that skilful men in that arte assured it was unrecover-
able : but within a while, trueth of love (which still held the
first face in his memorie) a vertuous constancie, and even a
delight to be constant, faith geven, and inward worthines
shining through the foulest mistes, tooke so full holde of the
noble Argalusy that not onely in such comfort which witty
arguments may bestow upon adversitie, but even with the most
aboundant kindnesse that an eye-ravished lover can expresse, he
laboured both to drive the extremity of sorow from her, & to
hasten the celebration of their mariage : wherunto he unfainedly
shewed himself no lesse cherefully earnest, then if she had never
been disinherited of that goodly portion, which nature had so
liberally bequeathed unto her: and for that cause deferred his
inteded revenge upon Demagoras^ because he might continually
be in her presence; shewing more hiible serviceablenes, and
joy to content her, then ever before.

But as he gave this rare ensaple, not to be hoped for of any 8
other, but of an other Argalus : so of the other side, she tooke
as strange a course in affection : for, where she desired to enjoy
him, more then to live ; yet did she overthrow both her owne
desire, and his, and in no sorte would yeeld to marry him ; with
a strange encounter of loves affedls, and eife6ts : that he by an
afFeftion sprong from excessive beautie, should delight in horrible
foulnesse; and she, of a vehement desire to have him, should
kindly buy Id a resolution never to have him : for trueth is, that
so in heart she loved him, as she could not finde in her heart
he should be tied to what was unworthy of his presence.

Truely Sir, a very good Orator might have a fayre field to g
use eloquence in, if he did but onely repeate the lamentable, and
truely afFedtionated speeches, while he conjured her by remem-
brance of her affection, & true oathes of his owne afFedlion, not
to make him so unhappy, as to think he had not only lost her
face, but her hart ; that her face, when it was fayrest, had been
but as a marshall, to lodge the love of her in his minde; which
now was so well placed, as it needed no further help of any
outward harbinger : beseeching her, even with teares, to know,
that his love was not so superficial, as to go no further then the
skin; which yet now to him was most faire, since it was hers:

C2 35

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

how could hee be so ungratefull, as to love her the lesse for that,
which she had onely received for his sake? that he never beheld
it, but therein he saw the lovelines of her love towarde him:
protesting unto her, that he would never take joy of his life, if
he might not enjoy her, for whom principally he was glad he
had life. But (as I heard by one that overheard them) she
(wringing him by the hand) made no other answere but this:
my Lord (said she) God knowes I love you : if I were Princesse
of the whole world, and had withal, al the blessings that ever
the world brought forth, I should not make delay, to lay my
selfe, & them, under your feete : or if I had continued but as I
was, though (I must cofesse) far unworthy of you, yet would I,
(with too great a joy for my hart to think of) have accepted
your vouchsafing me to be yours, & with faith and obedience
would have supplied all other defe6ls. But first let me be
much more miserable then I am, ere I match Jrgalus to such a
Parthenia'. Live happy, deare Argalus^ I geve you full libertie,
and I beseech you take it; and I assure you I shall rejoyce
(whatsoever become of me) to see you so coupled, as may be
fitte, both for your honor, and satisfaction. With that she
burst out in crying and weeping, not able longer to conteine
her selfe from blaming her fortune, and wishing her owne
death.

10 But Argalus with a most heavie heart still pursuing his
desire, she fixt of mind to avoid further intreatie, & to flie all
companie; which (even of him) grew unpleasant unto her;
one night she stole away: but whether, as yet is unknowen, or
in deede what is become of her.

11 Argalus sought her long, and in many places: at length
(despairing to finde her, and the more he despaired, the more
enraged) weerie of his life, but first determining to be revenged
of Demagoras, hee went alone disguysed into the chiefe towne
held by the Helots: where comming into his presence, garded
about by many of his souldiers, he could delay his fury no loger
for a fitter time: but setting upon him, in despight of a great
many that helped him, gave him divers mortall wounds, and

12 himself (no question) had been there presently murthered, but
that Demagoras himselfe desired he might be kept alive; per-
chaunce with intention to feed his owne eyes with some cruell
execution to bee layd upon him, but death came soner then he

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

lookt for; yet having had leisure to appoint his successor, a
young man, not long before delivered out of the prison of the
King of Lacedcemon^ where hee should have suffered death for
having slaine the kings Nephew: but him he named, who at
that time was absent, making roades upon the Lacedemonians^ but
being returned, the rest of the Helots^ for the great liking they
conceived of that yong man, (especially because they had none
among themselves to whom the others would yeeld) were
cotent to follow Demagoras appointment. And well hath it
succeded with them, he having since done things beyond the
hope of the yongest heads; of whom I speak the rather,
because he hath hetherto preserved Argalus alive, under
pretence to have him publiquely, and with exquisite tormentes
executed, after the ende of these warres, of which they hope for
a soone and prosperous issue.

And he hath likewise hetherto kept my young Lord
Clitophon alive, who (to redeme his friend) went with certaine 13
other noble-men of Laconia^ and forces gathered by them, to
besiege this young and new successor: but he issuing out (to
the wonder of all men) defeated the Laconians^ slew many of
the noble-men, & tooke Clitophon prisoner, whom with much a 14
doo he keepeth alive : the Helots being villanously cruell ; but
he tempereth the so, sometimes by folowing their humor, some-
times by striving with it, that hetherto hee hath saved both
their lives, but in different estates ; Argalus being kept in a
close & hard prison, Clitophon at some libertie. And now Sir,
though (to say the truth) we can promise our selves litle of
their safeties, while they are in the Helots hands, I have
delivered all I understande touching the losse of my Lords
Sonne, & the cause therof: which, though it was not neces-
sarie to Clitophons case, to be so particularly told, yet the
stragenes of it, made me think it would not be unplesant
unto you.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 6.

* Kalanders expedition against the Helots. ^ Their estate. ' Pal-
ladius his stratageme against them : * which prevayleth. " The
Helots resistance,^ discomfiture^ and ^ re-enforce by the returne
of their new captaine ' The combat and ^ enter know ledge of
Daiphantus ^ Palladius, and by their ^ meanes a peace,,
with 10 the release of Kalander and Clitophon.

PAlladius thanked him greatly for it, being even passionatly
delighted with hearing so straunge an accidet of a knight
so famous over the world, as Argalus^ with whome he had
himselfe a long desire to meet: so had fame poured a noble
emulation in him, towards him.
I But the (wel bethinking himself) he called for armour,
desiring them to provide him of horse & guide, and armed al
saving the head, he wet up to Kalader,^ whom he found lying
upo the groiid, having ever since banished both sleepe and
foode, as enemies to the mourning which passion perswaded
him was reasonable. But Palladius raysed him up, saying unto
him: No more, no more of this, my Lord Kalander-, let us
labour to finde, before wee lament the losse: you know my
selfe misse one, who, though he be not my sonne, I would
disdayn the favour of life after him: but while there is hope
left, let not the weaknes of sorow, make the strength of it
languish: take comfort, and good successe will folow. And
with those wordes, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and
that in his face and gesture was painted vidlorie. Once,
Kalanders spirits were so revived withal, that (receiving some
sustenance, and taking a litle rest) he armed himselfe, and
those few of his servants he had left unsent, and so himself
guyded Palladius to the place upon the frontiers: where
alredy there were assembled betwene three and four thousand
men, all wel disposed (for Kalanders sake) to abide any perill :
but like men disused with a long peace, more determinate to
dooj.then skilfiill how to doo : lusty bodies, and brave armours:
with such courage, as rather grew of despising their enimies,

ARCADIA, LIB. i.

whom they knew not, then of any confidence for any thing,
which in them selves they knew ; but neither cunning use of
their weapons, nor arte shewed in their marching, or incamping.
Which Palladius soone perceiving, he desired to understand (as
much as could be delivered unto him) the estate of the Helots.

And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the 2
affaires of Laconia, that they were a kinde of people, who
having been of old, freemen and possessioners, the Lacede-
monians had conquered them, and layd, not onely tribute,
but bondage upon them: which they had long borne; till of
late the Lacedcemoniam through greedinesse growing more
heavie then they could beare, and through contempt lesse
carefuU how to make them beare, they had with a generall
consent (rather springing by the generalnes of the cause, then
of any artificiall practise) set themselves in armes, and whetting
their courage with revenge, and grounding their resolutio upon
despaire, they had proceeded with unloked-for succes: having
already take divers Towns and Castels, with the slaughter of
many of the gentrie; for whom no sex nor age could be
accepted for an excuse. And that although at the first they
had fought rather with beastly furie, then any souldierly discip-
line, pradlise had now made then comparable to the best of the
Lacedemonians \ Sc more of late then ever; by reason, first of
Demagoras a great Lord, who had made him self of their partie,
and since his death, of an other Captaine they had gotten, who
had brought up their ignorance, and brought downe their furie,
to such a meane of good government, and withall led them so
valourouslie, that (besides the time wherein Clitophon was taken)
they had the better in some other great coflidls : in such wise,
that the estate of Lacedamon had sent unto them, offering peace
with most reasonable and honorable conditions. Palladius
having gotten this generall knowledge of the partie against
whom, as hee had already of the party for whom he was to
fight, he went to Kalander^ and told him plainlie, that by
playne force there was small apparaunce of helping Clitophon :
but some device was to be taken in hand, wherein no lesse
discretion then valour was to be used.

Whereupon, the councel of the chiefe men was called, 3
and at last, this way Palladius (who by some experience, but
especiallie by reading Histories, was acquainted with strata-

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

gemes) invented, and was by all the rest approoved : that all the
men there shoulde dresse themselves like the poorest sorte of
the people in Arcadia^ having no banners, but bloudie shirtes
hanged upon long staves, with some bad bagge pipes in stead of
drumme and fife, their armour they should aswell as might be,
cover, or at least make them looke so rustilie, and ill-favouredly
as might well become such wearers ; and this the whole number
should doo, saving two hundred of the best chosen Gentlemen,
for courage and strength, whereof Palladius him selfe would be
one, who should have their armes chayned, and be put in cartes
like prisoners. This being performed according to the agree-
ment, they marched on towards the towne of Cardamila where
Clitophon was captive ; and being come two houres before Sunne-
set within vewe of the walles, the Helots alreadie descrying their
number, and beginning to sound the Allarum, they sent a
cunning fellow, (so much the cunninger as that he could maske
it under rudenes) who with such a kind of Rhetorike, as weeded
out all flowers of Rhetorike, delivered unto the Helots assembled
together, that they were countrie people of Arcadia^ no lesse
oppressed by their Lords, & no lesse desirous of liberty then
they, & therfore had put themselves in the field, & had alreadie
(besides a great number slaine) taken nine or ten skore Gentle-
men prisoners, who they had there well & fast chained. Now
because they had no strong retiring place in Arcadia^ & were
not yet of number enough to keepe the fielde against their
Princes forces, they were come to them for succor; knowing,
that daily more h more of their qualitie would flock unto the,
but that in the mean time, lest their Prince should pursue the,
or the Lacedcemonian King & Nobilitie (for the likenes of the
cause) fall upon them, they desired that if there were not
roome enough for them in the towne, that yet they might
encampe under the walles, and for surety have their prisoners
(who were such me as were ever able to make their peace)
kept within the towne.
4 The Helots made but a short consultatio, being glad that
their contagion had spread it selfe into Arcadia^ and making
account that if the peace did not fall out betweene them and
their King, that it was the best way to set fire in all the parts
of Greece \ besides their greedinesse to have so many Gentlemen
in their handes, in whose raunsoms they already meant to have
40

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

a share ; to which hast of concluding, two thinges wel helped ;
the one, that their Captaine with the wisest of them, was at
that time absent about confirming or breaking the peace, with
the state of Lacedamon: the second, that over-many good
fortunes began to breed a proude recklesnesse in them : there-
fore sending to view the campe, and finding that by their
speach they were Arcadians^ with whom they had had no
warre, never suspefting a private mans credite could have
gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed
them to be of the lowest calling (besides the chaines upon the
Gentlemen) they graunted not onely leave for the prisoners,
but for some others of the companie, and to all, that they might
harbour under the walles. So opened they the gates, and
received in the carts; which being done, and Palladius seing
fit time, he gave the signe, and shaking of their chaynes, (which
were made with such arte, that though they seemed most strong
and fast, he that ware them might easily loose them) drew their
swordes hidden in the cartes, and so setting upon the ward,
made them to flie eyther from the place, or from their bodies,
and so give entrie to all the force of the Arcadians^ before the
Helots could make any head to resist them.

But the Helots being men hardened against daungers, 5
gathered as (well as they could) together in the market place,
and thence would have given a shrewd welcome to the
Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that, were slow,
hartning the that were forward, but especially with his owne
ensample leading them) made such an impression into the
squadron of the Helots, that at first the great bodie of them
beginning to shake, and stagger; at length, every particular
bodie recommended the proteftion of his life to his feet. Then
Kalander cried to go to the prison, where he thought his sonne
was, but Palladius wisht him (first scouring the streates) to house
all the Helots, and make themselves maisters of the gates.

But ere that could be accomplished, the Helots had gotten 6
new hart, and with divers sortes of shot from corners of streats,
and house windowes, galled them; which courage was come
unto them by the returne of their Captain; who though he
brought not many with him (having disperst most of his com-
panies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great nuber runing
out of the gate, not yet possest by the Arcadians, he made them

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

turne face, & with banners displayed, his Trumpet give the
lowdest testimonie he could of his returne, which once heard,
the rest of the Helots which were otherwise scattered, bent
thetherward, with a new life of resolution : as if their Captaine
had beene a roote, out of which (as into braunches) their courage
had sprong. Then began the fight to grow most sharpe, and
the encounters of more cruell obstinacie. The Arcadians
fighting to keepe that they had wonne, the Helots to recover
what they had lost. The Arcadians^ as in an unknowne place,
having no succour but in their handes ; the Helots^ as in their
own place, fighting for their livings, wives, & children.
There was vidtory & courage against revenge and despaire:
safety of both sides being no otherwise to be gotten, but by
destruction.
7 At length, the left winge of the Arcadians began to loose
ground; which Palladius seeing, he streight thrust himselfe
with his choise bande against the throng that oppressed the,
with such an overflowing of valour, that the Captaine of the
Helots (whose eies soone judged of that wherwith theselves were
governed) saw that he alone was worth al the rest of the
Arcadians. Which he so wondred at, that it was hard to say,
whether he more liked his doings, or misliked the efFefts of his
doings : but determining that upon that cast the game lay, and
disdaining to fight with any other, sought onely to joine with
him: which minde was no lesse in Palladius, having easily
marked, that he was as the first mover of al the other handes.
And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented
(though not agreed) to trie each others fortune : & so drawing
themselves to be the uttermost of the one side, they began a
combat, which was so much inferior to the battaile in noise
and number, as it was surpassing it in bravery of fighting, & (as
it were) delightful terriblenes. Their courage was guided with
skill, and their skill was armed with courage ; neither did their
hardinesse darken their witte, nor their witte coole their
hardines : both valiant, as men despising death ; both confident,
as unwonted to be overcome; yet doutefuU by their present
feeling, and respedfull by what they had already scene. Their
feete stedy, their hands diligent, their eyes watchfull, & their
harts resolute. The partes either not armed, or weakly armed,
were well knowen, and according to the knowledge should
42

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

have bene sharpely visited, but that the aunsvi^ere was as quicke
as the objedlion. Yet some lighting; the smarte bred rage,
and the rage bred smarte againe: till both sides beginning to
waxe faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, then hopeful
to live vi6lorious, the Captaine of the Helots with, a blow, whose
violence grew of furie, not of strength, or of strength proceeding
of furie, strake Palladius upon the side of the head, that he
reelde astonied : and withall the helmet fell of, he remayning
bare headed : but other of the Arcadians were redie to shield
him from any harme might rise of that nakednes.

But little needed it, for his chiefe enemie in steed of pur- 8
suing that advauntage, kneeled downe, offering to deliver the
pommell of his sworde, in token of yeelding, with all speaking
aloud unto him, that he thought it more libertie to be his
prisoner, then any others generall. Palladius standing uppon
him selfe, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots (that
were next their captaine) wavering betweene looking for some
stratageme, or fearing treason. What, saide the captaine, hath
Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus ?

By that watche worde Palladius knew that it was his onely 9
friende Pyrocles^ whome he had lost upon the Sea, and therefore
both most full of wonder, so to be mett, if they had not bene
fuller of joye then wonder, caused the retraite to be sounded,
Daiphantus by authoritie, and Palladius by persuasion ; to which
helped well the little advauntage that was of eyther side : and
that of the Helots partie their Captaines behaviour had made as
many amazed as sawe or heard of it : and of the Arcadian side
the good olde Kalander striving more then his old age could
atchieve, was newly taken prisoner. But in deede, the chiefe
parter of the fraye was the night, which with her blacke armes
pulled their malicious sightes one from the other. But he that
tooke Kalander, meant nothing lesse then to save him, but
onelie so long, as the Captaine might learne the enemies secrets :
towardes whom he led the old Gentleman, when he caused the
retreit to be sounded : looking for no other deliverie from that
captivitie, but by the painfull taking away of all paine : when
whome should he see nexte to the Captaine (with good tokens
how valiantly he had fought that daie against the Arcadians)
but his Sonne Clitophon ? But nowe the Captaine had caused
all the principall Helots to be assembled, as well to deliberate

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

what they had to do, as to receive a message from the
Arcadians-, Amog whom Palladius vertue (besides the love
Kalander bare him) having gotte principall authoritie, he had
persuaded them to seeke rather by parley to recover the Father
and the Sonne, then by the sword : since the goodnes of the
Captain assured him that way to speed, and his value (where-
with he was of old acquainted) made him thinke any other way
dangerous. This therfore was donne in orderly manner, giving
them to understand, that as they came but to deliver Clitophon^
so offering to leave the footing they already had in the towne,
to goe away without any further hurte, so as they might have
the father, & the sonne without raunsome delivered. Which
conditions beyng heard and conceaved by the Helots^ Daiphantus
perswaded them without delay to accept them. For first (sayd
he) since the strife is within our owne home, if you loose, you
loose all that in this life can bee deare unto you: if you winne,
it will be a blouddy vidtorie with no profite, but the flattering
in our selves that same badde humour of revenge. Besides, it
is like to stirre Arcadia uppon us, which nowe, by using these
persons well, maie bee brought to some amitie. Lastly, but
especially, least the king and nobility of Laconia (with whom
now we have made a perfedl peace) should hope, by occasion of
this quarrell to joyne the Arcadians with them, & so breake of
the profitable agreement alreadie concluded. In summe, as in
al deliberations (waying the profite of the good successe with
the harme of the evill successe) you shall nnd this way most
safe and honorable.
10 The Helots asmuch moved by his authoritie, as perswaded
by his reasons, were content therewith. Wherupon, Palladius
tooke order that the Arcadians should presently march out of
the towne, taking with them their prisoners, while the night
with mutual diffidence might keepe them quiet, and ere day
came they might be well on of their way, and so avoid those
accidents which in late enemies, a looke, a word, or a particular
mans quarel might engeder. This being on both sides con- y
eluded on, Kalander and Clitophony who now (with infinite joy
did knowe each other) came to kisse the hands and feet of
Daiphantus: CUtophon telling his father, how Daiphantus (not
without danger to himselfe) had preserved him from the furious
malice of the Helots: Sc even that day going to conclude the

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

peace (least in his absence he might receive some hurt) he had
taken him in his companie, and geven him armour, upon
promise he should take the parte of the Helots; which he had
in this fight perfourmed, little knowing that it was against his
father: but (said Clitophon) here is he, who (as a father) hath
new-begotten me, and (as a God) hath saved me from many-
deaths, which already laid hold on me: which Kalander with
teares of joy acknowledged (besides his owne deliverance) onely
his benefite. But Daiphantus, who loved doing well for it selfe,
and not for thanks, brake of those ceremonies, desiring to know
how Palladius (for so he called Musidorus) was come into that
companie, & what his present estate was : whereof receiving a
brief declaration of Kalander^ he sent him word by Clitophon^
that he should not as now come unto him, because he held
himselfe not so sure a master of the Helots minds, that he
would adventure him in their power, who was so well knowen
with an unfriendly acquaintance; but that he desired him to
return with Kalander^ whether also he within few daies (having
dispatched himselfe of the Helots) would repaire. Kalander
would needes kisse his hande againe for that promise, pro-
testing, he would esteme his house more blessed the a temple
of the gods, if it had once received him. And then desiring
pardon for Argalus^ Daiphantus assured them that hee woulde
die, but hee woulde bring him, (though till then kept in close
prison, indeed for his safetie, the Helots being so animated
against him as els hee could not have lived) and so taking their
leave of him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius and the rest of the
Arcadians swearing that they would no further in any sorte
molest the Helots, they straight way marched out of the towne,
carying both their dead and wounded bodies with them; and
by morning were alreadie within the limits of Arcadia.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 7.

' The articles of peace betwene the Lacedaemonians tfj Helots,

* Daiphatus his departure fro the Helots with Argalus to
Kalanders house. ' The offer of a straunge Lady to Argalus

* his refusal^ and ' who she was,

THe Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gave them
selves to burye their dead, to cure their woundes, and
rest their weeried bodies: till (the next day bestowing the
chereful use of the light upon them) Daiphantus making a
generall convocation spake unto them in this manner. We are
first (said he) to thanke the Gods, that (further then vv^ee had
either cause to hope ; or reason to imagine) have delivered us
out of this gulfe of daunger, wherein we were alredie swallowed.
For all being lost, (had they had not directed, my return so just as
they did) it had bene too late to recover that, which being had,
we could not keep. And had I not happened to know one of
the principall men among them, by which meanes the truce
beganne betweene us, you may easily conceive, what little
reason we have to think, but that either by some supplie out of
Arcadia^ or from the Nobilitie of this Country (who would
have made fruites of wisdome grow out of this occasion,) wee
should have had our power turned to ruine, our pride to
repentance and sorow. But now the storme, as it fell out, so
it ceased: and the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more
hardly then his age or quarrell deserved, becomes a sharply
learned experience, to use in other times more moderation.
I Now have I to deliver unto you the conclusion between the
Kings with the Nobilitie of Lacedcemon^ and you ; which is in all
points as your selves desired : aswell for that you would have
graunted, as for the assurance of what is graunted. The Townes ,
and Fortes you presently have, are still left unto you, to be kept
cither with or without garrison, so as you alter not the lawes of
the Countrie, and pay such dueties as the rest of the Laconians
doc. Your selves are made by publique decree, free men,
and so capable both to give and receive voice in eledlion of

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Magistrates. The distin6lion of names betweene Helots and
Lacedamonians to bee quite taken away, and all indifferently to
enjoy both names and priviledges of Laconians. Your children
to be brought up with theirs in Spartane discipline : and so you
(framing your selves to be good members of that estate) to bee
hereafter fellowes, and no longer servaunts.

Which conditions you see, cary in themselves no more con-
tentation then assuraunce. For this is not a peace which is
made with them, but this is a peace by which you are made of
them. Lastly, a forgetfulnes decreed of of all what is past, they
shewing theselves glad to have so valiant men as you are, joyned
with them : so that you are to take mindes of peace, since the
cause of war is finished ; and as you hated them before like
oppressours, so now to love them as brothers ; to take care of
their estate because it is yours, and to labour by vertuous doing,
that the posteritie may not repent your joyning. But now one
Article onely they stood upon, which in the end I with your
commissioners have agreed unto, that I should no more tarry
here, mistaking perchaunce my humor, and thinking me as se-
dicious as I am young, or els it is the king Amiclas procuring, in
respedl that it was my il hap to kil his nephew Eurileon ; but
how soever it be, I have condiscended. But so will not wee
cryed almost the whole assemblie, coucelling one an other,
rather to trye the uttermost event, then to loose him by who
they had beene vidtorious. But he as well with generall orations,
as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them
throughly see how necessary it was to preferree such an oppor-
tunity before a vaine afFedlion ; but yet could not prevaile, til
openly he sware, that he would (if at any time the Lacedamonians
brake this treatie) come back againe, and be their captaine.

So then after a few dayes, setling them in perfedl order, hee 2
tooke his leave of them, whose eyes bad him farwell with teares,
& mouthes with kissing the places where he stept, and after
making temples unto him as to a demi-God : thinking it beyond
the degree of humanitie to have a witt so farre overgoing his
age, and such dreadful terror proceed from so excellent beutie.
But he for his sake obtayned free pardon for Argalus^ whom
also (uppon oath never to beare armes against the Helots) he
delivered : and taking onely with him certaine principall Jewells
of his owne, he would have parted alone with Argalus^ (whose

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countenaunce well shewed, while Parthenia was lost he counted
not himselfe delivered) but that the whole multitude would needs
gard him into Arcadia. Where again leaving the all to lament
his departure, he by enquirie gotte to the wel-knowne house of
Kalander : There was he received with loving joye of Kalander^
with joyfull love of Pai/adius, with humble (though doulful)
demeanor of Argalus (whom specially both he and Palladius
regarded) with gratefull servisablenes of Clitophon^ and honour-
able admiration of all. For being now well veiwed to have no
haire of his face, to witnes him a man, who had done adts
beyond the degree of a man, and to looke with a certaine
almost bashefull kinde of modestie, as if hee feared the eyes of
men, who was unmooved with sight of the most horrible counte-
naunces of death ; and as if nature had mistaken her woorke to
have a Marses heart in a Cupides bodye : All that beheld him
(and al that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes
quicke messengers to their minds, that there they had seene the
uttermost that in mankind might be seene. The like wonder
Palladius had before stirred, but that Daiphantus, as younger and
newer come, had gotten now the advantage in the moyst &
fickle impression of eye-sight. But while all men (saving poore
Argalus) made the joy of their eyes speake for their harts to-
wards Daiphantus : Fortune (that belike was bid to that banket,
& ment then to play the good fellow) brought a pleasaut ad-
venture among the.
3 It was that as they had newly dined, there came in to
Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a young noble
Lady, neere kinswoman to the fair Helen Queene of Corinth ;
was come thether, and desired to be lodged in his house.
Kalander (most glad of such an occasion) went out, and all his
other worthie guests with him, saving onely Argalus^ who re-
mained in his chamber, desirous that this company were once
broken up, that he might goe in his solitarie quest after
Parthenia. But when they met this Lady ; Kalander streight
thought he sawe his neece Parthenia, and was about in such
familiar sorte to have spoken unto her : But she in grave and '
honorable manner giving him to understand that he was mis-
taken, he halfe ashamed, excused himselfe with the exceeding
likenes was betwene them, though indeede it seemed that his
Lady was of the more pure and daintie complexion ; shee said,

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

it might very well be, having bene many times taken one for an
other. But assoone as she was brought into the house, before
she would rest her, she desired to speake with Argalus publickly,
who she heard was in the house. Argalus came in hastely,
and as hastelie thought as Kalander had done, with sodaine
chaunges of joye into sorrow. But she whe she had stayd their
thoughts with telling them her name, and qualitie in this sort
spake unto him. My Lord Argalus^ sayd she, being of late
left in the court of Queene Helen of Corinth^ as chiefe in her
absence (she being upo some occasion gone thece) there came
unto me the Lady Farthenia^ so disguysed, as I thinke Greece
hath nothing so ougly to behold. For my part, it was many
dayes, before with vehement oathes, and some good proofes,
she could make me thinke that she was Parthenia. Yet at last
finding certenly it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune,
so much the more, as that all men had ever told me, (as now
you doo) of the great likenes betweene us, I tooke the best care
I could of her: and of her understood the whole tragicall historie
of her undeserved adventure: and therewithall, of that most noble
constancie in you my Lord Argalus : which whosoever loves not,
shewes himselfe to be a hater of vertue, and unworthie to live in
the societie of mankind. But no outward cherishing could
salve the inward sore of her minde, but a fewe dayes since shee
died : before her death earnestly desiring, and perswading me,
to thinke of no husbande but of you ; as of the onely man in
the world worthie to be loved ; with-all, she gave me this Ring
to deliver you; desiring you, & by the authoritie of love c6-
maunding you, that the affection you bare her you should turne
to me : assuring you, that nothing can please her soule more,
then to see you and me matched together. Now my L. though
this office be not (perchance) sutable to my estate nor sex, who
shuld rather looke to be desired; yet, an extraordinarie desert
requires an extraordinarie proceding : and therfore I am come
(with faithfull love built upo your worthines) to offer my self,
& to beseech you to accept the offer : & if these noble getleme
preset will say it is great folly, let the withal, say it is great love.
And then she staid, earnestly attending Argalus his answere,
who (first making most hartie sighes do such obsequies as he
could, to Parthenia) thus answered her.

Madame (said he) infinitely bound am I unto you, for this, 4

S. A. D 49

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no more rare, then noble courtesie ; but most bound for the
goodnes I perceive you shewed to the lady Parthenia, (with that
the teares ranne downe his eyes ; but he followed on) and as
much as so unfortunat a man, fitte to be the spe6tacle of miserie,
can doo you service ; determine you have made a purchase of a
slave (while I live) never to fayle you. But this great matter
you propose unto me, wherein I am not so blind, as not to see
what happines it should be unto mee ; Excellent Ladie, know,
that if my hart were mine to give, you before al other, should
have it ; but Parthenias it is, though dead : there I began, there
I end all matter of afFedion : I hope I shall not long tarry after
her, with whose beautie if I had onely been in love, I should be
so with you, who have the same beautie : but it was Parthenias
selfe I loved, and love ; which no likenes can make one, no
comaundement dissolve, no foulnes defile, nor no death finish.
And shall I receive (said she) such disgrace, as to be refused ?
Noble Ladie (said he) let not that harde word be used; who
know your exceeding worthinesse farre beyond my desert : but
it is onely happinesse I refuse, since of the onely happines I
could and can desire, I am refused.
5 He had scarce spoken those words, when she ranne to him,
and imbrasing him, Why then Argalus (saide she) take thy
Parthenia \ and Parthenia it was in deede. But because sorow
forbad him too soon to beleeve, she told him the trueth, with
all circumstances ; how being parted alone, meaning to die in
some solitarie place, as she hapned to make her complaint, the
Queen Helen of Corinth (who likewise felt her part of miseries)
being then walking also alone in that lovely place, heard her,
and never left, till she had knowen the whole discourse. Which
the noble Queene greatly pittying, she sent her to a Phisition of
hers, the most excellent man in the worlde, in hope he could
helpe her : which in such sortc as they saw perfourmed, and
she taking with her of the Queenes servaunts, thought yet to
make this triall, whether he would quickly forget his true
Parthenia^ or no. Her speach was confirmed by the Corinthian
Gentlemen, who before had kept her counsell, and Argalus
easily perswaded to what more then ten thousand yeares of life
he desired: and Kalander would needes have the manage
celebrated in his house, principallie the longer to hold his deare
guestes, towardes whom he was now (besides his owne habite of

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

hospitalitie) carried with love and dutie : & therfore omitted no
service that his virit could invent, and his power minister.

CHAP. 8.

The adventures '^ first of Musidorus, ^ then of Pyrocles since their
shipwracke^ to their meeting. ^ The mariage of Argalus and
Parthenia.

»B

Ut no waie he sawe he could so much pleasure them, as i
by leaving the two friends alone, who being shruncke
aside to the banqueting house where the pidlures were ; there
Palladius recounted unto him, that after they had both abadoned
the burning ship (& either of them taken some thing under him
the better to supporte him to the shore) he knew not how, but
either with over-labouring in the fight and sodaine colde, or the
too much receaving of salt water, he was past himselfe : but yet
holding fast (as the nature of dying men is to doo) the chest
that was under him, he was cast on the sandes, where he was
taken up by a couple of Shepherds, and by them brought to
life againe, and kept from drowning him selfe, when he des-
paired of his safetie. How after having failed to take him into
the fisher boate, he had by the Shepheards persuasion come to
this Gentlemans house ; where being daungerouslie sicke, he had
yeelded to seeke the recovery of health, onely for that he might
the sooner go seeke the deliverie of Pyrocles : to which purpose
Kalander by some friends of his in Messenia^ had alreadie set a
ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophons taking had
so blessedly procured their meeting. The did he set foorth
unto him the noble entertainement and careful cherishing of
Kalander towards him, & so upon occasio of the pictures
present delivered with the franknesse of a friends tongue, as
neere as he could, word by word what Kalander had told him
touching the strange storie (with al the particularities belonging)
of Arcadia^ which did in many sortes so delight Pyrocles to
heare ; that he would needs have much of it againe repeated,
and was not contented till Kalander him selfe had answered
him divers questions.

D2 $1

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2 But first at Mmidorus request, though in brief maner, his
mind much running upo the strange storie of Arcadia, he did
declare by what course of advetures he was come to make up
their mutuall happinesse in meeting. When (cosin, said he) we
had stript our selves, and were both leapt into the Sea, and
swom a little toward the shoare, I found by reason of some
wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the lande, and
therefore turned backe againe to the mast of the shippe, where
you found me, assuring my selfe, that if you came alive to the
shore, you would seeke me ; if you were lost, as I thought it as
good to perishe as to live, so that place as good to perish in as an
other. There I found my sworde among some of the shrowds,
wishing (I must confesse) if I died, to be found with that in my
hand, and withall waving it about my head, that saylers by it
might have the better glimpse of me. There you missing me,
I was taken up by Pyrates, who putting me under boorde
prisoner, presentlie sett uppon another shippe, and mainteining
a long fight, in the ende, put them all to the sworde. Amongst
whom I might heare them greatlie prayse one younge man,
who fought most valiantlie, whom (as love is carefull, and mis-
fortune subject to doubtfulnes) I thought certainely to be you.
And so holding you as dead, from that time till the time I sawe
you, in trueth I sought nothing more then a noble ende, which
perchance made me more bardie then otherwise I would have
bene. Triall whereof came within two dayes after : for the
Kinges of Lacedamon having sett out some Galleys, under the
charge of one of their Nephews to skowre the Sea of the
Pyrates, they met with us, where our Captaine wanting men,
was driven to arme some of his prisoners, with promise of
libertie for well fighting: among whom I was one, and being
boorded by the Admirall, it was my fortune to kil Eurileon the
Kings nephew : but in the end they prevailed, & we were all
take prisoners : I not caring much what became of me (onely
keeping the name of Daiphantus, according to the resolution
you know is betweene us,) but beyng laid in the jayle of
Tenaria, with speciall hate to me for the death of Eurileon, the
popular sort of that towne conspired with the Helots, and so by
night opened them the gates ; where entring and killing all of
the gentle and riche faction, for honestie sake brake open all
prisons, and so delivered me \ and I mooved with gratefiilnesse,

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

and encouraged with carelesnesse of life, so behaved my selfe in
some conflidtes they had in fewe dayes, that they barbarouslie
thinking unsensible wonders of mee, and withall so much they
better trusting mee, as they heard I was hated of the Kinge of
Lacedamon, (their chiefe Captayne beyng slaine as you knowe
by the noble Argalus^ who helped thereunto by his perswasion)
having borne a great affedlion unto me, and to avoyde the
daungerous emulation whiche grewe among the chiefe, who
should have the place, and all so afFe6ted, as rather to have
a straunger then a competitour, they elected mee, (God wotte
little prowde of that dignitie,) restoring unto mee such thinges
of mine as being taken first by the pyrates, and then by the
Lacedemonians^ they had gotten in the sacke of the towne. Now
being in it, so good was my successe with manie vi6lories, that
I made a peace for them to their owne liking, the verie daie that
you delivered Clitophon^ whom I with much adoo had preserved.
And in my peace the King Amiclas of Lacedcemon would needes
have mee bannished,and deprived of the dignitie whereunto I was
exalted : which (and you may see howe much you are bounde
to mee) for your sake I was content to suffer, a newe hope rising
in mee, that you were not dead: and so meaning to travaile over
the worlde to seeke you ; and now here (my deere Musidorus)
you have mee. And with that (embracing and kissinge each
other) they called Kalander^ of whom Daiphantus desired to
heare the full storie, which before hee had recounted to Palladius^
and to see the letter of Philanax^ which hee read and well
marked.

But within some daies after, the marriage betweene Argalus 3
and the faire Parthenia beyng to be celebrated, Daiphantus and
Palladius selling some of their jewels, furnished themselves of
very faire apparell, meaning to doo honour to their loving hoste ;
who as much for their sakes, as for the marriage, set foorth each
thing in most gorgeous manner. But all the cost bestowed did
not so much enrich, nor all the fine deckinges so much beautifie,
nor all the daintie devises so much delight, as the fairenesse of
Partheniay the pearle of all the maydes of Mantincea : who as
shee went to the Temple to bee maried, her eyes themselves
seemed a temple, wherein love and beautie were married : her
lippes, although they were kepte close with modest silence, yet
with a pretie kinde of naturall swelling, they seemed to invite

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the guestes that lookt on them ; her cheekes blushing, and
withal when shee was spoken unto, a little smilyng, were like
roses, when their leaves are with a little breath stirred : her
hayre being layed at the full length downe her backe, bare
shewe as if the voward fayled, yet that would conquere. Dai-
phantus marking her, O Jupiter (said he speaking to Palladius)
how happens it, that Beautie is onely confined to Arcadia ?
But Palladius not greatly attending his speach, some daies were
continued in the solemnising the marriage, with al conceipts
that might deliver delight to mens fancies.

CHAP. 9.

^ Pyrocles his inclination to love. ^ His, and Musidorus disputation
thereabouts ' broken of by Kalander.

BUt such a chaunge was growen in Daiphantus^ that (as if
cheerefulnesse had bene tediousnesse, and good enter-
tainement were turnd to discourtesie) he would ever get him
selfe alone, though almost when he was in companie he was
alone, so little attention he gave to any that spake unto him :
even the colour and figure of his face began to receave some
alteration ; which he shewed little to heede : but everie morn-
ing earlie going abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods
towards the desert, it seemed his only comfort was to be without
a coforter. But long it could not be hid from Palladius^ whom
true love made redy to marke, & long knowledge able to marke ;
& therfore being now growe weary of his abode in Arcadia^
having informed himselfe fully of the strength & riches of the
coutry, of the nature of the people, and manner of their lawes :
and, seing the courte could not be visited, prohibited to all men,
but to certaine sheapheardish people, he greatly desired a speedy
returne to his own countrie, after the many mazes of fortune he
had troden. But perceaving this great alteration in his friend,
he thought first to breake with him thereof, and then to hasten
his returne ; whereto he founde him but smally enclined :
whereupon one day taking him alone with certaine graces and
countenances, as if he were disputing with the trees, began in
this manner to say unto him.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

A mind wel trayned and long exercised in vertue (my sweete 2
and worthy cosin) doth not easily chaunge any course it once
undertakes, but upon well grounded & well wayed causes. For
being witnes to it selfe of his owne inward good, it findes
nothing without it of so high a price, for which it should be
altered. Even the very countenaunce and behaviour of such a
man doth shew forth Images of the same constancy, by main-
taining a right harmonic betwixt it and the inward good, in
yeelding it selfe sutable to the vertuous resolution of the minde.
This speech I diredl to you (noble friend Pyrocles) the excel-
lencie of whose minde and well chosen course in vertue, if I doo
not sufficiently know, having seene such rare demonstrations of
it, it is my weakenes, and not your unworthines. But as in
deede I know it, and knowing it, most dearely love both it,
and him that hath it ; so must I needs saye, that since our late
comming into this country, I have marked in you, I will not say
an alteratio, but a relenting truely, & a slacking of the maine
career, you had so notably begon, & almost performed ; and
that in such sorte, as I cannot finde sufficient reason in my great
love toward you how to allow it ; for (to leave of other secreter
arguments which my acquaintaunce with you makes me easily
finde) this in effect to any manne may be manyfest, that whereas
you were wont in all places you came, to give your selfe
vehemently to the knowledge of those thinges which might
better your minde ; to seeke the familiaritye of excellent men in
learning and souldiery : and lastly, to put all these thinges in
practise both by continuall wise proceedinge, and worthie
enterprises, as occasion fell for them ; you now leave all these
things undone : you let your minde fal a sleepe : beside your
countenaunce troubled (which surely comes not of vertue ; for
vertue like the cleare heaven, is without cloudes) and lastly you
subjed your selfe to solitarines, the slye enimie, that doth most
separate a man from well doing. Pyrocles minde was all this
while so fixed upon another devotion, that he no more at-
tentively marked his friends discourse, then the childe that
hath leave to playe, markes the last part of his lesson ; or the
diligent Pilot in a daungerous tempest doth attend the unskilful
words of a passinger : yet the very sound having imprinted the
general point of his speech in his hart, pierced with any mislike
of so deerely an esteemed friend, and desirous by degrees to

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bring him to a gentler consideration of him, with a shamefast
loolce (witnessing he rather could not helpe, then did not know
his fault) answered him to this purpose. Excellent Musidorus,
in the praise you gave me in the beginning of your spech, I
easily acknowledge the force of your good will unto mee, for
neither coulde you have thought so vvell of me, if extremitie of
love had not made your judgement partiall, nor you could have
loved me so intierlie, if you had not beene apt to make so great
(though undeserved) judgements of me ; and even so must I say
to those im perfections, to which though I have ever through
weaknes been subject, yet you by the daily meding of your
mind have of late bin able to looke into them, which before
you could not discerne ; so that the chaunge you speake of, falles
not out by my impairing, but by your betring. And yet under
the leave of your better judgement, I must needes say thus
much, my deere cosin, that I find not my selfe wholye to be
condemned, because I do not with continuall vehemecy folow
those knowledges, which you call the bettering of my minde ;
for both the minde it selfe must (like other thinges) sometimes be
unbent, or else it will be either weakned, or broken : And these
knowledges, as they are of good use, so are they not all the
minde may stretch it selfe unto : who knowes whether I feede
not my minde with higher thoughts ? Trulie as I know not all
the particularities, so yet I see the bounds of all these know-
ledges : but the workings of the minde I finde much more
infinite, then can be led unto by the eye, or imagined by any,
that distradt their thoughts without themselves. And in such
contemplation, or as I thinke more excellent, I enjoye my
solitarines; and my solitarines perchaunce is the nurse of these
contemplations. Eagles we see fly alone ; and they are but
sheepe, which alwaies heard together; codemne not therefore
my minde somtime to enjoy it selfe; nor blame not the taking
of such times as serve most fitte for it. And alas, deere Musi-
dorusy if I be sadde, who knowes better then you the just
causes I have of sadnes ? And here Pyrocles sodainly stopped,
like a man unsatisfied in himselfe, though his witte might wel
have served to have satisfied another. And so looking with a
countenaunce, as though he desired he should know his minde
without hearing him speake, and yet desirous to speake, to
breath out some part of his inward evill, sending againe new

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

blood to his face, he continued his speach in this manner. And
Lord (dere cosin, said he) doth not the pleasauntnes of this place
carry in it selfe sufficient reward for any time lost in it ? Do
you not see how all things conspire together to make this
coutry a heavenly dwelling ? Do you not see the grasse how in
colour they excell the Emeralds, everie one striving to passe his
fellow, and yet they are all kept of an equal height ? And see
you not the rest of these beautifull flowers, each of which would
require a mans wit to know, and his life to expresse ? Do not
these stately trees seeme to maintaine their florishing olde age
with the onely happines of their seat, being clothed with a con-
tinuall spring, because no beautie here should ever fade ? Doth
not the aire breath health, which the Birds (delightfull both to
eare and eye) do dayly solemnize with the sweet cosent of their
voyces ? Is not every eccho therof a perfect Musicke ? and these
fresh and delightful brookes how slowly they slide away, as loth
to leave the company of so many things united in perfection ?
and with how sweete a murmure they lament their forced
departure ? Certainelie, certainely, cosin, it must needes be
that some Goddesse enhabiteth this Region, who is the soule of
this soile : for neither is any, lesse then a Goddesse, worthie to
be shrined in such a heap of pleasures : nor any lesse the a
Goddesse, could have made it so perfe6l a plotte of the celestiall
dwellings. And so ended with a deep sigh, rufully casting his
eye upon Musidorus^ as more desirous of pittie the pleading.
But Musidorus had all this while helde his looke fixed upon
Pyrocles countenance ; and with no lesse loving attention
marked how his words proceeded from him : but in both these
he perceived such strange diversities, that they rather increased
new doubts, then gave him ground to settle any judgement :
for, besides his eyes sometimes even great with teares, the oft
chaging of his colour, with a kind of shaking unstayednes over
all his body, he might see in his countenace some great determi-
natio mixed with feare ; and might perceive in him store of
thoughts, rather stirred then digested ; his words interrupted
continually with sighes (which served as a burthen to each
sentence) and the tenor of his speech (though of his woted
phrase) not knit together to one constat end, but rather dis-
solved in it selfe, as the vehemencie of the inwarde passion
prevayled : which made Musidorus frame his aunswere neerest to

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that humor, which should soonest put out the secret. For,
having in the beginning of Pyrocles speech which defeded his
solitarines, framed in his minde a replie against it, in the praise
of honourable a(5lion, in shewing that such a kind of coteplatio
is but a glorious title to idlenes ; that in adio a man did not
onely better himself, but benefit others; that the gods would
not have delivered a soule into the body, which hath armes &
legges, only instrumets of doing, but that it wer inteded the
mind should imploy the ; & that the mind should best know
his own good or evill, by praftise : which knowledge was the
onely way to increase the one, and corredt the other : besides
many other argumentes, which the plentifulnesse of the matter
yeelded to the sharpnes of his wit. When he found Pyrocles
leave that, and fall into such an affedled praising of the place,
he left it likewise, and joyned with him therein : because he
found him in that humor utter more store of passion; and
even thus kindly embrasing him, he said : Your words are such
(noble cousin) so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of
solitarinesse, as they would make me likewise yeeld my selfe up
into it, but that the same words make me know, it is more
pleasant to enjoy the companie of him that can speake such
words, then by such wordes to be perswaded to follow solitari-
nes. And even so doo I give you leave (sweet Pyrocles) ever to
defend solitarines; so long, as to defende it, you ever keep com-
panie. But I marvell at the excessive praises you give to this
countrie; in trueth it is not unpleasant: but yet if you would
returne into Macedon^ you should see either many heavens, or
find this no more then earthly. And eve Tempe in my Thessalia^
(where you & I to my great happinesse were brought up
together) is nothing inferiour unto it. But I think you will
make me see, that the vigor of your witte can shew it selfe in
any subjedl: or els you feede sometimes your solitarines with
the conceites of the Poets, whose liberall pennes can as easilie
travaile over mountaines, as molehils : and so like wel disposed
men, set up every thing to the highest note ; especially, when
they put such words in the mouths of one of these fantasticall
mind-infeded people, that children & Musitias cal Lovers.
This word. Lover, did no lesse pearce poore Pyrocles^ then the
right tune of musicke toucheth him that is sick of the Tarantula.
There was not one part of his body, that did not feele a sodaine

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

motion, while his hart with panting, seemed to daunce to the
sounde of that word ; yet after some pause (lifting up his eyes
a litle from the ground, and yet not daring to place them in
the eyes of Musidorus) armed with the verie coutenance of the
poore prisoner at the barr, whose aunswere is nothing but
guiltie : with much a do he brought forth this question. And
alas, saide he, deare cosin, what if I be not so much the Poet
(the freedome of whose penne canne exercise it selfe in any
thing) as even that miserable subjedl of his conning, whereof
you speake ? Now the eternall Gods forbid (mainely cryed out
Musidorus) that ever my eare should be poysoned with so evill
newes of you. O let me never know that any base afFed:i6
shuld get any Lordship in your thoughts. But as he was
speaking more, Kalander came, and brake of their discourse,
with inviting the to the hunting of a goodly stagge, which
beeing harbored in a wood therby, he hoped would make
them good sporte, and drive away some part of Daiphantus
melancholy. They condiscended, & so going to their lodg-
ings, furnished the selves as liked them Daiphantus writing a
few wordes which he left in a sealed letter against their returne.

CHAP. lo.

^ Kalanders hunting. ^ Daiphantus his close departure, ' and letter
* Palladius his care, and "^ quest after him, " accompanied with
Clitophon. ''His finding and taking on Amphilus his
armor ^ Their encounter with Queene Helens attendants.
^ Her mistaking Palladius.

THen went they together abroad, the good Kalander enter-
taining the, with pleasaunt discoursing, howe well he
loved the sporte of hunting when he was a young man, how
much in the comparison thereof he disdained all chamber de-
lights; that the Sunne (how great a jornie soever he had to
make) could never prevent him with earlines, nor the Moone
(with her sober countenance) disswade him from watching till
midnight for the deeres feeding. O, saide he, you will never
live to my age, without you kepe your selves in breath with

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exercise, and in hart with joyfullnes: too much thinking doth
consume the spirits : & oft it falles out, that while one thinkes
too much of his doing, he leaves to doe the efFedt of his think-
ing. Then spared he not to remember how much Arcadia
was chaunged since his youth : aftivitie & good felowship
being nothing in the price it was then held in, but according to
the nature of the old growing world, still worse & worse. The
would he tell them stories of such gallaunts as he had knowen :
and so with pleasant company beguiled the times hast, and
shortned the wayes length, till they came to the side of the
wood, where the houndes were in couples staying their comming,
but with a whining Accent craving libertie : many of them in
colour and marks so resembling, that it showed they were of
one kinde. The huntsmen handsomely attired in their greene
liveries, as though they were children of Sommer, with staves
in their hands to beat the guiltlesse earth, when the houndes
were at a fault, and with homes about their neckes to sounde an
alarum upon a sillie fugitive. The houndes were straight
uncoupled, and ere long the Stagge thought it better to trust
the nimblenes of his feete, then to the slender fortification of his
lodging : but even his feete betrayed him ; for howsoever
they went, they themselves uttered themselves to the sent of
their enimies ; who one taking it of an other, and sometimes
beleeving the windes advertisements, sometimes the view of
(their faithfull councellors) the huntsmen, with open mouthes
then denounced warre, when the warre was alreadie begun.
Their crie being composed of so well sorted mouthes, that any
man would perceive therein some kind of proportion, but the
skilfull woodmen did finde a musick. Then delight and varietie
of opinion drew the horsmen sundrie wayes ; yet cheering their
houndes with voyce and horn, kept still (as it were) together.
The wood seemed to conspire with them against his own citi-
zens, dispersing their noise through all his quarters ; and even
the Nimph Echo left to bewayle the losse of NarcissuSy and
became a hunter. But the Stagge was in the end so hotly
pursued, that (leaving his flight) he was driven to make courage
of despaire ; & so turning his head, made the hounds (with
change of speech) to testifie that he was at bay : as if from
hotte pursuite of their enemie, they were sodainly come to a
parley.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

But Kalander (by his skill of coasting the Countrey) was
among the first that came in to the besiged Deere ; whom when
some of the younger sort would have killed with their swordes,
he woulde not suffer : but with a Crossebowe sent a death to
the poore beast, who with teares shewed the unkindnesse he
tooke of mans crueltie.

But by the time that the whole companie was assembled, 2
and that the Stagge had bestowed himselfe liberally among them
that had killed him, Daiphantus was mist, for whom Palladius
carefully enquiring, no newes could be given him, but by one
that sayd, he thought he was returned home ; for that he markt
him, in the chiefe of the hunting, take a by-way, which might
lead to Kalanders house. That answer for the time satisfying,
and they having perfourmed all dueties, as well for the Stagges
funeral, as the hounds triumph, they returned : some talking of
the fatnes of the Deeres bodie ; some of the fairenes of his
head ; some of the hounds cunning ; some of their speed ;
and some of their cry : til comming home (about the time that
the candle begins to inherit the Suns office) they found Dai-
phantus was not to bee found. Whereat Palladius greatly
marvailing, and a day or two passing, while neither search nor
inquirie could help him to knowledge, at last he lighted upon
the letter, which Pyrocles had written before hee went a hunting,
and left in his studie among other of his writings. The letter
was directed to Palladius himselfe, and conteyned these words.

My onely friend, violence of love leades me into such a 3
course, wherof your knowledge may much more vexe you,
then help me. Therefore pardon my concealing it from you,
since : if I wrong you, it is in respe£l I beare you. Returne into
Thessaliayl pray you, as full of good fortune, as I am of desire : and
if I live, I will in short time follow you ; if I die, love my memorie.

This was all, and this Palladius read twise or thrise over. 4
Ah (said he) Pyrocles, what meanes this alteratio .? what have I
deserved of thee, to be thus banished of thy counsels ? Here-
tofore I have accused the sea, condemned the Pyrats, and hated
my evill fortune, that deprived me of thee ; But now thy self
is the sea, which drounes my comfort, thy selfe is the Pirat that
robbes thy selfe of me : Thy owne will becomes my evill for-
tune. The turned he his thoughts to al forms of ghesses that
might light upon the purpose and course of Pyrocles : for he

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

was not so sure by his wordes, that it was love, as he was doubt-
ful where the love was. One time he thought, some beautie
in Laconia had layed hold of his eyes ; an other time he feared,
that it might be Parthenias excellencie, which had broken the
bands of all former resolution. But the more he thought, the
more he knew not what to thinke, armies of objedlions rising
against any accepted opinion.
5 Then as carefull he was what to doo himselfe : at length
determined, never to leave seeking him, till his search should be
either by meeting accoplished, or by death ended. Therfore
(for all the unkindnesse bearing tender respe6t, that his friends
secrete determination should be kept from any suspition in
others) he went to Kalander^ and told him, that he had receaved
a message from his friend, by which he understood he was gone
backe againe into Laconia^ about some matters greatly import-
ing the poore men, whose protection he had undertaken, and
that it was in any sorte fit for him, to follow him, but in such
private wise, as not to be knowne, and that therefore he would
as then bid him farewell : arming him selfe in a blacke armour,
as either a badge, or prognostication of his mind : and taking
onely with him good store of monie, and a fewe choise jewels,
leaving the greatest number of them, & most of his apparell
with Ka lander : which he did partly to give the more cause
to Kalander to expe6l their return, & so to be the lesse
curiously inquisitive after the : and partly to leave those honor-
able thankes unto him, for his charge & kindnes, which he
knew he would no other way receave. The good old man
having neither reason to dissuade, nor hope to persuade, re-
ceaved the things, with mind of a keeper, not of an owner ;
but before he went, desired he might have the happines, fully
to know what they were : which he said, he had ever till
then delaid, fearing to be any way importune : but now he
could not be so much an enemie to his desires as any longer to
imprison the in silence. Palladius tolde him that the matter
was not so secrete, but that so worthie a friend deserved the
knowledge, and shuld have it as soone as he might speak with
his fried : without whose consent (because their promise bound
him otherwise) he could not reveale it: but bad him hold for
most assured, that if they lived but a while, he should find that
they which bare the names of Daiphatus and Palladius^ would
62

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

give him & his cause to thinke his noble courtesie wel imploied.
Kaldder would presse him no further : but desiring that he
might have leave to go, or at least to sende his sonne and
servaunts with him, Palladius brake of all ceremonies, by tell-
ing him ; his case stood so, that his greatest favour should be in
making lest adoo of his parting. Wherewith Kalander knowing
it to be more cumber then courtesie, to strive, abstained from
further urging him, but not from hartie mourning the losse of
so sweet a conversation.

Onely CUtophon by vehement importunitie obteyned to go 6
with him, to come againe to Daiphantus, whom he named and
accouted his Lord. And in such private guise departed Palla-
dius^ though having a companio to talke with all, yet talking
much more with unkindnesse. And first they went to Manttnaa',
whereof because Parthenia was, he suspected there might be
some cause of his abode. But finding there no newes of him
he went to Tegaa^ Ripa^ En'tspa^ StimphaluSy and Pheneus,
famous for the poisonous 5/^^/^« water, and through all the rest
of Arcadia^ making their eyes, their eares, and their tongue
serve almost for nothing, but that enquirie. But they could
know nothing but that in none of those places he was knowne.
And so went they, making one place succeed to an other, in
like uncertaintie to their search, manie times encountring strange
advetures, worthy to be registred in the roulles of fame ; but
this may not be omitted. As they past in a pleasant valley, (of 7
either side of which high hils lifted up their beetle-browes, as if
they would over looke the pleasantnes of their under-prospe6l)
they were by the daintines of the place, & the wearines of
theselves, invited to light fro their horses ; & pulling of their
bits, that they might something refresh their mouths upon the
grasse (which plentifully grewe, brought up under the care of
those wel shading trees,) they theselves laid the downe hard by
the murmuring musicke of certain waters, which spouted out of
the side of the hils, and in the bottome of the valley, made of
many springs a pretie brooke, like a common-wealth of many
families : but when they had a while barkened to the persuasion
of sleepe, they rose, and walkt onward in that shadie place, till
Clitiphon espied a peece of armour, & not far of an other peece :
and so the sight of one peece teaching him to looke for more, he
at length found all, with headpeece & shield, by the devise

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

whereof, which was he streight

knew it to be the armour of his cousin, the noble Amphialus.
Wherupon (fearing some incovenience hapned unto him) he
told both his doubte, and his cause of doubte to Palladius^ who
(considering therof) thought best to make no longer stay, but
to follow on : least perchance some violece were offered to so
worthy a Knight, whom the fame of the world seemed to set in
ballance with any Knight living. Yet with a sodaine conceipt,
having long borne great honour to the name of Amphialus^
Palladius thought best to take that armour, thinking thereby to
learne by them that should know that armour, some newes of
Amphialus^ & yet not hinder him in the search of Daiphantus
too. So he by the help of Clitophon quickly put on that armour,
whereof there was no one piece wanting, though hacked in
some places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It
was some-thing too great, but yet served well enough.
8 And so getting on their horses, they travailed but a little
way, when in opening of the mouth of the valley into a faire
field, they met with a coach drawne with foure milke-white
horses, furnished all in blacke, with a black a more boy upo
every horse, they al apparelled in white, the coach it self very
richly furnished in black & white. But before they could come
so neere as to discerne what was within, there came running
upo them above a dozen horsmen, who cried to the to yeeld
theselves prisoners, or els they should die. But Palladius not
accustomed to grant over the possessio of him self upon so
unjust titles, with sword drawne gave them so rude an answer,
that divers of the never had breath to reply again : for being
wel backt by Clitophon^ & having an excellet horse under him,
when he was overprest by some, he avoided them, and ere
th'other thought of it, punished in him his fellowes faults : and
so, ether with cunning or with force, or rather with a cunning
force, left none of them either living, or able to make his life
serve to others hurt. Which being done, he approched th
coach, assuring the black boies they should have no hurt, wh(
were els readie to have run away, & looking into the coac'
he foud in the one end a Lady of great beautie, & such
beautie, as shewed forth the beames both of wisdome & goo
nature, but al as much darkened, as might be, with sorow. In
the other, two Ladies, (who by their demeanure shewed well,

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

they were but her servants) holding before them a pidlure ; in
which was a goodly Getleman (whom he knew not) painted,
having in their faces a certaine waiting sorrow, their eies being
infeded with their mistres weeping.

But the chiefe Ladie having not so much as once heard the ^
noise of this c6fli6t (so had sorow closed up al the entries of her
mind, & love tied her seces to that beloved picture) now the
shadow of him falling upo the pidlure made her cast up her eie,
and seeing the armour which too wel she knew, thinking him
to be Amphialus the Lord of her desires, (bloud coming more
freely into her cheekes, as though it would be bold, & yet there
growing new againe pale for feare)with a pitiful looke(like one un-
justly condened) My Lord Amphialus (said she) you have enough
punished me : it is time for cruelty to leave you, & evil fortune
me ; if not I pray you, (& to graunt, my praier fitter time nor
place you can have) accomplish the one even now, & finish the
other. With that, sorrow impatient to be slowly uttered in her
ofte staying speeches, poured it self so fast in teares, that Palladius
could not hold her longer in errour, but pulling of hh helmet,
Madame (said he) I perceave you mistake me : I am a stranger
in these parts, set upon (without any cause give by me) by some
of your servants, whom because I have in my just defence evill
entreated, I came to make my excuse to you, whom seing such
as I doo, I find greater cause, why I should crave pardon of
you. When she saw his face, & heard his speech, she looked
out of the coach, and seing her men, some slaine, some lying
under their dead horses,and striving to get from under them, with-
out making more account of the matter, Truely (said she) they
are well served that durst lift up their armes against that armour.
But Sir Knight, (said she) I pray you tell me, how come you by
this armour ? for if it be by the death of him that owed it, then
have I more to say unto you. Palladius assured her it was not
SO; telling her the true manner how he found it. It is like
enough (said she) for that agrees with the manner he hath lately
used. But I beseech you Sir (said she) since your prowes hath
bereft me of my copany : let it yet so farre heale the woundes
it selfe hath given, as to garde me to the next towne. How
great so ever my businesse be fayre Ladie (said he) it shall
willingly yeeld to so noble a cause : But first even by the
favour you beare to the Lorde of this noble armour, I conjure
s. A. E 65

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

you to tell me the storie of your fortune herein, lest hereafter
when the image of so excellent a Ladie in so straunge a plight
come before mine eyes, I condemne my selfe of want of con-
sideration in not having demaunded thus much. Neither aske
I it without protestation, that wherein my sworde and faith may
availe you, they shall binde themselves to your service. Your
conjuration, fayre Knight (said she) is too strong for my poore
spirite to disobey, and that shall make me (without any other
hope, my ruine being but by one unrelieveable) to graunt your wil
herein : and to say the truth, a straunge nicenesse were it in me
to refraine that from the eares of a person representing so much
worthinesse, which I am glad even to rockes and woods to utter.

CHAP. II.

The story of Queene Helen ^ Philoxenus her suiter « Amphialus an
intercessor for his friende. ^ His praises^ ^ birth^ and " educa-
tion . "^ Her love wonne to himself ^ His refusall and departure
* Philoxenus wronge-rage against him. ^° Their fight. " The
death of sonne and father. ^^ Amphialus his sorrow and
detestation of the Queene. " A new onset on Palladius for
Amphialus his Armour : ^* whose griefe is amplified by meeting
his dead f rends dog. ^'^ Palladius his parting with Helen and
Clitophon.

KNow you then that my name is Helen, Queene by birth :
and hetherto possession of the faire Citie and territorie
of Corinth. I can say no more of my selfe, but beloved of my
people : and may justly say, beloved, since they are content to
beare with my absence, and folly. But I being left by my
fathers death, and accepted by my people, in the highest
degree, that countrie could receive; assoone, or rather, before
that my age was ripe for it; my court quickely swarmed full of
suiters; some perchaunce loving my state, others my person,
but once I know all of them, howsoever my possessions were in
their harts, my beauty (such as it is) was in their mouthes ;
many strangers of princely and noble blood, and all of mine
owne country, to whom ether birth or vertue gave courage to
avowe so high a desire.
66

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the Lord 2
Philoxenus, sonne and heire to the vertuous noble man Timotheus :
which Timotheus was a man both in power, riches, parentage,
and (which passed all these) goodnes, and (which followed all
these) love of the people, beyond any of the great men of my
countrie. Now this sonne of his I must say truly, not unwor-
thy of such a father, bending himselfe by all meanes of servise-
ablenes to mee, and setting foorth of himselfe to win my favour,
wan thus farre of mee, that in truth I lesse misliked him then
any of the rest: which in some proportion my countenaunce
delivered unto him. Though I must protest it was a verie
false embassadour, if it delivered at all any afFe6lion, whereof my
hart was utterly void, I as then esteeming my selfe borne to rule,
& thinking foule scorne willingly to submit my selfe to be ruled.

But whiles Philoxenus in good sorte pursued m,y favour, and 3
perchaunce nourished himselfe with over much hope, because
he found I did in some sorte acknowledge his valew, one time
among the rest he brought with him a deare friend of his.
With that she loked upon the picture before her, & straight
sighed, & straight teares followed, as if the Idol of dutie ought
to be honoured with such oblations, and the her speach staied
the tale, having brought her to that loke, but that looke having
quite put her out of her tale. But Palladius greatly pitying so
sweete a sorrow in a Ladie, whom by fame he had already
knowen, and honoured, besought her for her promise sake, to
put silence so longe unto her moning, til she had recounted the
rest of this story.

Why said she, this is the picture of Amphialus : what neede 4
I say more to you ? what eare is so barbarous but hath hard of
Amphialus} who follows deeds of Armes, but every where
findes monumet of Amphialus ? who is courteous, noble, liberall,
but he that hath the example before his eyes of Amphialus}
where are all heroicall parts, but in Amphialus} O Amphialus I
would thou were not so excellent, or I would I thought thee
not so excellent, and yet would I not, that I would so : with
that she wept againe, til he againe solliciting the conclusion of
her story. Then must you (said she) know the story of Am-
phialus : for his will is my life, his life my history: and indeed,
in what can I better employ my lippes, then in speaking of
Amphialus ?

E2 67

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

^ This knight then whose figure you see, but whose mind
can be painted by nothing, but by the true shape of vertue, is
brothers sonne to Basilius King of Arcadia^ and in his childhood
esteemed his heir: till Basilius in his olde yeeres marrying a
young and a faire Lady, had of her those two daughters, so
famous for their perfection in beauty: which put by their
young cosin from that expedlation. Whereupon his mother
(a woman of a hauty hart, being daughter to the King of Argos^
either disdaining, or fearing, that her sonne should live under
the power of Basilius sent him to that Lorde Timotheus
(betwene whom and her dead husband ther had passed streight
bands of mutuall hospitality to be brought up in company with
his Sonne Philoxenus ?

6 A happie resolution for Amphialus^ whose excellent nature
was by this meanes trayned on with as good education, as any
Princes sonne in the world could have, which otherwise it is
thought his mother (farre unworthie of such a sonne) would
not have given him. The good Timotheus) no lesse loving
him then his owne sonne: well they grew in yeeres; and
shortly occasions fell aptly to trie Amphialus^ and all occasions
were but steppes for him to clime fame by. Nothing was so
hard, but his valour overcame : which yet still he so guided with
true vertue, that although no man was in our parts spoken of
but he, for his mahood, yet, as though therein he excelled him
selfe, he was comonly called the courteous Amphialus. An
endlesse thing it were for me to tell, how many adventures
(terrible to be spoken of) he atchieved: what monsters, what
Giants, what conquest of countries: sometimes using policy,
some times force, but alwaies vertue, well followed, and but
followed by Philoxenus: betweene whom, and him, so fast a
friendship by education was knit, that at last Philoxenus having
no greater matter to employ his frindship in, then to winne me,
therein desired, and had his uttermost furtheraunce : to that
purpose brought he him to my court, where truly I may justly
witnes with him, that what his wit could conceive (and his wit
can conceave as far as the limits of reason stretch) was all
direded to the setting forwarde the suite of his friend Philoxenus :
my eares could heare nothing from him, but touching the
worthines of Philoxenus, and of the great happines it would be
unto me to have such a husband : with many arguments, which
68

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

God knowes, I cannot well remember because I did not much
beleeve.

For why should I use many circustances to come to that 7
where alredy I am, and ever while I live must continue ? In
fewe wordes, while he pleaded for an other, he wanne me for
himselfe: if at least (with that she sighed) he would account it
a winning, for his fame had so framed the way to my mind, that
his presence so full of beauty, sweetnes, and noble conversation,
had entred there before he vouchsafed to call for the keyes.
O Lord, how did my soule hang at his lippes while he spake !
O when he in feeling maner would describe the love of his
frend, how well (thought I) dooth love betweene those lips!
when he would with daintiest eloquence stirre pitie in me to-
ward PhtloxenuSy why sure (said I to my selfe) Helen^ be not
afraid, this hart cannot want pitie : and when he would extol
the deeds of Pbiloxenus, who indeede had but waited of him
therin, alas (thought I) good Phi/oxenus, how evil doth it become
thy name to be subscribed to his letter ? What should I say ?
nay, what should I not say (noble knight) who am not ashamed,
nay am delighted, thus to expresse mine owne passions ?

Dayes paste; his eagernes for his friende never decreased, 8
my afFe6tion to him ever increased. At length, in way of
ordinarie courtesie, I obteined of him (who suspefted no such
matter) this his pifture, the only Amphialus^l feare that I shall ever
enjoy : and growen bolder, or madder, or bould with madnes, I
discovered my affection unto him. But, Lord, I shall never
forget, how anger and courtesie, at one instant appeared in his
eyes, when he heard that motion: how with his blush he
taught me shame. In summe, he left nothing unassayed,
which might disgrace himselfe, to grace his fred; in sweet
termes making me receive a most resolute refusal of himself.
But when he found that his presence did far more perswade for
himselfe, then his speeche could doo for his frend, he left my
court : hoping, that forgetfulnesse (which commonly waits upon
absence) woulde make roome for his friende : to whome he
woulde not utter thus much (I thinke) for a kinde feare not to
grieve him, or perchance (though he cares little for me) of a
certaine honorable gratefulnes, nor yet to discourse so much of
my secrets : but as it should seeme, meant to travell into farre
countreyes, untill his friends affedlion either ceased, or prevayled.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

9 But within a while, Philoxenus came to see how onward the
fruites were of his friends labour, when (as in trueth I cared not
much how he tooke it) he found me sitting, beholding this
pi6lure, I know not with how afFeftionate countenace, but I
am sure with a most afFeftionate mind. I straight found
jelousie and disdaine tooke hold of him: and yet the froward
paine of mine owne harte made me so delight to punish him,
whom I esteemed the chiefest let in my way; that when he
with humble gesture, and vehement speeches, sued for my
favor; I told him, that I would heare him more willingly, if
he would speake for Amphtalus^ as well as Amphialus had done
for him: he never answered me, but pale and quaking, went
straight away; and straight my heart misgave me some evill
successe : and yet though I had authoritie inough to have stayed
him (as in these fatall things it falles out, that the hie-working
powers make second causes unwittingly accessarie to their de-
terminations) I did no further but sent a foot-man of mine
(whose faithfulnes to me I well knew) from place to place to
follow him, and bring me word of his proceedings : which (alas)
have brought foorth that which I feare I must ever rewe.
10 For he had travailed scarse a dayes jorney out of my Countrey,
but that (not farre from this place) he overtooke Amphialus^ who
(by succouring a distressed Lady) had bene here stayed : and by
and by called him to fight with him, protesting that one of the
two should die : you may easily judge how straunge it was to
Amphialus^ whose hart could accuse it selfe of no fault, but too
much affedtion toward him, which he (refusing to fight with
him) would faine have made Philoxenus understand, but (as my
servant since tolde me) the more Amphialus went back, the
more he followed, calling him Traytor, and coward, yet never
telling the cause of this strange alteration. Ah Philoxenus (saide
Amphialus) I know I am no Traytor, and thou well knowest I
am no coward: but I pray thee content thy selfe with this
much, and let this satisfie thee, that I love thee, since I beare
thus much of thee, but he leaving words drew his sworde, and
gave Amphialus a great blow or two, which but for the goodnes
of his armour would have slaine him: and yet so farre dia
Amphialus containe himselfe, stepping aside, and saying to him.
Well Philoxenusy and thus much villany am I content to put up,
not any longer for thy sake (whom 1 have no cause to love,

' r

^RYip.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

since thou dost injure me, and wilt not tell me the cause) but
for thy vertuous fathers sake, to whom I am so much bound.
I pray thee goe away, and conquer thy owne passions, and thou
shalt make me soone yeeld to be thy servant.

But he would not attend his wordes, but still strake so
fiercely at Amphialus^ that in the end (nature prevailing above
determination) he was faine to defend him selfe, and with-all to
offend him, that by an unluckye blow the poore Philoxenus fell
dead at his feete ; having had time onely to speake some wordes,
whereby Amphialus knew it was for my sake : which when
Amphialus sawe, he forthwith gave such tokens of true felt
sorrow ; that as my servant said, no imagination [could conceive
greater woe. But that by and by, an unhappie occasion made
Amphialus passe himselfe in sorrow : for Philoxenus was but
newly dead, when there comes to the same place, the aged and
vertuous Timotheus, who (having heard of his sonnes sodaine
and passionate manner of parting from my Court) had followed
him as speedily as he could; but alas not so speedily, but that
he foud him dead before he could over take him. Though my
hart be nothing but a stage for Tragedies ; yet I must confesse,
it is even unable to beare the miserable representation thereof:
knowing Amphialus and Timotheus as I have done. Alas what
sorrow, what amasement, what shame was in Amphialus^ when
he saw his deere foster father, find him the killer of his onely
Sonne? In my hart I know, he wished mountaines had laine
upon him, to keepe him from that meeting. As for Timotheus^
sorow of his sonne and (I thinke principally) unkindnes of Am-
phialus so devoured his vitall spirits that able to say no more but
Amphialus, Amphialus, have I ? he sancke to the earth, and pre-
sently dyed.

But not my tongue though daily used to complaints; no 12
nor if my hart (which is nothing but sorrow) were turned to
tonges, durst it under-take to shew the unspeakeablenes of his
griefe. But (because this serves to make you know my for-
tune,) he threw away his armour, even this which you have
now upon you, which at the first sight I vainely hoped, he had
put on againe ; and the (as ashamed of the light) he ranne into
the thickest of the woods, lameting, & even crying out so
pityfuUy, that my seruant, (though of a fortune not used to
much tendernes) could not refraine weeping when he tolde it

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me. He once overtooke him, but Amphialus drawing his sword,
which was the only part of his armes (God knowes to what
purpose) he caried about him, threatned to kill him if he folowed
him, and withall, bad him deliver this bitter message, that he wel
inough foud, I was the cause of al this mischiefe : & that if I
were a man, he would go over the world to kill me: but bad
me assure my selfe, that of all creatures in the world, he most
hated me. Ah Sir knight (whose eares I think by this time are
tyred with the rugged wayes of these misfortunes) now way my
case, if at lest you know what love is. For this cause have I
left my country, putting in hazard how my people wil in time
deale by me, adveturing what perils or dishonors might ensue,
only to folow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to
bring my neck unto him, if that may redeem my trespas &
assuage his fury. And now sir (said she) you have your request,
I pray you take paines to guide me to the next town, that there
I may gather such of my company againe, as your valor hath
left me. Palladius willingly codisceded : but ere they began to
go, there cam Clitophon^ who having bene something hurt by
one of them, had pursued him a good way : at length over-
taking him, & ready to kill him, understood they were servants
to the faire Queene Helen^ and that the cause of this enterprise
was for nothing, but to make Amphialus prisoner, who they knew
their mistresse sought ; for she concealed her sorow, nor cause of
her sorow from no body.
13 But Clitophon (very sorie for this accident) came back to
comfort the Queene, helping such as were hurt, in the best
sort that he could, & framing fredly costrudtios of this rashly
undertaken enmitie, when in comes another (till that time un-
seene) all armed, with his bever downe, who first looking round
about upon the companie, as soone as he spied Palladius^ he drew
his sword, and making no other prologue, let flie at him. But
Palladius (sorie for so much harm as had alredy happened)
sought rather to retire, and warde, thinking he might be some
one that belonged to the faire Queene, whose case in his harte
he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, stept betweene them, asking
the new come knight the cause of his quarrell; who answered
him, that he woulde kill that theefe, who had stollen away his
masters armour, if he did not restore it. With that Palladius
lookt upon him, and sawe that he of the other side had Palladius
72

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

owne armour upon him: truely (said Palladius) if I have stolne
this armour, you did not buy that: but you shall not fight with
me upon such a quarrell, you shall have this armour w^illingly,
vv^hich I did onely put on to doo honor to the owner. But
Clitophon straight knewe by his words and voyce, that it was
Ismenus^ the faithfull & diligent Page of Amphialus: and there-
fore telling him that he was Clitophon^ and willing him to
acknowledge his error to the other, who deserved all honour,
the yong Gentleman pulled of his head-peece, and (lighting)
went to kisse Palladius hands ; desiring him to pardon his follie,
caused by extreame griefe, which easilie might bring foorth
anger. Sweete Gentleman (saide Palladius) you shall onely
make me this amendes, that you shal cary this your Lords
armour from me to him, and tell him from an unknowen knight
(who admires his worthines) that he cannot cast a greater miste
over his glory, the by being unkind to so excellet a princesse as
this Queene is. Ismenus promised he would, as soone as he
durst find his maister : and with that went to doo his dutie to
the Queene, whom in all these encounters astonishment made
hardy; but assoone as she saw Ismenus (looking to her pidlure)
Ismenus (said she) here is my Lord, where is yours? or come
you to bring me some sentence of death from him ? if it be so,
welcome be it. I pray you speake ; and speake quickly. Alas
Madame, said Ismenus^ I haue lost my Lorde, (with that teares
came unto his eyes) for assoone as the unhappie combate was
concluded with the death both of father and sonne, my maister
casting of his armour, went his way : forbidding me upo paine
of death to follow him.

Yet divers daies I followed his steppes; till lastly I found 14
him, having newly met with an excellent Spaniel, belonging to
his dead companion Philoxenus. The dog streight fawned on
my master for old knowledge : but never was there thing more
pittifull then to heare my maister blame the dog for loving his
maisters murtherer, renewing a fresh his coplaints, with the
dumbe counceller, as if they might cofort one another in their
miseries. But my Lord having spied me, rase up in such rage,
that in truth I feared he would kill me: yet as then he said
onely, if I would not displease him, I should not come neere him
till he sent for me : too hard a comaundement for me to dis-
obey : I yeelded, leaving him onely waited on by his dog, and

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as I thinke seeking out the most solitarie places, that this or any-
other country can graunt him : and I returning where I had left
his armour, found an other in steed thereof, & (disdaining I must
confesse that any should beare the armour of the best Knight
living) armed my selfe therein to play the foole, as eve now I
did. Faire Ismenus (said the Queen) a fitter messenger could
hardly be to unfold my Tragedie : I see the end, I see my
ende.
15 With that (sobbing) she desired to be conduced to the next
towne, where Palladius left her to be waited on by Clitophon^
at Palladius earnest entreatie, who desired alone to take that
melancholy course of seeking his friend : & therefore changing
armours again with Ismenus (who went withal to a castle be-
longing to his master) he cotinued his quest for his friend
Daiphantus.

CHAP. 12.

^ Palladius after long search of Daiphantus, lighteth on an Amazon
Ladie. ^Her habite, ^song^ *and who she was. ^Obje^ions
of the one against women, and love of them, ^ The answeres
of the other for them both. ' Their passionate conclusion in
relenting kindnesse.

^ 00 directed he his course to Laconia, aswell among the
k3 Helots, as Spartans. There indeed he found his fame
flourishing, his monument engraved in Marble, and yet more
durable in mens memories; but the universall lamenting his
absented presence, assured him of his present absence. Thence
into the Elean province, to see whether at the Olympian games
(there celebrated) he might in such concourse blesse his eyes
with so desired an encounter: but that huge and sportfuU
assemblie grewe to him a tedious lonelinesse, esteeming no
bodie founde, since Daiphantus was lost. Afterward he passed
through Achaia and Sicyonia, to the Corinthians, prowde of their
two Seas, to learne whether by the streight of that Isthmus, it
was possible to know of his passage. But finding everie place
more dumbe then other to his demaunds, and remembring that
it was late-taken love, which had wrought this new course, hi'
returned againe (after two months travaile in vaine) to make
freshe searche in Arcadia ; so much the more, as then first he

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

bethought him selfe of the pidlure of Philoclea (in resembh'ng her
he had once loved) might perhaps awake againe that sleeping
passion. And hauing alreadie past over the greatest part of
Arcadia^ one day comming under the side of the pleasaunt
mountaine Manalus^ his horse (nothing guiltie of his inquisitive-
nesse) w^ith flat tiring taught him, that discrete stayes make
speedie journeis. And therefore lighting downe, and unbride-
ling his horse, he him selfe went to repose him selfe in a little
wood he sawe thereby. Where lying under the proted:ion of a
shadie tree, with intention to make forgetting sleepe comfort a
sorrowfull memorie, he sawe a sight which perswaded, and ob-
teyned of his eyes, that they would abide yet a while open. It
was the appearing of a Ladie, who because she walked with her
side toward him, he could not perfedlly see her face; but so
much he might see of her, that was a suretie for the rest, that
all was excellent.

Well might he perceave the hanging of her haire in fairest 2
quatitie, in locks, some curled, & some as it were forgotten,
with such a carelesse care, & an arte so hiding arte, that she
seemed she would lay them for a paterne, whether nature
simply, or nature helped by cunning, be more excellent : the
rest whereof was drawne into a coronet of golde richly set with
pearle, and so joyned all over with gold wiers, and covered with
feathers of divers colours, that it was not unlike to an helmet,
such a glittering shew it bare, & so bravely it was held up fro
the head. Vpon her bodie she ware a doublet of skie colour
sattin, covered with plates of gold, & as it were nailed with
pretious stones, that in it she might seeme armed; the nether
parts of her garment was so full of stuffe, & cut after such a
fashion, that though the length of it reached to the ankles, yet
in her going one might sometimes discerne the smal of her leg,
which with the foot was dressed in a short paire of crimson
velvet buskins, in some places open (as the ancient manner was)
to shew the fairenes of the skin. Over all this she ware a cer-
taine mantell, made in such manner, that comming under the
right arme, and covering most of that side, it had no fastning of
the left side, but onely upon the top of the shoulder : where the
two endes met, and were closed together with a very riche
Jewell : the devise wherof (as he after saw) was this : a Hercules
made in little fourme, but a distafife set within his hand as he

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once was by Omphales commaundement with a worde in Greeke,
but thus to be interpreted, Never more valiant. On the same
side, on her thigh shee ware a sword, which as it witnessed
her to be an Amazon^ or one following that profession, so it
seemed but a needles weapon, since her other forces were with-
out withstanding. But this Ladie walked out-right, till he might
see her enter into a fine close arbour: it was of trees whose
branches so lovingly interlaced one the other, that it could
resist the strogest violence of eye-sight ; but she went into it by
a doore she opened; which moved him as warely as he could to
follow her, and by and by he might heare her sing this song,
with a voice no lesse beautifull to his eares, then her goodlinesse
was full of harmonie to his eyes.

3 '' I ^Ransformd in shewy but more tramformd in minde^

X I cease to strive with double conquest foild :
For {woe is me) my potvers all I finde
With outward force y and inward treason spoild.

For from without came to mine eyes the blowe^
Whereto mine inward thoughts did faintly yeeld\
Both these conspird poore Reasons overthrowe ;
False in my selfe^ thus have I lost the field.

Thus are my eyes still Captive to one sight:
Thus all my thoughts are slaves to one thought still:
Thus Reason to his servants yeelds his right-.
Thus is my power transformed to your will.
What marvaile then I take a womans hew.
Since what I see, thinke, know is all but you ?

4 The dittie gave him some suspition, but the voice gave him
almost assurance, who the singer was. And therefore boldly
thrusting open the dore, and entring into the arbour, he per-
ceaved in deed that it was Pyrocles thus disguised, wherewith
not receaving so much joy to have found him, as griefe so to
have found him, amazedly looking upon him (as Apollo is
painted when he saw Daphne sodainly turned into a Laurell)
he was not able to bring forth a worde. So that Pyrocles (who
had as much shame, as Musidorus had sorrow) rising to
him, would have formed a substantial! excuse; but his insinua-

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

tion being of blushinge, and his division of sighes, his whole
oration stood upon a short narration, what was the causer of this
Metamorphosis? But by that time Musidorus had gathered his
spirites together, and yet casting a gastfull countenaunce upon
him (as if he would conjure some strange spirits) he thus spake
unto him.

And is it possible, that this is Pyrocles^ the onely yong Prince 5
in the world, formed by nature, and framed by education, to the
true exercise of vertue ? or is it indeed some Amazon that hath
counterfeited the face of my friend, in this sort to vexe me ? for
likelier sure I would have thought it, that any outwarde face
might have bene disguised, then that the face of so excellet a
mind coulde have bene thus blemished. O sweete PyrocleSy
separate your selfe a little (if it be possible) from your selfe, and
let your owne minde looke upon your owne proceedings: so
shall my wordes be needlesse, and you best instru6led. See with
your selfe, how fitt it will be for you in this your tender youth,
borne so great a Prince, and of so rare, not onely expeftation,
but proofe, desired of your olde Father, and wanted of your
native countrie, now so neere your home, to divert your
thoughts from the way of goodnesse ; to loose, nay to abuse
your time. Lastly to overthrow all the excellent things you
have done, which have filled the world with your fame ; as if
you should drowne your ship in the long desired haven, or like
an ill player, should marre the last aft of his Tragedie. Remem-
ber (for I know you know it) that if we wil be men, the reason-
able parte of our soule, is to have absolute commaundement ;
against which if any sensuall weaknes arise, we are to yeelde all
our sounde forces to the overthrowing of so unnaturall a rebel-
lion, wherein how can we wante courage, since we are to deale
against so weake an adversary, that in it selfe is nothinge but
weakenesse ? Nay we are to resolve, that if reason diredt it,
we must doo it, and if we must doo it, we will doo it; for to
say I cannot, is childish, and I will not, womanish. And see
how extremely every waye you endaunger your minde ; for to
take this womannish habit (without you frame your behaviour
accordingly) is wholy vaine: your behaviour can never come
kindely from you, but as the minde is proportioned unto it.
So that you must resolve, if you will playe your parte to any
purpose, whatsoever peevish afFedtions are in that sexe, soften

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your hart to receive them, the very first downe-steppe to all
wickednes: for doo not deceive your selfe, my deere cosin,
there is no man sodainely excellentlie good, or extremely evill,
but growes either as hee holdes himselfe up in vertue, or lets
himself slide to vitiousnes. And let us see, w^hat power is the
auithor of all these troubles : forsooth love, love, a passion, and
the basest and fruitlessest of all passions: feare breedeth wit.
Anger is the cradle of courage : joy openeth and enhableth the
hart : sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inwarde to looke to
the corredting of it selfe ; and so all generally have power
towards some good by the direction of right Reason. But this
bastarde Love (for in deede the name of Love is most unworthy-
lie applied to so hatefull a humour) as it is engendered betwixt
lust and idlenes; as the matter it workes upon is nothing, but
a certaine base weakenes, which some gentle foolescall a gentle
hart J as his adjoyned companions be unquietnes, longings, fond
comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, ielousies, ungrounded rages,
causlesse yeeldings ; so is the hiest ende it aspires unto, a litle
pleasure with much paine before, and great repentaunce after.
But that end how endlesse it runs to infinite evils, were fit
inough for the matter we speake of, but not for your eares, in
whome indeede there is so much true disposition to vertue : yet
thus much of his worthie efFe6ts in your selfe is to be seen, that
(besides your breaking lawes of hospitality with Ka/anderand of
friendship with me) it utterly subverts the course of nature, in
making reason give place to sense, & man to woman. And
truely I thinke heere-upon it first gatte the name of Love : for
indeede the true love hath that excellent nature in it, that it doth
transform the very essence of the lover into the thing loved,
uniting, and as it were incorporating it with a secret & inward
working. And herein do these kindes of love imitate the ex-
cellent ; for as the love of heaven makes one heavenly, the love
of vertue, vertuous ; so doth the love of the world make one be-
come worldly, and this effeminate love of a woman, doth so
womanish a man, that (if he yeeld to it) it will not onely make
him an Amazon-, but a launder, a distaff-spinner; or what so
ever other vile occupation their idle heads ca imagin, & their
weake hands performe. Therefore (to trouble you no longer
with my tedious but loving words) if either you remember what '
you are, what you have bene, or what you must be : if you c6-

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

sider what it is, that moved you, or by what kinde of creature
you are moved, you shall finde the cause so small, the eiFe6l so
daungerous, your selfe so unworthie to runne into the one, or to
be driue by the other, that I doubt not I shall quickly have
occasion rather to praise you for having conquered it, then to
give you further counsell, how to doo it.

But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more, but that he, 6
who before he was espied, was afraid; after, being perceived,
was ashamed, now being hardly rubd upon, lefte both feare and
shame, and was moved to anger. But the exceeding good will .
he bare to Musidorus striving with it, he thus, partely to satisfie
him, but principally to loose the reines to his owne motions,
made him answere. Cosin, whatsover good disposition nature
hath bestowed upon me, or howsoever that disposition hath bene
by bringing up cofirmed, this must I confesse, that I am not yet
come to that degree of wisdome, to thinke light of the sexe, of
whom I have my life; since if I be any thing (which your
friendship rather finds, the I acknowledge) I was to come to
it, born of a woma, & nursed of a woma. And certely (for this
point of your speach doth neerest touch me) it is strage to see
the unman-like cruelty of makind ; who not cotent with their
tyranous abition, to have brought the others vertuous patience
under them (like to childish maisters) thinke their masterhood
nothing, without doing injury to them, who (if we will argue by
reason) are framed of nature with the same parts of the minde
for the exercise of vertue, as we are. And for example, even
this estate of Amazons, (which I now for my greatest honor do
seek to counterfaite) doth well witnes, that if generally the
swetnes of their dispositios did not make them see the vainnesse
of these thinges, which we accept glorious, they nether want
valor of mind, nor yet doth their fairnes take away their force.
And truely we men, and praisers of men, should remember, that
if we have such excellecies, it is reason to thinke them excellent
creatures, of whom we are : since a Kite never brought forth a
good flying Hauke. But to tel you true, as I thinke it super-
fluous to use any wordes of such a subject, which is so praised in
it selfe, as it needes no praises ; so withall I feare lest my con-
ceate (not able to reach unto them) bring forth wordes, which
for their unworthines may be a disgrace unto the I so inwardly
honor. Let this suflice, that they are capable of vertue : &

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vertue (ye your selves say) is to be loved, & I too truly : but
this I willingly cofesse, that it likes me much better, vv^hen I
finde vertue in a faire lodging, then when I am bound to seeke
it in an ill favoured creature, like a pearle in a dounghill. As
for my fault of being an uncivill guest to Kalander^ if you could
feele what an inward guest my selfe am host unto : ye would
thinke it very excuseable, in that I rather performe the dueties
of an host, then the ceremonies of a guest. And for my break-
ing the lawes of friendshippe with you, (which I would rather
dye, then effectually doo) truely, I could finde in my hart to aske
you pardon for it, but that your handling of me gives me reason
to my former dealing. And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breath
himselfe, having bene transported with a litle vehemency, because
it seemed him Musidorus had over-bitterly glaunsed against the
reputation of woman-kinde : but then quieting his countenance
(aswell as out of an unquiet mind it might be) he thus proceeded
on : And poore Love (said he) deare cosin, is little beholding
unto you, since you are not contented to spoile it of the honor of
the highest power of the mind, which notable me have attributed
unto it; but ye deje6l it below all other passions, in trueth
somewhat strangely; since, if love receive any disgrace, it is
by the company of these passions you preferre before it. For
those kinds of bitter objedtions (as, that lust, idlenes, and a weak
harte, shoulde be, as it were, the matter and forme of love)
rather touch me, deare Musidorus^ then love: But I am good
witnesse of mine own imperfections, & therefore will not de-
fende my selfe: but herein I must say, you deale contrary to
your self: for if I be so weak, then can you not with reason
stir me up as ye did, by remebrance of my own vertue: or if
indeed I be vertuous, the must ye cofesse, that love hath his
working in a vertuous hart : & so no dout hath it, whatsoever I
be: for if we love vertue, in whom shal we love it but in a
vertuous creature? without your meaning be, I should love this
word vertue^ where I see it written in a book. Those troble-
some effedts you say it breedes, be not the faults of love, but of
him that loves; as an unable vessel to beare such a licour: like
evill eyes, not able to look on the Sun; or like an ill braine,
soonest overthrowe with best wine. Even that heavenly love
vou speake of, is accopanied in some harts with hopes, griefs,
longings, & dispaires. And in that heavely love, since ther are
80

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

two parts, the one the love it self, th'other the excellency of
the thing loved; I, not able at the first leap to frame both
in me, do nov^r (like a diligent workman) make ready the chiefe
instrument, and first part of that great worke, which is love it
self; which whe I have a while pradlised in this sort, then you
shall see me turn it to greater matters. And thus gently you
may (if it please you) think of me. Neither doubt ye, because
I weare a womans apparell, I will be the more womannish, since,
I assure you (for all my apparrel) there is nothing I desire more,
then fully to prove my selfe a man in this enterprise. Much
might be said in my defence, much more for love, and most
of all for that divine creature, which hath joyned me and love
together. But these disputations are fitter for quiet schooles, then
my troubled braines, which are bent rather in deeds to performe,
then in wordes to defende the noble desire which possesseth me.
O Lord (saide Musidorus) how sharp-witted you are to hurt
your selfe? No (answered he) but it is the hurt you speake of,
which makes me so sharp-witted. Even so (said Musidorus)
as every base occupation makes one sharp in that pradlise,
and foolish in all the rest. Nay rather (answered Pyrocles) as
each excellent thing once well learned, serves for a measure of all
other knowledges. And is that become (said Musidorus) a
measure for other things, which never received measure in
it selfe ? It is counted without measure (answered Pyrocles^
because the workings of it are without measure : but otherwise,
in nature it hath measure, since it hath an end allotted unto it.
The beginning being so excellent, I would gladly know the end.
Enjoying, answered Pyrocles^ with a great sigh. O (said Musi-
dorus) now set ye foorth the basenes of it : since if it ende in
enjoying, it shewes all the rest was nothing. Ye mistake me
(answered Pyrocles) I spake of the end to which it is directed ;
which end ends not, no sooner then the life. Alas, let your
owne braine dis-enchaunt you (said Musidorus.) My hart is too
farre possessed (said Pyrocles.) But the head gives you diredlion.
And the hart gives me life; aunswered Pyrocles.

But Musidorus was so greeved to see his welbeloved friend 7
obstinat, as he thought, to his owne destruction, that it forced
him with more then accustomed vehemency, to speake these
words; Well, well, (saide he) you list to abuse your selfe; it
was a very white and red vertue, which you could pick out of a

S. A. F 5l

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

painterly glosse of a visage : Confesse the truth ; and ye shall
finde, the utmost was but beautie ; a thing, which though it be
in as great excellencye in your selfe as may be in any, yet I am
sure you make no further reckning of it, then of an outward
fading benefite Nature bestowed upon you. And yet such is
your want of a true grounded vertue, which must be like it selfe
in all points, that what you wisely account a trifle in your selfe,
you fondly become a slave unto in another. For my part I now
protest, I have left nothing unsaid, which my wit could make
me know, or my most entier friendship to you requires of me;
I do now besech you even for the love betwixt us (if this other
love have left any in you towards me) and for the remembraunce
of your olde careful father (if you can remeber him that forget
your self) lastly for Pyrocles owne sake (who is now upon the
point of falling or rising) to purge your selfe of this vile infection ;
other wise give me leave, to leave of this name of friendsh[i]p,
as an idle title of a thing which cannot be, where vertue is
abolished. The length of these speaches before had not so
much cloied Pyrocles^ though he were very unpatient of long
deliberations, as the last farewel of him he loved as his owne
life, did wound his soule, thinking him selfe afflidted, he was the
apter to conceive unkindnesse deepely: insomuch, that shaking
his head, and delivering some shewe of teares, he thus uttered
his griefes. Alas (said he) prince Musidorus, how cruelly you
deale with me ; if you seeke the vi6lory, take it; and if ye liste,
triumph. Have you all the reason of the world, and with me
remaine all the imperfections; yet such as I can no more lay
from me, then the Crow can be perswaded by the Swanne to
cast of all his black fethers. But truely you deale with me like
a Phisition, that seeing his patient in a pestilent fever, should
chide him, in steede of ministring helpe, and bid him be sick
no more; or rather like such a friend, that visiting his friend
condemned to perpetuall prison ; and loaden with greevous fetters,
should will him to shake of his fetters, or he wuld leave him. I
am sicke, & sicke to the death ; I am a prisoner, neither is any
redresse, but by her to whom I am slave. Now if you list to
leave him that loves you in the hiest degree : But remember ever
to cary this with you, that you abandon your friend in his
greatest extremity.

And herewith the deepe wound of his love being rubbed
82

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

afresh with this new unkindnes, bega (as it were) to bleed
again, in such sort that he was not hable to beare it any-
longer, but gushing out aboundance of teares, and crossing
his armes over his woefull hart, as if his teares had beene
out-flowing blood, his armes an over-pressing burthen, he
suncke downe to the ground, which sodaine traunce went so
to the hart of Musidorus, that falling down by him & kissing
the weping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make
account of his speach ; which if it had bene over vehement, yet
was it to be borne withall, because it came out of a love much
more vehement ; that he had not thought fancie could have re-
ceived so deep a wound : but now finding in him the force of
it, hee woulde no further contrary it ; but imploy all his service
to medicine it, in such sort, as the nature of it required. But
even this kindnes made Pyrocles the more melte in the former
unkindnes, which his manlike teares well shewed, with a silent
look upo Musidorus^ as who should say. And is it possible that
Musidorus should threaten to leave me? And this strooke
Musidorus minde and senses so dumbe too, that for griefe being
not able to say any thing, they rested, with their eyes placed
one upon another, in such sort, as might well paint out the true
passion of unkindnes to be never aright, but betwixt them that
most dearely love.

And thus remayned they a time; till at length, Musidorus
embrasing him, said. And will you thus shake of your friend ?
It is you that shake me of (saide Pyrocles)^ being for my unper-
feftnes unworthie of your friendshippe. But this (said Musi-
dorus) shewes you more unperfe6l, to be cruell to him, that
submits himselfe unto you; but since you are unperfe6t (said he
smiling) it is reason you be governed by us wise and perfeft men.
And that authoritie will I beginne to take upon me, with three
absolute comandements : The first, that you increase not your
evill with further griefes : the second, that you love her with all
the powers of your mind: & the last comandemet shalbe, ye
comand me to do what service I can, towards the attaining of
your desires. Pyrocles hart was not so oppressed with the
mighty passios of love and unkindnes, but that it yeelded to
some mirth at thiscommaundementof it/wi/V(7r«j, that he should
love : so that something cleering his face from his former shewes
of griefe ; Wei (said he) deare cousin, I see by the well choosing

F2 83

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of your commandementes, that you are fitter to be a Prince, then
a Counseller: and therfore I am resolved to imploy all my
endevour to obey you ; with this condition, that the comande-
mentes ye commaund me to lay upon you, shall onely be, that
you continue to love me, and looke upon my imperfe6tions, with
more affection then judgemet. Love you? (said he) alas, how
can my hart be seperated from the true imbrasing of it, without
it burst, by being too full of it? But (said he) let us leave of
these flowers of newe begun frendship: and now I pray you
againe tel me; but tell it me fully, omitting no circumstance,
the storie of your afFe6lions both beginning, and proceeding:
assuring your selfe, that there is nothing so great, which I will
feare to doo for you: nor nothing so small, which I will disdaine
to doo for you. Let me therfore receive a cleere understading,
which many times we misse, while those things we account
small, as a speech, or a look are omitted, like as a whole
sentence may faile of his congruitie, by wanting one particle.
Therefore betweene frends, all must be layd open, nothing
being superfluous, nor tedious. You shalbe obeyed (said Pyrocles)
and here are we in as fitte a place for it as may be ; for this arbor
no body offers to come into but my selfe; I using it as my
melancholy retiring place, and therefore that respedt is born unto
it ; yet if by chace any should come, say that you are a servant
sent from the Q^ of the Amaxons to seeke me, and then let me
alone for the rest. So sate they downe, and Pyrocles thus said.

CHAP. 13.

^How Pyrocles fell in love- with Philoclea. ^His counsell and
course therein. ^ His disguising into Xelmane. * Her meeting
with Damastas, "^Basilius, ^the Queene and her daughters^ ^
their speaches. ''Her abode there over entreated; ^and the
place thereof described,

I /^"^Ousin (saide hee) then began the fatall overthrowe of all
V^ my libertie, when walking among the pictures in Kalanders
house, you your selfe delivered unto mee what you had under-
stood of Philoclea, who -muche resembling (though I must say
much surpassing) the Ladie Zelmane, whom too well I loved:

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

there were mine eyes infedled, & at your mouth did I drinke my
poison. Yet alas so sweete was it unto me, that I could not be
contented, til Kalander had made it more and more strong with
his declaratio. Which the more I questioned, the more pittie I
conceaved of her unworthie fortune : and when with pittie once
my harte was made tender, according to the aptnesse of the
humour, it receaved quickly a cruell impression of that wonder-
ful passio which to be definde is impossible, because no wordes
reach to the strange nature of it: they onely know it, which
inwardly feele it, it is called love. Yet did I not (poore wretch)
at first know my disease, thinking it onely such a woonted kind
of desire, to see rare sights ; & my pitie to be no other, but the
fruits of a gentle nature. But eve this arguing with my selfe
came of further thoughts; & the more I argued, the more my
thoughts encreased. Desirous I was to see the place where she
remained, as though the ArchiteSiure of the lodges would have
bene much for my learning ; but more desirous to see her selfe,
to be judge, forsooth, of the painters cuning. For thus at the
first did I flatter my selfe, as though my wound had bene no
deeper: but when within short time I came to the degree of
uncertaine wishes, and that the wishes grew to unquiet longings,
when I could fix my thoughts upo nothing, but that within little
varying, they should end with Philoclea: when each thing I saw,
seemed to figure out some parts of my passions; whe even
Parthenias faire face became a lefture to me of Philocleas
imagined beautie ; when I heard no word spoken, but that me
thought it caried the sum of Philocleas name : then indeed,
then I did yeeld to the burthen, finding my selfe prisoner,
before I had leasure to arme my selfe ; & that I might well, like
the spaniel, gnaw upon the chaine that ties him, but I should
sooner marre my teeth, then procure liberty.

Yet I take to witnesse the eternall spring of vertue, that I 2
had never read, heard, nor scene any thing; I had never any
tast of Philosophy, nor inward feeling in my selfe, which for a
while I did not call for my succour. But (alas) what resistance
was there, when ere long my very reason was (you will say cor-
rupted) I must needs confesse, conquered ; and that me thought
even reason did assure me, that all eies did degenerate from their
creation, which did not honour such beautie ? Nothing in
trueth could holde any plea with it, but the reverent friend-

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

ship I bare unto you. For as it went against my harte to breake
any way from you, so did I feare more then anie assault to breake
it to you : finding (as it is indeed) that to a hart fully resolute,
counsaile is tedious, but reprehension is lothsome: & that there
is nothing more terrible to a guilty hart, then the eie of a re-
spefted fried. This made me determine with myself, (thinking
it a lesse fault in friedship to do a thing without your knowledge,
then against your wil) to take this secret course : Which con-
ceit was most builded up in me, the last day of my parting and
speaking with you; whe upo your speach with me, & my but
naming love, (when els perchauce I would have gone further) I
saw your voice & coutenance so chaunge, as it assured me, my
revealing it should but purchase your griefe with my cumber :
& therfore (deere Musidorus) eve ran away fro thy wel knowne
chiding : for having writte a letter, which I know not whether
you found or no, & taking my chiefe jewels with me, while you
were in the middest of your sport, I got a time (as I think) un-
marked, to steale away, I cared not whether so I might scape
you : & so came I to Ithonia in the province of Messenia ; wher
lying secret I put this in pradlise which before I had devised.
For remebring by Philanax his letter, & Kaladers speech, how
3 obstinately Basilius was determined not to mary his daughters,
& therfore fearing, lest any publike dealing should rather in-
crease her captivitie, then further my love; Love (the refiner
of inventio) had put in my head thus to disguise my self, that
under that maske I might (if it were possible,) get accesse, and
what accesse could bring forth, commit to fortune & industry :
determining to beare the countenance of an Amaxon. Therfore
in the closest maner I could, naming my selfe Zelmane, for that
deere Ladies sake, to whose memorie I am so much bound, I
caused this apparell to be made, and bringing it neere the lodges,
which are harde at hand, by night, thus dressed my selfe, resting
till occasion might make me found by them, whom I sought :
which the next morning hapned as well, as my owne plot could
have laide it. For after I had runne over the whole petigree of
my thoughts, I gave my selfe to sing a little, which as you know
I ever delighted in, so now especially, whether it be the nature
of this clime to stir up Poeticall fancies, or rather as I thinke, of
love; whose scope being pleasure, will not so much as utter his
griefes, but in some forme of pleasure.
86

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

But I had song very little, when (as I thinke displeased with 4
my bad musike) comes master Dametas with a hedging bill in
his hand, chafing, and swearing by the patable of PallaSy & such
other othes as his rusticall bravery could imagine; & whe he
saw me, I assure you my beauty was no more beholding to him
the my harmony; for leaning his hands upon his bil, & his chin
vpon his hads, with the voice of one that plaieth Hercules in a
play, but never had his fancie in his head, the first word he spake
to me, was, am not I Dametas? why, am not I Dametas? he
needed not name him selfe: for Kalanders description had set
such a note upo him, as made him very notable unto me, and
therefore the height of my thoughts would not discend so much
as to make him any answer, but continued on my inward dis-
courses: which (he perchaunce witnes of his owne unworthines,
& therefore the apter to thinke him selfe contened) tooke in so
hainous manner, that standing upo his tip-toes, and staring as
though he would have a mote pulled out of his eie. Why (said
he) thou woma, or boy, or both, what soever thou be, I tell thee
here is no place for thee, get thee gone, I tell thee it is the Princes
pleasure, I tell thee it is Dametas pleasure. I could not choose,
but smile at him, seeing him looke so like an Ape that had
newly taken a purgation ; yet taking my selfe with the maner,
spake these wordes to my selfe : O spirite (saide I) of mine, how
canst thou receave anie mirth in the midst of thine agonies, and
thou mirth how darest thou enter into a minde so growne of late
thy professed enemie ? Thy spirite (saide Dametas) doost thou
thinke me a spirite ? I tell thee I am Basilius officer, and have
charge of him, and his daughters. O onely pearle (said I sob-
bing) that so vile an oyster should keepe thee ? By the combe-
case of Diana (sware Dametas) this woman is mad : oysters, and
pearles ? doost thou thinke I will buie oysters ? I tell thee once
againe get thee packing, and with that lifted up his bill to hit
me with the blunt ende of it : but indeede that put me quite out
of my lesson, so that I forgat al Zelmanes-ship^ and drawing out
my sworde, the basenesse of the villaine yet made me stay my
hande, and he (who, as Kalander tolde me, from his childehood
ever feared the blade of a sworde) ran backe, backward (with his
hands above his head) at lest twentie paces, gaping and staring,
with the verie grace (I thinke) of the clownes, that by Latonas
prayers were turned into Frogs. At length staying, finding

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

himselfe without the compasse of blowes, he fell to a fresh
scolding, in such mannerlie manner, as might well shewe he had
passed through the discipline of a Taverne. But seeing me
walke up and downe, without marking what he saide, he went
his way (as I perceived after) to Bastlius: for within a while he
came unto mee, bearing in deed shewes in his countenaunce of
an honest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much
courtesie, as Dametas with rudenesse saluting me, Faire Lady
(saide he) it is nothing strange, that such a solitary place as this
should receive solitary persons; but much do I marvaile, how
such a beauty as yours is, should be suffered to be thus alone. I
(that now knew it was my part to play) looking with a grave
majestie upon him, as if I found in my selfe cause to be rever-
enced. They are never alone (saide I) that are accompanied
with noble thoughts. But those thoughts (replied Basilius)
canot in this your lonelines neither warrant you from suspition
in others, nor defend you from melancholy in your selfe. I then
shewing a mislike that he pressed me so farre, I seeke no better
warraunt (saide I) then my owne conscience, nor no greater
pleasures, then mine owne contentation. Yet vertue seekes to
satisfie others, (saide Basilius.) Those that be good (saide I,)
and they wil be satisfied as long as they see no evill. Yet will
the best in this country, (said Basilius) suspe6t so excellent a
beauty being so weakely garded. Then are the best but starke
nought, (aunswered I) for open suspedling others, comes of
secrete condemning themselves; But in my countrie (whose
manners I am in all places to maintaine and reverence) the
generall goodnes (which is nourished in our harts) makes
every one thinke the strength of vertue in an other, whereof
they finde the assured foundation in themselves. Excellent
Ladie (said he) you praise so greatly, (and yet so wisely) your
coutry, that I must needes desire to know what the nest is, out
of which such Byrds doo flye. You must first deserve it (said I)
before you may obtaine it. And by what meanes (saide
Basilius) shall I deserve to know your estate ? By letting me
first knowe yours (aunswered I.) To obey you (said he) I will
doe it, although it were so much more reason, yours should be
knowen first, as you doo deserve in all points to be preferd.
Know you (faire Lady) that my name is Basilius^ unworthily
Lord of this coutry: the rest, either fame hath brought to your
88

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

eares, or (if it please you to make this place happie by your
presence) at more leasure you shall understand of me. I that
from the beginning assured my selfe it was he, but would not
seeme I did so, to keepe my gravitie the better, making a peece of
reverece unto him, Mighty Prince (said I) let my not knowing
you serve for the excuse of my boldnes, and the little reverence
I doe you, impute it to the manner of my coutry, wh[i]ch is
the invincible Lande of the Ama%ons ; My selfe neece to Senicia,
Queene thereof, lineally descended of the famous Penthesileay
slaine by the bloody hand of Pyrrhus. I having in this my
youth determined to make the worlde see the Ama%ons excel-
lencies, aswell in private, as in publicke vertue, have passed
some daungerous adventures in divers coutries : till the unmerci-
full Sea deprived me of my company: so that shipwrack casting
me not far hence, uncertaine wandring brought me to this place.
But Basilius (who now began to tast that, which since he hath
swallowed up, as I will tell you) fell to more cunning intreating
my aboad, then any greedy host would use to well paying
passingers. I thought nothing could shoot righter at the mark
of my desires; yet had I learned alredy so much, that it was
aganst my womanhoode to be forward in my owne wishes.
And therefore he (to prove whither intercessions in fitter
mouths might better prevaile) commaunded Dametas to bring
forth-with his wife and daughters thether; three Ladies,
although of divers, yet all of excellent beauty.

His wife in grave Matronlike attire, with countenaunce and 6
gesture sutable, and of such fairnes (being in the strengh of her
age) as if her daughters had not bene by, might with just price
have purchased admiration ; but they being there, it was enough
that the most dainty eye would thinke her a worthy mother of
such children. The faire Pamela^ whose noble hart I finde doth
greatly disdaine, that the trust of her vertue is reposed in such a
louts hands as Dametas, had yet to shew an obedience, taken on
a shepeardish apparell, which was but of Russet cloth cut after
their fashion, with a straight body, open brested, the nether parte
fill of pleights, with long and wide sleeves : but beleeve me she
did apparell her apparell, and with the pretiousnes of her body
made it most sumptuous. Her haire at the full length, wound
about with gold lace, onely by the comparison to see how farre
her haire doth excell in colour: betwixt her breasts (which

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

sweetly rase up like two faire Mountainets in the pleasaunt
valley of Tempi) there honge a very riche Diamond set but in a
blacke home, the worde I have since read is this ; yet still my
selfe. And thus particularly have I described them, because
you may know that mine eyes are not so partiall, but that I
marked them too. But when the ornament of the Earth, the
modell of heaven, the Triumphe of Nature, the light of beauty,
Queene of Love, youg Philoclea appeared in her Nimphe-like
apparell, so neare nakednes, as one might well discerne part of
her perfections; & yet so apparelled, as did shew she kept best
store of her beuty to her self: her haire (alas too poore a word,
why should I not rather call the her beames) drawe up into a net,
able to take Jupiter when he was in the forme of an Eagle; her
body (O sweet body) covered with a light taffeta garment, so
cut, as the wrought smocke came through it in many places,
inough to have made your restraind imaginatio have thought
what was under it: with the cast of her blacke eyes; blacke
indeed, whether nature so made them, that we might be the
more able to behold & bear their woderfull shining, or that she,
(goddesse like) would work this miracle in her selfe, in giving
blacknes the price above all beauty. Then (1 say) indeede me
thought the Lillies grew pale for envie, the roses me thought
blushed to see sweeter roses in her cheekes, & the apples me
thought, fell downe fro the trees, to do homage to the apples of
her breast ; Then the cloudes gave place, that the heaves might
more freshly smile upo her; at the lest the cloudes of my thoughts
quite vanished: and my sight (then more cleere and forcible
then ever) was so fixed there, that (I imagine) I stood like a well
wrought image, with some life in shew, but none in practise.
And so had I beene like inough to have stayed long time, but
that Gynecia stepping betweene my sight and the onely Philoclea,
the chaunge of objeft made mee recover my senses: so that
I coulde with reasonable good manner receive the salutation of
her, and of the Princesse Pamela, doing the yet no further
reverece then one Prince useth to another. But when I came
to the never-inough praised Philoclea, I could not but fall downe
on my knees, and taking by force her hand, and kissing it (I
must confesse) with more then womanly ardency, Divine Lady,
(saide I) let not the worlde, nor these great princes marvaile, to
se me (contrary to my manner) do this especiall honor unto you,

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

since all both men and women, do owe this to the perfection of
your beauty. But she blushing (like a faire morning in Maye)
at this my singularity, and causing me to rise. Noble Lady, (saide
she) it is no marvaile to see your judgement mistaken in my
beauty, since you beginne with so great an errour, as to do more
honour unto me then to them, whom I my selfe owe all service.
Rather (answered I with a bowed downe countenaunce) that
shewes the power of your beauty, which forced me to do such
an errour, if it were an errour. You are so well acquainted
(saide she sweetely, most sweetely smiling,) with your owne
beautie, that it makes you easilie fall into the discourse of beauty.
Beauty in me ? (said I truely sighing) alas if there be any, it is
in my eyes, which your blessed presence hath imparted unto
them.

But then (as I thinke) Basilius willing her so do. Well 7
(saide she) I must needs confesse I have heard that it is a great
happines to be praised of them that are most praise worthie ;
And well I finde that you are an invincible Amaxon^ since you
will overcome, though ih a wrong matter. But if my beauty
be any thing, then let it obtaine thus much of you, that you will
remaine some while in this copanie, to ease your owne travail,
and our solitarines. First let me dye (said I) before any word
spoken by such a mouth, should come in vaine.

And thus with some other wordes of entertaining, was my
staying concluded, and I led among them to the lodge; truely
a place for pleasantnes, not unfitte to flatter solitarinesse ; for it
being set upon such an unsensible rising of the ground, as you
are come to a prety height before almost you perceive that you
ascend, it gives the eye lordship over a good large circuit, which
according to the nature of the coutry, being diversified betwene
hills and dales, woods and playnes, one place more cleere, and
the other more darksome, it seemes a pleasant picture of nature,
with lovely lightsomnes and artificiall shadowes. The Lodge is
of a yellow stone, built in the forme of a starre ; having round
about a garden framed into like points : and beyond the gardein,
ridings cut out, each aunswering the Angles of the Lodge : at the
end of one of them is the other smaller Lodge, but of like
fashion ; where the gratious Pamela liveth : so that the Lodge
seemeth not unlike a faire Cometey whose taile stretcheth it selfe
to a starre of lesse greatnes.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 14.

^ The devises of the first banket to Zelmane. ^ Her crosses in love^
^ by the love (?/"Basilius ^ and Gyntcidi ^ The conclusion between
Musidorus and Zelmane.

I O O Gynecia her selfe bringing me to my Lodging, anone after
»^ I was invited and brought downe to suppe with them in
the gardein, a place not fairer in naturall ornaments, then arti-
ficial! inventions: wherein is a banquetting house among certaine
pleasant trees, whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings
about of Vine branches. The table was set neere to an excellent
water- worke; for by the casting of the water in most cun-
ning maner, it makes (with the shining of the Sunne upon it) a
perfedt rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye then to the mind,
so sensibly to see the proof of the heavenly Iris, There were
birds also made so finely, that they did not onely deceive the
sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs ; which
the watrie instruments did make their gorge deliver. The table
at which we sate, was round, which being fast to the floore
whereon we sate, and that devided from the rest of the buildings
(with turning a vice, which Basilius at first did to make me
sport) the table, and we about the table, did all turne rounde, by
meanes of water which ranne under, and carried it about as a
Mille. But alas, what pleasure did it to mee, to make divers
times the full circle round about, since Philoclea (being also set)
was carried still in equall distance from me, and that onely my
eyes did overtake her ; which when the table was stayed, and
wee beganne to feede, dranke much more eagerlie of her beautie,
then my mouth did of any other licour. And so was my com-
mon sense deceived (being chiefly bent to her) that as I dranke
the wine, and withall stale a looke on her, me seemed I tasted
her deliciousnesse. But alas, the one thirste was much more
inflamed, then the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would
lay themselves open to receive all the dartes she did throwe,
somtimes cloze up with admiration, as if with a contrary fancie,
they woulde preserve the riches of that sight they had gotten,
or cast my lidde as curtaines over the image of beautie, her
92

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

presence had painted in them. True it is, that my Reason (now
growen a servant to passion) did yet often tel his master, that he
should more moderatly use his delight. But he, that of a
rebell was become a Prince, disdayned almost to allow him the
place of a Counseller: so that my senses delights being too
strog for any other resolution, I did even loose the raines unto
them : hoping, that (going for a woman) my lookes would passe,
either unmarked, or unsuspected.

Now thus I had (as me thought) well playd my first a6te, 2
assuring my selfe, that under that disguisment, I should find
opportunitie to reveal my self to the owner of my harte. But
who would thinke it possible (though I feele it true) that in
almost eight weekes space, I have lived here (having no more
companie but her parents, and I being familiar, as being a
woman, and watchfuU, as being a lover) yet could never finde
opportunitie to have one minutes leasure of privie conference :
the cause whereof is as strange, as the efFedls are to me miser-
able. And (alas) this it is.

At the first sight that Basiltus had of me (I think Cupid Z
having headed his arrows with my misfortune) he was striken
(taking me to be such as I professe) with great afFe(5li6 towards
me, which since is growen to such a doting love, that (till I was
faine to gette this place, sometimes to retire unto freely) I was
even choaked with his tediousnes. You never saw fourscore
yeares daunce up and downe more lively in a young Lover:
now, as fine in his apparrell, as if he would make me in love
with a cloake ; and verse for verse with the sharpest-witted
Lover in Arcadia. Doo you not think that this is a sallet of
woormwood, while mine eyes feede upon the Ambrosia of
Philocleas beauty.

But this is not all ; no this is not the worst ; for he (good
man) were easy enough to be dealt with: but (as I thinke)
Love and mischeefe having made a wager, which should have
most power in me, have set Gynecia also on such a fire towardes
me, as will never (I feare) be quenched but with my destruction.
For she (being a woman of excellent witte, and of strong work-
ing thoughts) whether she suspected me by my over-vehement
showes of affection to Philoclea (which love forced me unwisely to
utter, while hope of my maske foolishly incouraged me) or that
she hath take some other marke of me, that I am not a woman :

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

or what devil it is hath revealed it unto her, I know not ; but so
it is, that al her countenances, words and gestures, are miserable
portraitures of a desperate afFedion. Whereby a man may
learne, that these avoydings of companie, doo but make the
passions more violent, when they meete with fitte subjedts.
Truely it were a notable dumb shew of Cupids kingdome, to
see my eyes (languishing with over-vehement longing) direct
themselves to Philoclea : h Basilius as busie about me as a Bee,
& indeed as cumbersome ; making such suits to me, who nether
could if I would ; nor would if I could, helpe him : while the
terrible witte of Gynecia, carried with the beere of violent love,
runnes thorow us all. And so jelious is she of my love to her
daughter, that I could never yet beginne to open my mouth to
the unevitable Philoclea^ but that her unwished presence gave my
tale a coclusion, before it had a beginning.

And surely if I be not deceived, I see such shewes of liking,
and (if I bee acquainted with passions) of almost a passionate liking
in the heavenly Philoclea^ towardes me, that I may hope her
eares would not abhorre my discourse. And for good Basilius^
he thought it best to have lodged us together, but that the
eternall hatefulnes of my destinie, made Gynecias jelousie stoppe
that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I confesse, that one
way her love doth me pleasure: for since it was my foolish
fortune, or unfortunate follie, to be knowen by her, that keepes
her from bewraying me to Basilius. And thus (my Musidorus)
you have my Tragedie played unto you by my selfe, which I
pray the gods may not in deede proove a Tragedie. And there
he ended, making a full point of a hartie sigh.
5 Musidorus recomended to his best discourse, all which
Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricatenes,
that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze ; yet
perceiving his afFedtion so grouded, that striving against it, did
rather anger then heale the wound, and rather call his friend-
shippe in question, then give place to any friendly counsell.
Well (said he) deare cosin, since it hath pleased the gods to
mingle your other excellencies with this humor of love, yet
happie it is, that your love is imployed upon so rare a woman:
for certainly, a noble cause dooth ease much a grievous case.
But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I canot see
wherein I can be servisable unto you. I desire no greater

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

service of you (aswered Py rocks) the that you remayn secretly
in this country, & some-times come to this place ; either late in
the night, or early in the morning, where you shal have my
key to eter, bicause as my fortune, eyther amendes or empaires.
I may declare it unto you, and have your counsell and further-
aunce : & hereby I will of purpose lead her, that is the prayse,
and yet the staine of all womankinde, that you may have so
good a view, as to allowe my judgement: and as I can get the
most convenient time, I wil come unto you ; for though by
reason of yonder wood you cannot see the Lodge ; it is harde
at hande. But now, (said she) it is time for me to leave you,
and towardes evening wee will walke out of purpose hether-
ward, therefore keepe your selfe close in that time. But
Musidorus bethinking him selfe that his horse might happen
to bewray them, thought it best to returne for that day, to
a village not farre of, and dispatching his horse in some sorte,
the next day early to come a foote thither, and so to keepe that
course afterward, which Pyrocles very well liked of. Now fare-
well deere cousin (said he) from me, no more Pyrocles^ nor
Daiphantus now, but Zelmane : Ze/mane is my name, Ze/mane is
my title, Zelmane is the onely hope of my advauncement. And
with that word going out, and seeing that the coast was cleare,
Zelmane dismissed Musidorus^ who departed as full of care to
helpe his friend, as before he was to disswade him.

CHAP. 15.

^ The Labyrinth of Zelmanes love. ^ The Ladies exercises, ' The
challenge of Phalantus in paragon of Artexias beautie. * The
description of their persons and affections : ' and occasion of
this challenge, ^ The successe thereof abroad.

ZElmane returned to the Lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea^ I
watched by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a
horse, desirous to runne, and miserablie spurred, but so short
rainde, as he cannot stirre forward : Zelmane sought occasion to
speake with Philoclea ; Basilius with Zelmane ; and Gynecia
hindered them all. If Philoclea hapned to sigh (and sigh she

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did often) as if that sigh were to be wayted on, Zelmane sighed
also ; whereto Basilius and Gynecia soone made up foure parts of
sorow. Their affe6lion increased their conversation i and their
conversation increased their affection. The respedt borne bredde
due ceremonies ; but the affection shined so through them, that
the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmanes eyes were
(Hke children afore sweet meate) eager, but fearefuU of their ill-
pleasing governors. Time in one instant, seeming both short,
and long unto them : short, in the pleasingnes of such presence :
long, in the stay of their desires.

2 But Zelmane fayled not to intice them all many times abroad,
because she was desirous her friend Musidorus (neere whom of
purpose she ledde them) might have full sight of them. Some-
times angling to a little River neere hand, which for the moisture
it bestowed upon rootes of some flourishing Trees, was rewarded
with their shadowe. There would they sitte downe, & pretie
wagers be made betweene Pamela and Philoclea, which could
soonest beguile silly fishes; while Zelmane protested, that the
fitte pray for them was hartes of Princes. She also had an
angle in her hand ; but the taker was so taken, that she had
forgotten taking. Basilius in the meane time would be the
cooke him selfe of what was so caught, & Gynecia sit stil, but
with no stil pensifnesse. Now she brought them to see a seeled
Dove, who the blinder she was, the higher she strave. Another
time a Kite, which having a gut cunningly pulled out of her,
and so let flie, called all the Kites in that quarter, who (as often-
times the worlde is deceaved) thinking her prosperous when
indeed she was wounded, made the poore Kite find, that opinion
of riches may wel be dangerous.

3 But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more
gallant shew ; for one evening as Basilius returned from having
forced his thoughts to please themselves in such small conquests,
there came a shepheard, who brought him word that a Gentle-
ma desired leave to do a message from his Lord unto him,
Basilius granted ; wherupon the Gentleman came, and aftel
the dutifull ceremonies observed, in his maisters name tol(
him, that he was sent from Phalatus of Corinth^ to crave
licence, that as he had done in many other courts, so he mighl
in his presence defie all Arcadian Knights in the behalfe of his
mistres beautie, who would besides, her selfe in person be pre-

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

sent, to give evident proofe vv^hat his launce should affirme.
The conditions of his chalenge were, that the defendant should
bring his mistresse pidlure, vs^hich being set by the image of
Artesia (so was the mistresse of Phalantus named) who in six
courses should have better of the other, in the judgement of
Basi/ius, with him both the honors and the pictures should
remaine. Bastlim (though he had retired him selfe into that
solitarie dwelling, with intention to avoid, rather then to accept
any matters of drawing company ; yet because he would enter-
taine Zelmaney (that she might not think the time so gainefull to
him, losse to her) graunted him to pitch his tent for three dayes,
not farre from the lodge, and to proclayme his chalenge, that
what Arcadian Knight (for none els but upon his peril! was
licensed to come) woulde defende what he honored against
PhalantuSy should have the like freedome of accesse and returne.

This obteyned and published, Zelmane being desirous to 4
learne what this Phalantus was, having never knowne him
further then by report of his owne good, in somuch as he was
commonly called. The faire man of armes, Basilius told her
that he had had occasion by one very inward with him, to
knowe in parte the discourse of his life, which was, that he
was bastard-brother to the faire Helen Queene of Corinth^ and
deerly esteemed of her for his exceeding good parts, being
honorablie courteous, and wronglesly valiaunt, considerately
pleasant in conversation, & an excellent courtier without un-
faithfulnes ; who (finding his sisters unperswadeable melancholy,
thorow the love of Amphialus) had for a time left her court, and
gone into Laconia : where in the warre against the Helots,
he had gotte the reputatio of one, that both durst & knew.
But as it was rather choise the nature, that led him to matters
of armes, so as soon as the spur of honor ceased, he willingly
rested in peaceable delightes, being beloved in all copanies for
his lovely qualities, & (as a ma may terme it) cunning chere-
fulnes, wherby to the Prince & Court of Laconia, none was
more agreable the Phalantus: and he not given greatly to
struggle with his owne disposition, followed the gentle currant
of it, having a fortune sufficient to content, & he content with
a sufficient fortune. But in that court he sawe, and was ac-
quainted with this Artesia, whose beautie he now defendes,
became her servant, said him selfe, and perchaunce thought
s. A. G 97

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him sclfe her lover. But certainly, (said Basilius) many times
it falles out, that these young companies make themselves
beleeve they love at the first liking of a likely beautie ; loving,
because they will love for want of other businesse, not because
they feele indeed that divine power, which makes the heart
finde a reason in passion : and so (God knowes) as inconstantly
leane upon the next chaunce that beautie castes before them.
So therefore taking love uppon him like a fashion, he courted
this Ladie Artesia^ who was as fit to paie him in his owne monie
as might be. For she thinking she did wrong to her beautie if she
were not prowde of it, called her disdaine of him chastitie, and
placed her honour in little setting by his honouring her : de-
termining never to marrie, but him, whome she thought worthie
of her : and that was one, in whome all worthinesse were
harboured. And to this conceipt not onely nature had bent
her, but the bringing up she receaved at my sister in lawe
Cecropia, had confirmed her : who having in her widowhood
taken this young Artesia into her charge ; because her Father
had bene a deare friend of her dead husbandes, and taught her
to thinke that there is no wisdome but in including heaven
& earth in ones self: and that love, courtesie, gratefulnesse,
friendship, and all other vertues are rather to be taken on, then
taken in ones selfe : And so good discipline she found of her,
that liking the fruits of her owne planting, she was cotent (if so
her Sonne could have liked of it) to have wished her in marriage
to my Nephew Amphlalus. But I thinke that desire hath lost
some of his heate, since she hath knowne, that such a Queene
as Helen is, doth offer so great a price as a kingdome, to buie his
favour ; for if I be not deceaved in my good sister Cecropia^
shee thinks no face so beautifull, as that which lookes under a
crowne. But Artesia indeede liked well of my Nephew Am-
phialus ; for I ca never deeme that love, which in hauty harts
proceeds of a desire onely to please, and as it were, peacock
themselves ; but yet she hath shewed vehemencie of desire that
way, I thinke, because all her desires be vehemet, in so much
that she hath both placed her onely brother (a fine youth called
Ismenus) to be his squire, and her selfe is content to waite upon
my sister, till she may see the uttermost what she may worke in
Amphialus : who being of a melancholie (though I must needes
saye courteous and noble) mind, seems to love nothing lesse then

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Love : & of late having through some adventure, or inwarde
miscontentment, withdrawne him selfe fro any bodies know-
ledge, where he is : Artesia the easier condiscended to goe to the
court of Laconia^ whether she was sent for by the Kinges wife,
to whome she is somewhat allied.

And there after the war of the Helots^ this Knight Pha-
lantuSy (at least for tongue-delight) made him selfe her servaunt,
and she so little caring, as not to showe mislike thereof, was
content onely to be noted to have a notable servaunt. For
truely one in my court neerely acquainted with him, within
these few dayes made me a pleasaunt description of their love,
while he with cheerefull lookes would speake sorowfull words,
using the phrase of his affe6tion in so high a stile, that Mercurie
would not have wooed Venus with more magnificent Eloquence :
but els neyther in behaviour, nor aftion, accusing in him selfe
anie great trouble in minde, whether he sped or no. And she
of the other side, well finding howe little it was, and not caring
for more, yet taught him, that often it falleth out but a foolishe
wittinesse, to speake more then one thinkes.

For she made earnest benefite of his jest, forcing him in 5
respe6t of his promise, to doo her suche service, as were both
cumbersome and costly unto him, while he stil thought he went
beyond her, because his harte did not commit the idolatrie. So
that lastlie, she (I thinke) having in minde to make the fame of
her beautie an oratour for her to Amph'ialus^ (perswading her
selfe perhaps, that it might fall out in him, as it dothe in some
that have delightfull meate before them, and have no stomacke
to it, before other folkes prayse it) she tooke the advauntage one
daye uppon Phalantus unconscionable praysinges of her, and
certaine cast-awaie vowes, howe much he would doo for her
sake, to arrest his woord assoone as it was out of his mouth, and
by the vertue thereof to charge him to goe with her thorow all
the courts of Greece^ & with the chalenge now made, to give
her beauty the principality over all other. Phalantus was
entrapped, and saw round about him, but could not get out.
Exceedinglie perplexed he was (as he confest to him that tolde
mee the tale) not for doubt hee had of him selfe (for indeede
he had litle cause, being accounted, with his Launce especially
(whereupon the challenge is to be tryed) as perfect as any that
Greece knoweth ; but because he feared to offend his sister

G2 99

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HeUn^ and with all (as he said) he could not so much beleeve
his love, but that he might thinke in his hart (whatsoever
his mouth affirmed) that both she, my daughters, and the
faire Parthenia (wife to a most noble Gentleman, my wives
neere kinsman) might far better put in their clayme for that
prerogative. But his promise had bound him prentice, and
therfore it was now better with willingnes to purchase thankes,
then with a discontented doing to have the paine, and not the
reward : and therefore went on, as his faith, rather then love,
did lead him.
6 And now hath he already passed the courts of Laconia, Elis^
Argoi and Corinth : and (as many times it happes) that a good
pleader makes a bad cause to prevaile ; so hath his Lawnce
brought captives to the triumph of Artesias beauty, such, as
though Jrtesia be among the fairest, yet in that company were
to have the preheminence: for in those courts many knights
(that had bene in other far countries) defeded such as they had
seene, and liked in their travaile : but their defence had bene
such ; as they had forfayted the picture of their Ladies, to give
a forced false testimonie to Artesias excellencie. And now
lastly is he come hether, where he hath leave to trye his fortune.
But I assure you, if I thought it not in dew & true cosideratio an
injurious service & churlish curtesie, to put the danger of so
noble a title in the deciding of such a dagerles cobat, I would
make yong master Phalantus know, that your eyes can sharpe a
blut Launce, and that age, which my graye haires (onely gotten
by the loving care of others) make seeme more then it is, hath
not diminished in me the power to proted an undeniable verity.
With that he bustled up himselfe, as though his harte would
faine have walked abroad. Zelmane with an inwarde smiling
gave him outward thanks, desiring him to reserve his force for
worthier causes.

100

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

CHAP. i6.

^ Phalantus and Artesias pompous entraunce. ^ The painted muster
of an eleven conquered beauties.

SO passing their time according to their woont, they wayted
for the coming of Phalantus^ who the next morning
having alredy caused his tents to be pitched, neere to a faire
tree hard by the Lodge, had uppon the tree made a shield to bee
hanged up, which the defendant should strike, that woulde call
him to the mainteyning his challendge. The Impresa in the
shield ; was a heaven full of starres, with a speech signifying,
that it was the beauty which gave it the praise.

Himselfe came in next after a triumphant chariot, made of
Carnatio velvet inriched with purle & pearle, wherein Artesia
sat, drawne by foure winged horses with artificiall flaming
mouths, and fiery winges, as if she had newly borrowed them
of Phoebus. Before her marched, two after two, certaine foote-
me pleasantly attired, who betweene them held one pi6lure after
another of them that by Phalantus well running had lost the
prize in the race of beauty, and at every pace they stayed, turn-
ing the pictures to each side, so leasurely, that with perfedl
judgement they might be discerned.

The first that came in (foiowing the order of the time i
wherein they had bene wonne) was the pi6lure of Andromana^
Queene of Iberia ; whom a Laconian Knight having sometime
(and with speciall favour) served, (though some yeares since
retourned home) with more gratefulnes then good fortune
defended. But therein Fortune had borrowed witte ; for in-
deede she was not coparable to Artesia ; not because she was
a good deale elder (for time had not yet beene able to impoverish
her store thereof) but an exceeding red haire with small eyes,
did (like ill companions) disgrace the other assembly of most
commendable beauties.

Next after her was borne the counterfaite of the princesse 2
of Elis^ a Lady that taught the beholders no other point of
beauty, but this, that as lyking is, not alwaies the child of

lOI

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

beauty, so whatsoever liketh ; is beautyfull ; for in that visage
there was nether Majestie, grace, favour, nor fairenesse; yet
she wanted not a servaunt that woulde have made her fairer then
the faire Arteiia. But he wrote her praises with his helmet
in the dust, and left her picture to be as true a witnes of his
overthrow, as his running was of her beauty.

3 After her was the goodly Artaxia^ great Q^ of Armenia^
a Lady upon whom nature bestowed, & wel placed her delight-
ful colours ; & withal, had proportioned her without any fault,
quickly to be discovered by the senses, yet altogether seemed not
to make up that harmony, that Cupid delights in; the reaso
wherof might seem a mannish countenance, which overthrew
that lovely sweetnes, the noblest power of womankinde, farre
fitter to prevaile by parley, then by battell.

4 Of a farre contrary consideratio was the representation of
her that next followed, which was Erona Queene of Licia^ who
though of so browne a haire, as no man should have injuried it
to have called it blacke, and that in the mixture of her cheeks
the white did so much overcome the redde (though what was,
was very pure) that it came neare to palenes,and that her face was
a thought longer then the exafte Symmetrians perhaps would
allow ; yet love plaid his part so well, in everie part, that it
caught holde of the judgement, before it could judge, making it
first love, & after acknowledge it faire, for there was a certaine
dclicacie, which in yeelding, conquered; & with a pitiful looke
made one find cause to crave helpe himselfe.

5 After her came two Ladies, of noble, but not of royall
birth: the former was named Baccha, who though very faire,
and of a fatness rather to allure, then to mislike, yet her brests
over-familiarly laide open, with a mad countenaunce about her
mouth, betweene simpring & smyling, her head bowed som-
what down, seemed to laguish with over-much idlenes, with an
inviting look cast upward, disswading with too much perswad-
ing, while hope might seem to overcome desire.

^ A • ^'^^ ^^^^^ (whose name was written Leucippe) was of a fine
damtmcs of beauty, her face carying in it a sober simplicitie ;
like one that could do much good, & ment no hurt, her eyes
having m them such a cheerefulnes, as nature seemed to smile
in them: though her mouth and cheekes obeyed that prety
dcmurencs which the more one markes, the more one woulde
102

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

judge the poore soule apt to beleve ; & therfore the more pitie
to deceive her.

Next came the Queene of Laconia^ one that seemed borne 7
in the confines of beauties kingdome: for all her lineamets
were neither perfect possessions thereof, nor absent strangers
thereto : but she was a Queene, and therefore beautyfull.

But she that followed, conquered indeed with being 8
conquered; & might well have made all the beholders waite
upo her triumph, while her selfe were led captive. It was the
excelletly-faire Queene Helen, whose lacinth haire curled by-
nature, & intercurled by arte (like a fine brooke through golde
sads) had a rope of faire pearles, which now hiding, now hidden
by the haire, did as it were play at fast or loose, each with
other, mutually giving & receiving riches. In her face so
much beautie & favour expressed, as if Helen had not bene
knowe, some would rather have judged it the painters exercise,
to shew what he could do, the couterfaiting of any living
patterne: for no fault the most fault finding wit could have
foud, if it were not, that to the rest of the body the face was
somewhat too little : but that little was such a sparke of beauty,
as was able to enflame a world of love. For every thing was
full of a choyce finenes, that if it wated any thing in majestie,
it supplied it with increase of pleasure; & if at the first it
strake not admiration, it ravished with delight. And no in-
difFeret soule there was, which if it could resist fro subje6ling
it self to make it his princesse, that would not log to have such
a playfelow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious,
though the look (fixt with more sadnes the it seemed nature
had bestowed to any that knew her fortune) bewraied, that as
she used those ornamets, not for her self, but to prevaile with
another, so she feared, that all would not serve.

Of a farre differing (though esteemed equall) beautie, was 9
the faire Parthenta, who next wayted on Artesias triumph,
though farre better she might have sitte in the throne. For in
her every thing was goodly, and stately ; yet so, that it might
seeme that great-mindednes was but the auncient-bearer to
humblenes. For her great graie eye, which might seem full of
her owne beauties, a large, and exceedingly faire forhead, with
all the rest of her face and body, cast in the mould of Noblenes;
was yet so attired, as might shew, the mistres thought it either

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not to deserve, or not to need any exquisite decking, having no
adorning but cleanlines ; and so farre from all arte, that it was
full of carelesnesse : unlesse that carelesnesse it selfe (in spite of it
selfe) grew artificiall. But Basilius could not abstaine from
praising Parthenia^ as the perfe6l pidure of a womanly vertue,
and wively faithfulnes: telling withall Xelmane^ how he had
understooae, that when in the court of Laconia^ her pi6ture
(maintained- by a certaine Sycionian Knight) was lost, thorow
want, rather of valour, then justice : her husband (the famous
Argalus) would in a chafe have gone and redeemed it with a
new triall. But she (more sporting then sorrowing for her
undeserved champion) tolde her husbande, she desired to be
beautifull in no bodies eye but his; and that she would rather
marre her face as evill as ever it was, then that it should be a
cause to make Argalus put on armour. Then would Basilius
have tolde ZelmanCy that which she alredie knew, of the rare
triall df their coupled afFe6tion : but the next pifture made the
mouth give place to their eyes.

10 It was of a young mayd, which sate pulling out a thorne
out of a Lambs foote, with her looke so attentive uppon it, as
if that little foote coulde have bene the circle of her thoughts;
her apparell so poore, as it had nothing but the inside to
adorne it; a shephooke lying by her with a bottle upon it.
But with al that povertie, beauty plaid the prince, and com-
manded as many harts as the greatest Queene there did. Her
beautie and her estate made her quicklie to be knowne to be
the faire shepheardesse, Urania^ whom a rich knight called
Lacemon^ farre in love with her, had unluckely defended.

11 The last of all in place, because last in the time of her
being captive, was Zelmane^ daughter to the King Plexirtus:
who at the first sight seemed to have some resembling of
Philocleay but with more marking (coparing it to the present
Philoc/ea, who indeed had no paragon but her sister) they might
see, it was but such a likenesse, as an unperfedt glasse doth
give ; aunswerable enough in some feitures, & colors, but erring
in others. But Zelmane sighing, turning to Basilius, Alas sir
(said she) here be some pidures which might better become the
t6bes of their Mistresses, then the triumphe of Artesia. It is
true sweetest Lady (saide Basilius) some of them be dead, and
some other captive: But that hath happened so late, as it may
104

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

be the Knightes that defended their beauty, knew not so much :
without we will say (as in some harts I know it would fall out)
that death it selfe could not blot out the image which love hath
engrave in the. But divers besides these (said Basilius) hath
Phalantus woon, but he leaves the rest, carying onely such,
who either for greatnes of estate, or of beauty, may justly
glorifie the glory of Jrtesias triumph.

CHAP. 17.

^ The overthrow of five Arcadian knights. ^ The young shepheards
prettte challenge. ^ What passions the sixth knights foyle hredde
in Zelmane. ^ Clitophon hardly overmatched by Phalantus.
" The ill arayed^ ^ the black knights contention for prior it ie
against Phalantus. ^ The halting knights complaint against
the black knight. "^ Phalantus fall by the ill furnisht knight.
^ The crosse-parting of Phalantus with Artesia, ^ and who the
viSior was.

THus talked Basilius with Zelmane^ glad to make any matter I
subjedt to speake of, with his mistresse, while Phalantus
in this pompous manner, brought Artesia with her getlewome,
into one Tent, by which he had another: where they both
wayted who would first strike upon the shielde, while Basilius
the Judge appointed sticklers, and trumpets, to whom the other
should obey. But non that day appeared, nor the next, till
already it had consumed halfe his allowance of light; but then
there came in a knight, protesting himselfe as contrarie to him
in minde, as he was in apparrell. For Phalantus was all in
white, having in his bases, and caparison imbroidered a waving
water: at each side whereof he had nettings cast over, in
which were divers fishes naturally made, & so pretily, that as
the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to strive, and leape in the
nette.

But the other knight, by name Nestor^ by birth an Arcadian^
& in affection vowed to the faire Shepherdesse, was all in black,
with fire burning both upo his armour, and horse. His impresa
in his shield, was a fire made of Juniper, with this word. More

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

easity and more sweete. But this bote knight was cooled with a
fall, which at the third course he received of Phalantusy leaving
his pidure to keepe companie with the other of the same
stampe; he going away remedilesly chafing at his rebuke.
The next was Poiycetes, greatly esteemed in Arcadia^ for deedes
he had done in armes : and much spoken of for the honourable
love he had long borne to Gynecia\ which Basilius himselfe was
content, not onely to suffer, but to be delighted with; he
carried it in so honorable and open plainnes, setting to his love
no other marke, then to do her faithfuU service. But neither
her faire pi6lure, nor his faire running, could warrant him from
overthrow, and her from becomming as then the last of Artesias
victories : a thing Gynecias vertues would little have recked at
another time, nor then, if Ze/mane had not seene it. But her
champion went away asmuch discomforted, as discomfited.
Then Telamon for Polixena^ &c Eurimelo for Elpine^ and Leon
for Zoana ; all brave Knights, all faire Ladies, with their going
down, lifted up the ballance of his praise for adtivitie, and hers
for fairenes.

Upon whose losse as the beholders were talking, there
comes into the place where they ranne, a shepheard stripling
(for his height made him more then a boy, & his face would
not allow him a ma) brown of coplexio (whether by nature, or
by the Suns familiaritie) but very lovely withall ; for the rest
so perfedly proportioned, that Nature shewed, she dooth not
h'ke men who slubber up matters of meane account. And well
might his proportion be judged ; for he had nothing upon him
but a paire of sloppes, and upon his bodie a Gote-skinne, which
he cast over his shoulder, doing all things with so pretie grace,
that it seemed ignorance could not make him do amisse, because
he had a hart to do well, holding in his right hand a long staffe,
& so coming with a loolce ful of amiable fiercenes, as in whom
choller could not take away the sweetnes, he came towards the
king, and making a reverence (which in him was comely
because it was kindly) My liege Lord (said he) I pray you heare
a few words; for my hart wil break if I say not my minde to
vou. I see here the picture of Urania^ which (I cannot tell
now, nor why) these men when they fall downe, they say is not
so faire as yonder gay woman. But pray God, I may never
see my olde mother alive, if I think she be any more match to
106

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Urania^ then a Goate is to a fine Lambe ; or then the Dog that
keepes our flock at home, is like your white Greihounde, that
pulled down the Stagge last day.

And therefore I pray you let me be drest as they be, and
my hart gives me, I shall tumble him on the earth : for indeede
he might aswell say, that a Couslip is as white as a Lillie : or
els I care not let him come with his great stafFe, and I with
this in my hand, and you shall see what I can doo to him.
Basilius sawe it was the fine shepheard Lalus^ whom once he
had afore him in Pastorall sportes, and had greatly delighted in
his wit full of prety simplicitie, and therefore laughing at his
earnestnesse, he bad him be content, since he sawe the pictures
of so great Queenes, were faine to follow their champions
fortune. But Lalus (even weeping ripe) went among the rest,
longing to see some bodie that would revenge Uranias wronge ;
and praying hartely for every bodie that ran against Phalantus^
then began to feele poverty, that he could not set him selfe to
that triall. But by and by, even when the Sunne (like a noble
harte) began to shew his greatest countenaunce in his lowest
estate, there came in a Knight, called Phebilus, a Gentleman of
that coutry, for whom hatefull fortune had borrowed the dart
of Love, to make him miserable by the sight of Philoclea. For
he had even from her infancie loved her, and was striken by
her, before she was able to knowe what quiver of arrowes her
eyes caried; but he loved and dispaired; and the more he
dispaired, the more he loved. He sawe his owne unworthines,
and thereby made her excellencie have more terrible aspedl
upon him : he was so secrete therein, as not daring to be open,
that to no creature he ever spake of it, but his hart made such
silent complaints within it selfe, that while all his senses were
attentive thereto, cunning judges might perceave his minde : so
that he was knowne to love though he denied, or rather was
the better knowne, because he denied it. His armour and his
attire was of a Sea couler, his Impresa, the fishe called Sepia^
which being in the nette castes a blacke inke about it selfe,
that in the darkenesse thereof it may escape : his worde was.
Not so. Philocleas picture with almost an idolatrous magnificence
was borne in by him. But streight jelousie was a harbinger
for disdaine in Zelmanes harte, when she sawe any (but her
selfe) should be avowed a champion for Philoclea: in somuch

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

that she wisht his shame, till she sawe him shamed : for at the
second course he was striken quite from out of the saddle, so
full of grief, and rage withall, that he would faine with the
sworde have revenged it: but that being contrary to the order
set downe, Basilius would not suffer; so that wishing him selfe
in the bottome of the earth, he went his way, leaving Zelmane
no lesse angry with his los, the she would have beene with his
vidtory. For if she thought before a rivals prayse woulde have
angred her, her Ladies disgrace did make her much more
forget what she then thought, while that passion raigned so
much the more, as she saw a pretie blush in Philocleas cheekes
bewray a modest discontentment. But the night commaunded
truce for those sportes, & Phalantus (though intreated) would
not leave Jrtesia, who in no case would come into the house,
having (as it were) suckte of Cecropias breath a mortall mislike
against Basilius,
4 But the night measured by the short ell of sleepe, was soone
past over, and the next morning had given the watchful stars
leave to take their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius to
play his judges parte: which he did, taking his wife &
daughters with him; Zelmane having lockt her doore, so as they
would not trouble her for that time : for already there was a
Knight in the fielde, readie to prove Helen of Corinth had
receaved great injury, both by the erring judgement of the
challenger, and the unlucky weakenesse of her former de-
fender. The new Knight was quickly knowne to be Clitophon
(Kaladers Sonne of Basilius-h'xs sister) by his armour, which al
guilt, was so well hadled, that it shewed like a glittering sande
and gravell, interlaced with silver rivers: his device he had put
in the picture o^ Helen which hee defended. It was the Ermion^
with a speach that signified, Rather dead then spotted. But in
that armour since he had parted fro Helen (who would no
longer his companie, finding him to enter into termes of
aflfedion,) he had performed so honourable adios, (stil seeking
for his two friends by the names of Palladius and Daiphdtus^)
that though his face were covered, his being was discovered,
which yet Basilius (which had brought him up in his court)
would not seeme to do ; but glad to see triall of him, of whom
he had heard very well, he commaunded the trumpets to sound ;
to which the two brave Knights obeying, they performed their
io8

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

courses, breaking their six staves, with so good, both skill in the
hitting, & grace in the maner, that it bred some difficulty in
the judgement. But Basilius in the ende gave sentence against
Clitophon^ because Phalantus had broken more staves upo the
head, & that once Clitophon had received such a blowe, that he
had lost the raines of his horse, with his head well nie touching
the crooper of the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the
judgemet, (wherin he thought he had received wrog) that he
omitted his duty to his Prince, & uncle; and sodainly went
his way, still in the quest of them, whom as then he had left
by seeking : & so yeelded the field to the next commer.

Who comming in about two houres after, was no lesse 5
marked then al the rest before, because he had nothing worth
the marking. For he had neither pi6ture, nor device, his
armour of as old a fashion (besides the rustie poorenesse,) that it
might better seeme a monument of his graundfathe[r]s courage :
about his middle he had in steede of bases, a long cloake of
silke, which as unhandsomely, as it needes must, became the
wearer: so that all that lookt on, measured his length on the
earth alreadie, since he had to meete one who had bene
victorious of so many gallants. But he went on towardes the
shielde, and with a sober grace strake it ; but as he let his
sworde fall upon it, another Knight, all in blacke came rustling
in, who strake the shield almost assoone as he, and so strongly,
that he brake the shield in two: the ill appointed Knight (for
so the beholders called him) angrie with that, (as he accounted,)
insolent injurie to himselfe, hit him such a sound blowe, that
they that looked on saide, it well became a rude arme. The
other aunswered him againe in the same case, so that Launces
were put to silence, the swordes were so busie.

But Phalantus angry of this defacing his shield, came upon
the blacke Knight, and with the pommell of his sworde set fire
to his eyes, which presently was revenged, not onely by the
Blacke, but the ill apparelled Knight, who disdained another
should enter into his quarrell, so as, who ever sawe a matachin
daunce to imitate fighting, this was a fight that did imitate the
matachin : for they being but three that fought, everie one had
adversaries, striking him, who strooke the third, and revenging
perhaps that of him, which he had receaved of the other. But
Basilius rising himselfe to parte them, the sticklers authoritie

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

scarslie able to perswade cholerike hearers ; and parte them he
did.

6 But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, halting
on foote, who complained to BasiliuSy demaunding justice on
the blacke Knight, for having by force taken away the picture
of Pamela from him, whiche in little forme he ware in a
Tablet, and covered with silke had fastened it to his Helmet,
purposing for want of a bigger, to paragon the little one with
Arteiias length, not doubting but in that little quantitie, the
cxcellencie of that would shine thorow the weakenesse of the
other : as the smallest starre dothe thorow the whole Element
of fire. And by the way he had met with this blacke Knight,
who had (as he said) robbed him of it. The injurie seemed
grievous, but when it came fully to be examined, it was found,
that the halting Knight meeting the other, asking the cause of
his going thetherward, and finding it was to defend Pamelas
divine beautie against Artesias^ with a prowde jollitie com-
maunded him to leave that quarrell onely for him, who was
onely worthy to enter into it. But the blacke Knight obeying
no such comandements, they fell to such a bickering, that he
gat a halting, & lost his pidure. This understood by Basilius,
he told him he was now fitter to looke to his owne bodie, then
an others pidlure : &c so (uncomforted therein) sent him away
to learn of /Esculapius that he was not fit for f^enus.

5 But then the question arising who should be the former
against Phalantus, of the blacke, or the ill apparelled Knight
(who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy loute, he
had so well defended himselfe) of the one side, was alleged the
having a pidture which the other wanted: of the other side,
the first striking the shield; but the conclusion was, that the ill
apparelled Knight should have the precedence, if he delivered
the figure of his mistresse to Phalantus-, who asking him
for it, Certainely (said he) her liveliest pidlure, (if you could see
it) is in my hart, & the best coparison I could make of her, is
of the Sunne & of all other the heavenly beauties. But because
pcrhappes all eyes cannot taste the Divinitie of her beautie, and
would rather be dazelcd, then taught by the light, if it bee not
clowded by some meaner thing; know you then, that I defend
that same Ladie, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost yester-
night, and in steede of an other (if you overcome mee) you
no

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

shall have me your slave to carrie that image in your mistresse
triumphe. Phalantus easilie agreed to the bargaine, which
alreadie he made his owne.

But vi^hen it came to the triall, the ill apparelled Knight 7
choosing out the greatest staves in all the store, at the first
course gave his head such a remembraunce, that he lost almost
his remembraunce, he him selfe receyving the incounter of
Phalantus without any extraordinarie motion. And at the
seconde gave him such a counterbufFe, that because Phalantus
was so periite a horseman, as not to be driven from the saddle,
the saddle with broken girthes was driven from the horse:
Phalantus remaining angrie and amazed, because now being
come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace
befell him, which he had never before knowne.

But the vi6lorie being by the judges given, and the trumpets 8
witnessed to the ill apparelled Knight ; Phalantus disgrace was
ingrieved in lieu of comforte by Artesia\ who telling him she
never lookt for other, bad him seeke some other mistresse. He
excusing himselfe, and turning over the fault to Fortune, Then
let that be your ill Fortune too (saide she) that you have lost
me.

Nay truely Madame (saide Phalantus) it shall not be so:
for I thinke the losse of such a Mistresse will proove a great
gaine : and so concluded ; to the sporte of Basilius^ to see young
folkes love, that came in maskt with so great pompe, goe out
with so little constancie. But Phalantus first professing great
service to Basilius for his curteous intermitting his solitary
course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of
Cecropia^ whether she desired to goe : vowing in himselfe, that
neither hart, nor mouth-love, should ever any more intangle
him. And with that resolution he left the company.

Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black knight 9
wet away repyning at his luck, that had kept him fro winning
the honor, as he knew he shuld have don, to the picture of
Pamela) the ill apparelled knight (who was only desired to stay,
because Basilius meant to shew him to Zelmane) puld of his
Helmet, & then was knowe himselfe to be Zelmane : who that
morning (as she told) while the others were busie, had stolne
out to the Princes stable, which was a mile of fro the Lodge,
had gotten a horse (they knowing it was Basilius pleasure she

III

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

should be obeyed) & borrowing that homely armour for want
of a better, had come upon the spur to redeem Philocleas
pidlure, which she said, she could not beare, (being one of that
little wildernesse-company) should be in captivitie, if the
cunning she had learned in her coutrye of the noble Amaxons^
could withstad it : & under that pretext faine she would have
give a secret pasport to her afFedlion. But this ad: painted at
one instant rednesse in Philocleas face, and palenesse in Gynecias,
but broght forth no other coutenaces but of admiratio, no
speches but of comedatios: al these few (besides love) thinking
they honoured them selves, in honouring so accomplished a
person as Zelmane : whom dayly they sought with some or
other sports to delight, for which purpose Basilius had in a
house not farre of, servaunts, who though they came not
uncalled, yet at call were redye.

CHAP. 1 8.

* Musidorus disguised, » His song. » His love, *• the cause thereof,
' His course therein.

ANd so many dales were spent, and many waies used, while
Zelmane was like one that stoode in a tree waiting a
good occasio to shoot, & Gynecia a blauncher, which kept the
dearest deere from her. But the day being come, which
according to an apointed course, the sheapheards were to
asseble, & make their pastorall sports afore Basilius : Zelmane
(fearing, lest many eyes, and comming divers waies, might hap
to spy Musidorus) went out to warne him thereof.
I But before she could come to the Arbour, she sawe walking
from her-ward, a man in sheapperdish apparrel who being in
the sight of the Lodge it might seeme he was allowed there.
A log cloke he had on, but that cast under his right arme,
wherein he held a shephooke, so finely wrought, that it
gave a bravery to poverty ; & his rayments, though they were
mcane, yet received they hansomnes by the grace of the wearer;
though he himselfe went but a kinde of languishing pace, with
his eies somewhat cast up to heaven, as though his fancyes
strave to mount higher; sometimes throwne downe to the
112

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

ground, as if the earth could not beare the burthens of his
sorrowes ; at length, with a lametable tune, he songe these
fewe verses.

Come shepheards weedes^ become your masters minde : 2

Teld outward shew^ what inward chance he tryes :
Nor be abasht^ since such a guest you finde.
Whose strongest hope in your weake comfort lyes.

Come shepheards weedes^ attend my woefull cryes :
Disuse your selves from sweete Menalcas voice:
For other be those tunes which sorrow tyes,
From those cleere notes which freely may rejoyce.

Then power out plaint^ and in one word say this :
Helples his plaint^ who spoyles himself e of blisse.

And having ended, he strake himselfe on the brest ; saying,
O miserable wretch, whether do thy destenies guide thee?
The voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to overtake him:
which having done, she plainly perceaved that it was her deare
friend Musidorus, whereat marvailing not a little, she de-
maunded of him, whether the Goddesse of those woods had
such a powre to trasforme every body, or whether, as in all
enterprises else he had done, he meant thus to match her in
this newe alteration.

Alas, (said Musidorus) what shall I say, who am loth to say, 3
and yet faine would have said ? I find indeed, that all is but
lip-wisdome, which wants experience. I now (woe is me) do
try what love can doo. O Zelmane^ who will resist it, must
either have no witte, or put out his eyes? can any man resist
his creation ? certainely by love we are made, and to love we
are made. Beasts onely cannot discerne beauty, and let them
be in the role of Beasts that doo not honor it. The perfe6t
friendship Zelmane bare him, and the great pitie she (by good
triall) had of such cases, coulde not keepe her from smiling at
him, remembring how vehemently he had cryed out against the
folly of lovers. And therefore a litle to punish him. Why
how now deere cousin (said she) you that were last day so hie
in Pulpit against lovers, are you now become so meane an
auditor ? Remember that love is a passion ; and that a woorthie

s. A. H 113

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mans reason must ever have the masterhood. I recant, I
recant (cryed Musidorus,) and withall falling downe prostrate,

0 thou celestial, or infernal spirit of Love, or what other
heavely or hellish title thou list to have (for effects of both

1 finde in my selfe) have compassion of me, and let thy glory
be as great in pardoning them that be submitted to thee, as in
conquering those that were rebellious. No, no saide Zelmane,
I see you well enough : you make but an enterlude of my
mishaps, and doo but counterfaite thus, to make me see the de-
formitie of my passions : but take heede, that this jest do not
one day turne to earnest. Now I beseech thee (saide Musidorus
taking her fast by the hand) even for the truth of our friend-
ship, of which (if I be not altogether an unhappy man) thou
hast some rememberaunce, & by those sacred flames which
(I know) have likewise neerely touched thee ; make no jest of
that, which hath so ernestly pearced me thorow, nor let that be
light to thee, which is to me so burdenous, that I am not able
to beare it. Musidorus both in words & behaviour, did so
lively deliver out his inward grief, that Zelmane found indeede,
he was thorowly wouded : but there rose a new jelousy in her
minde, lest it might be with Philoclea^ by whom, as Zelmane
thought, in right all hartes and eyes should be inherited. And
therefore desirous to be cleered of that doubt, Musidorus shortly
(as in hast and full of passionate perplexednes,) thus recounted
his case unto her.

4 The day (said he) I parted from you, I being in mind to
returne to a towne, from whence I came hether, my horse
being before tired, would scarce beare me a mile hence : where
being benighted, the light of a candle (I saw a good way of)
guided me to a young shepheards house, by name MenalcaSy
who seing me to be a straying strager, with the right honest
hospitality which seemes to be harboured in the Arcadian
brests, & though not with curious costlines, yet with cleanly
suflficiencie, entertained me: and having by talke with him,
found the manner of the countrie, something more in particular,
then I had by Kalanders report, I agreed to sojourne with him
in secret, which he faithfully promised to observe. And so
hcthcr to your arbour divers times repaired : & here by your
mcancs had the sight (O that it had never bene so, nay, O that
it might ever be so) of a Goddesse, who in a definite compasse
114

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

can set forth infinite beauty. All this while Zelmane was
racked with jealousie. But he went on, For (saide he) I lying
close, and in truth thinking of you, and saying thus to my selfe,

0 sweet Pyrocles^ how art thou bewitched? where is thy
vertue ? where is the use of thy reason ? how much am I in-
ferior to thee in the state of the mind ? And yet know I, that
all the heavens cannot bring me to such thraldome. Scarcely,
thinke I, had I spoken this word, when the Ladies came foorth ;
at which sight, I thinke the very words returned back again to
strike my soule; at least, an unmeasurable sting I felt in my
selfe, that I had spoken such words. At which sight? said
Zelmane^ not able to beare him any longer. O (sayd Musidorus)

1 know your suspition ; No, no, banish all such feare, it was, it
is, and must be Pamela. Then all is safe (sayd Zelmane)
proceede, deare Musidorus. I will not (said he) impute it to
my late solitarie life (which yet is prone to affections) nor, to
the much thinking of you (though that cald the consideratio of
love into my mind, which before I ever negledled) nor to the
exaltation of Venus-, nor revenge of Cupid-, but even to her,
who is the Planet, nay, the Goddesse, against which, the onely
shielde must be my Sepulchre. When I first saw her, I was
presently striken, and I (like a foolish child, that when any
thing hits him, wil strike himselfe again upon it) would needs
looke againe ; as though I would perswade mine eyes, that they
were deceived. But alas, well have I found, that Love to a
yeelding hart is a king; but to a resisting, is a tyrant. The
more with arguments I shaked the stake, which he had
planted in the grounde of my harte, the deeper still it sanke
into it. But what meane I to speake of the causes of my love,
which is as impossible to describe, as to measure the bacl^ide of
heaven ? Let this word suffice, I love.

And that you may know I doo so, it was I that came in 5
black armour to defende her picture, where I was both pre-
vented, and beaten by you. And so, I that waited here to do
you service, have now my self most need of succor. But
wherupon got you your self this aparrel ? said Zelmane. I had
forgotten to tel you (said Musidorus) though that were one
principall matter of my speech ; so much am I now master of
my owne minde. But thus it happened : being returned to
Menalcas house, full of tormenting desire, after a while faynting

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under the weight, my courage stird up my wit to seeke for
some.releefe, before I yeelded to perish. At last this came into
my head, that very evening, that I had to no purpose last used
my horse and armour. I tolde Menalcas^ that I was a Thes-
salian Gentle-man, who by mischaunce having killed a great
favorit of the Prince of that coutry, was pursued so cruelly,
that in no place, but either by favour, or corruption, they
would obtaine my destruction ; and that therefore I was deter-
mined (till the fury of my persecutions might be asswaged) to
disguise my selfe among the shephards of Arcadia^ Sc (if it were
possible) to be one of them that were allowed the Princes
presence; Because if the woorst should fall, that I were dis-
covered, yet having gotten the acquaintance of the Prince, it
might happen to move his hart to protect me. Menalcas (being
of an honest dispositio) pittied my case, which my face through
my inward torment made credible ; and so (I giving him largely
for it) let me have this rayment, instructing me in all the
particularities, touching himselfe, or my selfe, which I desired
to know : yet not trusting so much to his constancie, as that I
would lay my life, and life of my life, upon it, I hired him to
goe into Thessalia to a friend of mine, & to deliver him a
letter fro me ; conjuring him to bring me as speedy an answeere
as he could, because it imported me greatly to know, whether
certaine of my friendes did yet possesse any favour, whose
intercessios I might use for my restitution. He willingly tooke
my letter, which being well sealed, indeed conteyned other
matter. For I wrote to my trustie servant Calodoulus (whom
you know) that assoone as he had delivered the letter, he should
keep him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to have con-
ference with any body, till he knewe my further pleasure : in all
other respedts that he should use him as my brother. And thus
is Menalcas gone, and I here a poore shepheard ; more proud of
this estate, the of any kingdom: so manifest it is, that the
highes^ point outward things can bring one unto, is the con-
tcntmet of the mind : with which, no estate ; without which,
all estates be miserable. Now have I chosen this day, because
(as Menalcas tolde me) the other shepheards are called to make
their sports, and hope that you wil with your credite, finde
meanes to get me allowed among them. You neede not doubt
(answered Zelmane) but that I will be your good mistresse :
ii6

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

marrie the best way of dealing must be by Dametas, who since
his blunt braine hath perceived some favour the Prince dooth
beare unto me (as without doubt the most servile flatterie is
lodged most easilie in the grossest capacitie ; for their ordinarie
conceite draweth a yeelding to their greaters, and then have
they not witte to learne the right degrees of duetie) is much
more serviceable unto me, then I can finde any cause to wish
him. And therefore dispaire not to winne him: for every
present occasion will catch his senses, and his senses are masters
of his sillie mind; onely reverence him, and reward him, and
with that bridle and saddle you shall well ride him. O heaven
and earth (said Musidorus) to what a passe are our mindes
brought, that from the right line of vertue, are wryed to these
crooked shifts? But 6 Love, it is thou that doost it: thou
changest name upo name ; thou disguisest our bodies, and
disfigurest our mindes. But in deed thou hast reason, for
though the wayes be foule, the journeys end is most faire and
honourable.

CHAP. 19.

^ The meanes (t/" Musidorus his apprentisage unto Dametas. ^ The
preparation and place of the Pastorals. ^ The Lyons assault
on Philoclea, and death by Zelmane. ^ The shee heares on
Pamela, and death by Dorus. ' The lo Paean of Dametas,
° and his scape from the beare. ^ The vigors praises. ^Whence
those beasts were sent.

NO more sweete Musidorus (said Zelmane) of these philo- I
Sophies; for here comes the very person of Dametas.
And so he did in deed, with a sword by his side, a forrest-bill
on his neck, and a chopping-knife under his girdle : in which
provided sorte he had ever gone, since the feare Zelmane had
put him in. But he no sooner sawe her, but with head and
armes he laid his reverence afore her; inough to have made
any man forsweare all courtesie. And then in Basilius name,
he did invite her to walke downe to the place, where that day
they were to have the Pastoralles.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

But when he spied Musidorus to be none of the shepheards
allowed in that place, he would faine have perswaded himselfe to
utter some anger, but that he durste not; yet muttering, and
champing, as though his cudde troubled him ; he gave occa-
sion to Musidorus to come neare him, and feine this tale
of his owne life : That he was a younger brother of the shep-
heard Menalcas^ by name Dorus^ sent by his father in his tender
age to Athens^ there to learne some cunning more then
ordinarie, that he might be the better liked of the Prince : and
that after his fathers death, his brother Menalcas (latelie gone
thether to fetch him home) was also deceased : where (upon his
death) he had charged him to seek the service of Dametas^ and
to be wholy, and ever guyded by him ; as one in whose judge-
ment and integritie, the Prince had singular confidence. For
token whereof, he gave to Dametas a good summe of golde in
redy coine, which Menalcas had bequeathed unto him, upon
condition he should receive this poore Dorus into his service,
that his mind and manner might grow the better by his dayly
example. Dametas^ that of all manners of stile could best
conceive of golden eloquence, being withall tickled by Musidorus
prayses, had his brayne so turned, that he became slave to that,
which he, that shewed to be his servant, offered to give him:
yet for countenance sake, he seemed very squeimish, in respedl
of the charge he had of the Princesse Pamela. But such was
the secrete operation of the golde, helped with the perswasion
of the Amazon Zelmane^ (who sayde it was pittie so handsome
a young man should be any where els, then with so good a
master) that in the ende he agreed (if that day he behaved him-
selfe so to the lyking of Basilius, as he might be cotented) that
then he would receive him into his service.
2 And thus went they to the Lodge, where they foud Gynecia
and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselves
there a while, untill the shepheards comming: whether also
taking Zelmane with them, as they went, Dametas told them of
Dorus^ and desired he might be accepted there that day, in
steed of his brother Menalcas, As for Basilius, he staied behind
to bring the shepherds, with whom he meant to cofer, to
breed the better Zelmanes liking (which he onely regarded)
while the other beautifull band came to the faire field, appointed
for the shepherdish pastimes. It was indeed a place of delight j
ii8

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

for thorow the middest of it, there ran a sweete brooke, which
did both hold the eye open with her azure streams, & yet seeke
to close the eie with the purling noise it made upon the pibble
stones it ran over: the field it self being set in some places with
roses, & in al the rest constantly preserving a florishing greene ;
the Roses added such a ruddy shew unto it, as though the field
were bashfuU at his owne beautie : about it (as if it had bene to
inclose a Theater) grew such a sort of trees, as eyther excellency
of fruit, statelines of grouth, continuall greennes, or poeticall
fancies have made at any time famous. In most part of which
there had bene framed by art such pleasant arbors, that (one
tree to tree, answering another) they became a gallery aloft
from almost round about, which below gave a perfedt shadow,

' a pleasant refuge then from the cholericke looke of Phoebus.

W^ In this place while Gynecia walked hard by them, carying 3
many unquiet cotentions about her, the Ladies sate them
downe, inquiring many questios of the shepheard Dorus; who
(keeping his eie still upon Pamela) answered with such a
trembling voice, & abashed coutenance, & oftentimes so far
from the matter, that it was some sport to the young Ladies,
thinking it want of education, which made him so discounten-
aunced with unwoonted presence. But Zelmane that saw in
him the glasse of her owne miserie, taking the hande of Philo-
cleOy and with burning kisses setting it close to her lips (as if it
should stande there like a hand in the margine of a Booke, to
note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speake these
wordes. O Love, since thou art so changeable in mens estates,
how art thou so constat in their torments ? when sodainly there
came out of a wood a monstrous Lion, with a she Beare not far
from him, of litle lesse fiercenes, which (as they ghest) having
bene huted in Forests far of, were by chauce come thether,
where before such beastes had never bene seene. Then care,
not feare ; or feare, not for themselves, altered some thing the
coutenances of the two Lovers, but so, as any man might
perceive, was rather an assembling of powers, then dismaiednes
of courage. Philoclea no sooner espied the Lio, but that obey-
ing the comandement of feare, she lept up, & ran to the lodge-
ward, as fast as her delicate legs could carrie her, while Dorus
drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the
Partridge, on which the Hawke is eve ready to seaze. But

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the Lion (seing Philoclea run away) bent his race to her-ward,
& was ready to seaze him selfe on the pray, when Zelmane (to
whome daunger then was a cause of dreadlesnes, all the copo-
sitions of her elemets being nothing but fierie) with swiftnesse
of desire crost him, and with force of affedion strake him such
a blow upon his chine, that she opened al his body : wherwith
the valiant beast turning upo her with open jawes, she gave
him such a thrust thorow his brest, that al the Lio could do,
was with his paw to teare of the mantle and sleeve of Zelmane^
with a little scratch, rather then a wound ; his death-blow
having take away the efFeft of his force. But there withall he
fell downe, & gave Zelmane leasure to take of his head, to carrie
it for a present to her Ladie Philoclea : who all this while (not
knowing what was done behind her) kept on her course, like
Arethusa when she ran from Alphem\ her light apparell being
carried up with the winde, that much of those beauties she
would at another time have willingly hidden, was present to
the sight of the twise wounded Zelmane. Which made Zel-
mane not folow her over hastily, lest she should too soone
deprive her selfe of that pleasure : But carying the Lions head
in her hand, did not fully overtake her, till they came to the
presence of Basilius. Nether were they log there, but that
Gynecia came thether also: who had bene in such a traunce of
musing, that Zelmane was fighting with the Lion, before she
knew of any Lions coming: but then afFedtion resisting, and
the soone ending of the fight preventing all extremitie of feare,
she marked Zelmanes fighting. And when the Lions head was
of, as Zelmane ran after Philoclea^ so she could not find in her
hart but run after Zelmane: so that it was a new sight. Fortune
had prepared to those woods, to see these great personages thus
runne one after the other: each carried forward with an inwarde
violence : Philoclea with such feare, that she thought she was
still in the Lions mouth : Zelmane with an eager and impatient
delight, Gynecia with wings of Love, flying they neither knew,
nor cared to know whether. But now, being all come before
Basilius amazed with this sight, and feare having such pos-
scssio in the faire Philoclea, that her bloud durst not yet to
come to her face, to take away the name of palenesse from her
most pure whitenes, Zelmane kneeled down, and presented the
Lions head unto her. Only Ladie (said she) here see you the
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ARCADIA. LIB. i.

punishment of that unnatural beast, which cotrary to her owne
kind wold have wronged Princes bloud, guided with such
traiterous eies, as durst rebell against your beauty. Happy am
I, and my beautie both (answered the sweete Philoclea then
blushing, for feare had bequeathed his roome to his kinsman
bashfulnes) that you excellent Amazon., were there to teach him
good manners. And even thankes to that beautie (answered
Zelmane) which can give an edge to the bluntest swordes?
There Philoclea told her father, how it had hapned : but as she
had turned her eyes in her tale to Zelmane^ she perceived some
bloud upo Zelmanes shoulder, so that starting with the lovely
grace of pitty, she shewed it to her Father and mother : who,
as the nurse sometimes with over-much kissing may forget to
give the babe sucke, so had they with too much delighting, in
beholding and praysing Zelmane., left of to marke whether she
needed succour. But then they ran both unto her, like a
father and mother to an onely childe, and (though Zelmane
assured them, it was nothing) would needes see it; Gynecia
having skill in surgery, an arte in those dales much esteemed,
because it served to vertuous courage, which eve Ladies would
(eve with the contept of courage) seeme to cherish. But
looking upon it (which gave more inward bleeding wouds to
Zelmane, for she might sometimes feele Philocleas touch, whiles
she helped her mother) she found it was indeed of no great im-
portance : yet applied she a pretious baulme unto it, of power
to heale a greater griefe.

But even then, & not before, they remebred Pamela., &4
therefore Zelmane (thinking of her friend Dorus) was running
back to be satisfied, whe they might all see Pamela coming
between Dorus Sc Dametas., having in her had the paw of a
Beare, yvhich the shepheard Dorus had newly presented unto
her, desiring her to accept it, as of such a beast, which though
she deserved death for her presumption, yet was her will to be
esteemed, since she could make so sweet a choice. Dametas
for his part came piping and dauncing, the meriest man in a
parish. But whe he came so neere, as he might be heard of
Basilius., he would needs breake thorow his eares with this
joyfuU song of their good successe.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

^ "V T Ow thanked be the great God Pan,

X^ which thus preserves my loved life:
Thanked be I that keepe a man,

who ended hath this fearefull strife :
For if my man must praises have,

what then must I that keepe the knave?

For as the Moone the eies doth please,
with gentle beames not hurting sight:

Tet hath sir Sunne the greatest praise,
because from him doth come her light :

So if my man must praises have,

what then must I that keepe the knave?

4 Being al now come together, & all desirous to know each
others advetures, Pamelas noble hart would needs gratefully
make knowne the valiat mean of her safety : which (diredting
her speach to her mother) she did in this maner. As soone
(said she) as ye were all run away, and that I hoped to be in
safetie, there came out of the same woods a foule horrible
Beare, which (fearing belike to deale while the Lion was
present, as soone as he was gone) came furiously towardes the
place where I was, and this young shepheard left alone by me ;
I truly (not guilty of any wisedome, which since they lay to
my charge, because they say, it is the best refuge against that
beast, but eve pure feare bringing forth that efFedl of wisedome)
fell downe flat of my face, needing not couterfait being dead,
for indeed I was litle better. But this shepheard having no
other weapon, but that knife you see, standing before the place
where I lay, so behaved him selfe, that the first sight I had
(when I thought my selfe nearer Charons ferry,) was the shep-
heard shewing me his bloudy knife in token of victory. I pray
you (saide Zelmane, speaking to Dorus, whose valour she was
carefull to have manifested) in what sorte, so ill weaponed,
could you atchive this enterprise? Noble Ladie (saide Dorus)
the manner of these beastes fighting with any man, is to stande
up upon their hinder feete : and so this did, & being ready to
give me a shrewd imbracement, I thinke, the God Pan, (ever
carefull of the chiefe blessings of Arcadia) guided my hand so
just to the hart of the beast, that neither she could once touch

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ARCADIA. LIB. i.

me, nor (which is the only matter in this worthy remebrace)
breed any dager to the Princesse. For my part, I am rather
(withall subjected humblenes) to thanke her excellencies, since
the duety thereunto gave me harte to save my selfe, then to
receive thankes for a deede, which was her onely inspiring.
And this Dorus spake, keeping afFedtion as much as he could,
backe from coming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane
(that had the same Charadter in her heart) could easily discerne
it, and therefore to keepe him the longer in speach, desired to
understand the conclusion of the matter; and how the honest
Dametas was escaped.

Nay (said Pamela) none shall take that office from my selfe, 6
being so much bound to him as I am, for my education. And
with that word (scorne borrowing the countenance of myrth)
somewhat she smiled, and thus spake on? When (said she)
Dorus made me assuredly perceive, that all cause of feare was
passed (the truth is) I was ashamed to finde my selfe alone with
this shepheard : and therefore looking about me, if I could see
any bodie; at length we both perceived the gentle Dametas^
lying with his breast and head as farre as he could thrust him-
selfe into a bush : drawing up his legges as close unto him as
hee coulde: for, like a man of a very kind nature, soone to
take pittie of himselfe, he was full resolved not to see his owne
death. And when this shepheard pushed him, bidding him to
be of good cheere ; it was a good while, ere we could perswade
him, that Dorus was not the beare : so that he was faine to pull
him out by the heeles, & shew him the beast, as deade as he
could wish it : which you may beleeve me, was a very joyful
sight unto him. But then he forgate al curtesie, for he fel
upon the beast, giving it many a manfuU wound : swearing by
much, it was not wel such beasts shuld be suffered in a como
welth. And then my governour, as full of joy, as before of
feare, came dauncing and singing before us as even now you
saw him. Well wel (said Basilius) I have not chosen Dametas
for his fighting, nor for his discoursing, but for his plainenesse
and honestie, and therein I know he will not deceave me.

But then he told Pamela (not so much because she should 7
know it, as because he would tell it) the wonderfull a6t Zelmane
had perfourmed, which Gynecia likewise spake off, both in such
extremitie of praising, as was easie to be scene, the construdlions

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of their speach might best be made by the Grammer rules of
afFedion. Basilius told with what a gallant grace shee ranne
with the Lyons head in her hand, like another Pa/las with the
spoiles of Gorgon. Gynecia sware, shee sawe the face of the
young Hercules killing the Nemean Lion, & all with a grateful
assent confirmed the same praises: onely poore Dorus (though
of equall desert, yet not proceeding of equall estate) should
have bene left forgotten, had not Zelmane againe with great
admiration, begun to speake of him; asking, whether it were
the fashion or no, in Arcadia^ that sheepherds should performe
such valorous enterprises. This Basilius (having the quicke
sense of a lover) tooke, as though his Mistres had given a secret
reprehension, that he had not shewed more gratefulnesse to
Dorus y and therefore (as nymblie as he could) enquired of his
estate, adding promise of great rewards: among the rest,
offering to him, if he would exercise his courage in souldierie,
he would commit some charge unto him under his Lieutenant
Philanax. But Dorus (whose ambition clymed by another
stayre) having first answered touching his estate, that he was
brother to the shepheard Menalcas; who among other, was
wont to resort to the Princes presence, & excused his going to
souldierie, by the unaptnesse he found in himselfe that way : he
told Basilius, that his brother in his last testament had willed
him to serve Dametas; and therefore (for due obedience there-
unto) he would thinke his service greatly rewarded, if he might
obtaine by that meane to live in the sight of his Prince, and yet
practise his owne chosen vocation. Basilius (liking well his
goodly shape and handsome manner) charged Dametas to
receive him like a sonne into his house : saying, that his valour,
and Dametas truth would be good bulwarkes against such mis-
chiefes, as (he sticked not to say) were threatned to his daughter
Pamela.
2 Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that had
bene said (because he had no worse to fal into then his owne)
accepted Dorus : and with all, telling Basilius, that some of the
shepheards were come ; demaunded in what place he would see
their sports: who first curious to know whether it were not
more requisite for Zelmanes hurt to rest, then sit up at those
pastimes; and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly
desiring to have Pastorals, Basilius commanded it should be at
124

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

the gate of the lodge: where the throne of the Prince being
(according to the auncient manner) he made Zelmane sit
betweene him & his wife therin, who thought her selfe
betweene drowning and burning: and the two young Ladies of
either side the throne, and so prepared their eyes and eares to
bee delighted by the shepheards.

But before al of them were assembled to begin their sports, 8
there came a fellow, who being out of breath (or seeming so to
be for haste) with humble hastines told Basilius^ that his
Mistres, the Lady Cecropiay had sent him to excuse the mis-
chance of her beastes ranging in that dagerous sort, being
happened by the folly of the keeper; who thinking himself
able to rule them, had caried them abroad, & so was deceived:
whom yet (if Basilius would punish for it) she was readie to
deliver. Basilius made no other answere, but that his Mistres
if shee had any more such beastes, should cause them to be
killed : and then he told his wife & Zelmane of it, because they
should not feare those woods; as though they harbored such
beasts, where the like had never bene scene. But Gynecia
tooke a further conceit of it, mistrusting Cecropia, because shee
had heard much of the divellish wickednesse of her heart, and
that particularly she did her best to bring up her sonne
Amphialus (being brothers sonne to Basilius) to aspire to the
crowne, as next heire male after Basilius ; and therefore saw no
reason, but that she might conjecture, it proceeded rather of
some mischievous pra6lise, than of misfortune. Yet did she
onely utter her doubt to her daughters, thinking, since the
worst was past, shee would attend a further occasion, least over
much haste might seeme to proceede of the ordinarie mislike
betweene sisters in Lawe: onely they marvelled, that Basilius
looked no further into it; who (good man) thought so much of
his late conceived common wealth, that all other matters were
but digressions unto him. But the shepheards were ready, and
with wel handling themselves, called their senses to attend
their pastimes.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

The first Eclogues.

B J SI LI US, because Zelmane so would have it, used the
artificiall day of torches, to lighten the sports their inve-
tions could minister. And yet because many more shepheards
were newly come, then at the first; he did in a gentle manner
chastise the cowardise of the fugitive shepheards: with making
them (for that night) the Torch-bearers, and the others later
come, he willed with all freedome of speech and behaviour, to
keepe their accustomed method. Which while they prepared
to do, Dametas, who much disdained (since his late authority) all
his old companions, brought his servant Dorus in good acquaint-
ance and allowance of the ; & himselfe stood like a diredler over
the, with nodding, gaping, winking, or stamping shewing how
he did like, or mislike those things he did not understand. The
first sports the shepheards shewed, were full of such leapes &
gambols, as being accorded to the Pipe (which they bare in their
mouthes, even as they daunced) made a right picture of their
chiefe god Pan, and his companions the Satyres. Then would
they cast away their Pipes ; and holding hand in hand, daunce as
it were in a braule, by the onely cadence of their voices, which
they would use in singing some short coplets, whereto the one
halfe beginning, the other halfe should answere. As the one
halfe saying,

We love, and have our loves rewarded.
The others would aunswere.

IVe love, and are no whit regarded.
The first againe.

We finde most sweete affeSlions snare.
With like tune it should be as in quire sent back againe.

That sweete, hut sower despairefull care.
A third time likewise thus :

Who can despaire, whom hope doth heare ?
The aunswere.

And who can hope, that feeles despaire?
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ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Then all joyning their voyces, and dauncing a faster measure,
they would conclude with some such words:

As without breathy no pipe doth move^

No musike kindly without love.

Having thus varied both their songs and daunces into divers
sorts of inventions ; their last sport was one of them to provoke
another to a more large expressing of his passions : which Lalus
(accounted one of the best singers amongst them) having marked
in Dorus dauncing, no lesse good grace & hansome behaviour,
then extreame tokens of a travelled minde ; began first with his
Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to chalenge Dorus, and was
by him answered in the underwritten sort.

Lalus and Dorus.

COme Dorus, come, let songs thy sorowes signifie : Lalus.

Jnd if for want of use thy minde ashamed is,
That verie shame with Loves high title dignifie.

No stile is held for base, where Love well named is :
Ech eare suckes up the words, a true love scattereth.
And plaine speach oft, then quaint phrase, better framed is.

Nightingales seldome sing, the Pie still chattereth : Dorus.

The wood cries most, before it throughly kindled be.
Deadly wounds inward bleed, ech sleight sore mattereth.

Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be.
Shallow brookes murmure most, deep silent slide away.
Nor true love loves those loves with others mingled be.

If thou wilt not be scene, thy face goe hide away, Lalus.

Be none of us, or els maintaine our fashion :
IVho frownes at others feastes, dooth better bide away.

But if thou hast a Love, in that Loves passion,
I challenge thee by shew of her perfection.
Which of us two deserveth most compassion.

Thy challenge great, but greater my protection : Dorus.

Sing then, and see [for now thou hast inflamed me)
Thy health too meane a match for my infection.

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Noy though the heav'ns for high attempts have blamed mg,
Tet high is my attempt^ 0 Muse historifie
Her praise^ whose praise to learne your skill hath framed me

Lalus. Muse hold your peace: but thou^ my God Pan, glorifee
My Kalas giftes : who with all good gifts filed is.
Thy pipey 6 ran, shall helpe, though I sing sorilie,

A heape of sweetes she isy where nothing spilled is ;
JVho though she be no Bee, yet full of honie is :
A Lillie fieldy with plowe of Rose which tilled is.

Milde as a Lambe, more daintie then a Conie is;
Her eyes my eyesight is, her conversation
More gladde to me, then to a miser monie is,

What coye account she makes of estimation ?
How nice to touch, how all her speeches peized be?
A Nimph thus turnde, but mended in translation.

Dorus. Such Kala is : but ah, my fancies raysed be

In one, whose name to name were high presumption,
Since vertues all, to make her title, pleased be.

O happie Gods, which by inward assumption
Enjoy her soule, in bodies faire possession.
And keep it joynde, fearing your seates consumption.

How oft with raine of teares skies make confession.
Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection
From heavenly throne to her heaven use digression?

Of best things then what world can yeeld confection
To liken her? Decke yours with your comparison:
She is her selfe, of best things the collection.
Lalus- How oft my dolefull Sire cried to me, tarrie sonne
When first he spied my love ? how oft he said to me,
Thou art no souldier fitte for Cupids garrison ?

My Sonne, keepe this, that my long toyle hath laide to me:
Love well thine owne : me thinkes, woolles whitenes passeth all :
I never found long love such wealth hath paide to me.

This winde he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all
My sight in her faire limmes, I then assure my selfe.
Not rotten sheepe, but high crownes she surpasseth all.

Can I be poore, that her golde haire procure my selfe ?
Want I white wooll, whose eyes her white skinne garnished ?
Till I get her, shall I to keepe enure my selfe?
128

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

How oft^ when reason saWy love of her harnised Dorus

IVith armour of my hart^ he cried, O vanittey
To set a pearle in Steele so meanely varnished?

Looke to thy selfe ; reach not beyond humanitie :
Her minde, beames, state farre from thy weake wings banished :
And Love, which lover hurts is inhumanitie.

Thus Reason said: but she came. Reason vanished;
Her eyes so maistering me, that such objection
Seemde but to spoyle the foode of thoughts long famished.

Her peereles height my minde to high ereSiion
Drawes up ; and if hope-fayling ende lives pleasure.
Of fayrer death how can I make eleSfion ?

Once my well-waiting eyes espied my treasure, Lalus.

IVith sleeves turnde up, loose haire, and brest enlarged.
Her fathers corne {moving her faire limmes) measure.

0 cried I, of so meane worke be discharged:
Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling
With seede of woes my hart brimme-full is charged.

Thy father bids thee save, and chides for spilling.
Save then my soule, spill not my thoughts well heaped.
No lovely praise was ever got by killing.

These bolde words she did heare, this fruite I reaped.
That she, whose looke alone might make me blessed.
Did smile on me, and then away she leaped.

Once, 0 sweete once, I saw with dread oppressed Dorus.

Her whom I dread; so that with prostrate lying
Her length the earth in Loves chief e clothing dressed,

1 saw that riches fall, and fell a crying ;
Let not dead earth enjoy so deare a cover.

But deck therewith my soule for your sake dying.

Lay all your feare upon your fear efull lover:
Shine eyes on me, that both our lives be guarded;
So I your sight, you shall your selves recover.

I cried, and was with open rayes rewarded:
But straight they fledde, summond by cruell honor.
Honor, the cause, desart is not regarded.

This mayde, thus made for joyes, S Pan bemone her, Lalus.

That without love she spends her yeares of love :
So faire a fielde would well become an owner.

S. A. I 129

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

And if enchantment can a harde hart move,
Teach me what circle may acquaint her sprite,
Affe5iiom charmes in my hehalfe to prove.

The circle is my {round about her) sight :
The power I will invoke dwelles in her eyes :
My charme should be, she haunt me day and night.

Doru$. Farre other care, S Muse, my sorrow tries.

Bent to such one, in whom, my selfe must say.
Nothing can mend that point that in her lies.

What circle then in so rare force beares swaye ?
Whose sprite all sprites can spoile, raise, damne, or save :
No charme holdes her, but well possesse she may ;

Possesse she doth, and makes my soule her slave :
My eyes the bandes, my thoughts the fatall knot.
No thralles like them that inward bondage have.

Lai us. Kala at length conclude my lingring lotte :

Disdaine me not, although I be not faire.
Who is an heire of many hundred sheep
Doth beauties keep, which never Sunne can burne,
Nor stormes doo turne : fairenes serves oft to wealth.
Yet all my health I place in your good-will.
Which if you will {p doo) bestow on me.
Such as you see, such still you shall me finde.
Constant and kind : my sheep your foode shall breed.
Their wooll your weede, I will you Musique yeeld
In fowrie fielde ; and as the day begins
With twenty ginnes we will the small birds take,
And pastimes make, as Nature things hath made.
But when in shade we meet of mirtle bowes.
Then Love allowes, our pleasures to enrich.
The thought of which doth passe all worldly pelfe.

Dorut. Lady your selfe, whom nether name I dare.

And titles are but spots to such a worthe,
Heare plaints come forth from dungeon of my minde.
The noblest kinde rejeSts not others woes.
I have no shewes of wealth : my wealth is you,
Mv beauties hewe your beames, my health your deeds ;
My minde for weeds your vertues liverie weares.
130

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

M^y foode is teares ; my tunes waymenting yeeld :

Despairs my fielde ; the flowers spirits warrs :

My day newe cares ; my ginnes my daily sight.

In which do light small birds of thoughts orethrowne :

My pastimes none : time passeth on my fall :

Nature made all, but me of dolours made :

I finde no shade, but where my Sunne doth burne :

No place to turne ; without, within it fryes :

Nor helpe by life or death who living dyes.

But if my Kala this my suite denies, Lalus.

Which so much reason beares.

Let crowes picke out mine eyes, which saw too much :
If still her minde be such.
My earthy moulde will melte in watrie teares.

My earthy moulde doth melte in watrie teares, Dorus.

And they againe resolve

To aire of sighes, sighes to the hartes fire turne.

Which doth to ashes burne :

So doth my life within it selfe dissolve.

So doth my life within it selfe dissolve, Lalus.

That I am like a flower

New plucked from the place where it did breed.
Life showing, dead indeed :
Such force hath Love above poore Natures power.

Such force hath Love above poore Natures power, Dorus.

That I growe like a shade,

Which being nought seems somewhat to the eyen.
While that one body shine.
Oh he is mard that is for others made.

Oh he is mard that is for others made. Lalus.

Which thought doth marre my piping declaration.
Thinking how it hath mard my shepheards trade.

Now my hoarse voice doth faile this occupation.
And others long to tell their loves condition :
Of singing take to thee the reputation.

12 131

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Dorus. Of singing take to thee the reputation

New friend of mine \ I yeeld to thy habilitie :
My soule doth seeke another estimation.

But ah my Muse / would thou hadst agilitie^
To worke my Goddess e so by thy invent ion^
On me to cast those eyes, where shine nobilitie.

Seen, and unknowne ; heard, but without attention.

THis Eclogue betwixt Lalus & Dorus, of every one of the
beholders received great commendations. When Basilius
called to a yong shepheard, who nether had daunced nor song
with the, but layne al this while upo the ground at the foot of
a cypresse tree, in so deep a melancholy, as though his mind
were banished from the place he loved, to be in prison in his
body : & desired him he would begin some Eclogue, with some
other of the shepheards, according to the accustomed guise : or
els declare the discourse of his owne fortune, unknowne to him ;
as being a straunger in that coutry. But he praied the King to
pardon him, the time being far too joyful to suffer the rehersall
of his miseries. Yet, to satisfy Basilius some way, he sange this
songe, he had learned before he had subjedled his thoughts to
acknowledge no maister, but a mistresse.

AS I my little fiocke on Ister banke
{A little fiocke ; but well my pipe they couthe)
Did piping leade, the Sunne already sanke
Beyond our worlde, and ere I got my boothe
Each thing with mantle black the night doth scothe \
Saving the glowe worme, which would curteous be
Of that small light oft watching shepheards see.

The welkin had full niggardly enclosed

In cofer of dimme clowdes his silver groates,

Icleped starres ; each thing to rest disposed :

The caves were full, the mountaines voide of goates :

The birds eyes closde closed their chirping notes.

As for the Nightingale woodmusiques King,

It August was, he daynde not then to sing,
132

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Amid my sheepe^ though I sawe nought to feare

Yet [for I nothing sawe) I feared sore ;

Then fonde I which thing is a charge to heart

As for my sheepe I dradded mickle more

Then ever for my selfe since I was bore :
I sate me downe : for see to goe ne could,
And sange unto my sheepe lest stray they should.

The songe I sange old Lanquet had me taught,
Lanquet, the shepheard best swift Ister knewe.
For clerkly reed^ and hating what is naught.
For faithfull hart, cleane hands, and mouth as true :
JVith his sweet skill my skillesse youth he drewe.
To have a feeling tast of him that sitts
Beyond the heaven, far more beyond your witts.

He said, the Musique best thilke powers pleasd
Was jumpe Concorde betweene our wit and will :
Where highest notes to godlines are raisd.
And lowest sinke not downe to jote of ill :
With old true tales he woont mine eares to fill.

How sheepheards did of yore, how now they thrive.
Spoiling their flock, or while twixt th'e they strive.

He liked me, but pitied lustfull youth :

His good strong staffe my slippry yeares upbore :

He still hop^d well, because he loved truth ;

Till for St e to parte, with harte and eyes even sore.

To worthy Coriden he gave me ore.

But thus in okes true shade recounted he

Which now in nights deepe shade sheep heard of me.

Such maner time there was {what time I rCoi)
When all this Earth, this damme or mould of ours
Was onely worCd with such as beastes begot :
Vnknowne as then were they that builded towers :
The cattell wild, or tame, in natures bowers
Alight freely rome, or rest, as seemed them :
AAan was not man their dwellings in to hem.

133

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

The beastes had sure some beastly pollicie :
For nothing can endure where order n^is.
For once the Lion by the Lambe did lie ;
The fearefull Hinde the Leopard did kisse :
Hurtles was Tygers pawe and Serpents hisse.

This thinke I well^ the beasts with courage clad

Like Senators a harmeles empire had.

At which whether the others did repine,^

[For envie harbreth most in feeblest hartes)

Or that they all to chaunging did encline^

[As even in beasts their dames leave chaunging parts)

The multitude to Jove a suite empartes^

With neighing^ blaying^ braying^ and barking,

Roringy and howling for to have a King,

A King, in language theirs they said they would:
[For then their language was a perfeSf speech)
The birdes likewise with chirpes^ and puing could
Cacklingy and chattring, that of Jove beseech.
Onely the owle still warnde them not to seech
So hastily that which they would repent :
But sawe they wouldy and he to deserts went,

Jove wisely said [for wisedome wisely sayes)

O beastSy take heed what you of me desire.

Rulers will thinke all things made them to pleasCy

And soone forget the swine ke due to their hire.

But since you willy part of my heavenly fire

I will you lende ; the rest your selves must givey
That it both scene and felte may with you live.

Full glad they were and tooke the naked spritey
Which streight the Earth yclothed in his claye :
The Liony harte ; the Ounce gave aSfive might ;
The Horsey good shape ; the SparroWy lust to playe ;
NightingaUy voice, entising songes to saye.

Elephant gave a perfect memorie :

And Paroty ready tonguey that to applie.

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

The Foxe gave crafte \ the Dog gave jiatterie ;

Asse^ pacience ; the Mole^ a working thought ;

Eagle^ high looke ; Wolfe secrete crueltie :

Monkie, sweet breath ; the Cow, her faire eyes brought ;

The Ermion, whitest skinne, spotted with nought ;

The sheep, mild-seeming face ; climing, the Beare ;

The Stagge did give the harme eschewing feare.

The Hare, her sleights ; the Cat, his melancholie ;

Ante, industrie ; and Connie, skill to builde ;

Cranes, order j Storkes, to be appearing holie ;

Camoeleon, ease to chaunge ; Ducke, ease to yelde ;

Crocodile, teares, which might be falsely spilde :

Ape great thing gave, though he did mowing stand.
The instrument of instruments, the hand.

Ech other beast likewise his present brings :
And [but they drad their Prince they ought should want)
They all consented were to give him wings :
And aye more awe towards him for to plant.
To their owne worke this priviledge they graunt.
That from thenceforth to all eternitie.
No beast should freely speake, but onely he.

Thus Man was made ; thus Man their Lord became :
Who at the first, wanting, or hiding pride.
He did to beastes best use his cunning frame ;
With water drinke, herbes meate, and naked hide.
And fellow-like let his dominion slide ;

Not in his sayings saying I, but we :

As if he meant his lordship common be.

But when his seate so rooted he had found.
That they now skilld not, how from him to wend ;
Then gan in guiltlesse earth full many a wound.
Iron to seeke, which gainst it selfe should bend.
To teare the bowels, that good come should send.

But yet the common Damme none did bemone ;

Because {though hurt) they never heard her grone.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Then gan the fa^ions in the beastes to breed j

Where helping weaker sort^ the nobler beastes^

(As Tygersy leopards^ beares, and Lions seed)

Disdaind with this, in deserts sought their restes ;

Where famine ravine taught their hungrie chesteSy
That craftily he first them to do ill,
Which being done he afterwards would kill.

For murthers done, which never erst was seene^
By those great beastes, as for the weakers good.
He chose themselves his guarders for to bene.
Gainst those of might, of whom in feare they stood.
As horse and dogge, not great, but gentle blood:
Blith were the commons cattell of the fielde,
Tho when they saw their fien of greatnes kilde.

But they or spent, or made of slender might.
Then quickly did the meaner cattell finde.
The great beames gone, the house on shoulders light :
For by and by the horse faire bitts did binde :
The dogge was in a coller taught his kinde.
As for the gentle birds like case might rewe
When falcon they, and gossehauke saw in mewe.

Worst fell to smallest birds, and meanest heard.
Whom now his owne, full like his owne he used.
Tet first but wooll, or fethers ofi^ he teard :
And when they were well uCde to be abused.
For hungrie teeth their flesh with teeth he brused :

At length for glutton taste he did them kill :

At last for sport their sillie lives did spill.

But yet $ man, rage not beyond thy neede :

Deeme it no gloire to swell in tyrannic.

Thou art of blood ; fiy not to see things bleede :

Thou fearest death ; thinke they are loth to die.

A plaint of guilt lesse hurt doth pierce the skie.
And you poore beastes, in patience bide your hell.
Or know your strengths, and then you shall do well.

«36

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

Thus did I sing, and pipe eight sullen houres
To sheepe, whom love, not knowledge, made to heare.
Now fancies fits, now fortunes balefull stowers :
But then I homewards calPd my lambkins deare :
For to my dimmed eyes heganne t'appeare

The night growne old, her hlacke head waxen gray.
Sure shepherds signe, that morne should soone fetch day.

According to the nature of diverse eares, diverse judgements
±\, streight followed : some praising his voice, others his words
fit to frame a pastorall stile, others the strangenes of the tale,
and scanning what he shuld meane by it. But old Geron (who
had borne him a grudge ever since in one of their Eclogues he
had taken him up over-bitterly) tooke hold of this occasion to
make his revenge, and said, He never saw thing worse propor-
tioned, then to bring in a tale of he knew not what beastes at
such a sport-meeting, when rather some song of love, or matter
for joyfull melody was to be brought forth. But, said he. This
is the right conceipt of young men, who thinke, then they
speake wiseliest, when they cannot understand themselves. But
little did the melancholike shepherd regard either his dispraises,
or the others praises, who had set the foundation of his honour
there ; where he was most despised. And therefore he re-
turning againe to the traine of his desolate pensivenesse, Geron
invited Histor to answere him in Eclogue-wise ; who indeed
having bene long in love with the faire Kala, and now by Lalus
overgone ; was growne into a detestation of marriage. But thus
it was.

Geron. Histor.

IN faith, good Histor, long is your delay, Geron.

From holy marriage sweete and surest meane :
Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay.

I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane :
Thou seest, how friske, and jolly now he is.
That last day seemed, he could not chew a beane.

Beleeve me man, there is no greater blisse.
Then is the quiet joy of loving wife j
JVhich who so wants, halfe of himselfe doth misse.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Friend without change^ playfellow without strife,
Foode without fulnes, counsaile without pride.
Is this sweet doubling of our single life.

No doubt to whom so good chance did betide.
As for to finde a pasture strawed with golde.
He were a foole, if there he did not bide.

Who would not have a Phoenix // he could ?
The humming Waspe, if it had not a stinge.
Before all flies the Waspe accept I would.

But this bad world, few golden fieldes doth bring.
Phoenix but one, of Crowes we millions have :
The Waspe seemes gay, but is a combrous thing.

If many Kalaes our Arcadia gave,
Lai us example I would soone ensue.
And thinke, I did my selfe from sorrow save.

But of such wives we finde a slender crew ;
Shrewdnes so stirres, pride so puffes up the hart.
They seldome ponder what to them is due.

With meager lookes, as if they still did smart ;
Puiling, and whimpring, or else scolding flat,
Make home more paine then following of the cart.

Ether dull silence, or eternall chat ;
Still contrarie to what her husband sayes ;
If he do praise the dog, she likes the cat.

Austere she is, when he would honest playes ;
And gamesome then, when he thinkes on his sheepe ;
She bids him goe, and yet from jorney stayes.

She warre doth ever with his kinsfolke keepe.
And makes them fremh'd, who frinds by nature are.
Envying shallow toyes with malice deepe.

And if forsooth there come some new found ware.
The little coine his sweating browes have got.
Must goe for that, if for her lowres he care :

Or els i Nay faith, mine is the luckiest lot,
That ever fell to honest woman yet :
No wife but I hath such a man, God wot.

Such is their speech, who be of sober wit ;
But who doo let their tongues shew well their rage,
Lord, what bywords they speake, what spite they spit f

'38

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

The house is made a very lothsome cage^
JVherein the hirde doth never sing hut cry ;
With such a will as nothing can asswage.

Dearely the servants doo their wages buy,
ReviPd for ech small fault, sometimes for none :
They better live that in a gaile doo lie.

Let other fowler spots away be hlowne ;
For I seeke not their shame, but still me thinkes,
A better life it is to lye alone.

Who for ech fickle feare from vertue shrinkes, Geron.

Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing:
No mortall man the cuppe of suretie drinkes.

The heavens doo not good haps in handfuls bring.
But let us pike our good from out much bad :
That still our little world may know his king.

But certainly so long we may be glad.
While that we doo what nature doth require,
And for th"* event we never ought be sad.

Man oft is plag'de with aire, is burnt with fire.
In water dround, in earth his huriall is \
And shall we not therefore their use desire ?

Nature above all things requireth this.
That we our kind doo labour to maintaine ;
Which drawne-out line doth hold all humane blisse.

Thy father justly may of thee complaine.
If thou doo not repay his deeds for thee.
In granting unto him a grandsires gaine.

Thy common-wealth may rightly grieved be.
Which must by this immortall he preserved.
If thus thou murther thy posteritie.

His very being he hath not deserved.
Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forheare.
Whereby that being aye must be conserved.

And God forbid, women such cattell were.
As you paint them : but well in you I finde,
No man doth speake aright, who speakes in feare.

Who onely sees the ill is worse then blind.
These fiftie winters maried have I beene ;
And yet finde no such faults in womankind.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

/ have a wife worthie to be a Queene^
So well she can command, and yet obay ;
In ruling of a house so well shee's seene.

And yet in all this time, betwixt us tway.
We beare our double yoke with such consent.
That never past foule word, I dare well say.

But these be your love-toyes, which still are spent
In lawlesse games, and love not as you should.
But with much studie learne late to repent.

How well last day before our Prince you could
Blinde Cupids workes with wonder testifie ?
Tet now the roote of him abase you would.

Goe to, goe to, and Cupid now applie
To that where thou thy Cupid maist avowe,
And thou shalt finde, in women vertues lie.

Sweete supple mindes which soone to wisdome howe
Where they by wisdomes rule direSied are.
And are not forst fonde thraldome to allow.

As we to get are framed, so they to spare :
We made for paine, our paines they made to cherish :
We care abroad, and they of home have care.

0 Histor, seeke within thy selfe to flourish :
Thy house by thee must live, or els be gone :
And then who shall the name of Histor nourish ?

Riches of children passe a Princes throne ;
Which touch the fathers hart with secret joy.
When without shame he saith, these be mine owne.

Marrie therefore ; for marriage will destroy
Those passions which to youthfull head doo clime
Mothers and Nurses of all vaine annoy.

ALl the assemblie laught at the lustines of the old fellowe, and
Jr\ easilie perceived in Histor, he liked Lalus fortune better,
then he loved his person. But Basilius to entermixe v/\Xh. these
light notes of libertie, some sadder tune, set to the key of his
own passion, not seeing there Strephon or Klaius, (w^ho called
thence by Uranias letter, w^ere both gone to continue their suite,
like two true runners, both employing their best speed, but not
one hindring the other) he called to one LamS of their acquaint-
140

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

ance, and willed him to sing some one of their songs j which he
redily performed in this doble Sestine.

Strephon. Klaius.

"\,^0« Gote-heard Gods^ that love the grassie mountainesyo^ Strephon
X you Nimphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies^ '
Tou Satyrs joyde with free and quiet forrests^ >
Vouchsafe your silent eares to playning musique^ cJ
IVhich to my woes gives still an early morning : -
And drawes the dolor on till wery evening, j

0 Mercuric, foregoer to the evening^ / Klaius.
O heavenlie huntresse of the savage mount aines^k^

0 lovelie starre, entitled of the morning, •

While that my voice doth fill these wofull vallies,^
Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique, '
Which oft hath Echo tird in secrete forrests. i^

1 that was once free-burges of the forrests, C Strephon
Where shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at evening, /

/ that was once esteemed for pleasant musique, 'i
Am hanisht now among the monstrous mountaines -.-^
Of huge despair e, and foule afflictions vallies, >
Am growne a shrich-owle to my selfe each morning. -

/ that was once delighted every morninp, Klaius.

Hunting the wilde inhabit ers of forrests,

1 that was once the musique of these vallies.
So darkened am, that all my day is evening.
Hart-broken so, that molehilles seeme high mountaines,
And fill the vales with cries in steed of musique.

Long since alas, my deadly Swannish musique Strephor

Hath made it selfe a crier of the morning.
And hath with wailing stregth clim^d highest mountaines :
Long since my thoughts more desert be then forrests :
Long since I see my joyes come to their evening.
And state throwen downe to over-troden vallies.

141

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Long since the happie dwellers of these vallieSy

Have praide me leave my strange exclaiming musique^
fVhich troubles their dayes worke^ and joyes of evening :
Long since I hate the nighty more hate the morning :
Long since my thoughts chase me like beasts in forrests^

And make me wish my selfe layd under mountaines.

Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines^

Transforme themselves to lowe dejeSfed vallies :
Me seemes I heare in these ill-changed forrests^
The Nightingales doo learne of Owles their musique :
Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning
Turnde to the mortall serene of an evening.

Me seemes I see a filthie clowdie evening^

As soon as Sunne begins to clime the mountaines :
Me seemes I feele a noysome sent^ the morning
When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies :
Me seemes I heare, when I doo heare sweet e musique.
The dreadfull cries of murdred men in forrests.

I wish to fire the trees of all these forrests ;
/ give the Sunne a last farewell each evening ;
/ curse the fidling finders out of Musicke :
With envie I doo hate the loftie mountaines \
And with despite despise the humble vallies :
I doo detest night, evening, day, and morning.

Curse to my selfe my prayer is, the morning :

My fire is more, then can be made with forrests ;

My state more base, then are the basest vallies :

I wish no evenings more to see, each evening ;

Shamed I have my selfe in sight of mountaines.

And stoppe mine eares, lest I growe mad with Musicke.

For she, whose parts maintainde a perfect musique.
Whose beautie shin^de more then the blushing morning.
Who much did passe in state the stately mountaines.
In straightnes past the Cedars of the forrests.
Hath cast me wretch into eternall evening.
By taking her two Sunnes from these darke vallies.
142

ARCADIA. LIB. i.

For shcy to whom compar'd^ the Alpes are vai/ieSy Klaius.

She^ whose lest word brings from the spheares their musique^
At whose approach the Sunne rose in the evening,
fVhoy where she went, bare in her forhead mornings
Is gone, is gone from these our spoyled forrestSy
Turning to desarts our best pastur'de mountaines.

These mountaines witnesse shall, so shall these vallies, Strephon

These forrests eke, made wretched by our musique, Klaius.

Our morning hymne is this, and song at evening.

ZElmane seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long
restrained conceits had new burst out of prison, she thus
desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing but Philocleas
eares, laying fast holde on her face with her eyes, she sange these
Sapphiques, speaking as it were to her owne Hope.

IF mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande.
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to judge of
So that eyes message be of her receaved,
Hope we do live yet.

But if eyes faile then, when I most doo need them.
Or if eyes language be not unto her knowne.
So that eyes message doo returne rejeSfed,

Hope we doo both dye.

Tet dying, and dead, doo we sing her honour;
So become our tombes monuments of her praise ;
So becomes our losse the triumph of her gayne ;
Hers be the glory.

If the spheares senselesse doo yet hold a musique.
If the Swannes sweet voice be not heard, but at death,
If the mute timber when it hath the life lost,
Teldeth a lutes tune.

Are then humane mindes priviledg'd so meanly.
As that hatefull death can abridge them of powre,
With the vowe of truth to recorde to all worldes.
That we be her spoiles ?

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Thus not endings endes the due praise of her praise ;
Fleshly vaile consumes ; but a soule hath his life,
Which is helde in love, love it is, that hath joynde
Life to this our soule.

But if eyes can speake to doo harty errande^
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to judge of.
So that eyes message be of her receaved,

Hope we doo live yet.

WHat exclaiming praises Basilius gave to Zelmanes songe,
any man may ghesse, that knowes love is better then a
paire of spectacles to make every thing seeme greater, w^hich is
seene through it : and then is it never tongue-tied, where fit
commendation (whereof womankind is so licorous) is offered
unto it. Yea, he fel prostrate on the ground, and thanked the
Gods, they had preserved his life so long, as to heare the very
musique they themselves used, in an earthly body. But the
wasting of the torches served as a watch unto them, to make
them see the time waste ; and therefore the King (though un-
willing) rose from the seate, which he thought excellently setled
on the one side : and considering Zelmanes late hurte, perswaded
her to take that farre-spent nights rest. And so of all sides
they went to recommend themselves to the elder brother of
death.

Tht end of the first Booke.

144

THE SECOND BOOKE

OF THE COUNTESSE OF
PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

CHAP. I.

The love-complaint es ^of Gynecia, '^Zelmane, '^and Basilius.
*Her, ^and his wooing of Zelmane, and her shifting of

hoth^ ^to hemone her selfe.

IN 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 itj yet never
manifesting his venomous worke, till once, that the night (part-
ing away angerly, that she could distill no more sleepe into the
eies of lovers) had no sooner given place to the breaking out of
the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames upon the
tops of the mountaines, but that the wofuU Gynecia (to whom
rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her
selfe into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going up
and downe with such unquiet motions, as a grieved & hopeles
mind is wont to bring forth. There appeered unto the eies of
her judgement the evils she was like to run into, with ougly in-
famie waiting upon them : she felt the terrou[r]s of her owne con-
science : she was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made
this vice the fuller of deformitie. The uttermost of the good
she could aspire unto, was a mortall wound to her vexed spirits :
and lastly no small part of her evils was, that she was wise to see
her evils. In so much, that having a great while throwne her
coutenaunce ghastly about her (as if she had called all the
powers of the worlde to witnesse of her wretched estate) at
length casting up her watrie eyes to heaven, O Sunne (said she)
whose unspotted light diredls the steps of mortall mankind, art
thou not ashamed to impart the clearnesse of thy presence to
such a dust-creeping worme as I am ? O you heavens (which
continually keepe the course allotted unto you) can none of
s. A. K 145

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

your influences prevaile so much upon the miserable Gynecia, as
to make her preserve a course so log embraced by her? O
deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my hart
can people you with wild ravenous beastes, which in you
are wanting ? O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe ? or
what hideous thing is this which doth eclips thee? or is it true
that thou weart never but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing,
which hast thus left thy professed servant, when she had most
need of thy lovely presence ? O imperfect proportio of reason,
which ca too much forsee, & too little prevent. Alas, alas
(said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but
one excuse for all my faultinesse. But wretch that I am, my
torment is beyond all succour, & my evill deserving doth ex-
ceed my evill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take
this straunge resolutio to live so solitarily : for nothing els have
the winds delivered this straunge guest to my country : for no-
thing els have the destinies reserved my life to this time, but
that only I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my
selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how un-
just so ever it be) might take efFedl, though a thousand deaths
folowed it, and every death were followed with a thousand
shames; yet should not my sepulcher receive me without some
contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such
as can answere my love; yet as sure I am, that this disguising
must needs come for some foretake coceipt. And then, wretched
Gynecia^ where cast thou find any smal groud-plot for hope to
dwel upon ? No, no, it is Philoclea his hart is set upon : it is
my daughter I have borne to supplant me. But if it be so, the
life I have given thee (ungratefull Philoclea) I will sooner with
these handes bereave thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath

" bereaved me of my desires. In shame there is no cofort, but to
be beyond all bounds of shame.

2 Having spoke thus, she began to make a piteous war with
hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far fro her) an ex-
tremely doleful voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering
note, that she could not conceave the wordes distinctly. But

" (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind)
she drewe thether neere-away, in hope to find some copanio of
her misery. And as she passed on, she was stopped with a
nuber of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraid
146

ARCADIA. LIB. 2,

she should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of the
lamentable partie, which she was so desirous to understand.
And therefore setting her downe as softly as she could (for she
was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceave a Lute
excellently well played upon, and then the same dolefuU voice
accompanying it with these verses.

IN vatney mine Eyes^ you labour to amende
With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight :
Since to my hart her shape you so did sende ;
That her I see, though you did lose your light.

In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd,
With sighes you seeke to cook your hotte desire:

Since sighes [into mine inward fornace turnd)
For bellowes serve to kindle more the fire.

Reason, in vaine (now you have lost my hart)

My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte :
Since there mine eyes have played so false a parte.
That to your strength your foes have sure resorte.
Then since in vaine I find were all my strife.
To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life.

The ending of the song served but for a beginning of new
plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heavy a burthe of
cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint
out the hideousnes of the paine in al sortes of coulours. For the
wofull person (as if the lute had evill joined with the voice)
threw it to the ground with such like words : Alas, poore Lute,
how much art thou deceiv'd to think, that in my miseries thou
couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to
please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is
changed; and no more did my joyfull minde then receive
every thing to a joyful consideration, then my carefuU mind
now makes ech thing tast like the bitter juyce of care. The
evill is inward, my Lute, the evill is inward; which all thou
doost doth serve but to make me thinke more freely off, and the
more I thinke, the more cause I finde of thinking, but lesse of
hoping. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete
meats of sorrow ? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth

K2 147

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed
to leave thy master, since he is not afraide to forsake himselfe.
4 And thus much spoke (in steed of a conclusion) was closed
up with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not refraine to
shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serve fitly for nothing,
but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour
of this sorrowfull musicke,her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane^
which was the party that thus had indited her selfe of miserie :
so that either of them remained confused with a sodaine asto-
nishment. Zelmane fearing, least shee had heard some part of
those complaints, which shee had risen up that morning of pur-
pose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great
while stoode still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking sted-
fastly upon her: at length returning to some use of her selfe,
shee began to aske Zelmane^ 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 violet issue) she sanke to the ground, with her
hands over her face, crying vehemently, Zelmane helpe me, O
Zelmane have pittie on me. Zelmane ranne to her, marvelling
what sodaine sicknesse had thus possessed her : and beginning
to aske her the cause of her paine, and offring her service to be
imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly upon her,
pricked with the flames of love, and the torments of her owne
conscience : O Zelmane^ Zelmane^ (said she) doost thou offer me
phisicke, which art my onely poyson ? Or wilt thou doo me
service, which hast alredie brought me into eternall slaverie?
Zelmane then knowing well at what marke she shot, yet loth to
enter into it; Most excellent Ladie (said she) you were best re-
tire your selfe into your lodging, that you the better may passe
this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had re-
tyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (unfortunate guest)
earnest to draw me from my selfe; blessed had I beene, and no
neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced
to flie to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt ; and
make thee judge of my cause, who art the onely author of
my mischiefe. Zelmane the more astonished, the more she
understood her. Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me,
that I will not cleere my selfe ? Or wherein may I steed you,
that you may not command me ? Alas, answered Gynecia^ what
»48

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

shall I say more ? Take pitty of me, O Zelmane^ but not as
Zelmane^ and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou
doost in apparell.

Zelmane was much troubled with that word, finding her selfe 3
brought to this streight. But as shee was thinking what to
answere her ; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them,
without ever seeing them : complayning likewise of love verie
freshly; and ending his complaint with this song. Love having
renewed both his invention, and voyce.

LEt not old age disgrace my high desire^
_^ O heavenly soule^ in humaine shape conteind:
Old wood inflanUde^ doth yeeld the bravest fire^
When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend.

Ne let white haireSy which on my face doo grow^

Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe :
Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show^

Which makes all eyes doo honour unto you.

Old age is wise and full of constant truth ;

Old age well stayed from raunging humor lives :
Old age hath knowne what ever was in youth :
Old age orecome, the greater honour gives.
And to old age since you your selfe aspire^
Let not old age disgrace my high desire. -

Which being done, he looked verie curiously upon himselfe,
sometimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had said, his strength
had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane having in this time
gotten leasure to thinke for an answere; looking upon Gynecia,
as if she thought she did her some wrong : Madam (said she) I
am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it
the profession of an Amazon^ neither are you a partie with
whom it is to be used. If my service may please you, imploy
it, so long as you do me no wrong in misjudgeing of me. Alas
Zelmane (said Gynecia) I perceive you know ful little, how percing
the eyes are of a true lover. There is no one beame of those
thoughts you have planted in me, but is able discerne a greater
cloud then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe
further from me, nor force not the passion of love into violent

149

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when
the king, turning his eyes that way thorow the trees, perceived
his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the most lovely
countenance he could, he came straightway towards them ; and
at the first word (thanking his wife for having entertained Zel-
mane^ desired her she would now returne into the lodge, be-
cause hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie
Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with jelousie in
that point) obeyed the kings commaundement ; full of raging
agonies, and determinatly bent, that as she would seeke all
loving meanes to winne Zelmane^ so she would stirre up terrible
tragedies, rather then faile of her entent. And so went she
from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her
thoughts, and so deadly an overthrow given to her best
resolutions, that even her bodie (where the fielde was fought)
was oppressed withall: making a languishing sicknesse waite
upon the triumph of passion; which the more it prevailed in
her, the more it made her jelousie watchfull, both over her
daughter, and Zelmane; having ever one of them entrusted to
her owne eyes.

But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his wives presence,
falling downe on his knees, O Lady (said he) which hast onely
had the power to stirre up againe those flames which had so long
layn deade in me ; see in me the power of your beautie ; which
can make old age come to aske counsaile of youth ; and a Prince
uncoquered, to become a slave to a stranger. And whe you see
that power of yours, love that at lest in me, since it is yours,
although of me you see nothing to be loved. Worthy Prince
(answered Zelmane^ taking him up from his kneeling) both your
manner, and your speech are so straunge unto me, as I know
not how to answere it better then with silence. If silence please
you (said the king) it shal never displease me, since my heart is
wholly pledged to obey you : otherwise if you would vouchsafe
mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall convay
your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree
of reverece to receive them. I disdaine not to speake to you
(mightie Prince said Zelmane^ but I disdaine to speake to any
matter which may bring my honor into question. And there-
with, with a brave counterfeited scorne she departed from the
king; leaving him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in
150

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

himself that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king
(feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in
writing verses, & making more of himselfe, then he was wont
to doo : that with a little helpe, he would have growne into a
prettie kind of dotage.

But Zelmane being ridde of this loving, but little-loved com- 6
pany, Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles^ was there ever one, but I,
that had received wrong, and could blame no body ? that having
more then I desire, am still in want of that I woulde ? Truly
Love, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe ; thou hast
imployed my love there, where all love is deserved ; and for re-
compence hast sent me more love then ever I desired. But
what wilt thou doo PyrocUs? which way canst thou finde to
ridde thee of thy intricate troubles ? To her whom I would be
knowne to, I live in darkenesse : and to her am revealed, from
whom I would be most secreat. What shift shall I finde against
the diligent love of BasiliusF what shield against the violent
passions of Gynecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the
neerer to quench the fire that consumes me ? Wei, well, sweete
Philoclea^ my whole confidence must be builded in thy divine
spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I have
received by you.

CHAP. 2.

^ Dametas-^j/i enstruSfing of Dorus. ^ Zelmanes discourse to Dorus
of her difficulties-, ^& his to her of his successe in love. *'His
love-suits made to Mopsa, meant to Pamela: with their
answeres.

BUt as sicke folkes, when they are alone, thinke companie
would relieve them, & yet having company do find it
noysome; changing willingly outward objects, when indeed the
evill is inward : So poore Zelmane was no more weery of BasiliuSy
then she was of her selfe, when Basilius was gone: and ever the
more, the more she turned her eyes to become her owne judges.
Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus ; that
upon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

sorrow : and therefore went toward the other lodge : where
among certaine Beeches she found Dorus, apparelled in flanen,
with a goats skin cast upon him, & a garland of Laurell mixt
with Cypres leaves on his head, wayting on his master Dametas,
who at that time was teching him how with his sheephooke to
catch a wanton Lambe, & with the same to cast a litle ,clod
at any one that strayed out of copanie. And while Dorus was
practising, one might see Dametas hold his hand under his girdle
behind him, nodding from the wast upwards, & swearing he
never knew man go more aukewardly to worke : & that they
might talke of booke -learning what they would; but for his
part, he never saw more unfeatlie fellowes, then great clearks
were.
2 But Zeimanes comming saved Dorus from further chiding.
And so she beginning to speake with him of the number of his
masters sheepe, and which Province of Arcadia bare the finest
wooU, drewe him on to follow her in such countrie discourses,
till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of
passion, as though her harte would clime into her mouth, to
take her tongues office, she declared unto him, upon what briers
the roses of her afFe6lions grew : how time still seemed to forget
her, bestowing no one houre of comfort upon her ; she remain-
ing stil in one plight of ill fortune, saving so much worse, as
continuance of evill dooth in it selfe increase evill. Alas my
Dorus (said she) thou seest how long and languishingly the
weekes are paste over us since our laste talking. And yet am I
the same, miserable I, that I was: onely stronger in longing, and
weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the
insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew
what woundes that discourse gave unto them) procured his eyes
with teares to give testimonie, how much they sufifered 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, upon her; that she might see, whether it
were troubled with such unhabitable climes of colde despaires,
and hotte rages, as hers was. And so walking under a fewe
Palnic trees, (which being loving in their own nature, seemed
to give their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse
of love) Dorus thus entred to the description of his fortune.
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high 3
powers to throwe us to such an estate, as the onely entercourse
of our true friendshippe, must be a bartring of miseries. For
my parte, I must confesse indeede, that from a huge darkenes of
sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a lightsomnes, but) to
a certain dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of
comfort : But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires,
that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small
hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitife may the better re-
member the light, of which he is deprived : or like a scholler,
who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde him
selfe utterly ignorant.

But thus stands it with me : After that by your meanes I
was exalted to serve in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had,
in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing ; that (because of
the service I had done in killing of the Beare) it pleased the
Princesse (in whom indeede statelines shines through courtesie)
to let fall some gratious looke upon me. Sometimes to see my
exercises, sometimes to heare my songes. For my parte, my
harte woulde not suffer me to omitte any occasion, whereby I
might make the incomparable Pamela^ see how much extraordi-
narie devotion I bare to her service: and withall, strave to
appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, joyned to
so great afFeftion, might prevaile something in the wisest Ladie.
But too well (alas) I founde, that a shepheards service was but
considered of as from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted
to no further proportion, then of a good servant. And when
my countenance had once given notice, that there lay afFedlion
under it, I sawe straight. Majesty (sitting in the throne of
Beautie) draw foorth such a sworde of just disdaine, that I re-
mayned as a man thunder-striken ; not daring, no not able, to
beholde that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed
againe impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dametas,
Misoj and my young Mistresse, Mopsa. For, Dametas (accord-
ing to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to
shewe him selfe wise, then by suspedling every thing in his way.
Which suspition Mlso (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine)
and Mopsa (for a very unlikely envie she hath stumbled upon,
against the Princesses unspeakeable beautie) were very gladde to
execute. So that I (finding my service by this meanes lightlie

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

regarded, my afFedtion despised, and my selfe unknowen) re-
mayned no fuller of desire, then voyde of comfort how to come
to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speak, they
might well witnesse. For, many times have I stoode here, be-
wailing my selfe unto them: many times have I, leaning to
yonder Palme, admired the blessednes of it, that coulde beare
Love without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters
cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, I
might see the young Bull testifie his love. But how? with
proud lookes, and joyfulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then
to my selfe) in whom witte (which should be the governer of
his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts,
like children to nature, inherite her blessings quietly ; we, like
bastards, are layd abroad, even as foundlinges to be trayned up by
griefe and sorrow. Their mindes grudge not their bodies com-
fort, nor their sences are letted from enjoying their objects: we
have the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience.
Truely in such cogitatios have I somtimes so long stood, that
me thought my feete began to grow into the ground, with such
a darkenes and heavines of minde, that I might easilie have bene
perswaded to have resigned over my very essence. But Love,
(which one time layeth burthens, another time giveth wings)
when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled up
my harte to remeber, that nothing is atchieved before it be
throughlie attempted ; and that lying still doth never goe for-
ward : and that therefore it was time, now or never, to sharpen
my invention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise;
never ceasing to assemble al my conceites, one after the other ;
how to manifest both my minde and estate. Till at last, I
lighted and resolved on this way, which yet perchaunce you will
think was a way rather to hide it.
A- I began to counterfeite the extremest love towards Mopsa^
that might be : and as for the love, so lively it was indeed
within me, (although to another subjecft) 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
Pamelas as if I saw my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I
cryed out of nothing but Mopsa\ to Mopsa my attendance was
directed: to Mopsa the best fruites I coulde gather were

154

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conveyed my
tongue. So that Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my sing-
ing ; Mopsa^ (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion
upon a filthy favour, setting foorth both in sluttishnesse) she was
the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the
overthrowe of my desires, and yet the recompence of my over-
throwe; she the sweetnesse of my harte, even sweetning the
death, which her sweetnesse drew upon me. In summe, what
soever I thought of Pamela^ that I saide of Mopsa ; whereby as
I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing lest
I should winne the Princesse favour from him, so did the same
make the Princesse be better content to allow me her presence :
whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indigna-
tion did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away
any thing of hers, how meanely soever she reputed of it ; or
rather (as I thinke) my words being so passionate ; and shooting
so quite contrarie from the markes of Mopsaes worthinesse, she
perceived well enough, whither they were dire(5led : and there-
fore being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to
attend them. Whereupon one day determining to find some
means to tel (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne love,
and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone
with Pamela^ I came in unto them, and with a face (I am sure)
full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and songe this songe.

Since so mine eyes are subjeSi to your sight^
That in your sight they fixed have 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 living image lives in me.
That in my selfe your selfe true love doth plant ;
How can you him unworthy then decree^
In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?

The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the
middest with grievous sighes, which overtooke every verse I
sange, I let fall my harpe fro me ; & casting my eie sometime

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

upon MopiQy but setting my sight principally upon Pamela^ And
is it the onely fortune most bewtiful Mopsa (said I) of wretched
Dorusy that fortune should be measure of his mind ? Am I onely
he that because I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid upon
me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become
an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa^
consider, that a vertuous Prince requires the life of his meanest
subject, and the heavenly Sunne disdaines not to give light to
the smallest worme. O Mopsa^ Mopsa, if my hart could be as
manifest to you, as it is uncomfortable to me, I doubt not the
height of my thoughts should well countervaile the lownesse of
my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate ?
who seeth not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet
uniting of al beauties, which remaineth & dwelleth with you?
who knowes not, that al these are but ornamets of that divine
sparke within you, which being deseeded from heaven could not
els-where picke out so sweete a mansion? But if you will
knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excel-
lencies together, it is a kinde of mercyfulnesse to such a one, as
is in his soule devoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already
had had a certaine smackring towardes me) stood all this while
with her hand sometimes before her face, but most comonly
with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips,
and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the wordes I could
get of her, was, wringing her waste, and thrusting out her
chinne. In faith you jest with me : you are a merry man indeede.
But the ever-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedie
would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her parte) was
cotent to urge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the
faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully,
since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame
your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa
to so great a disparagement as to her Fathers servaunt ; since she
is not worthy to be loved, that hath not some feeling of her
owne worthines. I staied a good while after her words, in hope
she would have continued her speech (so great a delight I
receayed in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a
quaking all over my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most
worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all
vcrtue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely
156

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

rebellious handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before
your eyes, you have a pittifull spectacle of her wickednesse, a
forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but
such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthi-
nesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (even
at his death) have leave to speake, let my mortall wound pur-
chase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such in
the partie I love, as the feeling of them cannot come into any
unnoble hart ; shall that harte, which doth not onely feele them,
but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that
hart I saie, lifted up to such a height, be counted base ? O let
not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke,
where it is placed, imbraced, and loved; there can be any
unworthinesse, since the weakest mist is not easilier driven away
by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts.
I will not denie (answered the gratious Pamela) but that the
love you beare to Mopsa^ hath brought you to the consideration
of her vertues, and that consideration may have made you the
more vertuous, and so the more worthie : But even that then
(you must confesse) you have received of her, and so are rather
gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring
something of your owne wherby to claime it. And truely DoruSy
I must in Mopsaes behalfe say thus much to you, that if her
beauties have so overtaken you, it becomes a true Love to have
your harte more set upon her good then your owne, and to
beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfa<5tion.
Now by my hallidame, Madame (said Mopsa, throwing a great
number of sheeps eyes upon me) you have even touched
mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that
the pollicie that I had used, had at lest wise procured thus
much happinesse unto me, as that I might even in my Ladies
presence, discover the sore which had deepely festered within
me, and that she could better conceave my reasons applied to
Mopsa^ then she would have vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe
was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning,
using this fit occasion of Pameleas wit, and Mopsaes ignorance.
Therfore with an humble pearcing eye, looking upon Pamela^
as if I had rather bene codemned by her mouth, then highly
exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa^ but keeping
mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the wise knitting together of your answere, that any disputatio
I can use is asmuch too weake, as I unworthy. I find my love
shalbe proved no love, without I leve to love, being too unfit a
vessell in who so high thoughts should be engraved. Yet since
the Love I beare you, hath so joyned it self to the best part of
my life, as the one canot depart, but that th'other will follow,
before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me
know which is my unworthines, either of mind, estate, or both ?
Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tubled
with over much kindnesse, when Pamela with a more favour-
able countenance the before (finding how apt I was to fall into
dispaire) told me, I might therein have answered my selfe ; for
besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of
Mopsaes perfedlios had greatly beautified my minde, there was
none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserved great
allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be so farre maister
of your love, as to consider, that since the judgement of the
world stands upon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of
womankind of all other is most bound to have regardfuU eie to
mens judgements, it is not for us to play the philosophers, in
seeking out your hidden vertues : since that, which in a wise
prince would be couted wisdome, in us wil be taken for a light-
grounded afFedlio: so is not one thing, one, done by divers
persons. There is no man in a burning fever feeles so great
contentmet in cold water greedily received (which assoone as
the drinke ccaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule
refreshed with her sweetly pronouced words ; & newly, & more
violetly againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed up her
delightfuU speach, with no lesse wel graced silence. But re-
mebring in my self that aswell the Souldier dieth which
standeth still, as he that gives the bravest onset : & seeing
that to the making up of my fortune, there wanted nothing so
much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face wel wit-
nessing how deeply my soule was possessed, & with the most
submissive behavior, that a thralled hart could expresse, eve as '
my words had bene too thicke for my mouth, at legth spake to
this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) & do not then
your owne sweet words sufficietly testifie, that there was never
ma could have a juster adio against filthy fortune, the I, since
all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let ?

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

O heavely God, I would either she had such eyes as were able
to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause
of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my
miserable speeches have not already cloied you, & that the verie
presence of such a wretch become not hatefull in your eyes ; let
me reply thus much further against my mortall sentence, by
telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long
since (for woes riiake the shortest time seeme long) whereby you "
shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince
hath bene content to take the like upon him, and by that onely
hath aspired to enjoy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously
barkened, and I told my tale in this sort.

CHAP. 3.

Dorus-y6/j tale of his owne '^ education^ ^travaile^ ^ enamortng^ ^meta-
morphosingy ^saving from sea^ ^and being Musidorus. ''His
oSiave. ^Pamelas and Mopsas answere to his suit. ^His
present to them^ ^°and perplexitie in himselfe.

IN the countrie of Thessalia^ (alas why name I that accursed
country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies ?
but name it I must) in Thessalia (I say) there was (well may I
say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, who bondage wholly
possessed ; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus,
O Musidorus^ Musidorus ; but to what serve exclamations, where
there are no eares to receive the sounde ? This Musidorus, being
yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with
a violent death) her last dueties, leaving his childe to the faith of
his friends, and the proofe of time: death gave him not such
pangs as the foresight-full care hee had of his silly successour.
And yet if in his foresight he could have 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 have prevented, nor relieved. The young
Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destinies
good will, deprived of his principall stay) was yet for some
yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselves for a

^59

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

greater mischiefe) lulled up in as much good luck, as the heed-
full love of his dolefuU mother, and the florishing estate of his
country could breed unto him.
2 But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be
ripe for him, because he had age to know misery, I thinke there
was a conspiracy in all heavenly & earthly things, to frame fit
occasion to leade him unto it. His people (to whom all forraine
matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their be-
loved Prince, experience by travaile : his deare mother (whose
eyes were held open, onely with the joy of looking upon him)
did now dispense with the comfort of her widowhead life,
desiring the same her subjedtes did, for the increase of her sonnes
worthinesse. And here-to did Mus'tdorus owne vertue (see how
vertue can be a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently provoke him :
for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likenesse
of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe unto him)
that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint
pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which
did knit all this togither, was his uncle the king of Macedon\
who having lately before gotte such vidtories, as were beyond
expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne
(brought up togither, to avoid the warres, with Musidorus) and
for Mus'tdorus himselfe, that his joy might be the more full,
having such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries
my plaintfuU toong doth lead me ; and thus out of breath, rather
with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, till
Pamela shewing by countenance that such was her pleasure, I
thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the
king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace^ whether they
would needs go with a Navie to succour him : he being at that
time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it ; where
at that time his court was. But when the conspired heavens
had gotten this Subject of their wrath upon so fit a place as the
sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous windes
some part of their malice against him ; so that with the losse of i
all his Navie, he onely with the Prince his cosin, were cast a
land, farre off from the place whether their desires would have
guided them. O cruell winds in your unconsiderate rages, why
cither 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
x6o

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

for many deathfull torments. To tel you what pittiful mishaps
fell to the young Prince of Macedon his cosen, I should too much
fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay upon
those laborsome advetures, nor loathsome misadventures, to
which, & through which his fortune and courage conducted
him; My speach hastneth it self to come to the ful-.point of
Musidorus his infortunes. For as we finde the most pestilet
diseases do gather into themselves al the infirmitie, with which
the body before was annoyed ; so did his last misery embrace in
the extremitie of it self all his former mischiefes.

Arcadia^ Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of ^
his endlesse overthrow. Arcadia was, (alas well might I say it
is) the charmed circle, where all his spirits for ever should be
enchaunted. For here (and no where els) did his infedted eyes
make his minde know, what power heavenly beauty hath to
throw it downe to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the
Arcadian Kings eldest daughter, in whom he forthwith placed
so all his hopes of joy, and joyfull parts of his heart, that he left
in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of
sorrow. But alas what can saying make them beleeve, whom
seeing cannot perswade ? Those paines must be felt before they
ca be understood; no outward utterance can command a con-
ceipt. Such was as then the state of the King, as it was no time
by dired: meanes to seeke her. And such was the state of his
captived wil, as he could delay no time of seeking her.

In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shepheards4
weede, that under the basenesse of that forme, he might at lest
have free accesse to feed his eyes with that, which should at
length eate up his hart. In which doing, thus much without
doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alwayes to be
rejected, since under that vaile there may be hidden things to be
esteemed. And if he might with taking on a shepherds look cast
up his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created ;
the like, nay the same desire of mine need no more to be dis-
dained, or held for disgraceful^ But now alas mine eyes waxe
dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force
to help, either with the feeling remembrance I have, in what
heape of miseries the caitife Prince lay at this time buried.
Pardon therfore, most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course
of my dolorous tale, since if I be understood, I have said enough,

S. A. L 161

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might
befall to that patterne of ill fortune, (the matters are monstrous
for my capacitie) his hatefuU destinies must best declare their
owne workemanship.
5 Thus having delivered my tale in this perplexed manner, to
the end the Princesse might judge that he ment himselfe, who
spake so feelingly ; her aunswere was both strange, and in some
respedt comfortable. For would you thinke it? she hath
heard heretofore of us both, by meanes of the valiant prince
P/angus, and particularly of our casting away: which she
(following my owne stile) thus delicately brought foorth. You
have told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale ; but you are much
deceived in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with
his cosen Pyrocles did both perish upon the coast of Laconia ; as
a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted
with the historic) did assure my father. O how that speach of
hers did poure joyes in my hart ? 6 blessed name (thought I) of
mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through
those lips, though I can never hope to approch them. As for
Pyrocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished:
(which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being,
then your selfe would have it) and yet affirmed no lye unto
her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musi-
dorus (said I) I perceive indeed you have neither heard or read
the story of that unhappy Prince; for this was the verie
obje(5tion, which that peerelesse Princesse did make unto him,
whe he sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome:
and thus as I have read it faire written in the certaintie of my
knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein
he came, by a treason was perished, and therfore that Plangus
might easily be deceaved : but that he himselfe was cast upon
the coast of Laconia^ where he was taken up by a couple of
shepheards, who lived in those dayes famous; for that both
loving one faire maide, they yet remained constant friends; one
of whose songs not long since was song before you by the
shepheard Lamon^ and brought by them to a noble-mans house,
neere Mantineay 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 delivered.
Now these circumlocutions I did use, because of the one side I
162

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I ment;
and of the other, if I should have named Strephon^ Claius^
Kalander^ and Clitophon^ perhappes it would have rubd some
conjedlure into the heavie heade of Mistresse Mopsa.

And therfore (said I) most divine Lady, he justly was to 6
argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by
those parties be satisfied, that upon that wrack such a one was
taken up: and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who
knew not of anies taking up againe : that he that was so pre-
served, brought good tokens to be one of the two, chiefe of
that wracked companie : which two since Plangus knew to be
Musidorus and Pyrocles^ he must needes be one of them,
although (as I said) upon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at
that time called. Besides, the Princesse must needes judge,
that no lesse then a Prince durst undertake such an enterprise,
which (though he might gette the favour of the Princesse) he
could never defend with lesse the a Princes power, against the
force o^ Arcadia. Lastly, (said he) for a certaine demonstration,
he presumed to shew unto the Princesse a marke he had on his
face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare
Mopsa: and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where
(as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they
tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that she may ascertaine her selfe,
that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to
send some one she might trust, into Thessalia^ secretely to be
advertised, whether the age, the complexion, and particularly
that notable signe, did not fully agree with this Prince Musi-
dorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled
countenance, not accusing any kind of inwarde motion) of that
storie. Alas no, (said I) for even here the Historiographer
stopped, saying. The rest belonged to Astrologie. And there-
with, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke upon
somewhat, to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do)
and withal, to shew what kind of shepheard I was, I took up
my Harpe, and sang these few verses.

MT sheepe are thoughts^ which I both guide and serve: 7
Their pasture is fair e hilles of fruit lesse Love:
On barren sweetes they feede^ and feeding sterve :
I waile their lotte^ but will not other prove.

L2 163

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all upholdes :
My iveedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes.

What wooll my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they live,

In you it is, you must the judgement give.

And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the matter (lest
she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally,
if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answeares,
I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought her to
move Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would unarme her hart of
that steely resistace against the sweet blowes of Love : that
since all her parts were decked with some particular ornamet;
her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with
majestie, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with
lovelines, her tongue with vi<5torie ; that she woulde make her
hart the throne of pitie, being the most excellent rayment of
the most excellent part.

8 Pamela, without shew either of favour or disdaine, either of
heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her speech to
Mopsa, and with such a voice and a6tion, as might shewe she
spake of a matter which little did concerne her. Take heede
to your selfe (saide she) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake
well: but truely, if he doo fully proove himselfe such as he
saith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menalchas his brother, and
heire, I know no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him.
Mopsa though (in my conscience) she were even then farre
spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint
speeches, she would keepe her honestie close inough : And that
as for the highe way of matrimony, she would steppe never a
foote further, till my maister her father had spoken the whole
word him selfe, no she would not. But ever and anon turning
her muzzell toward me, she threwe such a prospedt upon me,
as might well have given a surfet to any weake lovers stomacke.
But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that drivels speeches
among my noble thoughts? but because she was an Adlor in
this Tragedie, to geve you a ful knowledge, and to leave
nothing (that I can remember) unrepeated.

9 Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from
us, I tooke a Jewell, made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which,
because it lookes one way and goes another, I thought it did
164

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela :
The word about it was, By force^ not choice ; and still kneeling,
besought the Princesse that she would vouchsafe to give it
Mopsa^ and with the blessednes of her hande to make acceptable
unto her that toye which I had founde, followinge of late an
acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (sayd I) as the
earth was turned up, the plow-share lighted upon a great stone :
we puld that up, & so found both that, and some other prety
thinges which we had devided betwixt us.

Mopsa was benummed with joy when the Princesse gave it lo
her : but in the Princesse I could nnde no apprehension of what
I either said or did, but with a calme carelesnesse letting each
thing slide, justly as we doo by their speeches, who neither in
matter nor person doo any way belong unto us) which kind of
colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall majestie,
is of all others most terrible unto me: for yet if I found she
contemned me, I would desperatly labour both in fortune and
vertue to overcome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in
heaven ; for quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance : lastly,
if she hated me, yet I should know what passion to deale with ;
and either with infinitenes of desert I would take away the
fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serve, then I would
give her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quietnes,
neither retiring to mislike, nor proceeding to favour ; gratious,
but gratious still after one maner; all her courtesies having this
engraven in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not
for the parties; ever keeping her course like the Sun, who
neither for our prayses, nor curses, will spare or stoppe his
horses. This (I say) heavenlines of hers, (for how so ever my
miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach
unto, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannie
of despaire, not knowing any way of perswasio, where wisdome
seemes to be unsensible. I have appeared to her eyes, like my
selfe, by a device I used with my master, perswading him, that
we two might put on a certaine rich apparrel I had provided,
and so pradlise 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

i6s

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of the Princes stable. But how soever I show, I am no base
bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome.

CHAP. 4.

* Basilius his banking. * Gynecias hurte by Dametas overturning
her coache. * Her jelousie over Zelmane. Philocleas * love-
passionsy ' vowe ofchastitiey ' revocatioUy ' lamentation.

I T) Ut as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas (who came
JD whistling, & counting upon his fingers, how many loade
of hay his seventeen fat oxen eat up in a yeare) desired Zelmane
from the King that she would come into the lodge, where
they stayed for her. Alas (said Dorus, taking his leave) the
sum is this, that you may wel find you have beate your sorrow
against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may wel
make your sorrow stroger. But Zelmane turning her speach to
Dametasy I shall grow (said she) skilfull in country matters, if I
have often conference with your servaunt. In sooth (answered
Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may prove wel
enough, if he oversoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will
beare away that he heareth of his elders. And therewith as
they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find she
might have spet her time better with him, he began with a
wilde Methode to runne over all the art of husbandrie : especi-
ally imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde : while
poore Zelmane yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not
warding them so much as with any one answere, till they came
to BasiliuSy and Gyneciay who atteded for her in a coach to
Carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her.
Basilius and Gynecia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the
other, with her left side to Philoclea, Zelmane was moved in
her minde, to have kissed their feete for the favour of so blessed
a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them joine
from the foote to the shoulders very close together ; the truer
touch wherof though it were barrea by their envious apparell,
yet as a perfed Magnes, though put in an ivorie boxe, will
166

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

thorow the boxe send forth his imbraced vertue to a beloved
needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule
cleave unto her, both thorow the ivory case of her body, and
the apparell which did over-clowd it. All the bloud o^ Zelmanes
body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put
into it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloved guest;
her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines
his libertie, before the grate ; not panting, but striving violently
(if it had bene possible) to have leapt into the lappe of Philoclea.
But Dametas, even then proceeding from being maister of a
carte, to be do6lor of a coach, not a little prowd in himselfe,
that his whippe at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, drave
the coach {the cover whereof was made with such joints, that
as they might (to avoid the weather) pull it up close when they
listed, so when they would they might put each ende downe,
and remaine as discovered & open sighted as on horsebacke) till
upon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels,
and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lords, the
second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a
cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant
height over certaine bushes, would beate the birdes (that rose)
downe unto the bushes, as Faulcons will doo wilde-foule over a
river. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would
principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne,
which getting up on his wagling winges with paine, till he was
come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth
were not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) was now growen
to diminish the sight of himself, & to give example to great
persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should show :
whe a Jerfaulcon was cast of after her, who streight spying
where the pray was, fixing her eie with desire, & guiding her
wing by her eie, used no more stregth then industry. For as
a good builder to a hie tower will not make his stayre upright,
but winding almost the ful copasse about, that the steepnes be
the more unsensible : so she, seing the towring of her pursued
chase, went circkling, & copassing about, rising so with the
lesse sence of rising; & yet finding that way scantly serve the
greedines of her hast, as an ambitious body wil go far out of
the direft way, to win to a point of height which he desires;
so would she (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, & flie quite

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out another way, but all was to returne in a higher pitche;
which once gotten, she would either beate with cruell assaults
the Heron, who now was driven to the best defence of force,
since flight would not serve; or els clasping with him, come
downe together, to be parted by the overpartiall beholders.

2 Divers of which flights Basilius shewing to 'Lelmane^ thus
was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before
it was thought of, till night like a degenerating successour
made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so
constrained) they willed Dametas to drive homeward, who
(halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a vine-presse)
guided the horses so ill, that the wheele comming over a great
stub of a tree, it overturned the coach. Which though it fell
violently upon the side where Zelmane & Gynecia sat, yet for
Zelmanes part, she would have bene glad of the fall, which
made her beare the sweete burthen of Phikclea^ but that she
feared she might receave some hurt. But indeede neither she
did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and
legs within the coach, saving Gynecia^ who with the onely bruze
of the fall had her shoulder put out of joinft; which though by
one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with
much paine was she brought to the lodge; and paine (fetching
his ordinary companion, a fever with him) drave her to enter-
taine them both in her bedde.

3 But neither was the fever of such impatient heate, as the
inwarde plague-sore of her aflfedion, nor the paine halfe so
noysome, as the jealousie she conceaved of her daughter Philo-
cUay lest this time of her sicknesse might give apt occasion to
Zelmane^ whom she misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea
to her, and though it were late in the night, commaunded her
in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her,
with whom she would speake, and she lie with her sister Pamela.
The meane while Gynecia kepte Zelmane with her, because she
would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she
licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then
obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not
thinking skorne to be a torche-bearer to such beautie) guided
her steppes, whose motions bare a minde, which bare in it selfe
farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how
hath my penne till now forgot thy passions, since to thy
i68

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon
the slacknes to come to those woes, which having caused in
others, thou didst feele in thy selfe.

The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of well 4
doing, to whom the not knowing of evill serveth for a ground
of vertue, and hold their inward powers in better forme with
an unspotted simplicitie, then many, who rather cuningly seeke
to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselves
the following of it. But as that sweet & simple breath of
heavenly goodnesse, is the easier to be altered, because it hath
not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found
the evill, that evill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea
(whose eyes and senses had receaved nothing, but according as
the naturall course of each thing required; which fro the
tender youth had obediently lived under her parents behests,
without framing out of her own wil the fore-chosing of any
thing) whe now she came to appoint, wherin her judgemet was
to be pradtized, in knowing faultines by his first tokes, she was
like a yong faune, who coming in the wind of the hunters,
doth not know whether it be a thing or no to be eschewed;
whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For
after that Zelmane had a while lived in the lodge with her, and
that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heed-
full attention; her coming to that lonely place (where she had
no body but her parents) a willingnes of conversatio; her wit
& behaviour, a liking & silent admiration ; at length the
excellency of her natural gifts, joined with the extreme shewes
she made of most devout honouring Philoclea, (carying thus in
one person the only two bads of good will, lovelines &
lovingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most friedly
afFedio; which when it had gotten so ful possession of the
keies of her mind, that it would receave no message fro her
senses, without that aft'edtion were the interpreter; the streight
grew an exceeding delight stil to be with her, with an un-
measurable liking of al that Zelmane did: maters being so
turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed
good-wil, now good-wil became the chiefe cause of liking her
manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for
her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was
Zelmanes. The followed that most natural effe6l of coforming

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

ones self to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to
be her selfe such an other in all thinges, but to ground an
imitation upon so much an esteemed authoritie: so that the
next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches, and
fashions, and to take them into herselfe, as a patterne of worthy
proceeding. Which when once it was enadled, not onely by
the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed unto by her most noble
Thoughts, and that by Reason it self (not yet experienced in
the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent ; then
Friendship (a diligent officer) tooke care to see the statute
thorowly observed. Then grew on that not onely she did
imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of
her speech, but even their particular gestures: so that as
Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane ; & as
Zelmanes eyes would deliver a submissive, but vehement desire
in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her,
yet should her eyes answere in like pearcing kindnesse of a
looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias jealousie would suffer,
desired to be neere Philoclea', Philoclea, as much as Gynecias
jealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane. If Zelmane
tooke her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the
knots of friendship ought to bee mutuall) would (with a sweete
fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane
sighed, she would sigh also; whe Zelmane was sad, she deemed
it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes
laguishing coutenace with crost armes, and sometimes cast-up
eyes, she thought to have an excellent grace : and therefore she
also willingly put on the same countenace: til at the last (poore
soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the band, but
the service; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For
whether it were, that her wit in cotinuace did finde, that
Zelmanes friendship was full of impatient desire, having more the
ordinarie limits, & therfore shee was content to second Z^elmane^
though her selfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-
love (well considered) have an infective power. At last she fell
m acquaintance with loves harbinger, wishing. First she would
wish, that they two might live all their lives togither, like two
of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient,
because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them,
who also would have their part in Zelmane. The would she
170

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

wish, that she were her sister, that such a natural band might
make her more speciall to her. But against that, she con-
sidered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be
married, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bolder,
she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there
might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when
that wish had once displaied his ensigne in her minde, then
followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with
a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their
creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night beganne
to bring more unto her, then she durst wish by day, whereout
making did make her know her selfe the better by the image of
those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be
cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie
to be knowne, they are almost impossible to be cured : so the
sweete Fhiloclea^ while she might prevent it, she did not feele
it, now she felt it, when it was past preventing ; like a river,
no rampiers being built against it, till alreadie it have over-
flowed. For now indeed. Love puld of his maske, and shewed
his face unto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner.
Then needed she no more paint her face with passions; for
passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was
often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another
time, perfect whitenesse ascended to a degree of palenesse; now
hot, then cold, desiring she knew not what, nor how, if she
knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart
was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe
taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error
gives so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the
authoritie of a parent, so) greatly fortified her desires, to see,
that her mother had the like desires. And the more jealous
her mother was, the more she thought the Jewell precious,
which was with so many lookes garded. But that prevailing
so far, as to keepe the two lovers from private conference, then
began she to feele the sweetnesse of a lovers solitarinesse,
when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were
present, shee might give passage to her thoughts, and so as it
were utter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she
was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going
from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commande-

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merit, with dolefull gestures and uncertaine paces, shee did
willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that
going a little aside into the wood ; where manie times before she
had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of
trees, so close set togither, as with the shade the moone gave
thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of devotion to looke
upon it. But true thoughts of love banish all vaine fancie of
superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the
place ; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phoebus
of looking upon her: There had she enjoyed her selfe often,
while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had no other thoughts,
but such as might arise out of quiet senses.
5 But the principall cause that invited her remembrance, was
a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene
dedicated in ancient time to the Silvan gods: which she finding
there a fewe dayes before Zelmanes comming, had written these
words upon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition
her captivitie made her thinke she lived in. The writing was
this.

YOu living powres enclosed in stately shrine
Of growing trees -y you rurall Gods that wield
Tour scepters here^ if to your eares divine
A voice may come^ which troubled soule doth yeld :
This vowe receave, this vowe 6 Gods maintained
My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine.

Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present
My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe
My tempred hart-, by thee my promise sent
Unto my selfe let after-livers know.

No fancy mine, nor others wronge suspeSf
Make me, 6 vertuous Shame, thy lawes negleSt,

O Chastitie, the chiefe of heavenly lightes.
Which makst us most immortall shape to weare,
Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights :
To onely thee my constant course I beare.
Till spotlesse soule unto thy bosome flye.
Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.
172

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

But now that her memorie served as an accuser of her 6
change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare
testimony against her fall ; she went in among those few trees,
so closed in the toppes togither, as they might seeme a little
chappell : and there might she by the help of the moone-light
perceive the goodly stone, which served as an altar in that
wooddie devotion. But neither the light was enough to reade
the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many
places blotted: which as she perceaved, Alas (said she) faire
Marble, which never receivedst spot but by my writing, well
do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which
did not dissemble then, although she have chaunged since.
Enjoy, enjoy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly
beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding
her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine
verses, which if she had had present commoditie, she would
have adjoyned as a retradlation to the other. They were to
this efFed.

My wordsy in hope to blaze my stedfast minde^
This marble chose^ as of like temper knowne :
But loe, my words defaste^ my fancies blinde^
Blots to the stone^ shame to my selfe I finde :
And witnesse am^ how ill agree in one^
A womans hand with constant marble stone.

My words full weake^ the marble full of might;

My words in store^ the marble all alone;

My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white;

My words unseene, the marble still in sight.
May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand, with constant marble stone.

But seeing she could not see meanes to joyne as the this 7
recantation to the former vow, (laying all her faire length
under one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turne
up and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie
that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could have hidden
her selfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring
note to her selfe; O me unfortunate wretch (said she) what
poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me ? How hath

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the sight of this strange guest invaded my soule ? Alas, what
entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to
conquer me? Then, a cloud passing betweene her sight and
the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that
now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away,
as you will quickly overcome this let ; or els that you were for
ever thus darkned, to serve for an excuse of my outragious
folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then
beautified the cleere skie: My parets (said she) have told me,
that in these faire heavenly bodies, there are great hidde deities,
which have their working in the ebbing & flowing of our
estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) judge rightly of me, &
if I have with wicked intet made my selfe a pray to fancie, or
if by any idle lustes I framed my harte fit for such an impres-
sion, then let this plague dayly encrease in me, till my name
bee made odious to womankind. But if extreame and unre-
sistable violence have oppressed me, who will ever do any of
you sacrifice (6 you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no,
you will not help me. No, no, you cannot helpe me: Sinne
must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection.
And yet are these but childish objections (simple Philoclea) it is
the impossibilitie that dooth torment me : for, unlawfuU desires
are punished after the eiFe(St of enjoying ; but unpossible desires
are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, 6 tenne times
unhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth
love; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my afFedtion:
and of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from
impossibilitie. The most covetous man longs not to get
riches out of a groud which never can beare any thing; Why.?
because it is impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth
not his wittes to clime into heaven ; Why ? because it is
impossible. Alas then, 6 Love, why doost thou in thy
beautifull sampler sette such a worke for my Desire to take
out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I
thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say
for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Love
hath prepared for me ? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at
lest as furiouslie as my selfe, love Zelmane? And should I be
wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that
which I think impossible, or els impossible loves neede not

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not
thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and
vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to love me with like ardour? I
see it, her eyes depose it to be true ; what then ? and if she
can love poore me, shall I thinke scorne to love such a woman
as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and
how. Thou lovest me, excellent Zelmane^ and I love thee:
and with that, embrasing the very grounde whereon she lay,
she said to her selfe (for even to her selfe she was ashamed to
speake it out in words) O my Zelmane^ governe and diredt me:
for I am wholy given over unto thee.

CHAP. 5.

1 The bedfellow communication <7/"Philoclea and Pamela. ' Pamelas
narration of her shepheardes making love^ ^ of Dorus and
Dametas horsemanshippe^ *■ of his hote pursuite^ and her colde
acceptance. ^ His letter, ^ Her relenting^ ''and Philocleas
sole complaint.

IN this depth of muzes, and divers sorts of discourses, would i
she have ravingly remained, but that Dametas and Miso
(who were rounde about to seeke her, understanding she was to
come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas
saying, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but
for his parte, he did not like that maides should once stirre out
of their fathers houses, but if it were to milke a cow, or save a
chicken from a kites foote, or some such other matter of im-
portance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter
Mopsa^ she woulde give her a lesson for walking so late, that
should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight. But
their jangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she
had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she
had willed Miso to waite upon her mother) to the lodge ; where
(being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well as her
sister, to serve her selfe) she went alone up to Pamelas chamber :
where meaning to delight her eies, and joy her thoughts with
the sweet conversation of her beloved sister, she found her
(though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire,
lying backward, with her head almost over the back of it, &
looking upon a wax-cadle which burnt before her ; in one hand
holding a letter, in the other her hand-kerchiefe, which had
lately dronk up the teares of her eyes, leaving in steed of them,
crimsen circles, like redde flakes in the element, when the
weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had
learned to know the badges of sorowes) she earnestlie intreated
to knowe the cause thereof, that either she might comforte, or
accompanie her dolefuU humor. But Pamela^ rather seeming
sorie that she had perceived so much, then willing to open any
further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in
nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our
coutrey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest,
a friend by my choice and your favour, what meanes this
banishing me from your counsels? Do you love your sorrowe
so well, as to grudge me part of it ? Or doo you thinke I shall
not love a sadde Pamela^ so well as a joyfull ? Or be my eares
unwoorthie, or my tongue suspected ? What is it (my sister)
that you should conceale from your sister, yea and servant
Philoclea? These wordes wanne no further of Pamela^ but
that telling her they might talke better as they lay together,
they impoverished their cloathes to inriche their bed, which
for that night might well scorne the shrine oiFenus : and there
cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embrace-
ments; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that
Love was come to play him there without darte; or that
weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refreshe himselfe
betweene their sweete-breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly
againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the
curtain, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing)
was ready to speake : but the breath almost formed into words,
was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I
pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea^ let us talke of some other
thing: & tell me whether you did ever see any thing so ameded
as our Pastoral sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O
Love, how farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had
straight found her, and therefore to draw out more. In deed
(said she) I have often wondred to my selfe how such excellecies
could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide
176

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

to lay her treasures, where they should be staind with so many
perfections: onely I marvaile how he can frame himselfe to
hide so rare giftes under such a block as Dametas. Ah (said
Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither;
and to say the trueth: but Lord, how are we falne to talke of
this fellow ? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to
marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke ledlure unto him
(how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade them in
the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome for his
oxen, when to use the goade, & when the voice : giving him
rules of a heardma, though he preteded to make him a shep-
heard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to
set a crowne upon his base estate) he can descend to those
poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serves this?
no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these idle matters.
Ah my Pamela (said Philocled) I have caught you, the constant-
nes of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disjointed
speeches: you love, dissemble no further. It is true (said
Pamela) now you have it; and with lesse adoo should, if my
hart could have thoght those words suteable for my mouth.
But indeed (my Philocled) take heed : for I thinke Vertue it self
is no armour of proofe against affecSlion. Therfore learne by
my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheeres
come to late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away.

But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her Love, 2
went away a maine withall, telling her how his noble qualities
had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet ever waying his
meanenes, & so held continually in due limits; till seeking
many meanes to speake with her, & ever kept from it (as wel
because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because
of her jealous jaylours) he had at length used the finest pollicie
that might be in counterfaiting love to Mopsa^ & saying to
Mopsa what soever he would have her know: and in how
passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person,
making poore Mopsa beleve, that it was a matter fallen out
many ages before. And in the end, because you shal know my
teares come not, neither of repetance nor misery, who thinke
you, is my Dorus fallen out to be ? even the Prince Afusidorus,
famous over all Jsia, for his heroical enterprises, of whom you
remember how much good the straunger Plangus told my
s. A. M 177

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

father ; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his
cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had
heard his words, or seene his gestures, when he made me know
what, and to whom his love was, you would have matched in
your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and
delight. Tell me deare sister (for the gods are my witnesses I
desire to doo vertuously) can I without the detestable staine of
ungrate fulnesse abstaine from loving him, who (far exceeding
the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beautifulnesse of his
minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of
his ades) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas
servaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be
Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow belief?
That cosideratio did not want in me, for the nature of desire it
selfe is no easier to receive beliefe, then it is hard to ground
belief. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of
comfort, so is desire desirous of perfeft assuraunce: and that
have I had of him, not onely by necessary arguments to any of
comon sense, but by sufficient demonstrations. Lastly he
would have me send to Thessalia : but truly I am not as now
in mind to do my honorable Love so much wrong, as so far to
suspedt him : yet poor soule knowes he no other, but that I
doo both suspedt, negleft, yea & detest him. For every day he
finds one way or other to set forth him selfe unto me, but all
are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation.
3 A few daies since, he & Dametas had furnished theselves
very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight
it was to see Dametas^ like rich Tissew furd with lambe skins?
But 6 how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace he
presented him selfe before me on horseback, making majestie
wait upon humblenes? how at the first, standing stil with his
eies bent upo me, as though his motios were chained to my
looke, he so staide till I caused Mopsa bid him doo something
upon his horse : which no sooner said, but (with a kinde rather of
quick gesture, then shew of violece) you might see him come
towards me, beating the groiid in so due time, as no daunce
can observe better measure. If you remember the ship we saw
once, whe the Sea went hie upon the coast of Jrgos-y so went
the beast: But he (as if Cetaurlike he had bene one peece with
the horse) was no more moved, then one is with the going of

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

his owne legges: and in efFeft so did he command him, as his
owne limmes, for though he had both spurres and wande, they
seemed rather markes of soveraintie, then instruments of
punishment; his hand and legge (with most pleasing grace)
commading without threatning, & rather remebring then
chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stolen, as
neyther our eyes could discerne it, nor the horse with any
chaunce did coplaine of it, he ever going so just with the horse,
either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed
the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde : in the turning
one might perceive the bridle-hand somthing gently stir, but
indeed so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then use
violence. Him self (which me thinkes is straunge) shewing at
one instant both steadines & nimblenes; somtimes making
him turne close to the groud, like a cat, when scratchingly she
wheeles about after a mouse : sometimes with a little more
rising before, now like a Raven leaping from ridge to ridge,
then like one of Dametas kiddes bound over the hillocks : and
all so done, as neither the lustie kinde shewed any roughnesse,
nor the easier any idlenesse : but still like a well obeyed maister,
whose becke is enough for a discipline, ever concluding ech
thing he did with his face to me-wards, as if thence came not
onely the beginning, but ending of his motions. The sporte
was to see Dametas^ how he was tost from the sadle to the
mane of the horse, and thence to the ground, giving his gay
apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as
before he had ever said, he wanted but horse & apparell to be
as brave a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he
proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put himselfe
under the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was fayne alone to
take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanish eyes
could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the
descending it a little downe, the getting of it up into the rest,
the letting of the point fall, and taking the ring was but all one
motion, at lest (if they were divers motions) they did so
stealingly slippe one into another, as the latter parte was ever in
hande, before the eye could discerne the former was ended.
Indeed Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength
in shaking of his stafFe : but to my conceite the fine cleernes of
bearing it was exceeding delightfull.

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4 But how delightful! soever it was, my delight might well
be in my soule, but it never went to looke out of the window
to doo him any comfort. But how much more I found reason
to like him, the more I set all the strength of mind to suppresse
it, or at lest to conceale it. Indeed I must confesse, as some
Physitions have tolde me, that when one is cold outwardly,
he is not inwardly ; so truly the colde ashes layed upon my
fire, did not take the nature of fire from it. Full often hath
my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full
often have the teares, I drave backe from mine eyes, turned
backe to drowne my harte. But alas what did that helpe poore
DorusP whose eyes (being his diligent intelligencers) coulde
Carrie unto him no other newes, but discomfortable. I thinke
no day past, but by some one invention he would appeare unto
me to testifie his love. One time he daunced the Matachine
daunce in armour (O with what a graceful! dexteritie?) I thinke
to make me see, that he had bene brought up in such exercises :
an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time
seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while
he plaide Paris. Thinke (sweet Philoclea) what a Priamus we
had : but truely, my Paris was a Parisy and more then a Paris :
who while in a savage apparell, with naked necke, armes, and
legges, he made love to Oenone, you might wel see by his
chaunged countenance, and true teares, that he felte the parte
he playde. Tell me (sweet Philoclea) did you ever see such a
shepheard ? tell me, did you ever heare of such a Prince ? And
then tell me, if a small or unworthy assaulte have conquered
me. Truely I would hate my life, if I thought vanitie led me.
But since my parents deale so cruelly with me, it is time for
me to trust something to my owne judgement. Yet hetherto
have my lookes bene as I told you, which continuing after
many of these his fruitles trials, have wrought such change in
himj as I tell you true (with that worde she laid her hand upon
her quaking side) I doo not a little feare him. See what :i
letter this is (then drewe she the curtaine and tooke the letter
from under the pillowe) which to daie (with an affli6led
humblenesse) he delivered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I
should read it unto her, to mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke;
with that she read the letter containing thus much.

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

MOst blessed paper, which shalt kisse that had, where to 5
al blessednes is in nature a servat, do not yet disdain
to cary with thee the woful words of a miser now despairing :
neither be afraid to appeare before her, bearing the base title of
the sender. For no sooner shal that divine hande touch thee,
but that thy basenesse shall be turned to most hie preferment.
Therefore mourne boldly my Inke ; for while she lookes upo
you, your blacknes wil shine: crie out boldly my Lametatio;
for while she reads you, your cries wil be musicke. Say then
(O happy messenger of a most unhappy message) that the too
soone borne, too late dying creature, which dares not speake,
no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe,
unto her heavenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in
the time that her eyes and voice doo exalt thee) to say, and in
this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fit, but
of him. Thus much unto her sacred judgement : O you, the
onely, the onely honour to women, to men the onely admira-
tion, you that being armed by Love, defie him that armed you,
in this high estate wherein you have placed me, yet let me
remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your
presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours,
how meane so ever it be) it is reaso you have an account of
him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing
steppes runnes fast to his grave, and will you suffer a temple (how
poorely-built soever, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be
rased ? But he dyeth : it is most true, he dyeth ; and he in
whom you live, to obey you, dieth. Whereof though he
plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong,
which he hath received. He dyes, because in wofuU language
all his senses tell him, that such is your pleasure : for since you
will not that he live, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth
of the most ruineti Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, evill
destinyed Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofuU letter, end; for it
sufEseth her wisedome to know, that her heavenly will shalbe
accomplished.

O my Phtloclea, is hee a person to write these words? and 6
are these words lightly to be regarded ? But if you had seene,
when with trembling hand he had delivered it, how hee went
away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carried himselfe to
his sepulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take

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curtesie into mine eyes ; but both times the former resolution
stopt the entrie of it: so that he departed without obtaining
any further kindnesse. But he was no sooner out of the doore,
but that I looked to the doore kindly ; and truely the feare of
him ever since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you
found me. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) leave sorrow. The
river of your teares will soone loose his fountaine ; it is in your
hand as well to stitch up his life againe, as it was before to rent
it. And so (though with self-grieved mind) she comforted her
sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire
weeping eyes.
5 Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me
(said she) indeed the onely subjed of the destinies displeasure,
whose greatest fortunatenes is more unfortunate, then my
sisters greatest unfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because she
would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can never be
happie ; her teares flow from pittie ; mine from being too farre
lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not envie thee,
deare Pamela^ I do not envy thee: onely I could wish that
being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in
fortune.

CHAP. 6.

* The Ladies uprising^ ^ and interrogatories to Dorus concerning
Pyrocles and Euarchus. ^ His historiologie of Euarchus
kingly excellencies^ * his entry on a most corrupt estate, '^ and
reformation thereof by royall arts and aSfions. ^ His, and
Dorilaus crosse-mariage to ech others sister, having by ech a
Sonne ; their mutuall defence, with Dorilaus death.

BUt the darkenesse of sorrow overshadowing her mind, as
the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide
themselves under the wings of sleepe, till the next morning
had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters
awaked fro dreames, which flattered them with more comfort,
then their waking could, or would consent unto. For then
they were called up by Miso ; who having bene with Gynecia,
had received commaundement to be continually with her
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea
have any private coferece, but that she should be present to
heare v/hat passed. But Miso having now her authoritie
encreased, came with skowling eyes to deliver a slavering good
morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for
them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with
long lying a bedde: & that, when she was of their age, she
trowed, she would have made a handkerchiefe by that time of
the day. The two sweete Princes with a smiling silence
answered her entertainement, and obeying her dire6tion,
covered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes. But as
soone as Pamela was readie (& sooner she was then her sister)
the agony of Dorus giving a fit to her selfe, which the words of
his letter (lively imprinted in her minde) still remembred her
of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake
with her: because (she said) she would take further judge-
ment of him, before she would move Dametas to graunt
her in mariage unto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweete-meate
to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to
Pamela^ who entended both by speaking with him to give some
comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some part
of his life past; which although fame had alreadie delivered
unto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to have
it from so beloved an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues
disposition jealous, even over it selfe, suffred her not to enter
abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom she was halfe
ashamed she did love so well, and more then halfe sorie she
could love no better) but thought best first to make her talke
arise of Pyrocles^ and his vertuous father : which thus she did.

Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was 2
deceaved in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned :
but withall, you confessed his cosen Pyrocles perished ; of whom
certainly in that age there was a great losse, since (as I have
heard) he was a young Prince, of who al me expe6ted as much,
as mans power could bring forth, & yet vertue promised for
him, their expe6lation should not be deceaved. Most excellent
Ladie (said Dorus) no expedtatio in others, nor hope in himself
could aspire to a higher mark, the to be thought worthy to be
praised by your judgement, & made worthy to be praised by
your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no

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meanes get so sweete & noble an aire to flie in, as in your
breath, so could not you (leaving your selfe aside) finde in the
world a fitter subject of commendation; as noble, as a long
succession of royall ancestors, famous, and famous of vidtories
could make him : of shape most lovely, and yet of mind more
lovely ; valiant, curteous, wise, what should I say more ? sweete
Pyroc/esy excellent Pyroclesy what can my words but wrong thy
perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou
hadst bequethed to him that ever must have thy vertues in
admiration ; that masked at least in them, I might have found
some more gratious acceptation? with that he imprisoned his
looke for a while upon Mopsa, who thereupon fell into a verie
wide smiling. Truely (said Pamela) Dorus I like well your
minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours
is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles
was. Who shootes at the mid-day Sunne, though he be sure
he shall never hit the marke ; yet as sure he is, he shall shoote
higher, then who aymes but at a bush. But I pray you Dorus
(said she) tell me (since I perceave you are well acquainted with
that storie) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles^ of
whom so much fame goes, for his rightly royall vertues, or by
what wayes he got that opinion. And then so descend to the
causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for
that excellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and
losse : and therein you may (if you list) say something of that
same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going togither, the
story of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better
understood.
3 Incomparable Lady (said he) your commandement doth not
onely give me the wil, but the power to obey you, such influ-
ence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King
Euarchusy he was (at this time you speake off) King of Macedon,
a kingdome, which in elder time had such a soveraintie over all
the provinces of Greece, that eve the particular kings therin did
acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kind
of fealty thereunto: as among the rest, even this now most
nobje (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he,
whe he came to his crowne, finding by his later ancestors
either negligece, or misfortune, that in some ages many of
those duties had bin intermitted, would never stirre up old
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

titles (how apparant soever) whereby the publike peace (with
the losse of manie not guiltie soules) should be broken ; but
contenting himselfe to guide that shippe, wherein the heavens
had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daungerlesse
despising, then others in daungerous affedling the multiplying of
kingdomes : for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding wit-
nesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was
most wise to see what was best, and most just in the perfourming
what he saw, & temperate in abstaining from any thing any
way contrary: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater
harte to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer
to make any wrongfull threatning upon him. A Prince, that
indeed especially measured his greatnesse by his goodnesse : and
if for any thing he loved greatnesse, it was, because therein he
might exercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly aspe6t, and
the more goodly by a grave majestie, wherewith his mind did
decke his outward graces; strong of body, and so much the
stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to
do, and suffer. Of age, so as he was about fiftie yeares when
his Nephew Musidorus tooke on such shepherdish apparell for
the love of the worlds paragon, as I now weare.

This King left Orphan both of father and mother, (whose 4
father & grandfather likewise had dyed yong) he found his estate,
when he came to age (which allowed his authoritie) so disjoynted
even in the noblest & strongest lims of governmet, that the name
of a King was growne eve odious to the people, his autority
having bin abused by those great Lords, & litle kings : who in
those betweene-times of raigning (by unjust favouring those
that were partially theirs, & oppressing them that woulde
defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a
more felt then seene maner of proceeding) the worst kind
of O/igarchie-, that is, whe men are governed in deede by a
fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe be, to
whom they should obey. For they having the power of kinges,
but not the nature of kings, used the authority as men do their
farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal goe out:
making the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated, the Kings
purse reward whom they loved : and (which is worst of all)
making the Royall countenance serve to undermine the Royall
soveraintie. For the Subjedes could taste no sweeter fruites of

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having a King, then grievous taxations to serve vaine purposes;
Lawes made rather to finde faults, then to prevent faultes: the
Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priviledged place of un-
brideled licentiousnes, then as a biding of him, vi^ho as a father,
should give a fatherly example unto his people. Hence grew a
very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature
of ambition never satisfied) grew fa6tious among themselves :
and the underlings, glad indeede to be underlings to them they
hated lest, to preserve them from such they hated most. Men
of vertue suppressed, lest their shining should discover the others
filthines ; and at length vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when
it had no hopefull end whereunto to be direfted ; olde men long
nusled in corruption, scorning them that would seeke reforma-
tion ; yong men very fault-finding, but very faultie : and so to
new-fanglenes both of manners, apparrell, and each thing els,
by the custome of selfe-guiltie evill, glad to change though oft
for a worse; marchandise abused, and so townes decayed for
want of just and naturall libertie ; offices, even of judging soules,
solde; publique defences 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.
5 In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble
your excellent eares withal, did the King Euarchus finde his
estate, when he tooke upon him the regiment : which by reason
of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some
even extreme severitie, not so much for the very faultes them-
selves, (which he rather sought to prevent then to punish) as for
the faultie ones; who strong, even in their faultes, scorned his
youth, and coulde not learne to disgest, that the man which they
so long had used to maske their owne appetites, should now be
the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewc
(but in deede notable) examples, had thundred a duetie into the
subjefts hartes, he soone shewed, no basenes of suspition, nor the
basest basenes of envie, could any whit rule such a Ruler. But
then shined foorth indeede all love among them, when an awfull
feare, ingendred by justice, did make that love most lovely: his
first & principal! care being to appeare unto his people, such as
he would have them be, & to be such as he appeared ; making
his life the example of his lawes, as it were, his adions arising
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

out of his deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular
love in his people, and engrafFed singular confidence. For how
could they chuse but love him, whom they found so truely to
love the? He even in reason disdayning, that they that have
charge of beastes, should love their charge, and care for them ; and
that he that was to governe the most excellent creature, should
not love so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes
(seduced by flatterie to builde upon false grounds of government)
make themselves (as it were) another thing from the people;
and so count it gaine what they can get from them : and (as if
it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when
the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking them-
selves most Kinges, when the subject is most basely subjefted :
he contrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he
with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof him-
selfe was the head; even so cared for them, as he woulde for
his owne limmes: never restrayning their liberty, without it
stretched to licenciousnes, nor pulling from them their goods,
which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a
greater good : but in all his adlions shewing a delight to their
welfare, broght that to passe, that while by force he tooke
nothing, by their love he had all. In summe (peerelesse
Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of
governement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his
proceedings. But in such sorte he flourished in the sweete
comforte of dooing much good, when by an adion of leaving
his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of
magnanimitie, as before he had done of justice.

He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie 6
fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be justly said,
that she was no unfit brach to the noble stock wherof she
came. Her he had given in mariage to Dori/aus, Prince of
Thessalia^ not so much to make a fredship, as to cofirm the
fredship betwixt their posteritie, which betwene them, by the
likenes of vertue, had been long before made: for certainly,
Dorilaus could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point
of praise. Who hath not heard (said Pamela) of the valiat, wise,
and just Dorilaus, whose unripe death doth yet (so many yeares
since) draw teares fro vertuous eyes ? And indeede, my father
is wont to speak of nothing with greater admiration, then of the

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notable friendshippe (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betwene
Princes) that so holily was observed to the last, of those two
excellent men. But (said she) goe on I pray you. Dorilaus
(said he) having maried his sister, had his mariage in short time
blest (for so are folke woont to say, how unhappie soever the
children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Mustdorus :
of whom I must needes first speake before I come to Pyroc/es ;
because as he was borne first, so upon his occasion grew (as I
may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was
Mustdorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when
there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed
strange & incredible things should be performed by that
childej whether the heavens at that time listed to play with
ignorant mankind, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as even
at times to borow the face of Divinitie. But certainly, so did
the boldnes of their affirmation accompanie the greatnes of what
they did affirme (even descending to particularities, what king-
domes he should overcome) that the King of Phrygia (who
over-superstitiously thought him selfe touched in the matter) <
sought by force to destroy the infant, to prevent his after-
expedations: because a skilful man (having compared his
nativity with the child) so told him. Foolish ma, either
vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering,
that if it were a worke of the superiour powers, the heavens at
length are never children. But so he did, & by the aid of the
Kings of Lydia and Crete (joining together their armies) invaded
Thessalia^ & brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune,
when his faithfuU friend & brother Euarchus came so mightily
to his succour, that with some enterchanging changes of
fortune, they begat of a just war, the best child, peace. In
which time Euarchus made a crosse mariage also with Dorilaus
his sister, & shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles,
driven to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in
his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobilitie) the
mighty King of Thrace^ & his brother. King of Pannonia^ had ^
invaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be
unknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame
hath glory to come unto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly
requiting his frieds helpe) in a great battaile deprived of his life,
his obsequies being no more solenised by the teares of his par-
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

takers, the the bloud of his enimies; with so pearcing a sorrow-
to the constant hart of Euarchus^ that the newes of his sons birth
could hghten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although
al the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him
forthwith delivered. For what fortune onely southsayers fore-
told of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in
Pyrocles; both Heavens & Earth giving tokes of the comming
forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets
was at no time to set, for the decreeing of perfedlio in a man,
as at that time all folkes skilful therin did acknowledge : onely
love was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin,
as both the tempest and haven of their best yeares. But as death
may have prevented Pyrocles^ so unworthinesse must be the death
to Musidorus,

CHAP. 7.

'^The education of Pyrocles & Musidorus. '^ Their friendship^
^navigations ^and first shipwracke. ^The straunge gratitude
of two brothers to them^ upon their liberalitie to those two
brothers.

BUt the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her chHde-birth) i
dying, was cause that Euarchus recommended the care of
his only son to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre
continued in cruell heat, betwixt him & those evil neighbours
of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only
comforters of that vertuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles
taught admiration to the hardest conceats: Musidorus (per-
chaunce because among his subjedtes) exceedingly beloved:
and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his
sister) they were so brought up, that all the sparkes of vertue,
which nature had kindled in the, were so blowne to give forth
their uttermost heate that justly it may be affirmed, they en-
flamed the affections of all that knew the. For almost before
they could perfectly speake, they began to receave coceits not
unworthy of the best speakers : excellent devises being used, to
make even their sports profitable; images of battailes, & fortifi-

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catios being then delivered to their memory, which after, their
stronger judgemets might dispens, the delight of tales being
coverted to the knowledge of al the stories of worthy Princes,
both to move them to do nobly, & teach them how to do nobly ;
the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, & that
taught them with far more diligent care, then Gramatical rules,
their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and sufFring,
& their mindes acquainted by degrees with daungers ; & in sum,
all bent to the making up of princely mindes: no servile feare
used towardes them, nor any other violent restraint, but stil as
to Princes: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized
in them, and therefore the farther from Tyrannie: Nature
having done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them
Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.

2 Among which I nothing so much delight to recount, as the
memorable friendship that grewe betwixt the two Princes, such
as made them more like then the likenesse of all other vertues,
and made them more neer one to the other, then the neerenes
of their bloud could aspire unto; which I think grew the faster,
and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus
being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a
difference in age as did take away the delight in societie, and
yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of
childish contentions; till they had both past over the humour
of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare reverece fill of love to
MusidoruSy & Musidorus had a delight full of love in Pyrocles.
MusidoruSy what he had learned either for body or minde, would
teach it to Pyrocles ; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none,
as of Musidorus : till Pyrocles^ being come to sixtene yeares of
age, he seemed so to overrun his age in growth, strength, and
al things following it, that not Musidorus, no nor any man living
(I thinke) could performe any action, either on horse, or foote,
more strongly, or deliver that strength more nimbly, or become
the delivery more gracefully, or employ al more vertuously.
Which may well seeme wonderfull : but wonders are no wonders
in a wonderfull subjed.

3 At which time understanding that the King Euarchus, after
so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannoniay and
almost Thrace, had now brought the coclusion of al to the siege
of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were
190

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues,
which they before learned. And therefore the mother of
Musidorus nobly yeelding over her owne afFefts to her childrens
good (for a mother she was in efFe<5l to the both) the rather that
they might helpe her beloved brother, they brake of all delayes ;
which Musidorus for his parte thought already had devoured too
much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone
(before he knew what it was) to his deere friend Pyrocles ; that
he would never seeke the adventures of armes, until he might
go with him : which having fast boud his hart (a true slave to
faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his owne humour
for his friends sake, till now finding him able every way to go
thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake,
as for his owne, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a
navie, that they might go like themselves, and not onely
bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their
deere parent Euarchus, they recommended themselves to the Sea,
leaving the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes ; and were
received thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune
had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde
was like a servaunt, wayting behind them so just, that they
might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing
themselves lesse covetous of his liberalitie, so tempered it, that
they all kept together like a beautifuU flocke, which so well
could obey their maisters pipe : without sometimes, to delight
the Princes eies, some two or three of them would strive, who
could (either by the cunning of well spending the windes breath,
or by the advantageous building of their mooving houses) leave
their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed: while the
two Princes had leasure to see the practise of that, which before
they had learned by bookes : to consider the arte of catching the
winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it;
to see how beautie, and use can so well agree together, that of
all the trinckets, where with they are attired, there is not one
but serves to some necessary purpose. And (6 Lord) to see the
admirable power & noble effects of Love, whereby the seeming
insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of
iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing unto it, and (like a
vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it
make it aspire to so high a Love, as of the heavenly Poles; and

191

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of
the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their
coceats with cofirming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea-
discipline differed from Land-service, they had for a day & almost
a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart
could give to him he meanes worst to.
4 But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden
shewe of a good meaning, there arose even with the Sun, a vaile
of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred
into water) had blacked over all the face of heaven ; preparing
(as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on.
For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a
tumultuous kingdome, to thinke themselves fittest instruments
of commaundement ; and blowing whole stormes of hayle and
raine upon them, they were sooner in daunger, then they
coulde almost bethinke themselves of chaunge. For then the
traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the affli6ted Navie,
under which (while the heaven favoured them) it had layne so
calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, over which the tossed
and tottring ship shoulde clime, to be streight carried downe
againe to a pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes
against the sides of the shippe (that which way soever it went,
was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay,
nor way to escape. And shortly had it so dissevered the loving
companie, which the daie before had tarried together, that
most of them never met againe, but were swallowed up in
his never-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was knowne)
after long wandring returned into Thessalia-, other recovered
Bizanttum^ and served Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship
wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud
Lords be when fortune fails them) though they employed all
Industrie to save themselves, yet what they did was rather for '
dutie to nature, then hope to escape. So ougly a darkenesse, as
if it would prevent the nights comming, usurped the dayes
right: which (accompanied sometimes with thunders, alwayes ^
with horrible noyses of the chafing winds) made the masters
and pilots so astonished, that they knew not how to direft, and j
if they knew they could scarcely (when they direded) heare their i
owne whistle. For the sea strave with the winds which should I
be lowder, & the shrouds of the ship with a ghastful noise to
192

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager
of the others contention, and the heaven roaring out thunders
the more amazed them, as having those powers for enimies.
Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then
that which growes in those flowing kingdomes. For that
dwelling place is unnaturall to mankind, and then the terrible-
nesse of the continuall motion, the dissolutio of the fare being
from comfort, the eye and the eare having ougly images ever
before it, doth still vex the minde, even when it is best armed
against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day)
while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storme,
as they thought it best with striking sailes to yeelde to be
governed by it: the valiantest feeling inward dismayednesse,
and yet the fearefuUest ashamed fully to shew it, seeing that
the Princes (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did
in their countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging
them to doo what might be done (putting their handes to everie
most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise
themselves the best, and yet not to despise the worst. But so
were they carryed by the tyrannie of the winde, and the treason
of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more way-
ward it shewed it selfe towards them: till the next morning
(knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, then by
the day cleerenesse) having runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe
ever was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the
rest of the play, they were driven upon a rocke : which hidden
with those outragious waves, did, as it were, closely dissemble
his cruel mind, till with an unbeleeved violence (but to them
that have tried it) the shippe ranne upon it; and seeming
willinger to perish then to have her course stayed, redoubled
her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in peeces; and as it
were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse,
left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expedlation of
a loathsome end. There was to be scene the diverse manner of
minds in distresse: some sate upon the toppe of the poupe
weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one
more able to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne
throate to prevent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted
not of them which cursed, as if the heavens could not be more
angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie
s. A. N 193

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

roaring vowes, was able to infedl with feare a minde that had
not prevented it with the power of reason.
5 But the Princes using the passions of fearing evill, and
desiring to escape, onely to serve the rule of vertue, not to
abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the shippe, which broken
from his fellowes, floted with more likelyhood to doo service,
then any other limme of that ruinous bodie ; upon which there
had gotten alreadie two brethren, well knowne servants of theirs;
and streight they foure were carryed out of sight, in that huge
rising of the sea, from the rest of the shippe. But the peece
they were on sinking by little and little under them, not able to
support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof
was LeucippuSy the younger Ne/sus) shewed themselves right
faithfull and gratefull servants unto them; gratefull (I say) for
this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in
the great warre the king of Phrygia made upon Tbessa/ia, in the
time of Musidorus his infancie; and having beene solde into
another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes)
could not be delivered, because of their valor knowne, but for a
farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or
the Dowager willing to make, in respe6t of the great expences
her selfe and people had bene put to in those warres ; and so had
they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two
young Princes (hearing spe'aches of their good deserts) found
meanes both by selling all the Jewels they had of great price,
and by giving under their hands great estates when they should
come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for
them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them
from captivitie. This remembred, and kindly remembred by
these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to
their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, com-
mitting themselves to the seas rage, & even when they went to
dye, themselves praying for the Princes lives. It is true, that
neither thepaine nor daunger, so moved the Princes hartes as
the tendernesse of that loving part, farre from glorie, having so
few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselves
were sure to perish.

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

CHAP. 8.

^Pyrocles cast on the shore of Phrygta '^ led prisoner to the King,
^That suspicious tyrant naturalized. *His intent to kill
Pyrocles. "^Musidorus-^/V escape from sea, and offer to dye
for his friend. ^ Their contention for death. ''Preparation
for Musidorus execution. ^His straunge deliverie by Pyrocles,
^and a sodaine mutinie. ^'^ Their killing the bad King, ^'^and
creating a better.

BUt now of all the royal Navie they had left but one peece
of one ship, whereon they kept themselves in all trueth,
having enterchaunged their cares, while either cared for other,
ech comforting and councelling how to labour for the better,
and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were
carryed by the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran
exceedingly swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles
not well upon the boord, as he would with his right hand have
helped him on better, he had no sooner unfastned his hold, but
that a wave forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for
a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the
noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then
carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne)
was shortly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort;
when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter
unto him. And bitter indeed it fell out even in it selfe to be
unto him.

For being cast on land much brused & beaten both with the 2
seas hard farewell, and the shores rude welcome; and even
almost deadly tired with the length of his uncomfortable labour,
as he was walking up to discover some bodie, to whom he might
goe for reliefe, there came streight running unto him certaine,
who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with
manie others) in diverse places along the coast : who laide handes
of him, and without either questioning with him, or shewing
will to heare him, (like men fearefuU to appeare curious) or
which was worse having no regard to the hard plight he was in
(being so wette and weake) they carried him some miles thence,

N2 195

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

to a house of a principall officer of that countrie. Who with
no more civilitie (though with much more busines then those
under-fellowes had shewed) beganne in captious manner to put
interrogatories unto him. To which he (unused to such enter-
tainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and
how he came thither.

But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to
garde him (for mischiefe, not from mischiefe) he was sent to the
Kings court, which as then was not above a dayes journey off,
with letters from that officer, containing his owne serviceable
diligence in discovering so great a personage; adding with all
more then was true of his conjectures, because he would endeare
his owne service.
3 This country whereon he fell was Phrygia^ and it was to the
King thereof to whom he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy
constitution both of bodie and mind; wickedly sad, ever musing
of horrible matters; suspedting, or rather condemning all men
of evill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse : and
therefore accusing SycophanteSy of all men did best sort to his
nature; but therefore not seeming SycophanteSy because of no evill
they said, they could bring any new or doubtfull thing unto him,
but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine ; so as they
came butasproofes of his wisedome: fearefuU and never secure;
while the feare he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie
of event. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde;
nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of
odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of
that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discovered) made him
something the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But
after that yeares beganne to come on with some, though more
seldome shewes of a bloudie nature, and that the prophecie of
Musidorus destinie came to his eares (delivered unto him, and
received of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his
subje6tes did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then gave he
himselfe indeede to the full currant of his disposition, espetially
after the warre of Tbessaliay wherein (though in trueth wrongly)
he deemed, his unsuccessings proceeded of their unwillingnes to
have him prosper: and then thinking him selfe contemned,
(knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began
to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault,
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

without sharpe punishment : & when he wanted faults, excel-
lencie grew a fault ; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie,
that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no honor, to
which impudent povertie cannot make it selfe serviceable, so were
there enow of those desperate ambitious, who would builde their
houses upon others ruines, which after shoulde fall by like
practises. So as servitude came mainly upon that poore people,
whose deedes were not onely punished, but words corrected, and
even thoughts by some meane or other puld out of the : while
suspitio bred the mind of crueltie, and the effed:es of crueltie
stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (ful of watch-
fiill fearefulnes) did the storme deliver sweete Pyrocles to the
stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to
so rare a stranger (whose countenaunce deserved both pitie and
admiration) condemning theselves as much in their hearts, as they
did brag in their forces.

But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and in what 4
order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were
come out of Thessalia, assuredly thinking (because ever thinking
the worst) that those forces were provided against him ; glad of
the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in
publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For having quite loste
the way of noblenes, he strave to clime to the height of terriblenes;
and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie,
who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince ; and
lastly, having nothing in him why to make him his friend,
thought, he woulde make him away, for being his enemie. The
day was appointed, and all things appointed for that cruell blow,
in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth tyrany in
most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of invincible
valour, yet so unjustly subje6ted to such outragious wrong,
carrying himselfe in all his demeanure so constatly, abiding
extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the
greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest
grouth.

But so it fell out that his death was prevented by a rare ex- 5
ample of friendshippe in Musidorus : who being almost drowned,
had bene taken up by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdome of
Pontus ; and being there, and understanding the full discourse (as
Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case

197

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Pyrocles was ; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to
him then to Pyrocles^ he founde meanes to acquaint him selfe
with a noble-man of that Countrie, to whom largely discovering
what he was, he found him a most fitte instrument to efFeftuate
his desire. For this noble-man had bene one, who in many
warres had served EuarchuSy and had bene so mind-striken by the
beautie of vertue in that noble King, that (though not borne his
Subjed) he even profeste himselfe his servaunt. His desire
therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus in a strong Castle of
his, and then to make the King of Phrygia understande, that if
he would deliver Pyrocles^ Musidorus woulde willingly put him
selfe into his handes : knowing well, that how thirstie so ever he
was of Pyrocles bloud, he woulde rather drinke that of Musidorus.
The Nobleman was loath to preserve one by the losse of
another, but time urging resolution: the importunitie of
Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to over-live Pyrocles)
with the affedtion he bare to Euarchus^ so prevayled, that he
carried this strange offer of Musidorus^ which by that Tyrant
was greedelie accepted.

6 And so upon securitie of both sides, they were enterchanged.
Where I may not omitte that worke of friendshippe in Pyrocles^
who both in speache and coutenance to Musidorus^ well shewed,
that he thought himselfe injured, and not releeved by him:
asking him, what he had ever seene in him, why he could not
beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any
man? and why he shoulde envie him the glorie of suffering
death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his
owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the
conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the
punishment of the conquered) Musidorus prevayled : because he
was a more welcome prize to the unjuste King, that wisht none
well, to them worse then others, and to him worste of all : and
as chearefully going towardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly from-
warde his death, he was delivered to the King, who could not
be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies upon one,
whom he had begon to feare, as soone as the other began to be.

7 Yet because he would in one adte, both make ostentation of
his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie was
fallen) and withal cut of such hopes from his suspected subjects
(when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much
198

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

more skilful cruelty, and horrible solemnitie he caused each
thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyrannie. And so the
day being come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who
often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of
execution : where comming with a mind comforted in that he
had done such service to Pyrocksy this strange encounter he had.

The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner delivered by the kings 8
servants to a place of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage,
(and what would not they bring to passe ?) how ether to deliver
Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get
in that countrie no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to
bring himselfe to die with him, (little hoping of better event)
he put himselfe in poore rayment, and by the helpe of some few
crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full of sorrow, though
not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in
such order from him) he (even he, born to the greatest expecta-
tion, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) sub-
mitted himselfe to be servant to the executioner that should put
to death Musidorus : a farre notabler proofe of his friendship,
considering the height of his minde, then any death could be.
That bad officer not suspefting him, being araied fit for such an
estate, & having his beautie hidden by many foule spots he
artificially put upon his face, gave him leave not onely to weare
a sworde himselfe, but to beare his sworde prepared for the
justified murther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musi-
dorus was upon the scaffold (separated somewhat from the rest,
as allowed to say something) he stept unto him, & putting the
sworde into his hande not bound (a point of civility the officers
used towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise)
Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, never ma betweene
joy before knowledge what to be glad of, and feare after cosider-
ing his case, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when
I saw Pyrocles^ so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and
Pamela smiled : and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and
she the more smiled at his blushing; because he had (with the
remembraunce of that plight he was in) forgotten in speaking
of him selfe to use the third person. But Musidorus turned againe
her thoughts from his cheekes to his tongue in this sorte : But
(said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not turning
backs one to the other (for there they knew was no place

199

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of defence) but making that a preservation in not hoping to be
preserved, and now acknow^ledging themselves subjed to death,
meaning onely to do honour to their princely birth, they ^cw
amongst the all (for all v^^ere enimies) & had quickly either w^ith
flight or death, left none upon the scafFolde to annoy them.
Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders
beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage,
though he had bene borne a coward. But indeed, just rage &
desperate vertue did such effects, that the popular sorte of the
beholders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at
efFedes beyond mortall power. But the King with angry
threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed,
the worlde should behold him a beholder) comaunded his garde,
and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many
of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes
grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with
conquering.
9 But as they were stil fighting with weake armes, and strong
harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (comauded to go up
after his fellowes against the Princes) having received a light
hurt, more wouded in his hart, went backe with as much
diligence, as he came up with modestie: which another of his
fellowes seeing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him upon
the face, reviling him, that so accompanied, he would runne
away from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) orely
valiant, when he was angrie, in revenge thrust him through :
which with his death was streight revenged by a brother of his:
and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There
began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which seene,
and not understood by the people (used to feares but not used
to be bolde in them) some began to crie treason ; and that voice
streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a
guiltie conscience) before any man set upon him, fled away.
Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men,
or by such chaunce as such thinges often fall out by) ran from
one to the other, that the King was slaine; wherwith certaine
yong men of the bravest minds, cried with lowde voice,
Libertie ; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them,
set upon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instruments of Tyran-
nic: and quickly, aided by the Princes, they had left none
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2,

of them alive, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought
had in any sorte set his hand to the worke of their servitude,
and (God knovt^es) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many
guiltles persons, either for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to
the tyrant-killers. But some of the wisest (seeing that a popu-
lar licence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) prevailed with
the rest to make Musidorus their chiefe : choosing one of them
(because Princes) to defende them, and him because elder and
most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom
foorthwith they lifted up. Fortune (I thinke) smiling at her
worke therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaf-
fold of coronation.

But by and by there came newes of more certaine truth, lo
that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his,
neere had, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to
suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselves too
farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and
too well they knew the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget
such an injury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they
continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces
were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while
they were in this heat ; before practises might be used to dis-
sever them : & with them met the King, who likewise hoping
little to prevaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate)
met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was
slaine by Musidorus, after he had seene his onely sonne (a
Prince of great courage & beautie, but fostred in bloud by his
naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory
obteined, with great, and truly not undeserved honour to the
two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent,
gave the crowne and all other markes of soveraigntie to Musi-
dorus ; desiring nothing more, then to live under such a govern-
ment, as they promised theselves of him.

But he thinking it a greater greatnes to give a kingdome, 1 1
then get a kingdome ; understanding that there was left of the
bloud Roiall, & next to the successio, an aged Gentleman of
approved goodnes (who had gotten nothing by his cousins power,
but danger fro him, and odiousnes for him) having past his time
in modest secrecy, & asmuch from entermedling in matters of
government, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him,

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

did (after having received the full power to his ov^^ne hands)
resigne all to the noble-ma: but vi^ith such conditions, & cautions
of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch
assurace as worldly matters beare) that not onely that gover-
nour, of whom indeed they looked for al good, but the nature
of the government, should be no way apt to decline to Tyrany.

CHAP. 9.

* The two brothers escape to the shore of Pontus. ^ Incostancy^ ^ and
envie purtraied in the King ^ his Counsellor, * The ad-
vancement ^ overthrow by them of those two brothers. '^ The
revenge thereof by the two Princes. ^ The cruelties of two
revengefull GyantSy and their death by the Princes. ^ Their
honoursj and their honourable mindes.

1 " I ^His dooing set foorth no lesse his magnificece, then the

X other adt did his magnanimitie : so that greatly praysed
of al, and justly beloved of the newe King, who in all both
wordes and behaviour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, or
Liegeman, they were drawne thence to revenge those two
servats of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most
excellet Princesse) in willingly giving themselves to be drowned
for their sakes : but drowned indeed they were not, but gat
with painefull swimming upon a rocke : fro whence (after being
come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather
breaking up, they were brought to the maine lande of Pontus ;
the same coutry upon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not
in so luckie a place.

2 For they were brought to the King of that country, a
Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or unrevegeful-
nes, as he of Phrygia, but (as I may terme it) of a wanton
crueltie: inconstant of his choise of friends, or rather never
having a fried, but a playfellow ; of whom when he was
wearie, he could not otherwise rid himself, the by killing the :
giving somtimes prodigally, not because he loved them to whom
he gave, but because he lusted to give : punishing, not so much
for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punish-
ment : delighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which
202

^ ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

were not in him, at length making his vices vertues worthy the
flattering : with like judgement glorying, when he had happened
to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable
mischiefe.

He chauced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted 3
with him) to have next in use about him, a ma of the most
envious dispositio, that (I think) ever infe<5ted the aire with his
breath : whose eies could not looke right upon any happie ma,
nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise : cotrary to the
natures of al other plagues, plagued with others well being;
making happines the ground of his unhappinesse, & good newes
the argumet of his sorrow : in sum, a man whose favour no
man could winne, but by being miserable.

And so, because these two faithfull servants of theirs came 4
in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to
favour them ; and the King understanding of their adventure,
(wherein they had shewed so constant a faith unto their Lordes)
suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extol-
ling them with infinite prayses, and praysing him selfe in his
harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they
made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when ad-
vauncement (the most mortall offence to envy) stirred up their
former friend, to overthrow his owne worke in them; taking
occasion upon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the
late King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who having
bene a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus^ by this envious
Coucellour, partly with suspition of pradise, partly with glory
of in-part reveging his cousins death, the King was suddainly
turned, (and every turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke
them up in prison, as servaunts to his enimies, whom before he
had never knowne, nor (til that time one of his own subje(5ls
had entertained and dealt for them) did ever take heed of. But
now earnest in every present humour, and making himselfe
brave in his liking, he was content to give them just cause
of offence, when they had power to make just revenge. Yet
did the Princes send unto him before they entred into war,
desiring their servants liberty. But he swelling in thier hiible-
nes, (like a bubble swollen up with a small breath, broken with
a great) forgetting, or never knowing humanitie, caused their
heads to be striken off, by the advice of his envious Councellor

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

(who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw the
happines in having such, and so fortunate masters) and sent
them with unroyall reproches to Musidorus and PyrocleSy as
if they had done traiterously, and not heroically in killing his
tyrannicall Cosen.

5 But that injurie went beyond al degree of reconcilement;
so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdome wholy at
their commandement, by the love of the people, and gratefulnesse
of the King) they entred his country; and wholy conquering
it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke
the King ; and by Musidorus commaundement {Pyrocles hart
more enclined to pitie) he was slaine upon the tombe of their
two true Servants ; which they caused to be made for them
with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserve their
deade lives. For his wicked Servant he should have felt the
like, or worse, but that his harte brake even to death with the
beholding the honour done to the deade carcasses? There
might Pyrocles quietly have enjoyed that crowne, by all the
desire of that people, most of whom had revolted unto him:
but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well
esteemed Ladie) looking for nothing more, then to be oppressed
with her brothers ruines, gave her in marriage to the noble man
his fathers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that
kingdome. And not content with those publike actions, of
princely, and (as it were) governing vertue, they did (in that
kingdome and some other neere about) divers adls of particular
trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time
those regions were full both of cruell monsters, & monstrous
men : all which in short time by private combats they delivered
the countries of.

6 Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse &
force, therefore commonly called giants, who kept theselves in
a castle seated upon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because
there was no comming unto it, but by one narrow path, where
one mans force was able to keepe dqwne an armie. These
brothers had a while served the King of Pontus, and in all his
affaires (especially of war, wherunto they were onely apt) they
had shewed, as uncoquered courage, so a rude faithfulnes:
being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of
deceipt ; not greatly ambitious, more then to be well and
204

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

uprightly dealt with; rather impatient of injury, then delighted
with more then ordinary curtesies; and in injuries more sensible
of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men
being of this nature (and certainely Jewels to a wise man, con-
sidering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet
were discarded by that unworthy Prince, after many notable
deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more
evident to them; because it sodainly fell from an excesse of
favor, which (many examples having taught them) never stopt
his race till it came to an headlong overthrow : they full of rage,
retyred themselves unto this castle. Where thinking nothing
juster the revenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger,
that (according to the nature) ful of inward bravery and lierce-
nes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it self faire, but
when it is terrible, they immediately gave themselves to make
all the countrie about them (subje6t to that King) to smart for
their Lords folly : not caring how innocent they were, but
rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testi-
fied their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with use
of evill, growing more and more evill, they tooke delight in
slaughter, and pleasing themselves in making others wracke the
eflfedt of their power : so that where in the time that they
obeyed a master, their anger was a serviceable power of the
minde to doo publike good; so now unbridled, and blinde judge
of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in
excellencie of mischiefe ; almost to the ruine of the countrie,
not greatly regarded by their carelesse and lovelesse king. Till
now these Princes finding them so fleshed in crueltie, as not to
be reclaimed, secreatly undertooke the matter alone : for accom-
panied they would not have suffered them to have mounted ; and
so those great fellowes scornefully receiving them, as foolish birds
falne into their net, it pleased the eternall justice to make the
suffer death by their hands: So as they were manifoldly ack-
nowledged the savers of that countrie.

It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the 7
numbers of wel-devised honors done unto them: But as high
honor is not onely gotten and borne by paine, and daunger, but
must be nurst by the like, or els vanisheth as soone as it appeares
to the world : so the naturall hunger thereof (which was in
Pyrocles) suffered him not to account a resting seate of that,

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

which ever either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one aftion
beget another ; whereby his doings might send his praise to
others mouthes to rebound againe true contentment to his
spirite. And therefore having well established those kingdomes,
under good governours, and rid them by their valure of such
giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to
subdue, they determined in unknowne order to see more of the
world, & to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the
good of mankinde ; and therefore would themselves (under-
standing that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of
his warres) goe privately to seeke exercises of their vertue ;
thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to heroycall efFedls by
fortune, or necessitie (like Ulysses and Aeneas) as by ones owne
choice, and working. And so went they away from verie
unwilling people to leave them, making time haste it selfe
to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse
to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were
they out of the cofines of PontuSy but that as they ridde alone
armed, (for alone they went, one serving the other) they mette
an adventure ; which though not so notable for any great efFe6t
they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the un-used
examples therein, as well of true natural goodnes, as of wretched
ungratefiilnesse.

CHAP. 10.

* The pttifull statey and storie of the Paphalgonian unkinde Kingy
and his kind sonne, ^ first related by the sony ^ then by the
blind father. * The three Princes assaulted by Plexirtus and
his traine: ^assisted by their King o/Pontus and his troupes.
• Plexirtus succoured and saved by two brothers^ that vertuously
loved a most vicious man. '' Beseeged by the new Kingy ^ he
submittethy ^ is pardoned. » The two Princes depart to aide ^\
the Queene of hycisi.

I T T was in the kingdome of Galaciay the season being (as in
X the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely |
growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that never any
206

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child : so that the
Princes were even compelled by the haile, that the pride of the
winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place
within a certaine hollow rocke offering it unto them, they
made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying
there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach
of a couple, who not perceiving them (being hidde within that
rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which
made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see
unseene. There they perceaved an aged man, and a young,
scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed,
extreamely weather-beaten ; the olde man blinde, the young
man leading him : and yet through all those miseries, in both
these seemed to appeare a kind of noblenesse, not sutable to
that afflidtion. But the first words they heard, were these of
the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade
thee to lead me to that which should end my griefe, & thy
trouble, let me now entreat thee to leave me : feare not, my
miserie cannot be greater then it is, & nothing doth become
me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I
cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo
not obstinately continue to infe6l thee with my wretchednes.
But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare
father (answered he) doo not take away from me the onely
remnant of my happinesse: while I have power to doo you ser-
vice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and
with that he groned, as if sorrow strave to breake his harte,)
how evill fits it me to have such a sonne, and how much doth
thy kindnesse upbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull
speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they
had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moved the
Princes to goe out unto them, and aske the younger what they
were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the
more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well
you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here
knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miser-
able. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so
needfull unto us as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous unto
us, then to make our selves so knowne as may stirre pittie.
But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not over-runne

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hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the
degree of feare.

2 This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfuU Prince of
this countrie of Paphlagonia^ by the hard-harted ungratefulnes
of a Sonne of his, deprived, not onely of his kingdome (whereof
no forraine forces were ever able to spoyle him) but of his
sight, the riches which Nature grauts to the poorest creatures.
Whereby, & by other his unnaturall dealings, he hath bin
driven to such griefe, as even now he would have had me to
have led him to the toppe of this rocke, thece to cast himselfe
headlong to death : and so would have made me (who received
my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble
Gentlemen (said he) if either of you have a father, and feele
what duetifull afFedion is engraffed in a sonnes hart, let me
intreate you to convey this afflidted Prince to some place of
rest & securitie. Amongst your worthie a(St:es it shall be none
of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so
unjustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved.

3 But before they could make him answere, his father began
to speake. Ah my Sonne (said he) how evill an Historian are
you, that leave out the chiefe knotte of all the discourse ? my
wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my
eares, (the onely sense nowe left me proper for knowledge)
assure thy selfe thou dost mistake me. And I take witnesse of
that Sunne which you see (with that he cast up his blinde eyes,
as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case
then I do wish my selfe, which is as evill as may be, if I speake
untruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the
publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to
whom from my harte I wish that it may not prove ominous
foretoke of misfortune to have mette with such a miser as I
am) that whatsoever my sonne (6 God, that trueth binds me to
reproch him with the name of my sonne) hath said, is true.
But besides those truthes, this also is true, that having had in
lawful manage, of a mother fitte to beare royall children, this
Sonne (such one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by
my shorte declaration) and so enjoyed the expectations in the
world of him, till he was growe to justifie their expectations (so
as I needed envie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie,
to leave an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastarde
2o8

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

Sonne of mine (if at least I be bounde to beleeve the words
of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike,
then to hate, lastly to destroy, to doo my best to destroy, this
Sonne (I thinke you thinke) undeserving destruftion. What
waies he used to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I should
tediously trouble you with as much poysonous hypocrisie,
desperate fraude, smoothe malice, hidden ambition, & smiling
envie, as in any living person could be harbored. But I list it
not, no remembrance, (no, of naughtines) delights me, but mine
own; & me thinks, the accusing his traines might in some
manner excuse my fault, which certainly I loth to doo. But
the conclusion is, that I gave order to some servants of mine,
whom I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to leade
him out into a forrest, Sc there to kill him.

But those theeves (better natured to my sonne then my
selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to live poorely :
which he did, giving himselfe to be a private souldier, in a
countrie here by. But as he was redy to be greatly advaunced
for some noble peeces of service which he did, he hearde newes
of me : who (dronke in my affection to that unlawfull and un-
naturall sonne of mine) suffered my self so to be governed by
him, that all favors and punishments passed by him, all offices,
and places of importance, distributed to his favourites; so that
ere I was aware, I had left my self nothing but the name of a
King: which he shortly wearie of too, with many indignities
(if any thing may be called an indignity, which was laid upon
me) threw me out of my seat, and put out my eies; and then
(proud in his tyrannie) let me goe, nether imprisoning, nor
killing me : but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie ;
miserie indeed, if ever there were any; full of wretchednes,
fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to
the crowne by so unjust meanes, as unjustlie he kept it, by
force of stranger souldiers in Cittadehy the nestes of tyranny,
& murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen,
that no man durst shew himself a wel-willer of mine: to say
the trueth (I think) few of the being so (considering my cruell
follie to my good sonne, and foolish kindnes to my unkinde
bastard :) but if there were any who fell to pitie of so great a
fall, and had yet any sparkes of unstained duety lefte in them
towardes me, yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giving

s. A. o 209

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

me almes at their doores; which yet was the onelie sustenaunce
of my distressed life, no bodie daring to shewe so much charitie,
as to lende me a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this
Sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthie of a more vertuous, and
more fortunate father) forgetting my abhominable wrongs, not
recking danger, & neglecting the present good way he was in
doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kind office you
see him performe towards me, to my unspeakable griefe ; not
onely because his kindnes is a glasse eve to my blind eyes, of
my naughtines, but that above all griefes, it greeves me he
should desperatly adventure the losse of his soul-deserving life
for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if he
would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he
that now raigneth, how much soever (and with good reason)
he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet he will not let
slippe any advantage to make away him, whose just title (en-
nobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of
a never secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craved of him
to leade me to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse,
with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I
am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since he
was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient unto me. And now
Gentlemen, you have the true storie, which I pray you publish
to the world, that my mischievous proceedinges may be the
glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great
a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which
my Sonne denies me : for never was there more pity in saving
any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall
ende, and so shall you preserve this excellent young man, who
els wilfully folowes his owne ruine.
4 The matter in it self lamentable, lamentably expressed by
the old Prince (which needed not take to himselfe the gestures
of pitie, since his face could not put of the markes thereof)
greatly moved the two Princes to compassion, which could not
stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by
and by the occasion was presented : for Plexirtus (so was the
bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose
to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone
advertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credite in such
a matter, but his owne ; and therefore came him selfe to be
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

a6lor, and spedlator. And as soone as he came, not regarding
the weake (as he thought) garde of but two men, commaunded
some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of
Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed
but with a sworde) how falsely soever he was dealt with by
others, would not betray him selfe : but bravely drawing it out,
made the death of the first that assaulted him, warne his
fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles
and Mustdorus were quickly become parties (so just a defence
deserving as much as old friendship) and so did behave them
among that copanie (more injurious, then valiant) that many of
them lost their lives for their wicked maister.

Yet perhaps had the number of them at last prevailed, if 5
the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come
unlooked for to their succour. Who (having had a dreame
which had fixt his imagination vehemently upon some great
daunger, presently to follow those two Princes whom he most
deerely loved) was come in all hast, following as well as he
could their tracke with a hundreth horses in that countrie,
which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fit place
inough to make the stage of any Tragedie.

But then the match had ben so ill made for Plexirtus^ that 6
his ill-led life, & worse gotten honour should have tumbled
together to destrudio ; had there not come in Tydeus & Telenor,
with fortie or fiftie in their suit, to the defence of Plexirtus,
These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country,
brought up fro their infancie with Plexirtus: men of such
prowesse, as not to know feare in themselves, and yet to teach
it others that should deale with them : for they had often made
their lives triumph over most terrible daungers; never dis-
mayed, and ever fortunate; and truely no more setled in their
valure, then disposed to goodnesse and justice, '\( either they
had lighted on a better friend, or could have learned to make
friendship a child, and not the father of Vertue. But bringing
up (rather then choise) having first knit their minds unto him,
(indeed craftie inough, eyther to hide his faultes, or never to
shew them, but when they might pay home) they willingly
held out the course, rather to satisfie him, then al the world;
and rather to be good friendes, then good men : so as though
they did not like the evill he did, yet they liked him that did

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the evill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet
protestors of the offender. Now they having heard of this
sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a country full
of evil-wishing minds toward him (though they knew not the
cause) followed him; till they found him in such case as they
were to venture their lives, or else he to loose his : which they
did with such force of minde and bodie, that truly I may justly
say, Pyrocles & Musidorus had never till then found any, that
could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the
feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they overcame
not; yet were they not overcome, but caried away that un-
gratefull maister of theirs to a place of securitie ; howsoever the
Princes laboured to the cotrary. But this matter being thus
far begun, it became not the constacie of the Princes so to
leave it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and
Phrygia, they had in fewe dayes, lefte him but only that one
strong place where he was. For feare having bene the onely
knot that had fastned his people unto him, that once untied by
a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many
birdes, whose cage had bene broken.

7 In which season the blind King (having in the chief cittie
of his Realme, set the crowne upo his sonne Leonatus head)
with many teares (both of joy and sorrow) setting forth to the
whole people, his owne fault & his sonnes vertue, after he had
kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his
newe-become subjed) eve in a moment died, as it should
seeme : his hart broken with unkindnes & afflidion, stretched
so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of cofort, as it was
able no longer to keep safe his roial spirits. But the new King
(having no lesse lovingly performed all duties to him dead, then
alive) pursued on the siege of his unnatural brother, asmuch for
the revenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne
quiet. In which siege truly I cannot but acknowledge the
prowesse of those two brothers, then whom the Princes never
found in all their travell two men of greater habilitie to per-
forme, nor of habler skill for condud.

8 But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing els, famin would at
last bring him to destrudio, thought better by hublenes to
creepe, where by pride he could not march. For certainely so
had nature formed him, & the exercise of craft conformed him
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

to all turnings of sleights, that though no ma had lesse goodnes
in his soule then he, no man could better find the places
whence argumets might grow of goodnesse to another : though
no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir
pitie: no ma more impudet to deny, where proofes were not
manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repenting
maner of aggravating his owne evil, where denial would but
make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way, that having
gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he would put Plexirtus
alive into his hads) to speak with the King his brother, he him
selfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers,
who rather wished to die in brave defence) with a rope about
his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion
of Leonatus. Where what submission he used, how cunningly
in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse,
how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne
coscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his
ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but
death, as ashamed to live, he begd life, in the refusing it, I am
not cunning inough to be able to expresse : but so fell out of it,
that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie,
then as the murderer of his father; & anger already began to
paint revenge in many colours, ere long he had not only gotten
pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the fault past, yet an
opinion of a future amedment : while the poore villaines (chiefe
ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author therof,)
were delivered to many cruell sorts of death ; he so handling it,
that it rather seemed, he had rather come into the defence of
an unremediable mischiefe already comitted, then that they
had done it at first by his consent.

In such sort the Princes left these recociled brothers <
{Plexirtus in all his behaviour carying him in far lower degree
of service, then the ever-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer
him) & taking likewise their leaves of their good friend the
King of Pontus (who returned to enjoy their benefite, both of
his wife and kingdome) they privately went thence, having
onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs
accopanie them, through divers places; they foure dooing a6les
more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but
privat chivalries : till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene

213

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Erona of Lycioy besieged by the puissant King of Armenia^ they
bent themselves to her succour, both because the weaker
(& weaker as being a Ladie,) & partly because they heard the
King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous
men living, for matters of armes, that were knowne to be in the
worlde. Whereof one was the Prince Plangusy (whose name
was sweetened by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last
daie it pleased you to mention him unto me) the other two
were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and
EuardeSy men of Giant-like both hugenes and force : in which
two especially, the trust the King had of vi6lorie, was reposed.
And of them, those two brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient
judges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that
the two yong Princes had even a youthfull longing to have
some triad of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they
were entred into Lycia they joyned theselves with them that
faithfully served the poore Queene, at that time besieged : and
ere long animated in such sort their almost overthrowne harts,
that they went by force to relieve the towne, though they were
deprived of a great part of their strength by the parting of the
two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their
old friend and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood-
winking themselves from seeing his faultes, and binding them-
selves to beleeve what he said) often abused the vertue of
courage to defend his fowle vice of injustice. But now they
were sent for to advaunce a conquest he was about; while
PyrocUs and Musidorus pursued the deliverie of the Queene
Erona,

CHAP. II.

^ Dorus his suite to Pamela interrupted by Mopsas waking. * Th^
sisters going with Zelmane to wash themselves. ' Tk
pleasantnes of the river, * The pleasure Zelmane had
seeing them^ uttered ^ in speachy ^ and song. ''She led by
spaniely to knoWy and hurte her noble rivall. ^ The partit
of that fraye.

I Have heard (said Pamela) that parte of the story of Plan^
whe he passed through this country: therfore you ms
(if you list) passe over that warre oi Eronaes quarrell, lest if y<
214

^ ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

speake too much of warre matters, you should wake Afopsa,
which might happily breed a great broile. He looked, and saw i
that Afopsa indeed sat swallowing of sleepe with ope mouth,
making such a noise withal, as no bodie could lay the stealing
of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to use that
occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, &
harty earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) divine
Lady, who have wrought such miracles in me, as to make a
Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all principalities base, in
respeft of the sheephooke, which may hold him up in your
sight ; vouchsafe now at last to heare in diredl words my
humble sute, while this drago sleepes, that keepes the golden
fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my
imagination faine to my selfe any thing which may be the lest
spot to that heavenly vertue, which shines in all your doings ;
I pray the eternal powers, that the words I speak may be
deadly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my
hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke
their owne confusion. But if love, love of you, love of your
vertues, seeke onely that favour of you, which becommeth that
gratefulnes, which canot misbecome your excellencie, O doo
not: He would have said further, but Pamela calling aloud
Mopsa^ she sodainly start up, staggering, and rubbing her eies,
ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, before she
knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till
at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pamela^
why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that
you might heare some tales of your servants telling : and there-
fore now (said she) Dorus go on.

But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) 2
was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, & by
and by after her, Miso-, so as for that time they were faine to
let Dorus depart. But Pamela (delighted eve to preserve in her
memory, the words of so wel a beloved speaker) repeated the
whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come
and gone, to recreate themselves something, (even tyred with
the noysomnes of Misos conversation) they determyned to goe
(while the heate of the day lasted) to bath themselves (such
being the maner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the
river of Ladoriy and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight

215

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

them under some shadow. But they could not stir, but that
Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them : and as it lay
in their way to passe by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her
window espied them, and so stale downe after them: which
she might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and
Basilius (that day being his birth-day) according to his maner,
was busie about his devotions; and therefore she went after,
hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea : but not a
word could she beginne, but that Miso would be one of the
audience; so that she was driven to recommend thinking,
speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her
trust, till they came to the rivers side ; which of all the rivers
3 of Greece had the price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse,
in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accouted exceeding
healthfull. It ranne upon so fine and delicate a ground, as one
could not easely judge, whether the River did more wash the
gravell, or the gravel did purifie the River; the River not
running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the
lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the River
had a delight to play with it selfe. The banckes of either side
seeming armes of the loving earth, that faine would embrace
it; and the River a wanton nymph which still would stirre
from it: either side of the bancke being fringed with most
beautifuU trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from over-
much pearcing the naturall coldnes of the River. There was
the

But among
the rest a goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head over the
water, it seemed she looked into it, and dressed her greene
lockes, by that running River. There the Princesses deter-
mining to bath themselves, though it was so priviledged a place,
upon paine of death, as no bodie durst presume to come thither,
yet for the more surety, they looked round about, and could see
nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the river, shew-
ing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace,
disdaining that his smelling force coulde not as well prevaile
thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & therefore wayting
with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes getting
up againe : but then a little below them failing of his purpose,
he got out of the river, & shaking off the water (as great men
2i6

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

do their friends, now he had no further cause to use it) in-
weeded himselfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his
sportfulnesse : and inviting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with
them, and she excusing her selfe with having taken a late cold,
they began by peece-meale to take away the eclipsing of their
apparell.

Zelmane would have put to her helping hand, but she was 4
taken with such a quivering, that she thought it more wise-
dome to leane her selfe to a tree and looke on, while Miso and
Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the
pure silver of their bodies out of the ure of their garments.
But as the rayments went of to receave kisses of the ground,
Zelmane envied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was
even jealous, and when that was taken away too, and that
Philoclea remained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a
Dyamond taken from out the rocke, or rather like the Sun
getting from under a cloud, and shewing his naked beames to
the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient
sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that
Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch, embrace, and
kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, & leave
Philoclea^ who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefast-
nesse pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moved her
feete, unwonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the
cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come over her
bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars.
But the River it selfe gave way unto her, so that she was streight
brest high; which was the deepest that there-about she could
be : and when cold Ladon had once fully imbraced them, him-
selfe was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold
complexion had bene heated with love, so seemed he to play
about every part he could touch.

Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost 5
thou not stay thy course to have more full tast of thy
happines ? But the reason is manifest, the upper streames make
such haste to have their part of embracing, that the nether
(though lothly) must needs give place unto them. O happie
Ladon^ within whom she is, upon whom her beautie fals,
thorow whom her eye perceth. O happie Ladon^ which art
now an unperfe6l mirror of al perfection, canst thou ever forget

217

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the blessednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed
be turned from fine gravel, to weeds & mudde; if thou doo,
let some unjust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if
thou do, let some greater river fal into thee, to take aw^ay the
name of Ladon. Oh Ladon^ happie Ladon^ rather slide then
run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her ;
and then, O happy Ladon^ who would then cal thee, but the
most cursed Ladon r But as the Ladies plaid them in the water,
somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines
in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twentie
bubbles, not to be content to have the picture of their face in
large upon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth
the miniature of them.
6 But Zelmane^ whose sight was gaine-said by nothing but the
transparent vaile of Ladon, (like a chamber where a great fire is
kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance
continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her
affection so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that
nowe all her parts grudged, that her eyes should doo more ho-
mage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In somuch that
taking up the Lute, her wit began to be with a divine furie
inspired ; her voice would in so beloved an occasion second her
wit ; her hands accorded the Lutes musicke to the voice ; her
panting hart daunced to the musicke ; while I thinke her feete
did beate the time ; while her bodie was the roome where it
should be celebrated ; her soule the Queene which shoulde be
delighted. And so togither went the utterance and the inven-
tion, that one might judge, it was Philocleas beautie which did
speedily write it in her eyes ; or the sense thereof, which did
word by word cndite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an
organ) did onely lend utterance. The song was to this purpose.

Hat toong can her perfe£fions tell

In whose each part all pens may dwell?
Her hair e fine threeds of finest gould
In curled knots mans thought to hold:
But that her fore-head sayes in me
A whiter beautie you may see.
Whiter indeed \ more white then snow.
Which on cold winters face doth grow,
2l8

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

That doth present those even broweSy

Whose equall line their angles bowes.

Like to the Moone when after chaunge

Her horned head abroad doth raunge :

And arches be to heavenly lids,

Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids.

For the blacke starres those Spheares containe,

The matchlesse paire, even praise doth staine.

No lampe, whose light by Art is got.

No Sunne, which shines, and seeth not.

Can liken them without all peere.

Save one as much as other cleere :

Which onely thus unhappie be.

Because themselves they cannot see.

Her cheekes with kindly claret spred.
Aurora like new out of bed.
Or like the fresh Queene-apples side.
Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride.

Her nose, her chinne pure ivorie weares :
No purer then the pretie eares.
So that therein appeares some blood.
Like wine and milke that mingled stood
In whose Incirclets if ye gaze.
Tour eyes may tread a Lovers maze.
But with such turnes the voice to stray.
No talke untaught can finde the way.
The tippe no Jewell needes to weare :
The tippe is Jewell of the eare.

But who those ruddie lippes can misse?
Which blessed still themselves doo kisse.
Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new.
In worth, in taste, in perfitte hewe :
Which never part but that they showe
Of pretious pearle the double rowe.
The second sweetly-fenced warde.
Her heav'nly-dewed tongue to garde.
Whence never word in vaine did flowe.

Faire under these doth stately growe.
The handle of this pretious worke.
The neck, in which strange graces lurke.

219

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers
Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers.
So good a say invites the eye^
A little downward to espie.
The livelie clusters of her brests,
Of Venus babe the wanton nests :
Like pomels round of Marble cleere :
Where azurde veines well mixt appeere.
With dearest tops of porphyrie.

Betwixt these two a way doth lie^
A way more worthie beauties fame^
Then that which beares the Milkie name.
This leades into the joyous field..
Which onely still doth Li Hies yeeld:
But Lillies such whose native smell
The Indian odours doth excell.
Waste it is calde^ for it doth waste
Mens lives^ untill it be imbraste.

There may one see^ and yet not see
Her ribbes in white all armed be.
More white then Neptunes fomie face..
When strugling rocks he would imbrace.

In those delights the wandring thought
Might of each side astray be brought^
But that her navel doth unite.,
In curious circle., busie sight:
A daintie seale of virgin-waxe.
Where nothing but impression lackes.

Her bellie then gladde sight doth filly
Justly entitled Cupids hill.
A hill most fitte for such a master^
A spotlesse mine of Alablaster.
Like Alablaster faire and sleeke^
But soft and supple satten like.
In that sweete seate the Boy doth sport:
Loath., I must leave his chiefe resort.
„ For such a use the world hath gotten,
„ The best things still must be forgotten.

Tet never shall my song omitte
Thighesy for Ovids song more fitte ;
220

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

Which flanked with two sugred flankes^
Lift up their stately swelling bankes;
That Albion dives in whitenes passe:
With hanches smooth as looking glasse.

But how all knees, now of her knees
My tongue doth tell what fancie sees.
The knottes of joy, the gemmes of love.
Whose motion makes all graces move.
Whose bought incav'd doth yeeld such sight.
Like cunning Painter shadowing white.
The gartring place with child-like signe,
Shewes easie print in mettall fine.
But then againe the flesh doth rise
In her brave calves, like christall skies.
Whose Atlas is a smallest small.
More white then whitest bone of all.

Thereout steaks out that round cleane foote
This noble Cedars pretious roote :
In shewe and sent pale violets.
Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets.

But back unto her back, my Muse,
Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes.
Along whose ridge such bones are met.
Like comfits round in marchpane set.

Her shoulders be like two white Doves,
Pearching within square royall rooves.
Which leaded are with silver skinne.
Passing the hate-sport Ermelin.
And thence those armes derived are;
The Phoenix wings are not so rare
For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe.

Ah woe is me, my woes renewe'.
Now course doth leade me to her hand.
Of my first love the fatall band.
Where whitenes dooth for ever sitte :
Nature her selfe enameld it.
For there with strange compaSi dooth lie
Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe ivorie.
There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes.
Which conduit-like with curious crookes.

221

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Sweete Hands make in that sweete land.

As for the fingers of the hand^

The bloudy shaftes of Cupids warre.

With amatists they headed are.

Thus hath each part his beauties party

But how the Graces doo impart

To all her limmes a spetiall grace^

Becomming every time and place.

Which doth even beautie beautifie^

And most bewitch the wretched eye.

How all this is but a faire Inne

Of fairer guest es, which dwell within.

Of whose high praise^ and praisefull blisse^

Goodnes the penne, heaven paper is.

The inke immortall fame dooth lende :

As I began^ so must I ende.

No tongue can her perfe6iions tell^

In whose each part all tongues may dwell.

But as Zelmane was coming to the latter end of her song,
she might see the same water-spaniell which before had huted,
come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloves j whose fine pro-
portion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there
to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the
dogge was therewith delighted, and so let him goe a little way
withall, who quickly caried it out of sight among certaine trees
and bushes, which were very close together. But by & by he
came againe, & amongst the raiments {Miso and Mopsa being
preparing sheets against their comming out) the dog lighted
upon a little booke of fourfc or five leaves of paper, & was
bearing that away to. But then Zelmane (not knowing what
importace it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streigh^
to those bushes, she might see the dog deliver it to a Gentlema
who secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, the Geth
man rose up, & with a courteous (though sad) countenam
presented himselfe unto her. Zelmanes eies streight willed he"
mind to marke him : for she thought, in her life she had never
scene a ma of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making
tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse : being indeed
such a right manlike man, as Nature often erring, yet shewe^

hat
her"

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

she would faine make. But when she had a while (not without
admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliver backe the
glove & paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas ; telling
him withall, that she Would not willingly let the know of his
close lying in that prohibited place, while they were bathing
theselves ; because she knew they would be mortally offended
withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint
is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my self the punish-
met. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton
boldnesse, not my presumption. With that he gave her backe
the paper: But for the glove (said he) since it is my Ladie
Philocleas^ give me leave to keepe it, since my hart canot per-
suade it selfe to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady
(Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direA
my life to honour this glove with serving her. O villain (cried
out Zelmane^ madded with finding an unlooked-for Rivall, and
that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and
deliver it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy
soul (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drewe
out her sworde, which {Jmazon-\\ke) she ever ware about her.
The Gentlema retired himself into an open place fro among
the bushes; & the drawing out his too, he offred to deliver it
unto her, saying withall, God forbid I should use my sworde
against you, since (if I be not deceived) you are the same
famous Amaxon, that both defended my Ladies just title of
beautie against the valiant Phalantus^ & saved her life in killing
the Lion : therfore I am rather to kisse your hands, with ac-
knowledging my selfe boud to obey you. But this courtesie was
worse then a bastonado to Zelmane : so that againe with ragefuU
eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should
answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sworde that
lesson, which hath ever used to turne it self to a shield in a
Ladies presence. But Zelmane barkening to no more wordes,
began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes &
thrusts, that Nature & Vertue commanded the Gentleman to
looke to his safetie. Yet stil courtesie, that seemed incorpo-
rate in his hart, would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any
offence, but only to stand upon the best defensive gard he could ;
1 somtimes going backe, being content in that respedt to take on
the figure of cowardise ; sometime with strong and well-met

I 223

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

wards; sometime cunning avoidings of his body; and some-
times faining some blowes, which himself puld backe before
they needed to be withstood. And so with play did he a good
while fight against the fight of Zelmane^ who (more spited with
that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist
her) burned away with choller any motions, which might grow
out of her owne sweet dispositio, determining to kill him if he
fought no better ; & so redoubling her blowes, drave the stranger
to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe ; at that time
seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length
he found, that both in publike and private respedles, who standes
onely upon defence, stands upon no defence: For Zelmane
seeming to strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall
stept backe as he was accustomed, she stopt her blow in the aire,
and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he
was driven with the pommell of his sworde (having no other
weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so
strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it
met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. But Zelmane
retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was
conquered by the before-conquered pittie ; and hartily sorie, and
even ashamed with her selfe she was, considering how little he
had done, who well she found could have done more. In so
much that she said, truly I am sorie for your hurt, but your
selfe gave the cause, both in refusing to deliver the glove, and
yet not fighting as I knowe you could have done. But (saide
shee) because I perceave you disdayne to fight with a woman,
it may be before a yeare come about, you shall meete with a
neere kinsman of mine, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon^ and I give
you my worde, he for me shall maintaine this quarell against
you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such
hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I
love & admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see
his person.
8 But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to wh6
Mopsa (curious in any thing, but her own good behaviour)
having followed & seene Zelmane fighting, had cried, what
she had scene, while they were drying themselves, & the water
(with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should parte from
such bodies. But they carefiill of Zelmane (assuring themselves
224

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

that any Arcadian would beare reverence to them) Pamela with
a noble mind, and Philoclea with a loving (hastily hiding the
beauties, whereof Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they
made quicke worke to come to save Zelmane. But already they
found them in talke, & Zelmane careful of his wound. But
whe they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the
famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes
they blamed for breaking their fathers commaundement, espe-
cially while themselves were in such sort retired. But he
craved pardon, protesting unto them that he had onely bene to
seeke solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good
while possest him, and guided to that place by his spaniell, where
while the dog hunted in the river, he had withdrawne himselfe
to pacifie with sleepe his over-watched eyes : till a dreame
waked him, and made him see that whereof he had dreamed, &
withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne
doings. But Philoclea (that was even jealous of her self for
Zelmane) would needs have her glove, and not without so mighty
a loure as that face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she
knew, it was Amphialus^ Lord Amphialus (said she) I have log
desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good
will, but still with honoring your vertue, though I love not your
person: & at this time I pray you let us take care of your
wound, upon codition you shal hereafter promise, that a more
knightly combat shalbe performed betweene us. Amphialus
answered in honorable sort, but with such excusing himselfe,
that more and more accused his love to Philoclea^ & provoked
more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certaine
shepheards not far of (who knew & wel observed their limits)
to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound
suffered him not without daunger to straine it : and so he
leaving himselfe with them, departed from them, faster bleeding
in his hart, then at his wound : which bound up by the sheetes,
wherwith Philoclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the
wound, and blesse the sword for that favour.

S. A. P 225

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 12.

^How Basilius found Plangus : ^his lametation. '^ Philoclea
entreated by Zelmane to relate the storie of Erona.

I T T E being gone, the Ladies (with mery anger talking, in
X X what naked simplicitie their cousin had scene the)
returned to the lodge-warde : yet thinking it too early (as long
as they had any day) to breake of so pleasing a company, with
going to performe a cubersome obedience, Zelmane invited them
to the little arbour, only reserved for her, which they willingly
did: and there sitting, Pamela having a while made the lute in
his laguage, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers,
Zelmane delivered up the paper, which Amphialus had at first
yeelded unto her: and seeing written upon the backside of it,
the complaint of Plangus^ remembring what Dorus had told her,
and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate,
she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it
were any secret, or no. No truely (answered Philoclea^ it is but
even an exercise of my fathers writing, upon this occasion : He
was one day (somwhile before your comming hether) walking
abroade, having us two with him, almost a mile hence; and
crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis^
he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the
proprest and best-graced men that ever I sawe, being of middle
age, and of a meane stature. He lay as then under a tree,
while his servaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It
might seeme he was tired with the extreme travaile he had
taken, and yet not so tyred, that he forced to take any rest ; so
hasty he was upon his journey: and withall so sorrowfull, that
the very face thereof was painted in his face ; which with pitifiiU
motions, even groanes, teares, and passionate talking to him selfe,
moved my Father to fall in talke with him: who at first not
knowing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of griefe,
that my Father afterward tooke a delight to set it downe in such
forme as you see : which if you read, what you doubt of, my
sister and I are hable to declare unto you. Zelmane willingly
opened the leaves, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in
this manner.

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

Plangus. Basilius.

A Las how long this pilgrimage doth last? Plangu

^ What greater ills have now the heavens in store^

To couple comming harmes with sorrowes past?
Long since my voice is hoarce^ and throte is sore.

With cries to skies^ and curses to the ground.

But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more.
Ah where was first that cruell cunning found.

To frame of Earth a vessell of the minde.

Where it should he to selfe-destruSfion bound ?
What needed so high sprites such mansions blind?

Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine.

But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind ?
Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne ;

Turnd from themselves, infeSfed with their cage,

Where death is feard, and life is held with paine.
Like players pWst to fill a filthy stage.

Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes.

And all but jests, save onely sorrowes rage.
The child feeles that ; the man that feeling knowes.

With cries first borne, the presage of his life.

Where wit but serves, to have true fast of woes.
A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rife

This bodie is : this bodie so composed.

As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife.
So divers be the Elements disposed

In this weake worke, that it can never he

Made uniforme to any state reposed.
Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see

[Even like a toppe which nought hut whipping moves)

This man, this talking beast, this walking tree.
Griefe is the stone which finest judgement proves :

For who grieves not hath hut a blockish hraine.

Since cause of griefe no cause from life removes.

How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine Basiliu!

The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld,
Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine ?

P2 227

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Curst be good haps^ and curst be they that build

Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire

For all these certaine blowes the surest shield.
Shall I that saw Eronaes shining haire

Tome with her hands, and those same hands of snow

With losse of purest blood themselves to teare ?
Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow.

Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease.

And saw those eyes {those Sonnes) such shoures to shew.
Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze,

Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath,

Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease?
No, no : Despaire my dayly lesson saith.

And saith, although I seeke my life to flie,

Plangus must live to see Eronaes death.
Plangus must live some helpe for her to trie

Though in despaire, so Love enforceth me ;

Plangus doth live, and must Erona dye ?
Erona dye ? O heaven {if heaven there be)

Hath all thy whirling course so small effeSf ?

Serve all thy starrie eyes this shame to see ?
Let doltes in haste some altars faire ere£i

To those high powers, which idly sit above.

And vertue do in greatest need negle£i.

O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do move

To irefull wrath, which thou canst not resist.

Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do prove,
Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist

Of our selfe-love [so passions do deceave)

We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist.
To harme us wormes should that high Justice leave

His nature ? nay, himselfe ? for so it is.

What glorie from our losse can he receave ?
But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse,

While that we do at his sweete scourge repine.

The kindly way to beate us to our blisse.
If she must dye, then hath she past the line

Of lothsome dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone.

That doost so well their miseries define?
228

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

But such we are with inward tempest hlowne
Of mindes quite contrarie in waves of will :
We mone that lost^ which had we did hemone.

And shall shee dye? shall cruell fier spill Plangus

Those heames that set so many harts on fire?

Hath she not force even death with love to kill ?
Nay even cold Death enflamde with hot desire

Her to enjoy^ where joy it selfe is thrall.

Will spoile the earth of his most rich attire.
Thus Death becomes a rivall to us all.

And hopes with foule emhracements her to get.

In whose decay Vertues faire shrine must fall,
0 Fertue weake, shall death his triumph set

Upon thy spoiles, which never should lye waste ?

Let Death first dye ; be thou his worthy let.
By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste?

What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower ?

What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra'st?
The world the garden is, she is the flower

That sweetens all the place ; she is the guest

Of rarest price, both heaven and earth her bower.
And shall (o me) all this in ashes rest?

Alas, if you a Phoenix new will have

Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest.
But well you know, the gentle Sunne would save

Such beames so like his owne, which might have might

In him, the thoughts of Phaetons damme to grave.
Therefore, alas, you use vile Vulcans spight.

Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe

Which while it is, it is all Asias light.
0 Mars, for what doth serve thy armed axe ?

To let that wit-old beast consume in flame

Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes ?
0 Venus {if her praise no envy frames.

In thy high minde) get her thy husbands grace,

Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes. „

O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face.

Her face which was more lively in my hart ;

O braine, where thought of her hath onely place ;

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

0 hand^ which toucht her hand when she did part ;

O Uppes^ that kist her hand with my teares sprent ;

O toonge, then dumbe^ not daring tell my smart ;
0 soule^ whose love in her is onely spent^

What ere you see^ thinke^ touch, kisse, speake^ or love,

Let all for her, and unto her be bent.

Thy wailing words do much my spirits move.
They uttred are in such a feeling fashion.
That sorrowes worke against my will I prove.

Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion,

And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie :
Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion. '

Tet Reason saith. Reason should have abilitie.
To hold these worldly things in such proportion,
As let them come or go with even facilitie.

But our Desires tyrannicall extortion

Doth force us there to set our chiefe delightfulnes.
Where but a baiting place is all our portion.

But still, although we faile of perfeSl rightfulnes,
Seeke we to tame the childish superfluities :
Let us not winke though void of purest sight fulnes.

For what can breed more peevish incongruities,
Then man to yeeld to female lamentations ?
Let us some grammar learne of more congruities.

If through mine eares pearce any consolation

By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fi£fion ;
If ought I cease these hideous exclamations.

While that my soule, she, she lives in affliction ;
Then let my life long time on earth maintained be,
To wretched me, the last worst malediSiion.

Can I, that know her sacred parts restrained be.
For any joy, know fortunes vile displacing her.
In morall rules let raging woes contained be ?

Can I forget, when they in prison placing her.

With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfiilnes
She lay for dead, till I helpt with unlasing her P

Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes
With Diamond in window-glasse she graved,
Erona dye, and end thy ougly painefulnes?

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craved

That quickly they would her hurne^ drowne^ or smother^
As if by death she onely might he saved?

Then let me eke forget one hand from other :
Let me forget that Plangus / am called :
Let me forget I am sonne to my mother^

But if my memory must' thus be thralled

To that strange stroke which conquered all my senses^
Can thoughts still thinking so rest unappalled?

Who still doth seeke against himselfe offences^ Basilius

What pardon can availe? or who employes him

To hurt himselfe^ what shields can he defenses P
Woe to poore man : ech outward thing annoyes him

In divers kinds ; yet as he were not filled^

He heapes in inward griefe^ which most destroyes him.
Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled :

Thus be our noblest parts dryed up with sorrow :

Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled.
One day layes up stuffe of griefe for the morrow :

And whose good haps do leave him unprovided^

Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow.
Betwixt the good and shade of good divided^

We pittie deeme that which hut weakenes is :

So are we from our high creation slided.
But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse

Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end.

The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse.

When Zelmane had read it over, marveyling verie much of 3
the speeche of Eronas death, and therefore desirous to know
further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake. Most
excellent Ladie (said she) one may be little the wiser for reading
the Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor
what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her
with death, and him with sorow : therefore I woulde humbly
crave to understand the particular discourse thereof: because (I
must confesse) some thing in my travaile I have heard of this
strange matter, which I would be glad to find by so sweet an
author^tie confirmed. The trueth is (answered Philoclea) that

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

after he knew my father to be Prince of this countrie, while he
hoped to prevaile something with him in a great request he made
unto him, he was content to open fully unto him the estate both
of himselfe, and of that Ladie ; which with my sisters help (said
she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare unto you:
and first of Erona, (being the chiefe Subject of this discourse)
this storie (with more teares and exclamations then I liste to
spende about it) he recounted.

CHAP. 13.

Erona ^irreligious gainst Love, ^must love the base Antiphilus, *is
lovedy pursued^ and beleaguered by the great Tiridates. *'The
two Greeke Princes ayde her. " They combatte with two
Kings 'y Antiphilus «;/V>^ Plangus; they conquerors^ he prisoner.
'Eronas hard-choice to redeeme him, ''Tiridates slaine^ Anti-
philus delivered^ Artaxia chased by the two Princes^ ^and her
hate to them.

1 /^~\F late there raigned a King in Lycia^ who had for the
\^_J blessing of his mariage, this onely daughter of his, Erona ;
a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie
may be praise- worthy. This Princesse Erona, being 19. yeres
of age, seeing the countrie of Lycia so much devoted to Cupid^
as that in every place his naked pidtures & images were super-
stitiously adored (ether moved theruto, by the esteeming that
could be no Godhead, which could breed wickednes, or the
shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of
her father, as utterly to pull downe, and deface all those statues
and pidlures. Which how terriblie he punished (for to that the
Lycians impute it) quickly after appeared.

2 For she had not lived a yeare longer, when she was striken
with most obstinate Love, to a yong man but of mean parentage,
in her fathers court, named Antiphilus : so meane, as that he was
but the Sonne of her Nurse, & by that meanes (without other
desert) became knowen of her. Now so evill could she conceale
her fire, and so wilfully persevered she in it, that her father
offering her the mariage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia
232

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

(who desired her more then the joyes of heaven) she for Antiphilus
sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to withdrawe
her from it; sometimes perswasions, sometimes threatnings;
once hiding Antiphilus, & giving her to understand that he was
fled the countrie: Lastly, making a solemne execution to be
done of another, under the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept
in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threaten-
inges, nor changed for absence : and when she thought him dead,
she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as by knife) to send her
soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him.
This so brake the tender fathers hart, that (leaving things as he
found them) he shortly after died. Then foorthwith Erona
(being seazed of the crowne, and arming her'will with authoritie)
sought to advance her affeftion to the holy title of matrimonie.

But before she could accoplish all the solenities, she was 3
overtake with a war the King Tiridates made upon her, only
for her person ; towards whom (for her ruine) Love had kindled
his cruel hart; indeed cruell & tyrannous: for (being far too
strog in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as
though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie
of his love, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonets
of his Love, in the bloud, & tuned the in the cries of her sub-
je6ls; although his fair sister Artaxia (who would accopany him
in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury : till lastly,
he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or
lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether
of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall; whe there came
thether (following the course which Vertue & Fortune led the)
two excellent youg Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, the one
Prince of Afaceddy the other of Thessalia : two princes, as Plagus
said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes & teares) the most
acconplished both in body & mind, that the Sun ever lookt upon.
While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought
Zelmane to her self) which are not onely a praise to me, but a
praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth.

These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswel to help the weaker 4
(especially being a Ladie) as to save a Greeke people from being
ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering
together such of the honestest Lycians, as woulde venture their
lives to succour their Princesse: giving order by a secreat

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with all
force at an appointed time; they set upon Tiridates campe, with
so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he
was like to be overthrowen : but that this Plangus (being Generall
of Tiridates hors-men) especially ayded by the two mightie
men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the foot-men, even almost
defeated : but yet could not barre the Princes (with their suc-
coures both of men and vi6tuall) to enter the Citie.

5 Which when Tiridates found would make the war long,
(which length seemed to him worse then a languishing con-
sumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue,
against those two Princes and Antiphilus : and that thereupon the
quarrell should be 'decided; with compa6l, that neither side
should helpe his felow: but of whose side the more overcame,
with him the vidlorie should remaine. Antiphilus (though
Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then venture
him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since
the two strangers that had no interest in it, did willingly accept
it : besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie
of the miseries of war) would rather give him up, if they saw
him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine : considering
that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then him
selfe. So it was agreed upon; and against Pyrocles was Euardes^
King of Bithinia ; Barzanes of Hircania, against Afusidorus, two
men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: &
against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus, being his own
cousin germain, & sonne to the King of Iberia. Now so it
fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes, & Pyrocles Euardes \
which victory those Princes esteemed above all that ever they
had: but of the other side Plagus tooke Antiphilus prisoner:
under which colour (as if the matter had bene equal, though
indeed it was not, the greater part being overcome of his side)
Tiridates continued his war: & to bring Erona to a copelled
yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after,
before the walles of the towne strike of Antiphilus head ; with-
out his suite in that space were graunted : adding withall (because
he had heard of her desperate afFedtio) that if in the meane time
she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be devised should
be layed upon Antiphilus,

6 Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our own
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

thoughts seeme as a God unto us. But whatsoever it was, then
it did set foorth the miserablenes of his efFedtes : she being drawne
to two contraries by one cause. For the love of him comaunded
her to yeeld to no other: the love of him comaunded
him to preserve his life : which knot might well be cut, but
untied it could not be. So that Love in her passions (like a right
makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrell. What
(said he of the one side) doost thou love Antiphilus^ 6 Erona} and
shal Tiridates enjoy thy bodie ? with what eyes wilt thou looke
upon Jntiphi/us, when he shall know that another possesseth
thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force
thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man have thee, thou
shalt never have more part of Antiphilus the if he were dead.
But thus much more, that the afFedlio shalbe gnawing, & the
remorse still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy
afFedlion: where thus, thou shalt ever love, and ever lacke.
Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates^ Antiphilus is so ex-
cellent a man, that long he cannot be from being in some high
place maried : canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him,
he doth him the wrong : if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him
the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now,
or at another time he shall die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy
shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to make him
live to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when
Love had well kindled that parte of her thoughts, then went he
to the other side. What (said he) O Erona^ and is thy Love of
Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a ques-
tion, whether he shall die, or no ? O excellent afFedlion, which for
too much love, will see his head of. Marke well the reasons of
the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but love of thy selfe which
so disputeth. Thou canst not abide Tiridates : this is but love
of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke upo him afterward;
this is but feare of shame, & love of thy selfe : thou shalt want
him as much then; this is but love of thy selfe: he shalbe
married ; if he be well, why should that grieve thee, but for love
of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these wordes if thou canst, let
Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her
understanding ; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying :
an other time she thought Antiphilus saw her by Tiridates
enjoyed: twenty times calling for a servaunt to carry message

235

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

of yeelding, but before he came the minde was altered. She
blusht when she considered the efFedt of granting ; she was pale,
whe she remebred the fruits of denial. As for weeping, sighing,
wringing her hads, & tearing her haire, were indifferet of both
sides. Easily she wold have agreed to have broken al disputatios
with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder
torments staied her. At legth, eve the evening before the day
apointed of his death, the determinatio of yeelding prevailed,
especially, growing upo a message of Antiphilus ; who with all
the conjuring termes he could devise, besought her to save his
life, upon any codition. But she had no sooner sent her
messenger to Tiridates^ but her mind changed, and she went
to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus,Sc falling downe
at their feet, desired the to trie some way for her deliverance ;
shewing her selfe resolved, not to over-live Antiphilus, nor yet to
yeeld to Tiridates,

7 They that knew not what she had done in private, prepared
that night accordingly : & as sometimes it fals out, that what is
incostancy, seemes cuning; so did this chage indeed stand in as
good steed as a witty dissimulatio. For it made the King as
reckles, as them diliget : so that in the dead time of the night,
the Princes issued out of the towne ; with who she would needs
go, either to die her self, or reskew Antiphilus, having no armour,
nor weapon, but afFedlion. And I cannot tell you how, by
what devise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion
was, the wonderfuU valour of the two Princes so prevailed, that
Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slaine. Plangus was
then the chiefe man left in the campe ; and therefore seeing no
other remedie, coveied in safety into her country Artaxia, now

8 Queene of Armenia ; who with true lametations, made known
to the world, that her new greatnes did no way cofort her in
respedl of her brothers losse, who she studied all meanes possible
to revenge upon every one of the occasioners, having (as she
thought) overthrowne her brother by a most abominable treason.
In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to
any private man, and her selfe in manage to any Prince, that
would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus
redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility)
married to Erona ; in which case the two Greeke Princes (being
called away by an other adventure) left them.

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2,

CHAP. 14.

iPhilocleas narration broken of by Miso. ^Her old-wives tale^
^and ballad against Cupid. * Their drawing cuts for tales,
'^Mopsas tale of the old cut : ^cut of by the Ladies to returne
to their stories.

BUt now me thinkes as I have read some Poets, who when i
they inted to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun
the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares
fro me, yet may I well desire a breathing time, before I am to
tell the execrable treason of AntiphiluSy that brought her to this
misery ; and withall wish you al, that fro al mankind indeed you
stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loves
one upon another. (And as she spake that worde, her cheekes
in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And
therefore since I have named Plangus, I pray you sister (said she)
helpe me with the rest, for I have helde the stage long inough ;
and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I have done
Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood;
& so betweene us both, my Ladie Zelmane shall understand both
the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me
then (said Miso) I wil none of that, I promise you, as log as I
have the governmet, I will first have my tale, & the my Lady
Pamela, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa
was then returned fro Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest
cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when
you are married you wil have first, and last word of your
husbands. The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnest-
nesse she looked, having threatning not onely in her Ferret eies,
but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, &
her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no
remedy, they must obey : & Miso (sitting on the groud with her
knees up, & her hands upon her knees) tuning her voice with
many a quavering cough, thus discoursed unto the. I tel you 2
true (said she) whatsoever you thinke of me, you will one day
be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my
pennie as good silver, as some of you do: and if my father
had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might have

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

had an other-gaines husbad, the Dametas. But let that passe,
God amend him : and yet I speake it not without good cause.
You are ful of your tittle tattling of Cupid : here is Cupid, &
there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old woma told
me, what an old wise ma told her, what a great learned clerke
told him, and gave it him in writing; and here I have it in my
praier booke. I pray you (said Philoclea) let us see it, & read it.
No hast but good (said Miso) you shal first know how I came by
it. I was a young girle of a seven and twenty yeare old, & I
could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare
the young me talke ; O the pretie little eies of Miso\ O the fine
thin lips of Miso; O the goodly fat hands of Miso: besides,
how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me.
Then the one would wincke with one eye, & the other cast
daiseys at me : I must cofesse, seing so many amorous, it made
me set up my peacocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this
good old woma perceived (O the good wold woman, well may
the bones rest of the good wold woma) she cald me to her into
her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go
to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great
losse of her : she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of
wine to comfort her hart (it was of the same wine that comes
out of Candia, which we pay so deere for now a daies, and in
that good worlde was very good cheape) she cald me to her;
Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies
though I say it) I see a nuber of lads that love you; Wei (said
she) I say no more: doo you know what Love is? With that
she broght me into a corner, where ther was painted a foule fied
I trow : for he had a paire of homes like a Bull, his feete cloven,
as many eyes upon his bodie, as my gray-mare hath dappels, &
for all the world so placed. This moster sat like a hagman upo
a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was painted holding a
crowne of Laurell, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of
his mouth honge a lace of two faire pictures, of a ma & a woma,
& such a coutenance he shewed, as if he would perswade folks
by those aluremets to come thither & be hanged. I, like a teder
harted wench, skriked out for feare of the divell. Well (sayd
she) this same is even Love: therefore do what thou list with all
those fellowes, one after another; & it recks not much what
they do to thee, so it be in secreat; but upon my charge, never
238

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

love none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing
come fro the belly of the faire Fenus? for a few dayes before, our
(priest betweene him & me) had tolde me the whole storie of
Fenus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaved : and therewith
gave me this Booke, which she said a great maker of ballets had
given to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed
both booke and pi6lure of her. Reade there (said she) & thou
shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false Argus his
father. And so she gave me this Booke, & there now you may
reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman,
made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow,
it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there. But while
her teares came out, like raine falling upon durtie furrowes, the
latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies,
which contained this.

POore Painters oft with silly Poets joyne^
To Jill the world with strange but vaine conceits :

One brings the stuffe^ the other stamps the coine^

Which breeds nought else but gloses of deceits.
Thus Painters Cupid painty thus Poets do
A naked god^ young blind, with arrowes two.

Is he a God, that ever fiies the light ?

Or naked he, disguised in all untruth P

If he be blind, how hitteth he so right ?

How is he young, that tanCde old Phoebus youth ?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade :
Some hurt accuse a third with horny head.

No, nothing so ; an old false knave he is

By Argus got on lo, then a cow :

What time for her Juno her Jove did misse.

And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury kilPd his false sire for this a£t.
His damme a beast was pardon* d beastly fa£f.

With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame.

With Joves disdaine at such a rivals seed.

The wretch compeWd a runnagate became.

And learned what ill a miser state doth breed.
To lye, faine, gloxe, to steale, pry, and accuse^
Naught in himself e ech other to abuse.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Tet beares he still his parents stately gifts^
A horned head^ cloven foote^ and thousand eyesy
Some gazing stilly some winking wilye shiftes^
With long large eares where never rumour dyes.
His horned head doth seeme the heaven to spight :
His cloven foote doth never treade aright.
Thus halfe a man^ with man he dayly hauntSy
Clothed in the shape which soonest may deceave :
Thus halfe a heasty ech beastly vice he plantSy
In those weake harts that his advice receave.
He proules ech place stil in new colours deckty
Sucking ones illy another to infe£i.
To narrow brests he comes all wrapt in gaine :
To swelling harts he shines in honours fire :
To open eyes all beauties he doth raine;
Creeping to ech with flattering of desire.

But for that Loves desire most rules the eyeSy
Therein his namey there his chiefe triumph lyes.
Millions of yeares this old drivell Cupid lives ;
While still more wretch^ more wicked he doth prove :
Till now at length that Jove him office giveSy
{At Junos suite who much did Argus love)
In this our world a hang-man for to bey
Of all those fooles that will have all they see.

These Ladies made sport at the description and storie ol
Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies (as
she tooke them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she
would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie.
Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete
smiling, and the sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her
face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not give ex-
ample of disobedience. My governesse will have us draw cuts,
and therefore I pray you let us do so: and so perhaps it will
light upon you to entertaine this company with some storie of
your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to
heare, as your tongue is abler to deliver. I will thinke
(answered Zelmane) excellent Princesse my tongue of some
value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to favour
me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to have fortune their
240

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

judge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squea-
mishnes going up & downe, with her head like a boate in a
storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune
(that saw not the coulor of them) gave her the preheminence :
and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was
good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past
(sayd she) there was a King, the mightiest man in all his j.
country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that ever did
eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that every
body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his
daughter was sitting in her window, playing upon a harpe, as
sweete as any Rose ; and combing her head with a combe all of
precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, upo a
goodly horse, one haire of gold, & the other of silver ; and so the
Knight casting up his eyes to the window, did fall into such love
with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate ; till many
a sorry day going over his head, with Dayly Diligence and Grisly
Grones, he wan her affedlion, so that they agreed to run away
togither. And so in May, when all true hartes rejoyce, they stale
out of the Castel, without staying so much as for their breakfast.
Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one
another, the Knight told her, he was brought up among the
water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were
ever askt his name, he must presently vanish away : and there-
fore charged her upon his blessing, that she never aske him what
he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept
his commandement; til once, passing through a cruell wildernes,
as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not
choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the
greevousest coplaints that would have melted a tree to have heard
them, vanisht quite away: & she lay down, casting forth as
pitifuU cries as any shrich-owle. But having laien so, (wet by the
raine, and burnt by the Sun) five dayes, & five nights, she gat
up and went over many a high hil, & many a deepe river; till
she came to an Aunts house of hers ; and came, & cried to her
for helpe : and she for pittie gave her a Nut, and bad her never
open her Nut, til she was come to the extremest misery that
ever tongue could speake of. And so she went, & she went, &
never rested the evening, wher she wet in the morning ; til she
came to a second Aunt; and she gave her another Nut.

S. A. Q 241

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

6 Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea) I pray thee at
my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, & I promise
thee that the best gowne I weare that day shalbe thine. Mopsa
was very glad of the bargaine, especially that it shuld grow a
festival Tale : so that Zelmane^ who desired to finde the utter-
most what these Ladies understood touching her selfe, and
having understood the danger of Erona (of which before she
had never heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this
pursuit she now was in, was brought to any efFedl) to succour
her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of
Plangus^ as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters per-
hCttr remebrace, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a
grace, as in themselves were of most forcible eloquence to
procure attention, in this maner to their earnest request soone
condiscended.

CHAP. 15.

* Plangus-^/; parentage. ^ His trick of youth, ' espied, * ^ turned
over by, and to his old father. ^ An inveagling-womans arts,
^A guilty stepmothers divellish praSfises against Plangus.
''Her ministers false informations. « Plangus perplexities,
» His fathers jelousies. The Queenes complots ^" to feede the
ones suspicion, " dsf work the others overthrow. ^^ Plangus
taken ; " delivered flieth : ^* is pursued with old hate, & new
treason. " Tet must he serve abroad, while a new heire is
made at home, " This story broken off by Basilius.

I 'npHe father of this Prince Plangus as yet lives, and is King
X of Iberia : a man (if the judgement of Plangus may be •
accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing evill, with-
out himselfe mistake the evill, seeing it disguised under some
forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to ^
a Princesse (who both from her auncesters, and in her selfe
was worthy of him) by her had this son, Plangus. Not long
after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed
the message for which she was sent into the world) returned
again unto her maker. The King (sealing up al thoughts of
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

love under the image of her memorie) remained a widdower
many yeares after ; recompencing the griefe of that disjoyning
from her, in conjoyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a
motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being
growne to mans age, as our owne eies may judge, could not
but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education.

This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused 2
by the greenenes of his youth, which tooke all the fault upon it
selfe) loved a private mans wife of the principal Citie of that
Kingdome, if that may be called love, which he rather did take
into himselfe willingly, then by which he was take forcibly.
It sufficeth, that the yong man perswaded himself he loved her:
she being a woman beautiful enough, if it be possible, that the
outside onely can justly entitle a beauty. But finding such a
chase as onely fledde to be caught, the young Prince broght his
afFe6li6 with her to that point, which ought to engrave remorse
in her harte, & to paint shame upon her face. And so possest
he his desire without any interruption ; he constantly favouring
her, and she thinking, that the enameling of a Princes name,
might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I have scene
one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake,
but with pinching of him : so out of his sinfull sleepe his minde
(unworthie so to be loste) was not to be cald to it selfe, but by
a sharpe accident.

It fell out, that his many-times leaving of the court (in 3
undue times) began to be noted; and (as Princes eares be
manifolde) from one to another came unto the King; who
carefull of his onely sonne) sought, and found by his spies (the
necessarie evill servauntes to a King) what it was, whereby he
was from his better delights so diverted.

Whereupon, the King (to give his fault the greater blow) 4
used such meanes, by disguising himselfe, that he found them
[her husband being absent) in her house together: which he
did, to make him the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that
way he tooke, laying threatnings upon her, and upon him
reproaches. But the poore young Prince (deceived with that
young opinion, that if it be ever lawfuU to lie, it is for ones
Lover,) employed all his witte to bring his father to a better
opinion. And because he might bende him from that (as he
ounted it) crooked conceit of her, he wrested him, as much as

Q2 243

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

he coulde possiblie, to the other side: not sticking with
prodigall protestations to set foorth her chastitie; not denying
his own attempts, but thereby the more extolling her vertue.
His Sophistrie prevayled, his father beleeved ; and so beleeved,
that ere long (though he were alredy stept into the winter of
his age) he founde himselfe warme in those desires, which were
in his Sonne farre more excusable. To be short, he gave him-
selfe over unto it; and (because he would avoide the odious
comparison of a yong rivall) sent away his sonne with an armie,
to the subduing of a Province lately rebelled against him, which
he knewe could not be a lesse worke, the of three or foure
yeares. Wherein he behaved him so worthilie, as even to this
country the fame therof came, long before his own coming:
while yet his father had a speedier succes, but in a far unnobler
conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing
onely in age & afFedtio) folowed his suite with all meanes of
unhonest servants, large promises, and each thing els that might
help to countervail his owne unlovelines.

And she (whose husband about that time died) forgetting
the absent Plangus^ or at lest not hoping of him to obtaine so
aspiring a purpose, lefte no arte unused, which might keepe the
line from breaking, wherat the fishe was alredy taken; not
drawing him violently, but letting him play himself upon the
hooke, which he had greedely swalowed. For, accompanying
her mourning with a doleful! countenaunce, yet neither for-
getting hansomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetenes in
her dolefull countenance ; her wordes were ever seasoned with
sighes; and any favour she shewed, bathed in teares, that
affedlion might see cause of pity; and pity might perswade
cause of afFedtion. And being growen skilfull in his humors,
she was no lesse skilfull in applying his humors: never suffering
his feare to fall to a despaire, nor his hope to hasten to an'
assurance: she was content he should thinke that she loved
him ; and a certaine stolne looke should sometimes (as though
it were against her will) bewray it : But if thereupon he grewe
bolde, he straight was encountred with a maske of vertue.
And that which seemeth most impossible unto me, (for as
neere as I can 1 repeate it as Plangus tolde it) she could not onely
sigh when she would, as all can doo ; & weep when she would,
as (they say) some can doo ; but (being most impudent in her
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

hart) she could, when she would, teach her chekes blushing,
and make shamefastnes the cloake of shamelesnes. In summe,
to leave out many particularities which he recited, she did not
onely use so the spurre, that his Desire ran on, but so the
bit, that it ran on, eve in such a careere as she would have it ;
that within a while, the king, seeing with no other eyes but
such as she gave him, & thinking no other thoghts but such as
she taught him; having at the first liberall measure of favors
then shortned of the, when most his Desire was inflamed; he
saw no other way but mariage to satisfie his longings and her
mind (as he thought) loving, but chastly loving. So that by
the time Plangus returned from being notably vidtorious of the
Rebels, he foud his father, not only maried, but alredy a father
of a Sonne & a daughter by this woma. Which though
Plagus (as he had every way just cause) was grieved at; yet
did his grief never bring forth ether cotemning of her, or
repining at his father. But she (who besides she was growen 6
a mother, and a stepmother, did read in his eies her owne fault,
and made his conscience her guiltines) thought still that his
presence caried her condenation: so much the more, as that
she (unchastly attempting his woted facies) foud (for the
reverece of his fathers bed) a bitter refusall: which breeding
rather spite then shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame
not of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not onely (as hating
him) thirst for a revenge, but (as fearing harm from him)
endevoured to doo harme unto him. Therefore did she trie
the uttermost of her wicked wit, how to overthrow him in the
foundation of his strength, which was, in the favour of his
father: which because she saw strong both in nature and
desert, it required the more cuning how to undermine it. And
therfore (shunning the ordinary trade of hireling sycophants)
she made her praises of him, to be accusations; and her ad-
vauncing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (neerer
admiration then liking) she would extoU his excellecies, the
goodlines of his shape, the power of his witte, the valiantnes of
his courage, the fortunatenes of his successes: so as the father
might finde in her a singular love towardes him : nay, she
shunned not to kindle some fewe sparkes of jelousie in him.
Thus having gotten an opinion in his father, that she was farre
from meaning mischiefe to the sonne, then fell she to praise

245

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

him with no lesse vehemencie of afFedtion, but with much
more cunning of malice. For then she sets foorth the liberty
of his mind, the high flying of his thoughts, the fitnesse in him
to beare rule, the singular love the Subjefts bare him; that it
was doubtfull, whether his wit were greater in winning their
favors, or his courage in employing their favours : that he was
not borne to live a subje6l-life, each action of his bearing in it
Majestic, such a Kingly entertainement, such a Kingly mag-
nificence, such a Kingly harte for enterprises: especially re-
membring those vertues, which in a successor are no more
honoured by the subjects, then suspedled of the Princes. Then
would she by putting-of objedtios, bring in objedlios to her
husbands head, alredy infected with suspitio. Nay (would she
say) I dare take it upon my death, that he is no such sonne, as
many of like might have bene, who loved greatnes so well, as
to build their greatnes upon their fathers ruine. Indeed Am-
bition, like Love, can abide no lingring, & ever urgeth on his
own successes; hating nothing, but what may stop the. But
the Gods forbid, we should ever once dreame of any such thing
in him, who perhaps might be content, that you & the world
should know, what he can do : but the more power he hath
to hurte, the more admirable is his praise, that he wil not
hurt. Then ever remembring to strengthen the suspition of
his estate with private jelousie of her love, doing him excessive
honour when he was in presence, and repeating his pretie
speaches and graces in his absence; besides, causing him to be
imployed in all such dangerous matters, as ether he should perish
in them, or if he prevailed, they should increase his glory:
which she made a weapon to woud him, untill she found that
suspition began already to speake for it selfe, and that her
husbands eares were growne hungry of rumours, and his eies
prying into every accident.
7 Then tooke she help to her of a servant neere about her
husband,^ whom she knew to be of a hasty ambitio, and such a
one, who wanting true sufficiencie to raise him, would make a
ladder of any mischiefe. Him she useth to deale more plainely
in alleaging causes of jealousie, making him know the fittest
times when her husband already was stirred that way. And
so they two, with divers wayes, nourished one humour, like
Musitians, that singing divers parts, make one musicke. He
246

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

sometime with fearefuU countenaunce would desire the King
to looke to himselfe ; for that all the court and Cittie were full
of whisperings, and expectation of some suddaine change, upon
what ground himselfe knew not. Another time he would
counsell the King to make much of his sonne, and holde his
favour, for that it was too late now to keepe him under. Now
seeming to feare himselfe, because (he said) Plangus loved none
of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking
with him dire6lly (making a sorrowful countenance, & an
humble gesture beare false witnesse for his true meaning) that
he foud, not only souldiery, but people weary of his govern-
ment, & al their affedlions bent upon Plangus. Both he and
the Queene concurring in strange dreames, & each thing else,
that in a mind (already perplexed) might breed astonishment:
so that within a while, all P langus z.€t\ons began to be translated
into the language of suspition.

Which though Plangus foud, yet could he not avoid, even 8
cotraries being driven to draw one yoke of argumet : if he were
magnificet, he spent much with an aspiring intent : if he spared,
he heaped much with an aspiring intent : if he spake curteously,
he angled the peoples harts: if he were silent, he mused upon
some daungerous plot. In summe, if he could have turned
himself to as many formes as Proteus^ every forme should have
bene made tedious.

But so it fell out, that a meere trifle gave the occasion of 9
further proceeding. The King one morning, going to a vine-
yard that lay a long the hill where his castle stood, he saw a
vine-labourer, that finding a bowe broken, tooke a branch of
the same bowe for want of another thing, and tied it about the
place broken. The King asking the fellow what he did. Marry
(said he) I make the sonne binde the father. This word
(finding the King alredy supersticious through suspitio) amazed
him streight, as a presage of his owne fortune : so that, return-
ing, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his
estate, she made such gaine-saying answeres, as while they
strave, strave to be overcome. But even while the doubtes
most boiled, she thus nourished them.

She under-hand dealt with the principall me of that coutry, lO
that at the great Parliamet (which was then to be held) they
should in the name of all the estates perswade the King (being

247

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

now stept deeply into old age) to make Plangus^ his associate in
governmet with him : assuring the, that not only she would
joine with them, but that the father himself would take it
kindly; chargeing the not to acquaint Plangus withal; for that
perhaps it might be harmeful unto him, if the King should find,
that he wer a party. They (who thought they might do it,
not only willingly, because they loved him, & truly, because
such indeed was the minde of the people, but safely, because
she who ruled the King was agreed therto) accoplished her
cousell: she indeed keeping promise of vehement perswading
the same: which the more she & they did, the more she knew
her husbad would fear, & hate the cause of his feare. Plangus
foud this, & hubly protested against such desire, or wil to
accept. But the more he protested, the more his father thought
he dissebled, accouting his integritie to be but a cuning face of
falshood: and therfore delaying the desire of his subjects,
attended some fit occasion to lay hands upon his sonne : which
his wife thus brought to passe.

She caused that same minister of hers to go unto P/agus, &
(enabling his words with great shew of faith, & endearing them
with desire of secresie) to tell him, that he found his ruine
conspired by his stepmother, with certain of the noble men of
that coutry, the King himselfe giving his consent, and that few
daies should passe, before the putting it in pradize: with all
discovering the very truth indeed, with what cunning his step-
mother had proceeded. This agreing with Plangus his owne
opinio, made him give him the better credit: yet not so far, as
to flie out of his country (according to the naughty fellowes
persuasion) but to attend, and to see further. Wherupon the
fellow (by the direction of his mistresse) told him one day, that
the same night, about one of the clocke, the King had appointed
to have his wife, & those noble me together, to deliberate of
their manner of proceeding against Plangus: & therfore offered
him, that if himselfe would agree, he would bring him into a
place where he should heare all that passed; & so have the
more reason both to himselfe, and to the world, to seeke his
safetie. The poore Plagus (being subject to that only dis-
advantage of honest harts, credulitie) was perswaded by him: &
arming himself (because of his late going) was closely conveied
into the place appointed. In the meane time his stepmother

248

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

making all her gestures cunningly counterfait a miserable
afflidtio, she lay almost groveling on the flower of her chaber,
not suffering any body to comfort her; untill they calling for
her husband, and he held of with long enquiry, at length, she
told him (even almost crying out every word) that she was
wery of her life, since she was brought to that plunge, either to
conceale her husbads murther, or accuse her sonne, who had
ever bene more deare, then a sonne unto her. Then with
many interruptions and exclamations she told him, that her
sonne Plangus (soUiciting her in the old affedlion betweene
them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of
the King; assuring her, that though all the lawes in the world
were against it, he would marrie her when he were King.

She had not fully said thus much, with many pitifuU 12
digressios, whe in comes the same fellow, that brought Plagus:
Sc runing himself out of breath, fell at the Kings feet, beseech-
ing him to save himself, for that there was a man with sword
drawen in the next roome. The King affrighted, wet out, &
called his gard, who entring the place, foud indeed Plangus
with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but stading sus-
piciously inough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking
he had put up his sworde because of the noise) never tooke
leasure to heare his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning
the next morning to put him to death in the market place.

But the day had no sooner opened the eies & eares of his 13
friends & followers, but that there was a little army of them,
who came, and by force delivered him ; although nubers on the
other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) tooke
armes for the King. But Plangus, though he might have used
the force of his friends to revenge his wrong, and get the
crowne ; yet the naturall love of his father, and hate to make
their suspition seeme just, caused him rather to choose a
volutarie exile, the to make his fathers death the purchase of
his life : & therefore went he to Tirtdates, whose mother was
his fathers sister, living in his Court eleven or twelve yeares,
ever hoping by his intercession, and his owne desert, to recover
his fathers grace. At the end of which time, the warre of
Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof
discoursed unto you.

But his father had so deeply engraved the suspicion in his 14

249

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

hart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearefull
guiltines, then of an humble faithfiilnesj & therfore continued
his hate, with such vehemencie, that he did ever hate his
Nephew Tiridates, and afterwards his neece Artaxiay because
in their Court he received countenance, leaving no meanes
unattepted of destroying his son; among other, employing that
wicked servant of his, who undertooke to empoyson him. But
his ciining disguised him not so well, but that the watchful
servats of Plagus did discover him. Wherupo the wretch was
taken, & (before his wel-deserved execution) by torture forced
to confesse the particularities of this, which in generall I have
told you.
15 Which cofession autentically set downe (though T'tridates
with solemne Embassage sent it to the King) wrought no
efFedl. For the King having put the reines of the government
into his wives hande, never did so much as reade it ; but sent
it streight by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped
more hatred upon Plangus^ for the death of their servaunt. And
now finding, that his absence, and their reportes had much
diminished the wavering peoples afFedtion towardes Plangusy
with advauncing fit persons for fadlion, and graunting great
immunities to the commons, they prevailed so farre, as to cause
the Sonne of the second wife, called Palladius^ to be proclaymed
successour, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was
driven to continue his serving Tiridates, as he did in the warre
against Erona^ and brought home Artaxia^ as my sister tolde
you ; when Erona by the treason of Anttphtlus^ But at that
word she stopped. For Basilius (not able longer to abide their
absence) came sodainly among them, and with smiling counten-
ance (telling Zelmane he was afFraid she had stoUen away
his daughters) invited them to follow the Sunnes counsel in
going then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was readie to
set. They yeelded, Zelmane meaning some other time to
understand the storie of Jntiphi/us treason, and Eronas daunger,
whose case she greatly tendred. But Miso had no sooner espied
Basi/iusy but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could utter it,
she set forth the sawcinesse of Amphialus. But Basilius onely
attended what Zelmanes opinion was, who though she hated
Amphialusy yet the nobilitie of her courage prevailed over it,
and she desired he might be pardoned that youthfull error;
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

considering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights
in the world; so as hereafter he governed himselfe, as one
remembring his fault. Basilius giving the infinite tearmes of
praises to Zelmanes both valour in conquering, and pittifulnesse
in pardoning, commanded no more words to be made of it,
since such he thought was her pleasure.

CHAP. 16.

^ The cumber of Zelmanes love and lovers. ^ Gynecias love-
lamentations, ' Zelmanes passions * ^ sonet. ' Basilius-^/V
wooing^ fl«^ Zelmanes answeres. ^Philocleay^^^/ atturney to
plead her fathers cause.

SO brought he them up to visite his wife, where betweene I
her, & him, the poore Zelmane receaved a tedious enter-
tainemet; oppressed with being loved, almost as much, as with
loving. Basilius not so wise in covering his passion, could
make his toong go almost no other pace, but to runne into
those immoderate praises, which the foolish Lover thinkes short
of his Mistres, though they reach farre beyond the heavens.
But Gynecia (whome womanly modestie did more outwardly
bridle) yet did oftentimes use the advantage of her sexe in
kissing Zelmane^ as she sate upon her bedde-side by her; which
was but still more and more sweete incense, to cast upon the
fire wherein her harte was sacrificed : Once Zelmane could not
stirre, but that, (as if they had bene poppets, whose motion
stoode onely upon her pleasure) Basilius with serviceable steppes,
Gynecia with greedie eyes would follow her. Basilius mind
Gynecia well knew, and could have found in her hart to laugh
at, if mirth could have borne any proportion with her fortune.
But all Gynecias adlions were interpreted by Basilius^ as pro-
ceeding from jealousie of his amorousnesse. Zelmane betwixt
both (like the poore childe, whose father while he beates him,
will make him beleeve it is for love; or like the sicke man, to
whom the Phisition sweares, the ill-tasting wallowish medicine
he profers, is of a good taste) their love was hatefull, their
courtesie troublesome, their presence cause of her absence

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

thence, where not onely her light, but her life consisted. Alas
(thought she to her selfe) deare Dorus, what ods is there
betweene thy destiny & mine? For thou hast to doo in thy
pursuite but with shepherdish folkes, who trouble thee with a
little envious care, and affedted diligence. But I (besides that I
have now Miso, the worst of thy divels, let loose upon me) am
waited on by Princes, and watched by the two wakefull eyes of
Love and Jealousie. Alas, incomparable Philoclea^ thou ever
seest me, but dost never see me as I am : thou hearest willingly
all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit
for thee to heare. Alas who ever but I was imprisoned in
libertie, and banished being still present? To whom but me
have lovers bene jailours, and honour a captivitie ?
2 But the night comming on with her silent steps upon the,
they parted ech from other (if at lest they could be parted, of
whom every one did live in another) and went about to flatter
sleepe with their beds, that disdained to bestow it selfe liberally
upon such eies which by their will would ever be looking: and
in lest measure upon Gynecia, who (when Basilius after long
tossing was gotten a sleepe, and the cheereful comfort of the
lights removed from her) kneeling up in her bed, began with a
soft voice, and swolne hart, to renue the curses of her birth ;
& the in a maner embracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of mine
(said she) which never heretofore couldst accuse me of one
defiled thought, how canst thou now receave this desastred
changeling? Happie, happie be they onely which be not: and
thy blessednes onely in this respe6t thou maist feele, that thou
hast no feeling. With that she furiously tare off great part of
her faire haire: Take here 6 forgotten vertue (said she) this
miserable sacrifice; while my soule was clothed with modestie,
that was a comely ornament : now why should nature crowne
that head, which is so wicked, as her onely despaire is, she
cannot be enough wicked? More she would have said, but
that Basilius (awaked with the noise) tooke her in his armes, &
bega to cofort her; the good-man thinking, it was all for a
jealous love of him : which humor if she would a litle have
maintained, perchance it might have weakned his new con-
ceaved fancies. But he finding her answeres wandring fro the
purpose, left her to her selfe (glad the next morning to take the
advatage of a sleepe, which a little before day, overwatched
252

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

with sorow, her teares had as it were sealed up in her eyes) to
have the more conference with Zelmane^ who baited on this
fashion by these two lovers, & ever kept from any meane to
declare herselfe, found in her selfe a dayly encrease of her
violent desires; like a river the more swelling, the more his
current is stopped.

The chiefe recreation she could find in her anguish, was 3
somtime to visite that place, where first she was so happy as to
see the cause of her unhap. There would she kisse the ground,
and thanke the trees, blisse the aier, & do dutifull reverence to
every thing that she thought did accompany her at their first
meeting : then returne again to her inward thoughts ; somtimes
despaire darkning all her imaginations, sometimes the a6tive
passion of Love cheering and cleering her invention, how to
unbar that combersome hinderance of her two ill-matched
lovers. But this morning Basilius himself gave her good
occasion to go beyond them. For having combd and trickt
himself more curiously, then any time fortie winters before,
comming where Zelmane was, he found her given over to her
musicall muses, to the great pleasure of the good old Basi/iusy
who retired himselfe behinde a tree, while she with a most
sweete voice did utter these passionate verses.

Ejed I am, and yet complaine of Love : 4

j4s loving not, accused, in Love I die.
When pittie most I crave, I cruell prove :
Still seeking Love, love found as much I flie.

Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire:
What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more:
Bard of my will, I have beyond desire :
I waile for want, and yet am chokte with store.

This is thy worke, thou God for ever blinde :
Though thousands old, a Boy entitled still.
Thus children doo the silly birds they finde.
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.

Yet thus much Love, 0 Love, I crave of thee :

Let me he lov*d, or els not loved he.

Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till he 5
perceaved she had fully ended her musick. But then loth to

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

loose the pretious fruite of time, he presented himselfe unto her,
falling downe upon both his knees, and holding up his hands,
as the old governesse of Danae is painted, when she sodainly
saw the golde shoure, O heavely woma, or earthly Goddesse
(said he) let not my presence be odious unto you, nor my
humble suit seeme of small weight in your eares. Vouchsafe
your eies to descend upon this miserable old-ma, whose life
hath hitherto bene maintained but to serve as an encrease of
your beautiful triumphs. You only have over throwne me, &
in my bondage cosists my glory. Suffer not your owne worke
to be despised of you : but looke upon him with pittie, whose
life serves for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a coutenace
ascanses she understood him not) told him, It became her evil
to suffer such excessive reverence of him, but that it worse
became her to correal him, to whom she owed duetie : that the
opinion she had of his wisedome was such, as made her esteeme
greatly of his words; but that the words themselves sounded so,
as she could not imagine what they might intend. Intend?
(said BasiiiuSy proud that that was brought in question) what
may they intend, but a refreshing of my soule, and a swaging
of my heat, and enjoying those your excellencies, wherein my
life is upheld, and my death threatned? Ze/mane lifting up
her face as if she had receaved a mortall injurie of him. And is
this the devotion your ceremonies have bene bent unto? said
she: Is it the disdaine of my estate, or the opinion of my
lightnesse, that have emboldned such base fancies towards me?
enjoying quoth you? now little joy come to them that yeeld to
such enjoying. Poore Basilius was so appalled, that his legges
bowed under him; his eyes lookt as though he would gladly
hide himself; and his old blood going to his hart, a generall
shaking all over his bodie possessed him. At length with a^
wanne mouth; he was about to give a stammering answere
when it came into Zelmanes head by this devise to make hei
profite of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance
thus said unto him. Your words (mightie Prince) were unfij
either for me to heare, or you to speaker but yet the lar^
testimonie I see of your affection makes me willing to suppres
a great number of errors. Onely thus much I thinke good
say, that the same words in my Ladie Philocleas mouth, as froi
one woman to another (so as there were no other bodie bi

254

ARCADIA. OB. 2.

might have had a better grace; and perchance have found a
gentler receipt.

Bas'ilius (vv^hose senses by Desire vs^ere held open, and con- 6
ceipt was by Love quickned) heard scarcely halfe her answ^ere
out, but that (as if speedie flight might save his life) he turned
away, and ran with all the speede his bodie would suffer him,
towardes his daughter Philoclea : whom he found at that time
duetifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiouslie watch-
ing her; having left Mopsa to doo the like service to Pamela.
Basilius foorthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the con-
juring words which Desire could endite, and authoritie utter)
besought her she would preserve his life, in who her life was
begonne ; she would save his graye haires from rebuke, and his
aged mind from despaire; that if she were not cloyed with his
companie, and that she thought not the earth over-burdened
with him, she would coole his fierie griefe, which was to be
done but by her breath. That in fine, whatsoever he was, he
was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane-, all the powers of his
spirite depending of her : that if she continued cruell, he could
no more sustaine his life, then the earth remaine fruitefull in
the Sunnes continuall absence. He concluded, she should in
one payment requite all his deserts : and that she needed not
disdaine any service (though never so meane) which was
warranted by the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more
glad then ever she had knowen her selfe, that she might by
this occasion, enjoy the private conference of Zelmane^ yet had
so sweete a feeling of vertue in her minde, that she would not
suffer a vile colour to be cast over her faire thoughts ; but with
humble grace answered her father: That there needed nether
promise nor perswasion to her, to make her doo her uttermost
for her fathers service. That for Zelmanes favour, she would
in all vertuous sort seeke it towards him: and that as she
woulde not pearce further into his meaning, then himselfe
should declare, so would she interprete all his doinges to be
ccomplished in goodnes: and therfore desired, (if otherwise it
were) that he woulde not imparte it to her, who then should be
forced to beginne (by true obedience) a shew of disobedience:
rather perfourming his generall commandement, which had
:ver beene, to embrace vertue, then any new particular, sprong
)ut of passion, and contrarie to the former. Basilius content to

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

take that, since he could have no more (thinking it a great
point, if by her meanes, he could get but a more free accesse
unto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, & took her proffer thakfully,
desiring onely a speedy returne of comfort. Philoclea was
parting, and Miso streight behind her, like AleSfo following
Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much
a doo, she being sharp-set upon the fulfilling of a shrewde
office, in over-looking Philoclea: and so said to Basilius^ that
she did as she was comanded, and could not answere it to
Gynecitty if she were any whitte from Philoclea: telling him
true, that he did evill to take her charge from her. But
Basilius^ (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stird a
foote to trouble his daughter) gave her a stoppe for that while.

CHAP. 17.

^Zelmanes tearesy ^and tearefull dittie. 'Philoclea enters coi
ference with her. ^ She shues, and shewes her selfe Princi
Pyrocles. •* Philoclea feares muchy but loves more. * Theh
conclusion^ ^ with reentrie to their intermitted historiologie,

SO away departed Philoclea^ with a new field of fancies fqi
her travayling mind. For well she sawe, her father was^
growen her adverse partie, and yet her fortune such, as she
must favour her Rivall ; and the fortune of that fortune such,
as neither that did hurt her, nor any contrarie meane helpe
her.
I But she walkt but a little on, before she saw Zelmane lying
upon a banke, with her face so bent over Ladon^ that (her
teares falling into the water) one might have thought, that she .j
began meltingly to be metamorphosed to the under-running
river. But by and by, with speech she made knowen, as well
that she lived, as that she sorrowed. Faire streames (said she)
that do vouchsafe in your cleerenes to represent unto me n
blubbered face, let the tribute-offer of my teares unto you, pi
cure your stay a while with me, that I may beginne yet at la
to finde some thing that pities me: and that all thinges >
comfort and pleasure doo not flie away from me. But if the

256

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

violence of your spring commaund you to haste away, to pay
your dueties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carrie with you
these fewe wordes, and let the uttermost ends of the world
know them. A Love more cleer then you selves, dedicated to
a Love (I feare) more cold then your selves, with the cleerenes
layes a night of sorow upon me; and with the coldenes en-
flames a worlde of fire within me. With that she tooke a
willowe stick, and wrote in a sandie banke these fewe verses.

OFer these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes, ^

{Mine eyes even great in labour with their teares)
I layde my face ; my face wherein there lyes
Clusters of clowdes, which no Sunne ever chares.
In watry glasse my watrie eyes I see:
Sorrowes ill easde, where sorrowes painted be.

My thoughts imprisonde in my secreat woes,

With flamie breathes doo issue oft in sound :

The sound to this strange aier no sooner goes.

But that it dooth with Echoes force rebound.

And make me heare the plaints I would refraine :
Thus outward helps my inward griefes maintaine.

Now in this sande I would discharge my minde,

And cast from me part of my burdnous cares :

But in the sand my tales foretolde I finde.

And see therein how well the writer fares.

Since streame, aier, sand, mine eyes and eares conspire:
What hope to quench, where each thing blowes the fire ?

And assoon as she had written them (a new swarme of3
thoughts stinging her mind) she was ready with her foot to
give the new-borne letters both death and buriall. But
Philoclea (to whom delight of hearing and seeing was before a
stay from interrupting her) gave her self to be seen unto her,
with such a lightning of Beauty upo Zelmane, that nether she
could looke on, nor would looke of. At last Philoclea (having
little mused how to cut the threede even, betweene her owne
hopelesse afFe6tion, and her fathers unbridled hope) with eyes,

feekes, and lippes, (whereof each sange their parte, to make
the harmonic of bashfulnesse) began to say, My Father to
S. A. R 257

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

whom I owe my self, & therefore, When Zelmane (making a
womanish habite to be the Armour of her boldnesse, giving up
her life to the lippes of Philoclea^ and taking it againe by the
sweetenesse of those kisses) humbly besought her to keepe her
speach for a while within the Paradise of her minde. For well
she knew her fathers errad, who should soon receive a sufficient
answere. But now she demaunded leave not to loose this long
sought-for commoditie of time, to ease her harte thus farre, that
if in her agonies her destinie was to be condemned by Philocleas
mouth, at lest Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned.
Philoclea easily yeelded to graunt her owne desire: and so
making the greene banke the situation, and the river the
prospedl of the most beautiful buildings of Nature, Zelmane
doubting how to beginne, though her thoughts already had
runne to the ende, with a minde fearing the unworthinesse of
every worde that should be presented to her eares, at length
brought it forth in this manner.
4 Most beloved Ladie, the incomparable excellencies of your
selfe, (wai ted-on by the greatnesse of your estate) and the
importaunce of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth
require both many ceremonies before the beginning, and many
circumstaunces in the uttering my speech, both bolde, and
fearefull. But the small opportunitie of envious occasion (by
the malicious eie hateful Love doth cast upon me) and the
extreme bent of my afFeftion (which will eyther breake out in
wordes, or breake my harte) compell me, not onely to embrace
the smallest time, but to passe by respeds due unto you, in
respedl of your poore caitifes life, who is now, or never to be
preserved. I doo therefore vowe unto you, hereafter never
more to omit all dutifull forme: doo you onely now vouchsafe
to heare the matter of a minde most perplexed. If ever the
sound of Love have come to your eares, or if ever you have
understood, what force it hath had to conquere the strongest
hartes, and change the most setled estates : receive here an
example of those straunge Tragedies ; one, that in him seUe
conteineth the particularities of all those misfortunes: and from
hencefoorth beleeve that such a thing may be, since you shall
see it is. You shall see (I say) a living image, and a present
storie of what Love can doo, when he is bent to ruine.
But alas, whether goest thou my tongue? or how doth my

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

harte consent to adventure the revealing his neerest touching
secrete? But peace Feare, thou commest too late, when
already the harme is taken. Therefore I say againe, O onely
Princesse, attend here a miserable miracle of afFedlion. Behold
here before your eyes Pyrocles^ Prince of Macedon^ whome you
onely have brought to this game of Fortune, and unused
Metamorphosis: vv^home you onely have made negledl his
countrie, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake to be Pyrocles :
the same Pyrocles^ who (you heard) was betrayed by being put
in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. O most
true presage: for these traytors, my eyes, putting me in a
shippe of Desire, which dayly burneth, those eyes (I say) which
betraied me, will never leave till they have drowned me. But
be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath
made to be the Load-starre of comfort, be not the Rocke of
shipwracke: you whome vertue hath made the Princesse of
felicitie, be not the minister of ruine: you, whom my choyse
hath made the Goddesse of my safetie, O let not, let not, from
you be powred upon me destruction. Your faire face hath
manie tokens in it of amazement at my wordes : thinke then
what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no
wordes can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I
desire, that my desire may be waied in the ballances of
Honour, and let Vertue hold them. For if the highest Love
in no base person may aspire to grace, then may I hope your
beautie will not be without pittie. If otherwise you be (alas
but let it never be so) resolved, yet shall not my death be
comfortles, receiving it by your sentence.

The joy which wrought into Pygmalions mind, while he 5
found his beloved image was softer, & warmer in his folded
armes, till at length it accoplished his gladnes with a perfedl
womans shape (still beautified with the former perfections)
was even such, as by each degree of Zelmanes wordes creepingly
entred into Philoclea : till her pleasure was fully made up with
the manifesting of his being; which was such as in hope did
over-come Hope. Yet Doubt would faine have playd his parte
in her minde, and cald in question, how she should be assured
that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Love streight stood up &
deposed, that a lie could not come from the mouth of Zelmane.
Besides, a certain sparke of honour, which rose in her well-

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

disposed minde, made her feare to be alone with him, with
whom alone she desired to be (with all the other c6tradi£lions
growing in those minds, which nether absolutly clime the
rocke of Vertue, nor freely sinke into the sea of Vanitie) but
that sparke soone gave place, or at lest gave no more light in
her mind, then a cadle doth in the Sunnes presence. But even
sicke with a surfet of joy, and fearefull of she knewe not what
(as he that newly findes huge treasures, doubtes whether he
sleepe or no ; or like a fearfull Deere, which then lookes most
about, when he comes to the best feede) with a shrugging
kinde of tremor through all her principall partes, she gave these
afFedlionate wordes for answere. Alas, how painefull a thing
it is to a devided minde to make a wel-joyned answere ? how
harde it is to bring inwarde shame to outward confession? and
what handsomnes trow you can be observed in that speeche,
which is made one knowes not to whom ? Shall I say 6 ZeU
manet Alas your wordes be against it. Shall I say Prince
Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your shew is manifest against it.
But this, this I may well say; If I had continued as I ought,
Fhiloclea^ you had either never bene, or ever bene Zelmane :
you had either never attempted this change, set on with hope,
or never discovered it, stopt with despaire. But I feare me, my
behaviour ill governed, gave you the first comfort : I feare me,
my afFedlion ill hid, hath give you this last assurance : I feare
indeed, the weakenesse of my government before, made you
thinke such a maske would be gratefull unto me: & my
weaker governmet since, makes you to pull of the visar. What
shall I doo then? shal I seeke far-fetched inventions? shall I
labour to lay marble coulours over my ruinous thoughts? or
rather, though the purenes of my virgin-minde be stained, let
me keepe the true simplicitie of my word. True it is, alas,
too true it is, 6 Zelmane (for so I love to call thee, since in that
name my love first began, and in the shade of that name my
love shall best lie hidden,) that even while so thou wert, (what
eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fitter to '
desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sory, or that
my love must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to
Pyrocles? how may that wel be, since when thou wert Zelmane^
the despaire thou mightest not be thus, did most torment me.
Thou hast then the vidtorie : use it with vertue. Thy vertue
260

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

wan me; with vertue preserve me. Doost thou love me?
keepe me then still worthy to be beloved.

Then held she her tongue, and cast downe a self-accusing 6
looke, finding, that in her selfe she had (as it were) shot out of
the bow of her afFeftio, a more quick opening of her minde,
then she minded to have done. But Pyrocles so caried up with
joy, that he did not envy the Gods felicitie, presented her with
some jewels of right princely value, as some litle tokens of his
love, h qualitie : and withall shewed her letters from his father
King Euarchus, unto him, which even in the Sea had amongst
his jewels bene preserved. But little needed those proofes to
one, who would have fallen out with her selfe, rather then
make any contrarie conje6lures to Ze/manes speeches; so that
with such imbracements, as it seemed their soules desired to
meete, and their harts to kisse, as their mouthes did: which
faine Pyrocles would have sealed with the chiefe armes of his
desire, but Philoclea commaunded the contrary; and yet they
passed the promise of mariage.

And then at Philocleas entreaty, who was willing to pur- 7
loine all occasions of remayning with Zelmane^ she tolde her the
storie of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona^
for the rest she had already understood of her sister. For (saide
she) I have understood, how you first in the companie of your
Noble cousin Musidorus parted from Thessalia, and of divers
adventures, which with no more daunger then glory you passed
through, till your comming to the succour of the Queene
Erona ; and the ende of that warre (you might perceive by my
selfe) I had understood of the Prince Plangus. But what since
was the course of your doings, until you came, after so many
victories, to make a conquest of poore me, that I know not, the
fame thereof having rather shewed it by pieces; then delivered
any full forme of it. Therefore, deere Pyrocles (for what can
mine eares be so sweetly fed with as to heare you of you) be
liberall unto me of those things which have made you indeede
pretious to the worlde, and now doubt not to tell of your perils ;
for since I have you here out of them, even the remembraunce
of them is pleasaunt. Pyrocles easily perceived she was content
with kindnesse, to put of occasion of further kindnesse ; wherein
Love shewed himselfe a cowardly boy, that durst not attempt
for feare of offending. But rather Love prooved him selfe

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valiant, that durst with the sworde of reverent dutie gaine-stand
the force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that
though he knewe this discourse was to entertaine him from a
more streight parley, yet he durst not but kisse his rod, and
gladly make much of the entertainement which she allotted
unto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastning his
brest for too much desiring, Sweete Princesse of my life (said
he) what Trophees, what Triumph, what Monuments, what
Histories may ever make my fame yeeld so sweete a Musicke
to my eares, as that it pleaseth you to lend your minde to the
knowledge of any thing touching Pyrocles, onely therefore of
value, because he is your Pyrocles ? And therefore grow I now
so proud, as to thinke it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe
to give it hearing. Therefore (onely height of my hope)
vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and setling
Erona in her governement; for setled we left her, howsoever
since (as I perceived by your speech the last day) the ungrateful
treason of her ill-chosen husband overthrew her (a thing in
trueth never till this time by me either heard, or suspedled) for
who could thinke without having such a minde as Antiphilusy
that so great a beautie as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not
have held his afFedlion ? so great goodnes could not have bound
grate fulnesse? and so high advancement could not have satisfied
his ambition ? But therefore true it is, that wickednesse may well
be compared to a bottomlesse pit, into which it is farre easier
to keepe ones selfe from falling, then being fallen, to give ones
selfe any stay from falling infinitely. But for my Cosen, and
me, upon this cause we parted from Erona.

CHAP. 1 8.

^Anaxius-^/; surcuidrie; ^and challenge to Pyrocles, accept t
* The execution of Ladies done on a Light-of-love. * Pyroclc
his intercession in the cause. " The lewd parts of that li^;
lecher. " His scoffing excuses. ' Didos revenge on him s topped j
" and his revenge on her stayed by Pyrocles.

I T^ Vardes (the brave & mighty Prince, whom it was my
I V fortune to kill in the cobat for Erona) had three
Nephewes, sonnes to a sister of his; all three set among the
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

foremost racks of Fame for great minds to attept, and great
force to perfourme what they did attempt; especially the eldest,
by name Jnaxius; to whom al men would willingly have
yeelded the height of praise, but that his nature was such, as to
bestow it upon himselfe, before any could give it. For of so
unsupportable a pride he was, that where his deede might well
stirre envie, his demeanor did rather breed disdain. And if it
be true that the Gyants ever made war against heaven, he had
bene a fit ensigne-bearer for that company. For nothing
seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing unjust,
while his liking was his justice. Now he in these wars had
flatly refused his aid; because he could not brooke, that the
worthy Prince Plagus was by his cosen Ttridates preferred
before him. For allowing no other weights, but the sword &
speare in judging of desert, how-much he esteemed himselfe
before Plangus in that, so much would he have had his allow-
ance in his service.

But now that he understood that his uncle was slaine by 2
me, I thinke rather scorne that any should kil his uncle, then
any kindnesse (an un-used guest to an arrogant soule) made
him seeke his revenge; I must confesse in manner gallant
enough. For he sent a challenge to me to meete him at a
place appointed, in the confines of the kingdome of Lycia ;
where he would prove upon me, that I had by some trecherie
overcome his uncle, whom els many hundreds such as I, could
not have withstood. Youth & successe made me willing
enough to accept any such bargaine; especially, because I had
heard that your cosen Amphialus (who for some yeares hath
universally borne the name of the best Knight in the world)
had divers times fought with him, & never bene able to master
him ; but so had left him, that every man thought Anaxius in
that one vertue of curtesie far short of him, in al other his
match ; Anaxius stil deeming himselfe for his superiour. There-
fore to him I would goe, and I would needs goe alone, because
so I understood for certaine, he was; and (I must confesse)
desirous to do something without the company of the incom-
parable Prince Musidorus, because in my hart I acknowledge
that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in my self,
whatsoever before I had done. For of him indeed (as of any
worldly cause) I must grant, as received, what ever there is, or

)

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may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by
example, giving me in him so lively an Image of vertue, as
ignorance could not cast such mist over mine eyes, as not to
see, and to love it, and all with such deare friendship and care,
as (6 heavens) how ca my life ever requite unto him? which
made me indeed find in my selfe such a kind of depending
upon him, as without him I found a weakenesse, and a mis-
trustfulnes of my selfe, as one strayed from his best strength,
when at any time I mist him. Which humour perceiving to
over-rule me, I strave against it; not that I was unwilling to
depend upon him in judgemet, but by weakenesse I would not;
which though it held me to him, made me unworthy of him.
Therfore I desired his leave, and obtained it : such confidence
he had in me, preferring my reputation before his owne tender-
nesse; and so privately went from him, he determining (as
after I knew) in secreat maner, not to be far from the place,
where we appointed to meete, to prevent any foule play that
might be offered unto me. Full loth was Erona to let us
depart from her, (as it were) forefeeling the harmes which after
fell to her. But I, (ridde fully from those combers of kind-
nesse, and halfe a dayes journey in my way toward Anaxius) met
an adventure, (though in it selfe of small importance) I will tell
you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to
as great comber and danger, as lightly any might escape.
3 As I past through a Laund (ech side whereof was so
bordred both with high tymber trees, and copses of farre more
humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitarie minde to
looke for no other companions then the wild burgesses of the
forrest) I heard certaine cries, which comming by pawses to
mine eares from within the wood of the right hand, made me
well assured by the greatnesse of the crie, it was the voice of a
man, though it were a verie unmanlike voice, so to crie. But
making mine eare my guide, I left not many trees behind me,
before I saw at the bottome of one of them a gentle-man bound
(with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tomble
and tosse, but neither runne nor resist he could. Upo him
(like so many Eagles upon an Oxe) were nine Gentle-women ;
truely such, as one might well enough say, they were hansome.
Each of them helde bodkins in their handes, wherewith they
continually pricked him, having bene before-hand unarmed of
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

any defence from the wast upward, but onely of his shirte : so
as the poore man wept and bled, cryed and prayed, while they
sported themselves in his paine, and delighted in his prayers, as
the arguments of their vicStorie.

I was moved to compassion, and so much the more that he 4
straight cald to me for succour, desiring me at lest to kill him,
to deliver him . from those tormenters. But before my-self
could resolve, much lesse any other tell what I would resolve,
there came in cholericke hast towards me about seve or eight
knights; the foremost of which willed me to get me away, and
not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due
revenge, but with so over-mastring a maner of pride, as truly
my hart could not brooke it : & therfore (answering them, that
how I would have defended him from the Ladies I knew not,
but from them I would) I began a combate first with him
particularly, and after his death with the others (that had lesse
good maners) joyntly. But such was the end of it, that I kept
the fielde with the death of some, and flight of others. In so
much as the women (afraid, what angrie viitorie would bring
forth) ranne away; saving onely one; who was so flesht in
malice, that neither during, nor after the fight, she gave any
truce to her crueltie, but still used the little instrument of her
great spight, to the well-witnest paine of the impatient patient :
and was now about to put out his eies, which all this while
were spared, because they should do him the discomfort of
seeing who prevailed over him. When I came in, and after
much ado, brought her to some conference, (for some time it
was before she would barken, more before she would speake;
& most, before she would in her speech leave off that remem-
brance of her bodkin) but at length whe I puld off my head-
peece, and humbly entreated her pardon, or knowledge why
she was cruell ; out of breath more with choller (which increased
in his owne exercise) the with the paine she tooke, much to
this purpose she gave her griefe unto my knowledge. Gentle-
man (said she) much it is against my will to forbeare any time
the executing of my just revege upon this naughtie creature, a
man in nothing, but in deceaving women ; But because I see
you are young, and like enough to have the power (if you
would have the mind) to do mucb more mischiefe, then he,

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

I am content upon this bad subject to reade a ledture to your
vertue.
5 This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confesse is noble
(but what is that to him, if it shalbe a staine to his deade
auncestors to have left such an ofF[s]pring ?) in shape as you see
not uncomely (indeed the fit maske of his disguised falshood) in
conversation wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome; his
eyes full of merie simplicitie, his words of hartie companable-
nesse; and such a one, whose head one would not think so
stayed, as to thinke mischievously: delighted in al such things,
which by imparting their delight to others, makes the user
therof welcome ; as, Musicke, Daunsing, Hunting, Feasting,
Riding, & such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can
keepe him at armes ende, neede never wish a better copanio.
But under these qualities lies such a poysonous addar as I will
tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in
all places acceptable) he creepes, nay (to say truely) he flies so
into the favour of poore sillie women, that I would be too much
ashamed to confesse, if I had not revenge in my hande, as well
as shame in my cheekes. For his hart being wholy delighted
in deceiving us, we could never be warned, but rather, one bird
caught, served for a stale to bring in more. For the more he
gat, the more still he shewed, that he (as it were) gave away to
his new mistresse, whe he betrayed his promises to the former.
The cunning of his flatterie, the readines of his teares, the
infinitenes of his vowes, were but among the weakest threedes
of his nette. But the stirring our owne passions, and by the
entrance of them, to make himselfe Lord of our forces ; there
lay his Masters part of cunning, making us now jealous, now
envious, now proud of what we had, desirous of more; now
giving one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many,
Subject to her; now with an estranged looke, making her feare
the losse of that minde, which indeede could never be had:
never ceasing humblenes and diligence, till he had imbarked us ^
in some such disadvantage, as we could not return dry-shod;
and then suddenly a tyrant, but a craftie tyrant. For so would
he use his imperiousnes, that we had a delightfuU feare, and an
awe which made us loath to lose our hope. And, which is
strangest (when sometimes with late repentance I thinke of it)
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

I must confesse, even in the greatest tempest of my judgemet
was I never driven to think him excellent, and yet so could set
my minde, both to gette and keepe him, as though therein had
laien my felicitie: like them I have seene play at the ball,
growe extremely earnest, who shoulde have the ball, and yet
every one knew it was but a ball. But in the end, the bitter
sauce of the sport was, that we had ether our hartes broken
with sorrow, or our estates spoyled with being at his diredtion,
or our honours for ever lost, partly by our owne faults, but
principally by his faultie using of our faults. For never was
there man that could with more scornefull eyes beholde her, at
whose feete he had lately laine, nor with a more unmanlike
braverie use his tongue to her disgrace, which lately had song
Sonets of her praises: being so naturally inconstant, as I
marvell his soule findes not some way to kill his bodie, whereto
it had beene so long united. For so hath he dealt with us
(unhappie fooles,) as we could never tell, whether he made
greater haste after he once liked, to enjoy, or after he once
enjoyed, to forsake. But making a glorie of his own shame, it
delighted him to be challenged of unkindnesse : it was a triumph
unto him to have his mercie called for: and he thought the
fresh colours of his beautie were painted in nothing so well, as
in the ruines of his Lovers: yet so farre had we engaged our
selves, (unfortunate soules) that we listed not complaine, since
our complaintes could not but carrie the greatest accusation to
our selves. But everie of us (each for her selfe,) laboured all
meanes how to recover him, while he rather daily sent us com-
panions of our deceipt, then ever returned in any sound and
faithfuU manner. Till at length he concluded all his wronges
with betrothing himselfe to one (I must confesse) worthie to be
liked, if any worthinesse might excuse so unworthie a change-
ablenesse; leaving us nothing but remorse for what was past,
and despaire of what might followe. Then indeede, the
common injurie made us all joyne in friendshippe, who till
that time, had employed our endevours one against the other.
For, we thought nothing was a more condemning of us, then
the justifying of his love to her by manage: then Despaire
made Feare valiant, and Revenge gave Shame countenance:
whereupon, we (that you saw here) devised how to get him
among us alone : which he (suspecting no such matter of them,

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still
abused) easilie gave us opportunitie to doo.

6 And a man may see, even in this, how soone Rulers growe
proude, and in their pride foolish: he came with such an
authoritie among us, as if the Planets had done inough for us,
that by us once he had beene delighted. And when we began
in courteous manner, one after the other, to lay his unkindnesse
unto him, he seeing himselfe confronted by so many (like a
resolute Orator,) went not to deniall, but to justifie his cruell
falshoode, and all with such jestes, and disdainfull passages, that
if the injurie could not be made greater, yet were our conceiptes
made the apter to apprehende it.

Among other of his answeres (forsooth) I shall never forgette,
how he woulde proove it was no inconstancie to chaunge from
one Love to an other, but a great constancie; and contrarie,
that which we call constancie, to be most changeable. For
(said he) I ever loved my Delight, & delighted alwayes in what
was Lovely: and where-soever I founde occasion to obtaine
that, I constantly folowed it. But these constant fooles you
speak of, though their Mistres grow by sicknes foule, or by
fortune miserable, yet stil will love her, and so committe the
absurdest inconstancie that may be, in changing their love from
fairenes to foulenesse, and from lovelines to his contrarie ; like
one not content to leave a friend, but will streight give over
himself to his mortall enemie: where I (whom you call in-
constant) am ever constant; to Beautie, in others; and Delight
in my self. And so in this jollie scoffing braverie he went over
us all, saying, He left one, because she was over-waiwarde;
another, because she was too soone woon ; a third, because she
was not merie inough ; a fourth, because she was over-game-
some ; the fifth, because she was growen with griefe subject to
sicknessc ; the sixt, because she was so foolish, as to be jelous of
him; the seventh, because she had refused to carie a letter for
him, to another that he loved ; the eight, because she was not
secrete; the ninth, because she was not liberall: but to me,
who am named Dido^ (and indeede have mette with a false
JEnteai) to me, I say, (6 the ungratefull villaine) he could finde
no other fault to obje6l, but that (perdie) he met with many
fayrer.

7 But when he had thus plaide the carelesse Prince, we
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

(having those servants of ours in readines, v^^hom you lately so
manfully overcame) laide holde of him ; beginning at first but
that trifling revenge, in which you found us busie; but meaning
afterwardes to have mangled him so, as should have lost his
credit for ever abusing more. But as you have made my
fellowes flie avv^ay, so for my part the greatnesse of his wrong
overshadowes in my judgement the greatnesse of any daunger.
For was it not inough for him, to have deceived me, & through
the deceipt abused me, & after the abuse forsaken me, but that
he must now, of al the company, & before all the company lay
want of beautie to my charge ? Many fairer ? I trow eve in
your judgemet, Sir, (if your eies do not beguile me) not many
fairer J & I know (whosoever saies the cotrary) there are not
many fairer. And of whom should I receive this reproch, but
of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many
fairer? And therefore how-soever my fellowes pardon his
injuries, for my parte I will ever remember, & remember to
revenge this scorne of al scornes. With that she to him
afresh; & surely would have put out his eies (who lay muet
for shame, if he did not sometimes crie for feare) if I had not
lept from my horse, & mingling force with intreaty, staied her
furie.

But, while I was perswading her to meekenes, comes a 8
number of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they
should kill that woma, that had thus betraied and disgraced
him. But then I was faine to forsake the ensigne; under
which I had before served, and to spend my uttermost force in
the prote6ting of the Ladie ; which so well prevailed for her,
that in the ende there was a faithfull peace promised of all
sides. And so I leaving her in a place of securitie (as she
thought) went on my journey towards Anaxiusy for whom I
was faine to stay two daies in the apointed place, he disdaining
to waite for me, till he was sure I were there.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 19.

* The tnonomachie betweene Anaxius and Pyrocles ; ' adjourned by
Pyrocles to resuccour Dido. ' The course of Didos daunger.
* The miserablenesse of her father. ' His carlish entertaine-
ment to Pyrocles ; ^ and his treason against him. ' Pyrocles
hard bestead. ® succoured by Musidorus : ^ both saved by the
King of \htn2i. ^° The execution of the traitorSy and death of
Dido.

I T Did patientlie abide his angrie pleasure, till about that
X space of time he came (indeede, according to promise)
alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to
say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to clime over
any daunger. And assoone as ever he came neere me, in fit
distaunce for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury
skilfully guided) ran upon me; which I (in the best sort I
could) resisted, having kept my selfe ready for him, because
I had understood, that he observed but few complements in
matters of armes, but such as a proud anger did indite unto
him. And so putting our horses into a full careere, we hit ech
other upon the head with our Launces: I think he felte my
blowe; for my parte (I must confesse) I never received the
like : but I thinke though my senses were astonished, my
minde forced them to quicken themselves, because I had
learned of him, how little favour he is woont to show in any
matter of advantage. And indeede'he was turned, and comming
upon me with his sworde drawne, both our staves having bene
broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to answere him,
that truely I know not who gave the first blowe. But whoso-
ever gave the first, it was quickly seconded by the secon
And indeed (excellentest Ladie) I must say truely, for a time
was well fought betweene us ; he undoubtedly being of singu!
valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too mui
loftinesse) but as by the occasion of the combate, winning and
loosing ground, we chaunged places, his horse happened to
come upon the point of the broken speare, which fallen to the
ground chaunced to stand upward; so as it lighting upon his
hart, the horse died. He driven to dismount, threatned, if I
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„ J 1

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

did not the like, to doo as much for my horse, as Fortune had
done for his. But whether for that, or because I would not be
beholding to Fortune for any part of the vidlorie, I descended.

So began our foote-fight in such sort, that we were well 2
entred to bloud of both sides, when there comes by, that
unconstant Pamphilus^ whom I had delivered (easie to be
knowne, for he was bare faced) with a dozen armed men after
him; but before him he had Dido (that Ladie, who had most
sharpely punished him) riding upon a palfrey, he following her
with most unmanlike crueltie ; beating her with wandes he had
in his hande, she crying for sense of payne, or hope of succour :
which was so pittifull a sight unto me, that it mooved me to
require Anaxtus to deferre our combate, till an other day, and
now to perfourme the duties of Knighthood in helping this
distressed Ladie. But he that disdaines to obey any thing but
his passion (which he cals his mind) bad me leave of that
thought ; but when he had killed me, he would then (perhaps)
go to her succour. But I well finding the fight would be long
betweene us (longing in my hart to deliver the poore Dido)
giving him so great a blowe, as somewhat staied him, (to terme
it a right) I flatly ran away from him toward my horse, who
trotting after the copanie, in mine armour I was put to some
paine, but that use made me nimble unto it. But as I followed
my horse, Anaxius followed me : but his prowde harte did so
disdaine that exercise, that I had quickly over-run him, & over-
taken my horse ; being (I must cofesse) ashamed to see a number
lof country folks, who happened to passe thereby, who hallowed
J& howted after me as at the arrantest coward, that ever shewed
his shoulders to his enemie. But when I had leapt on my
horse (with such speedy agility, that they all cried, O see how
feare gives him wings) I turned to Anaxius, & aloud promised
him to returne thether again, as soone as I had relieved the
injuried Ladie. But he railing at me, with all the base wordes
ingry contempt could endite; I said no more, but, Anaxius,
assure thy self, I nether feare thy force, nor thy opinion. And
JO using no weapon of a Knight as at that time, but my spurres,
[ ranne in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in al their
:onceipts from Anaxius, which as far as I could heare, I might
well heare testified with such laughters and games, that I was
ipme few times moved to turne backe againe.

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3 But the Ladies misery over-balanced my reputation so that
after her I went, & with six houres hard riding (through so
wild places, as it was rather the cunning of my horse sometimes,
then of my selfe, so rightly to hit the way) I overgat the a
little before night, neere to an old il-favoured castle, the place
where I perceived they meant to perfourme their unknightly
errand. For there they began to strip her of her clothes, when
I came in among them, & running through the first with a
lauce, the justnesse of the cause so enhabled me against the rest
(falsharted in their owne wrong doing) that I had, in as short
time almost as I had bene fighting with only Anaxius, delivered
her from those injurious wretches : most of whom carried newes
to the other world, that amongst men secret wronges are not
alwaies left unpunished. As for Pamphilus^ he having once
seene, & (as it should seeme) remembred me, even from the
beginning began to be in the rereward, and before they had
left fighting, he was too far of to give them thanks for their
paines. But when I had delivered to the Ladie a ful libertie,
both in efFe6t, & in opinion, (for some time it was before she
could assure her selfe she was out of their handes, who had
layd so vehement apprehension of death upon her) she then
tolde me, how as she was returning toward her fathers, weakely
accompanied (as too soone trusting to the falshood of reconcile-
ment) Pamphilus had set upon her, and killing those that were
with her, carried her selfe by such force, and with such maner
as I had seene, to this place, where he meant in cruell and
shamefull manner to kill her, in the sight of her owne Father;
to whom he had already sent worde of it, that out of his castle
windowe (for this castle, she said, was his) he might have the
prospect of his onely childes destruction, if my comming, whom
(she said) he feared (as soone as he knew me by the armour)
had not warraunted her from that neere approching crueltie.
I was glad I had done so good a deede for a Gentlewoman not
unhandsome, whome before I had in like sorte helped. But
the night beginning to perswade some retiring place, the '
Gentlewoman, even out of countenaunce before she began her
speach, much after this manner invited me to lodge that night
with her father.

4 Sir (said she) how much I owe you, can be but abased by
wordes, since the life I have, I holde it now the second time of
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

you: and therefore neede not offer service unto you, but onely
to remember you, that I am your servaunt : and I would, my
being so, might any way yeeld any small contentment unto
you. Now onely I can but desire you to harbour your selfe
this night in this castle; because the time requires it; and in
truth this countrie is very daungerous for murthering theeves,
to trust a sleeping life among them. And yet I must confesse,
that as the love I beare you makes me thus invite you, so the
same love makes me ashamed to bring you to a place, where
you shalbe so (not spoke by ceremonie but by truth) miserably
entertained. With that she tolde me, that though she spake of
her father (whom she named Chremes) she would hide no truth
from me, which was in summe, that as he was of all that
region the man of greatest possessions, and riches, so was he
either by nature, or an evill received opinion, given to sparing,
in so unmeasurable a sorte, that he did not onely barre him
selfe from the delightfull, but almost from the necessarie use
thereof; scarsely allowing him selfe fitte sustenaunce of life,
rather then he would spende of those goods, for whose sake
onely he seemed to joye in life. Which extreame dealing
(descending from himselfe upon her) had driven her to put her
selfe with a great Lady of that countrie, by which occasion she
had stumbled upon such mischance, as were little for the
honour either of her, or her familie. But so wise had he
shewed himselfe therein, as while he found his daughter
maintained without his cost, he was content to be deafe to
lany noise of infamie: which though it had wronged her much
more then she deserved, yet she could not denie, but she was
driven thereby to receave more then decent favours. She
concluded, that there at lest I should be free from injuries, &
should be assured to her-wards to abound as much in the true
causes of welcomes, as I should want of the efFedts thereof.

I, who had acquainted my selfe to measure the delicacie of 5
foode and rest, by hunger and wearinesse, at that time well
stored of both, did not abide long entreatie; but went with her
to the Castle : which I found of good strength, having a great
mote rounde about it; the worke of a noble Gentleman, of
whose unthriftie sonne he had bought it. The bridge drawne
up, where we were faine to crie a good while before we coulde
have answeare, and to dispute a good while before answeare

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would bee brought to acceptance. At length a willingnesse,
rather then a joy to receave his daughter, whome hee had lately
scene so neere death, and an opinion rather brought into his
heade by course, because he heard himselfe called a father;
rather then any kindnesse that hee found in his owne harte,
made him take us in; for my part by that time growne so
wearie of such entertainement, that no regard of my selfe, but
onely the importunitie of his daughter made me enter. Where
I was met with this CbremeSy a driveling old fellow, leane,
shaking both of head and hands, alredie halfe earth, and yet
then most greedie of Earth: who scarcely would give me
thankes for that I had done, for feare I suppose, that thankeful-
nesse might have an introduction of reward. But with a hollow
voice, giving me a false welcome, I might perceave in his eye to
his daughter, that it was hard to say, whether the displeasure
of her company did not over-way the pleasure of her owne
comming. But on he brought me, into so bare a house, that
it was the pidture of miserable happinesse, and rich beggerie
(served onely by a company of rusticall villaines, full of sweate
and dust, not one of them other, then a labourer) in summe (as
he counted it) profitable drudgerie: and all preparations both
for foode and lodging such, as would make one detest nigard-
nesse, it is so sluttish a vice. His talke nothing but of his
povertie, for feare belike lest I should have proved a young
borrower. In summe, such a man, as any enemy could not
wish him worse, then to be himselfe. But there that night
bidde I the burthen of being a tedious guest to a loathsome
host ; over-hearing him sometimes bitterly warne his daughter
of bringing such costly mates under his roofe : which she
grieving at, desired much to know my name, I thinke partly of
kindnesse to remember who had done some-thing for her, and
partly because she assured her selfe I was such a one as would '
make even his miser-minde contented, with what he had done.
And accordingly she demaunded my name, and estate, with
such earnestnesse, that I whom Love had not as then so robbed
me of my selfe, as to be another then I am, told her direftly
my name and condition: whereof she was no more gladde
then her father, as I might well perceave by some ill-favoured
cheerefulnesse, which then first began to wrinckle it selfe in
his face.

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But the causes of their joyes were farre different ; for as the 6
shepheard and the butcher both may looke upon one sheepe
with pleasing conceipts, but the shepheard with minde to
profite himselfe by preserving, the butcher with killing him:
So she rejoyced to finde that mine owne benefits had tyed me
to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatnesse, and
lovingly rejoyced : but his joy grew, (as I to my danger after
perceived) by the occasion of the Queene Artaxias setting my
head to sale, for having slaine her brother Tiridates-, which
being the summe of an hundreth thousand crownes (to who-
soever brought me alive into her hands) that old wretch, (who
had over-lived all good nature) though he had lying idly by
him much more then that, yet above all things loving money,
for monies owne sake determined to betray me, so well
deserving of him, for to have that which he was determined
never to use. And so knowing that the next morning I was
resolved to go to the place where I had left Jnaxius, he sent in
all speed to a Captaine of a Garrison hard by; which though it
belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the Captaines
humor to delight so in riotous spending; as he cared not how
he came by the meanes to maintaine it) doubted not, that to be
halfe with him in the gaine, he would play his quarters part in
the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the fittest
places where they might surprise me in the morning, the old
caitifFe was growne so ceremonious, as he would needs ac-
companie me some myles in my way ; a sufficient token to me,
if Nature had made me apte to suspect ; since a churles curtesie
rathely comes but either for gaine, or falshood. But I suffered
him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which
purpose he came out with all his clownes, horst upon such
cart-jades, and so furnished, as in good faith I thought with my
selfe, if that were thrift, I wisht none of my friends or subjedtes
ever to thrive. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she would
also (but in my conscience with a farre better minde) prolong
the time of farewell, as long as he.

So we went on togither : he so old in wickednes, that he 7
could looke me in the face, and freely talke with me, whose life
lie had alreadie contracted for : till comming into the falling of
way which ledde us into a place, of each-side whereof men
might easily keepe themselves undiscovered, I was encompassed

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sodainly by a great troupe of enimies, both of horse and foote,
who willed me to yeelde my selfe to the Queene Artax'ia,
But they coulde not have used worse eloquence to have per-
swaded my yeelding, then that; I knowing the little good will
Artaxia bare me. And therefore making necessitie and justice
my best sword and shield, I used the other weapons I had as
well as I could; I am sure to the little ease of a good number,
who trusting to their number more then to their valure, and
„valewing money higher then equitie, felt, that guiltlesnesse is
not alwayes with ease oppressed. As for Chremes^ he withdrew
himselfe, yet so guilding his wicked conceipts with his hope of
gaine, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be
taken to make his pray.

8 But I was growne so wearie, that I supported my selfe
more with anger then strength, when the most excellent Musi-
dorus came to my succour ; who having followed my trace as
well as he could, after he had found I had left the fight with
Jnaxius, came to the niggards Castell, where he found all
burnd and spoiled by the countrie people, who bare mortall
hatred to that covetous man, and now tooke the time, when the
castell was left almost without garde, to come in, and leave
monuments of their malice therein: which Musidorus not
staying either to further, or impeach, came upon the spurre
after me (because with one voice many told him, that if I were
in his company, it was for no good meant unto me) and in this
extremitie found me. But when I saw that Cosen of mine,
me thought my life was doubled, and where before I thought
of a noble death, I now thought of a noble vi(Slorie. For who
can feare that hath Musidorus by him ? who, what he did there
for me, how many he killed, not straunger for the number,
then for the straunge blowes wherwith he sent them to a wel-
deserved death, might well delight me to speake off, but I
should so holde you too long in every particular. But in
trueth, there if ever, and ever, if ever any man, did Musidorus
shew himselfe second to none in able valour.

9 Yet what the unmeasurable excesse of their number woulde
have done in the ende I knowe not, but the triall thereof was
cutte off by the chaunceable comming thither of the King of
Iberia^ that same father of that worthy Plangus, whom it hath
pleased you somtimes to mention : who, (not yeelding over to
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

old age his country delights, especially of hauking) was at that
time (following a Merline) brought to see this injurie ofFred
unto us : and having great numbers of Courtiers waiting upon
him, was straight known by the souldiers that assaulted us, to
be their King, and so most of them with-drew themselves.

He by his authoritie knowing of the Captaines owne con- lO
strained confession, what was the motive of this mischievous
practise; misliking much such violece should be ofFred in his
countrie to men of our ranke : but chiefely disdaining it should
be done in respeft of his Niece, whom (I must confesse wrong-
fully) he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and she
had maintained his sonne Plangus against him, caused the Cap-
taines head presently to be striken off, and the old bad Chremes
to be hanged : though truely for my part, I earnestly laboured
for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing
was notable for a conclusion of his miserable life, that neither
the death of his daughter, who (alas the poore Gentlewoman)
was by chaunce slaine among his clownes, while she over-boldly
for her weake sex sought to hold the from me, nor yet his
owne shamefull ende was so much in his mouth as he was
ledde to execution, as the losse of his goods, and burning of his
house: which often, with more laughter then teares of the
hearers, he made pittifull exclamations upon.

CHAP. 20.

The two Princes passage to the Iberian Court. ^ Andromanas
omniregencie. ^ Her parti-love to them both. * Her faire
and foule meanes to inveigle them. ' Palladius love to Zel-
mane. ^ Zelmanes love to Pyrocles, and practise with her
Lover to release her beloved.

' I ^His justice thus done, and we delivered, the King indeede I
X in royall sorte invited us to his Court, not farre thence :
all points entertaining us so, as truely I must ever acknow-
edge a beholdingnesse unto him: although the streame of it
■ell out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some dayes
jeing there (curing our selves of such wounds as we had

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received, while I, causing diligent search to be made of AnaxiuSy
could learne nothing, but that he was gone out of the countrie,
boasting in everie place, how he had made me run away) we
were brought to receive the favour of acquaintace with this
Queene Andromana^ whom the Princesse Pamela did in so
lively colours describe the last day, as still me thinkes the figure
therof possesseth mine eyes, confirmed by the knowledge my
selfe had.

^ And therefore I shall neede the lesse to make you know
what kinde of woman she was; but this onely, that first with
the rarenes of affection, and after with the very use of directing,
she had made her selfe so absolute a maister of her husbands
minde, that a-while he would not, and after, he could not tell
how to govern, without being governed by her : but finding an
ease in not understanding, let loose his thoughtes wholly to
pleasure, entrusting to her the entire condudl of all his royall
affaires. A thing that may luckely fall out to him that hath
the blessing, to match with some Heroicall minded Ladie.
But in him it was nether guided by wisdome, nor followed by
Fortune, but thereby was slipte insensiblie into such an estate,
that he lived at her undiscreete discretion: all his subjedtes
having by some yeares learned, so to hope for good, and feare
of harm, onely fro her, that it should have neded a stronger
vertue the his, to have unwound so deeply an entred vice. So
that either not striving (because he was contented) or contented
(because he would not strive) he scarcelie knewe what was done
in his owne chamber, but as it pleased her Instrumentes to
frame the relation.

3 Now we being brought knowen unto her (the time that we
spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we
were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner then our
selves expected) she continuallie almost haunted us, till (and it
was not long a doing) we discovered a most violent bent of

^^ affection: and that so strangely, that we might well see, an

^^evill minde in authoritie, dooth not onely folow the sway of
the desires alreadie within it, but frames to it selfe new desires,
not before thought of. For, with equall ardour she afFe6ted us
both: and so did her greatnes disdaine shamefastnes, that she
was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (having many
times torne the vaile of modestie) it seemed, for a laste delight,
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

that she dehghted in infamy : which often she had used to her
husbands shame, filling all mens eares (but his) with reproch ;
while he (hoodwinkt with kindnes) lest of al me knew who
strake him. But her first degree was, by setting foorth her
beauties, (truely in nature not to be misliked, but as much
advaced to the eye, as abased to the judgemet by arte) thereby
to bring us (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her baite.
And thereto had she that scutchion of her desires supported by
certain badly-diliget ministers, who ofte cloyed our eares with
her praises, & would needs teach us a way of felicitie by seeking
her favor. But when she found, that we were as deaf to the,
as dumb to her ; then she listed no loger stay in the suburbs of
her foolish desires, but directly entred upo the; making her
self an impudent suter, authorizing her selfe very much with
making us see that all favor & power in that realm, so depeded
upon her, that now (being in her hands) we were ether to
keep, or lose our liberty, at her discretio ; which yet she so
tepred, as that we might rather suspe6t, the she threate. But
whe our wouds grew so, as that they gave us leave to travell,
& that she found we were purposed to use all meanes we could
to depart thence, she (with more & more importunatnes) craved
that, which in all good maners was ether of us to be desired, or
not granted. Truely (most faire & every way excellet Lady)
you would have wondred to have scene, how before us she
would confes the contentio in her own mind, between that
lovely (indeed most lovely) brounes of Musidorus his face, &
this colour of mine, which she (in the deceivable stile of
afFeftion) would intitle beautifuU : how her eyes wandered (like
a glutton at a feast) from the one to the other; and how her
wordes would beginne halfe of the sentence to Musidorus^ &
end the other half to Pyrocles : not ashamed (seeing the friend-
shippe betweene us) to desire either of us to be a mediator to
the other; as if we should have played a request at Tennis
betweene us : and often wishing, that she might be the angle,
where the lines of our friendshippe might meet; and be the
knotte which might tie our hartes together. Which pro-
ceeding of hers I doo the more largely set before you
(most deare Lady) that by the foyle therof, you may see the
noblenes of my desire to you, & the warrantablenes of your
favour to me.

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4 At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (saide
Pyrocles) when she perceived no hope by suite to prevaile, then
(perswaded by the rage of afFeftion, and encouraged by daring
to doo any thing) she founde meanes to have us accused to the
King, as though we went about some practise to overthrowe
him in his owne estate. Which, because of the straunge
successes we had in the kingdomes'of Phrigia, Pontush Galatia)
seemed not unlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that
came before him) was disciplined to leave the through-handling
of all, to his gentle wife: who foorthwith caused us to be put
in prison, having (while we slept) deprived us of our armour: a
prison, indeede injurious, because a prison, but els well testify-
ing afFedlion, because in all respedles as commodious, as a
prison might be: and indeede so placed, as she might at all
houres, (not scene by many, though she cared not much how
many had seene her) come unto us. Then fell she to sause
her desires with threatnings, so that we were in a great per-
plexitie, restrained to so unworthie a bondage, and yet restrained
by Love, which (I cannot tell how) in noble mindes, by a
certain duety, claimes an answering. And how much that
love might moove us, so much, and more that faultines of her
mind removed us; her beautie being balanced by her shame-
lesnes. But that which did (as it were) tie us in captivitie,
was, that to graunt, had ben wickedly injurious to him, that
saved our lives: and to accuse a Ladie that loved us, of her
love unto us, we esteemed almost as dishonorable: & but by
one of those waies we sawe no likelihood of going out of that
place, where the words would be injurious to your eares, which
should expresse the manner of her suite : while yet many times
earnestnes died her cheekes with the colour of shamefastnes ;
and wanton languishing borrowed of her eies the downe-cast
looke of modestie. But we in the meane time far from loving
her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompence
her husbandes saving of our lives; to such a ridiculous degree of
trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him sende
us worde, that upon our lives, we should doo whatsoever she
commaunded us: good man, not knowing any other, but that
all her pleasures bent to the preservation of his estate. But
when that made us rather pittie, then obey his folly, then fel
she to servile entreating us, as though force could have bene the
280

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

schoole of Love, or that an honest courage would not rather
strive against, then yeelde to injurie. All which yet could
not make us accuse her, though it made us almost pine
awaie for spight, to loose any of our time in so troublesome an
idlenesse.

But while we were thus full of wearinesse of what was 5
past, and doubt of what was to follow. Love (that I thinke in
the course of my life hath a sporte sometimes to poison me
with roses, sometimes to heale me with wormewood) brought
forth a remedy unto us: which though it helped me out of
that distres, alas the coclusion was such, as I must ever while I
live, think it worse then a wracke, so to have bene preserved.
This King by this Queene had a sonne of tender age, but of
great expectation, brought up in the hope of themselves, &
already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successour of
his fathers crowne : whereof he was as worthy, considering his
partes, as unworthie, in respect of the wrong was therby done
against the most worthy Plangus: whose great desertes now
either forgotten, or ungratefully remembred, all men set their
sayles with the favourable winde, which blewe on the fortune
of this young Prince, perchaunce not in their harts, but surely
not in their mouths, now giving Plangus (who some yeares
before was their only chapion) the poore cofort of calamitie,
pittie. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that regio,
by name Palladius, did with vehement affection love a young
Ladie, brought up in his fathers court, called Xelmane^ daughter
to that mischievously unhappie Prince Plexirtus (of whom
already I have, and sometimes must make, but never honorable
mention) left there by her father, because of the intricate
changeablenes of his estate ; he by the motherside being halfe
brother to this Queene Andromana^ and therefore the willinger
committing her to her care. But as Love (alas) doth not
alwaies refledl it selfe, so fel it out that this Zelmane^ (though
truely reason there was inough to love Palladius) yet could not
ever perswade her harte to yeelde thereunto: with that paine
to Palladius^ as they feele, that feele an unloved love. Yet
loving indeede, and therefore constant, he used still the inter-
cession of diligece and faith, ever hoping, because he would not
put him selfe into that hell, to be hopelesse: untill the time of
our being come, and captived there, brought foorth this ende,

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

whiche truely deserves of me a further degree of sorrow then
teares.
6 Such was therein my ill destinie, that this young Ladie
Zelmane (like some unwisely liberall, that more delight to give
presentes, then pay debtes) she chose (alas for the pittie) rather
to bestowe her love (so much undeserved, as not desired) upon
me, then to recopence him, whose love (besides many other
things) might seeme (even in the court of Honour) justly to
claime it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) whereby it
came to passe, that (as nothing doth more naturally follow his
cause, then care to preserve, and benefite doth follow unfained
afFedtion) she felt with me, what I felte of my captivitie, and
streight laboured to redresse my paine, which was her paine:
which she could do by no better meanes, then by using the
helpe therein of Palladtus : who (true Lover) considering what,
and not why, in all her commaundements; and indeed she con-
cealing from him her afFedion (which she intituled compassion,)
immediatly obeyed to imploy his uttermost credite to relieve
us : which though as great, as a beloved son with a mother,
faulty otherwise, but not hard-harted toward him, yet it could j
not prevaile to procure us libertie. Wherefore he sought to
have that by practise, which he could not by praier. And so j
being allowed often to visit us (for indeed our restraints were
more, or lesse, according as the ague of her passion was either ^
in the fit, or intermission) he used the opportunitie of a fit time
thus to deliver us.

CHAP. 21.

* The cause of the Iberian yearely justes. ' Queene Helens prayses.
' The prize borne by her Knights^ which Palladius and the
Princes set them to reverse, * The inventions and aSiions of
seven tilters. "Palladius and the Princes entry into the field^
honour in ity and flight from it. ^ Andromanas pursuite of '
them ' to the death of her sonne ^ and her selfe,

I I ^He time of the maryinge that Queene was every year, by
X. the extreame love of her husband, & the serviceable love
of the Courtiers, made notable by some publike honours, which
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

indeede (as it were) proclaymed to the worlde, how deare she
was to the people. Among other, none was either more grate-
full to the beholders, or more noble in it selfe, then justs, both
with sword and launce, mainteined for a seven-night together :
wherein that Nation dooth so excell, bothe for comelines and
hablenes, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarily come,
some to strive, some to learne, and some to behold.

This day it happened that divers famous Knights came 2
thither fro the court of Helen^ Queene of Corinth', a Ladie,
whom Fame at that time was so desirous to honor, that she
borrowed all mens mouthes to joyne with the sounde of her
Trumpet. For as her beautie hath wonne the prize from all
women, that stande in degree of comparison (for as for the two
sisters of Arcadia^ they are farre beyond all conceipt of com-
parison) so hath her government bene such, as hath bene no
lesse beautifull to mens judgements, then her beautie to the
eiesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a
yong woman, a faire woman, to governe a people, in nature
mutinously prowde, and alwaies before so used to hard
governours, as they knew not how to obey without the sworde
were drawne. Yet could she for some yeares, so carry her
selfe among them, that they found cause in the delicacie of her
sex, of admiration, not of cotempt : & which was notable, even
in the time that many countries were full of wars (which for
old grudges to Corinth were thought still would conclude there)
yet so hadled she the matter, that the threatens ever smarted in
the threatners ; she using so strauge, and yet so well-succeeding
a temper, that she made her people by peace, warlike j her
courtiers by sports, learned ; her Ladies by Love, chast. For
by continuall martiall exercises without bloud, she made them
perfedl in that bloudy art. Her sportes were such as caried
riches of Knowledge upo the streame of Delight : & such the
behaviour both of her selfe, and her Ladies, as builded their
chastitie, not upon waywardnes, but by choice of worthines:
So as it seemed, that court to have bene the mariage place of
Love and Vertue, & that her selfe was a Diana apparelled in
the garments of Venus. And this which Fame onely delivered
unto me, (for yet I have never scene her) I am the willinger to
speake of to you, who (I knowe) knowe her better, being your
neere neighbour, because you may see by her example (in her

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selfe wise, and of others beloved) that neither follie is the cause
of vehement Love, nor reproch the efFedt. For never (I thinke)
was there any woman, that with more unremoveable deter-
minatio gave her selfe to the coucell of Love, after she had
once set before her mind the worthines of your cousin Am-
phialus; & yet is nether her wisedome doubted of, nor honour
blemished. For (O God) what doth better become wisdome,
then to discerne, what is worthy the loving ? what more agre-
able to goodnes, then to love it so discerned? and what to
greatnesse of hart, then to be constant in it once loved? But
at that time, that Love of hers was not so publikely knowne,
as the death of Philoxenus, and her search of Amphialus hath
made it : but then seemed to have such leasure to sende thither
diverse choyse Knights of her court, because they might bring
her, at lest the knowledge, perchaunce the honour, of that
Triumph.

3 Wherein so they behaved themselves as for three daies they
caried the prize; which being come from so farre a place to
disgrace her servaunts, Palladius (who himselfe had never used
armes) persuaded the Queene Andromana to be content (for the
honour sake of her court) to suffer us two to have our horse
and armour, that he with us might undertake the recoverie of
their lost honour: which she graunted; taking our oth to go
no further then her sonne, and never to abandon him. Which
she did not more for saving him, then keeping us: and yet not
satisfied with our oth, appointed a band of horsemen to have
eye, that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were
willing to gratifie the young Prince, who (we saw) loved us.
And so the fourth day of that exercise, we came into the fielde:
where (I remember) the manner was, that the forenoone they
should run at tilt, one after the other: the afternoone in a
broad field, in manner of a battell, till either the strangers, or
that countrie Knights wan the field.

4 The first that ran was a brave Knight, whose devise was to
come in, all chayned with a Nymph leading him: his Impresa
was

Against him came forth an Iberian
whose manner of entring was, with bagpipes in steed of
trumpets ; a shepheards boy before him for a Page, and by him
a dosen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in
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ARCADIA LIB. 2.

stufFe, who caried his launces, which though strong to give a
launcely blow indeed, yet so were they couloured with hooks
neere the mourn, that they pretily represeted shephooks. His
own furniture was drest over with wooll, so enriched with
Jewels artificially placed, that one would have thought it a
mariage betweene the lowest and the highest. His Impresa
was a sheepe marked with pitch, with this word Spotted to be
knowne. And because I may tell you out his conceipt (though
that were not done, till the running for that time was ended)
before the Ladies departed from the windowes, among them
there was one (they say) that was the Star^ wherby his course
was only diredled. The shepherds attending upo PHILI^
SIDES went amog the, & sag an eclogue ; one of the answer-
ing another, while the other shepheards pulling out recorders
(which possest the place of pipes) accorded their musick to
the others voice. The Eclogue had great praise: I onely
remember sixe verses, while having questioned one with the
other, of their fellow-shepheards sodaine growing a man of
armes, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said.

ME thought some staves he mist : if so^ not much amisse :
For where he most would hit, he ever yet did misse.
One said he brake acrosse ; full well it so might be:
For never was there man more crossely crost then he.
But most cryed, 0 well broke: 0 foole full gaily blest:
Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.

Thus I have digrest, because his maner liked me wel : But
when he began to run against Lelius, it had neere growne
(though great love had ever bene betwixt them) to a quarrell.
For Philisides breaking his staves with great commendation,
Lelius (who was knowne to be second to none in the perfection
of that Art) ranne ever over his head, but so finely to the
skilful! eyes, that one might well see, he shewed more know-
ledge in missing, then others did in hitting. For with so
gallant a grace his staff^e came swimming close over the crest of
the Helmet, as if he would represent the kisse, and not the
stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moved with it,
while he thought Lelius would shew a contempt of his youth :
till Lelius (who therefore would satisfie him, because he was his
friend) made him know, that to such bondage he was for so

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many courses tyed by her, whose disgraces to him were graced
by her excellency, and whose injuries he could never otherwise
returne, then honours.

But so by Lelius willing-missing was the odds of the Iberian
side, and continued so in the next by the excellent runing of a
Knight, though fostred so by the Muses, as many times the
verie rustick people left both their delights and profites to
harken to his songs ; yet could he so well perfourme all armed
sports, as if he had never had any other pen, then a Launce in
his hand. He came in like a wild man; but such a wildnes,
as shewed his eye-sight had tamed him, full of withered leaves,
which though they fell not, still threatned falling. His Impresa
was, a mill-horse still bound to goe in one circle; with this
word. Data fata sequutus. But after him the Corinthian
Knights absolutely prevailed, especially a great noble man of
Corinth; whose devise was to come without any devise, all in
white like a new knight, as indeed he was; but so new, as his
newnes shamed most of the others long exercise. Then
another from whose tent I remember a birde was made flie,
with such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies,
that one might say. If a live bird, how so taught? if a dead
bird, how so made ? Then he, who hidden, man and horse in
a great figure lively representing the Phcenix: the fire tooke so
artificially, as it consumed the birde, and left him to rise as it
were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine
frosen Knight, frosen in despaire'; but his armor so naturally
representing Ice, and all his furniture so lively answering
therto, as yet did I never see any thing that pleased me better.
5 But the delight of those pleasing sights have carried me too
farre in an unnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most
excellent Ladie) that you know the Corinthians that morning
in the exercise (as they had done the dayes before) had the
better; Palladius neither sufFring us, nor himselfe to take in
hand that partie till the afternoone; when we were to fight
in troopes, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the
sharpenesse of the weapons was taken away. But in the triall
Palladius (especially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by
me) himselfe truely behaving himselfe nothing like a beginner,
brought the honor to rest it selfe that night of the Iberian side :
And the next day, both morning, and after-noone being kept

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

by our party, He (that saw the time fitte for that deliverie he
intended) called unto us to follow him ; which we both bound
by oth, and willing by good-wil, obeyed: and so the gard not
daring to interrupt us (he commanding passage) we went after
him upon the spur to a little house in a forrest neere by:
which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till we
might go further from his mothers fury, whereat he was no
lesse angry, & ashamed, then desirous to obay Zelmane.

But his mother (as I learned since) understanding by the 6
gard her sonnes convaying us away (forgetting her greatnes, &
resining modesty to more quiet thoughts) flew out from her place,
and cried to be accompanied, for she her-selfe would follow us.
But what she did (being rather with vehemency of passion,
then condudt of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by
her owne confusion hinder her owne desires. For so im-
patiently she commanded, as a good while no body knew
what she comanded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to
be alredy past the confines of her kingdome before she over-
tooke us : and overtake us she did in the kingdome of Bythiniay
not regarding shame, or daunger of having entred into anothers
dominions : but (having with her about a three score hors-men)
streight commaunded to take us alive, and not to regard her
sonnes threatening therein : which they attempted to do, first
by speach, & then by force. But neither liking their eloquence,
nor fearing their might, we esteemed few swordes in a just
defence, able to resist any unjust assaulters. And so Musidorus
incredible valour (beating downe all lets) made both me, and
Palladius, so good way, that we had little to doo to overcome
weake wrong.

And now had the vidtorie in efFe6t without bloud, when 7
Palladius (heated with the fight, and angrie with his mothers
fault) so pursued our assaylers, that one of them (who as I
heard since had before our comming bene a speciall minion of
Andromanas^ and hated us for having dispossest him of her hart)
taking him to be one of us, with a traiterous blow slew his
youg Prince: who falling downe before our eyes, whom he
specially had delivered, judge (sweetest Lady) whether anger
might not be called justice in such a case : once, so it wroght
in us, that many of his subjedts bodies we left there dead, to
wait on him more faithfully to the other world.

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8 All this while disdaine, strengthened by the furie of a
furious love, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat:
& whe she saw us light down, to see what help we might do to
the helplesse Palladiusy she came runing madly unto us, then no
lesse threatning, when she had no more power to hurt. But
when she perceived it was her onely sonne that lay hurt, and
that his hurt was so deadly, as that alredy his life had loste the
use of the reasonable, and almost sensible part; then onely did
misfortune lay his owne ouglinesse upon his faulte, and make
her see what she had done, and to what she was come :
especiallie, finding in us rather detestation then pittie (con-
sidering the losse of that young Prince) and resolution presently
to depart, which stil she laboured to stay. But deprived of all
comfort, with eyes full of death, she ranne to her sonnes dagger,
and before we were aware of it (who else could have stayed it)
strake her selfe a mortall wound. But then her love, though
not her person, awaked pittie in us, and I went to her, while
Musidorus labored about Palladius. But the wound was past
the cure of a better surgeon then my selfe, so as I could but
receave some few of her dying words; which were cursings of
her ill set afFedtion, and wishing unto me many crosses &
mischances in my love, whesoever I should love, wherin I
feare, and only feare that her prayer is from above granted. But
the noise of this fight, & issue thereof being blazed by the
country people to some noble-me there-abouts, they came
thither, and finding the wrong offered us, let us go on our|
journey, we having recommended those royal bodies unto the
to be conveyed to the King of Iberia, With that Philoclea^
seeing the teares stand in his eyes with remembrance of
Palladius, but much more of that which therupon grew, she
would needs drinke a kisse from those eyes, and he sucke
another from her lippes; whereat she blushed, & yet kissed
him againe to hide her blushing. Which had almost brought
Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweete a
rigor forbad him, that he durst not re bell, though he found it a
great war to keepe that peace, but was faine to go on his storie :
for so she absolutely badde him, and he durst not know how tc
disobey.

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

CHAP. 22.

ly/ new complaint of Pamphilus new change^ ^ to a gracelesse
curtisan. ^ Zelmane loves^ and as a Page serves Pyrocles.
* The two Princes poHcie to reconcile two warring brothers,
** The unbrotherly brave combat of Tydeus and Telenor.
^ Plexirtus his viperine unkindnes to the kindest Leonatus.
' His conquest by the two brothers^ ^ and his dogtrick to destroy
them by themselves. ^ The regreete of the dying brothers.

SO (said he) parting from that place before the Sunne had i
much abased himselfe of his greatest height, we sawe
sitting upon the drie sandes (which yeelded at that time a verie
hotte reflection) a faire Gentlewoman, whose gesture accused
her of much sorow, & every way shewed she cared not what
paine she put her body to, since the better parte (her minde)
was laide under so much agonie : and so was she dulled withall,
that we could come so neare, as to heare her speeches, and yet
she not perceive the hearers of her lamentation. But wel we
might understand her at times, say, Thou doost kill me with
thy unkind falshood : and. It greeves me not to die, but it
greeves me that thou art the murtherer: neither doth mine
owne paine so much vexe me, as thy errour. For God knowes,
it would not trouble me to be slaine for thee, but much it
tormets me to be slain by thee. Thou art untrue Pamphilus^
thou art untrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft didst thou
sweare unto me, that the Sun should loose his light, and the
rocks runne up and down like little kiddes, before thou wouldst
falsifie thy faith to me ? Sunne therefore put out thy shining,
& rockes runne mad for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But
alas, the Sun keepes his light, though thy faith be darckned;
the rockes stand still, though thou change like the wethercocke.
O foole that I am, that thought I coulde graspe water, and binde
the winde. I might well have knowe thee by others, but I
would not; & rather wished to learne poison by drinking it my
elfe, while my love helped thy wordes to deceive me. Well,
ytt I would thou hadst made a better choise, when thou didst
forsake thy unfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha
thy new mistres) will revenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha^
et Pamphilus live happie, though I die.

S. A. T 289

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

2 And much more to such like phrase she spake, but that
I (who had occasion to know some-thing of that Pamphilus)
stept to comfort her: & though I could not doo that, yet I
gotte thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same
Leucippey to whom the unconstante Paphilus had betrothed
himselfe, which had moved the other Ladies to such indigna-
tion as I tolde you : nether her woorthinesse (which in truthe
was great) nor his owne suffering for her (which is woont to
endeare afFe6tion) could fetter his ficklenes, but that before his
mariage-day appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccba, of
whom she complayned ; one, that in divers places I had heard
before blazed, as the most impudentlie unchaste woman of all
Asia-, and withall, of such an imperiousnes therein, that she
would not stick to employ them (whom she made unhappie
with her favour) to draw more companions of their foUie : in
the multitude of whom she did no lesse glorie, then a Captaine
would doo, of being followed by brave souldiers : waiwardly
proud ; and therefore bold, because extreamely faultie : and yet
having no good thing to redeeme both these, and other unlovely
parts, but a little beautie, disgraced with wandring eyes, and
unwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe^ and
withall, left his faith : Leucippe, of whom one looke (in a cleere
judgement) would have bene more acceptable, then all her
kindenesses so prodigallie bestowed. For my selfe, the remem-
brance of his crueltie to Didoj joyned to this, stirred me to
seeke some revenge upon him, but that I thought, it shoulde
be a gayne to him to lose his life, being so matched: and
therefore (leaving him to be punished by his owne election) we
conveyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestall
Nunnes, where she resolved to spende all her yeares (which
her youth promised shoulde be many) in bewayling the wrong,
and yet praying for the wrong-dooer.

3 But the next morning, we (having striven with the Sunnes
earlines) were scarcely beyond the prospedt of the high turrets
of that building, when there overtoke us a young Gentleman,^
for so he seemed to us, but indeede (sweete Ladie) it was the
faire Zelmane^ Plexirtus daughter; whom unconsulting affection
(unfortunately borne to me-wards) had made borrowe so much
of her naturall modestie, as to leave her more-decent rayments,
and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing us, had
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

apparrelled her selfe like a Page, with a pittifull crueltie cutting
of her golden haire, leaving nothing, but the short curies, to
cover that noble head, but that she ware upon it a faire head-
peece, a shielde at her back, and a launce in her hand, els
disarmed. Her apparrell of white, wrought upon with broken
knots, her horse, faire & lustie, which she rid so, as might shew
a fearefull boldnes, daring to doo that, which she knew that she
knew not how to doo : and the sweetnes of her countenance
did give such a grace to what she did, that it did make hansome
the unhansomnes, and make the eye force the minde to beleeve,
that there was a praise in that unskilfulnesse. But she straight
approached me, and with fewe words (which borowed the help
of her countenance to make themselves understood) she desired
me to accept her in my service; telling me, she was a noble-
mans Sonne of Iberiay her name Daiphantus^ who having seene
what I had done in that court, had stolne from her father, to
follow me. I enquired the particularities of the maner of
Andromanas following me, which by her I understood, she
hiding nothing (but her sexe) from me. And still me thought
I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune,
made her far distant from my memorie : but liking very well
the yong Gentleman, (such I tooke her to be) admitted this
Daiphantus about me : who well shewed, there is no service
like his, that serves because he loves. For, though borne of
Princes bloud, brought up with tenderest education, unapt to
service (because a woman) & full of thoughts (because in a
strange estate ;) yet Love enjoyned such diligence, that no
apprentise, no, no bondslave could ever be by feare more
readie at all commaundementes, then that yong Princesse was.
How often (alas) did her eyes say unto me, that they loved? and
yet, I (not looking for such a matter) had not my conceipt open,
to understand them. How ofte would she come creeping to
me, betweene gladnes to be neere me, & feare to offend me ?
Truly I remember, that then I marvailing, to see her receive
my comandements with sighes, and yet do them with cheere-
fulnes : sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then
bought childish in experiece : but since returning to my
emebrance, they have come more neere unto my knowledge :
h pardon me (onely deare Lady) that I use many words : for
er affedlion to me deserves of me an affectionate speach.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

4 In such sort did she serve me in that kingdom of Bythiniay
for two moneths space. In which time we brought to good
end, a cruell warre long maintained betweene the King of
Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I
(dividing our selves to either side) found meanes (after some
triall we had made of our selves) to get such credite with them,
as we brought them to as great peace betweene theselves, as
love towards us, for having made the peace. Which done,
we intended to returne through the Kingdome of Galatiay
towarde Thrace^ to ease the care of our father and mother,
who (we were sure) first with the shipwracke ; and then with
the other daungers we dayly past, should have litle rest in their
thoughts, till they saw us.

5 But we were not entred into that Kingdome, whe by the
noise of a great fight, we were guided to a pleasaunt valey,
which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities some-
where doth give a pleasant speftacle of runing horses; so of
either side stretching it selfe in a narrow length was it hemd in
by wooddy hilles; as if indeed Nature had meant therein to
make a place for beholders. And there we behelde one of the
cruellest fights betweene two Knights, that ever hath adorned
the martial storie. So as I must cofesse, a while we stood
wondring, another while delighted with the rare bravery
therof; till seing such streames of bloud, as threatned a
drowning of life, we galloped towarde them to part them.
But we were prevented by a dosen armed Knights, or rather
villains, who using this time of their extreame feeblenesse, all
together set upon them. But common daunger brake of
particular discorde, so that (though with a dying weakenes)
with a lively courage they resisted, and by our help drave
away, or slue those murdering attempters: among whom we
hapt to take alive the principall. But going to disarme those ,
two excellent Knights, we found with no lesse wonder to us,
then astonishment to themselves, that they were the two
valiaunt, and indeede famous Brothers, Tydeus and Telenor \
whose adventure (as afterwarde we made that ungratious jj
wretch confesse) had thus fallen out.

6 After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death
succeeded in the kingdome of Galat'tay he (forgetting all former
injuries) had received that naughtie Plexirtus into a streight

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

degree of favour, his goodnesse being as apt to be deceived, as
the others crafte was to deceive. Till by plaine proofe finding,
that the ungratefull man went about to poyson him, yet would
not suffer his kindnesse to be overcome, not by justice it selfe :
but calling him to him, used wordes to this purpose. Plexirtus
(said he) this wickednesse is founde by thee. No good deedes
of mine have bene able to keepe it downe in thee. All men
counsell me to take away thy life, likely to bring foorth nothing,
but as daungerous, as wicked effedls. But I cannot finde it in
my harte, remembring what fathers sonne thou arte. But
since it is the violence of ambition, which perchaunce puis
thee from thine owne judgement, I will see, whether the
satisfying that, may quiet the ill working of thy spirites. Not
farre hence is the great cittie of Trebisonde-, which, with the
territorie about it, aunciently pertained unto this crowne, now
unjustly possessed, and as unjustly abused by those, who have
neither title to holde it, nor vertue to use it. To the conquest
of that for thy selfe I will lende thee force, and give thee my
right. Go therfore, and with lesse unnaturalnesse glut thy
ambition there ; and that done, if it be possible, learne vertue.

Plexirtus^ mingling forsworne excuses with false-meant 7
promises, gladly embraced the offer : and hastilie sending backe
for those two Brothers (who at that time were with us suc-
couring the gratious Queen Erona) by their vertue chiefly (if
not onely) obteyned the conquest of that goodly dominion.
Which indeede done by them, gave them such an authoritie,
that though he raigned, they in effect ruled, most men honour-
ing them, because they onely deserved honour; and many,
thinking therein to please Plexirtus^ considering how much he
was bound unto them: while they likewise (with a certaine
sincere boldenesse of selfe- warranting friendship) accepted all
openly and plainely, thinking nothing should ever by Plexirtus
be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his.

But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could costrue no 8
other end of mes doings, but self seking) sodely feared what
they could doo ; and as sodainely suspefted, what they would
doo, and as sodainely hated them, as having both might, and
minde to doo. But dreading their power, standing so strongly
in their owne valour, & others afFedlion, he durst not take open
way against them : and as harde it was to take a secrete, they

293

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

being so continually followed by the best, & every way hablest
of that region : and therfore used this divelish sleight (which I
wil tel you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turne their
owne friedship toward him to their owne destru6tion. He,
(knowing that they wel knew, there was no friendship
betweene him and the new King of Pontus^ never since he
succoured Leonatus and us, to his overthrow) gave them to
understand that of late there had passed secrete defiance
betweene them, to meete privately at a place apointed. Which
though not so fit a thing for men of their greatnes, yet was his
honour so engaged, as he could not go backe. Yet faining to
find himself weake by some counterfait infirmitie, the day
drawing neere, he requested each of them to go in his stead ;
making either of the sweare, to keep the matter secret, ever
ech fro other, delivering the selfe same particularities to both,
but that he told Tydeus^ the King would meet him in a blew
armour; & Telenor^ t\\2it it was a black armour : & with wicked
subtiltie (as if it had bene so apointed) caused Tydem to take a
black armour, & Telenor a blew ; appointing them waies how
to go, so as he knew they should not meet, til they came to
the place appointed, where each had promised to keep silence,
lest the King should discover it was not Plexirtus: and there
in await had he laied these murtherers, that who overlived,
the other, should by them be dispatched : he not daring trust
more then those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them
too i&w^ till themselves by themselves were weakened.
9 This we learned chiefly, by the chiefe of those way-beatei
after the death of those worthie brothers, whose love was
lesse, then their valour: but well we might finde much therec
by their pitifull lamentation, when they knew their mismeetini
and saw each other (in despite of the Surgerie we could df
unto them) striving who should runne fastest to the goale
death : each bewailing the other, and more dying in the othei
then in himselfe : cursing their owne hands for doing, and th(
breastes for not sooner suffering: detesting their unfortunately
spent time in having served so ungrateful a Tyraunt: an(
accusing their folly in having beleeved, he could faithfully love,
who did not love faithfulnes : wishing us to take heed, how wc
placed our good wil upon any other ground, then proofe of
vertue : since length of acquaintance, mutuall secrecies, nor
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

height of benefits could binde a savage harte ; no man being
good to other, that is not good in himself. Then (while any
hope was) beseeching us to leave the cure of him that besought,
and onely looke to the other. But when they found by them-
selves, and us, no possibilitie, they desired to be joined ; and so
embracing and craving that pardon each of other, which they
denied to themselves, they gave us a most sorrowfuU speftacle
of their death; leaving fewe in the world behind them, their
matches in any thing, if they had soone inough knowne the
ground and limits of friendship. But with wofuU hartes, we
caused those bodies to be conveyed to the nexte towne of
Bythinia, where we learning thus much (as I have tolde you)
caused the wicked Historian to coclude his history, with his
,^owne well-deserved death.

CHAP. 23.

^ Zelmanes griefe for Plexirtus fault. ^ Otaves, and his Gyants
warre on Pontus. ^ Plexirtus endaungered^ needes helpe of the
dead brothers. * Zelmane thought-sicke, unmaskes her selfe.
^ Her dying teares ^ and last requestes. ''Musidorus to
Pontus, Pyrocles hardly partes to save Plexirtus. ^ The
sourse and course of his deaths-doome^ ^stayed ^y Pyrocles.
^" The combat of Pontus well ended. " The Asian Princes
meetings to honour the two Greekes.

BUt then (I must tell you) I found such wofull countenances i
in Daiphantus, that I could not but much marvaile
(finding them continew beyond the first assault of pittie) how
the cause of strangers (for further I did not conceive) could so
deepely pearce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the
shame & sorrow she tooke of her fathers faultinesse, partly with
the feare, that the hate I coceived against him, would utterly
disgrace her in my opinion, whensoever I should know her, so
vehemently perplexed her, that her fayre colour decaied ; and
dayly, and hastily grew into the very extreme working of
sorowfulnesse : which oft I sought to learne, & helpe. But
she, as fearefuU as loving, still concealed it; and so decaying

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Still more and more, in the excellencie of her fairenesse, but
that whatsoever weakenesse took away, pitie seemed to adde :
yet still she forced her selfe to waite on me, with such care and
diligence, as might well shew had bene taught in no other
schoole, but Love.

2 While we returning againe to embarke our selves for
Greece^ understood that the mighty Otaves (brother to Barzanes
slaine by Mustdorus^ in the battaile of the six Princes) had
entred upo the kingdome of Pontus^ partly upon the pretences
he had to the crowne, but principally, because he would revenge
upon him (whom he knew we loved) the losse of his brother:
thincking (as indeede he had cause) that wheresoever we were,
hearing of his extremitie, we would come to relieve him ; in
spite whereof he doubted not to prevaile, not onely upon the
confidence of his owne vertue and power, but especially because
he had in his copany two mighty Giants^ sonnes to a couple
whom we slue in the same realme : they having bene absent at
their fathers death, and now returned, willingly entered into
his service, hating (more then he) both us, and that King of
Pontus. We therefore withall speede went thetherwarde, but
by the way this fell out, which whensoever I remember without
sorrow, I must forget withall, all humanitie.

3 Poore Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquere
the delicacie of her constitution, and force her selfe to waite on
me: till one day going towarde Pontus, we met one, who in \
great hast went seeking for Tydeus &c 'Telenor, whose death as
yet was not knowne unto the messenger ; who (being their
servaunt and knowing how deerely they loved Plexirtus) brought
them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in pre[se]nt
daunger of a cruel death, if by the valiantnesse of one of the
best Knightes of the world, he were not reskewed : we enquired
no further of the matter (being glad he should now to his losse -
finde what an unprofitable treason it had bene unto him, to
dismember himselfe of two such friendes) and so let the
messenger part, not sticking to make him know his masters '
destruction, by the falshood of Plexirtus.

4 But the griefe of that (finding a bodie alreadie brought to
the last degree of weakenesse) so overwhelmed the little remnant
of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell sodainely into
deadly soundings ; never comming to her selfe, but that withall

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she returned to make most pittifull lamentations ; most straunge
unto us, because we were farre from ghessing the ground thereof.
But finding her sicknesse such, as beganne to print death in her
eyes, we made al hast possible to convey her to the next towne:
but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, & she might
find in herselfe, that the harbinger of over-hastie death, had
prepared his lodging in that daintie body, which she undoubtedly
feeling, with a weake chearefulnes, shewed cofort therin; and
then desiring us both to come neere her, & that no bodie els
might be present; with pale, and yet (even in palenes) lovely
lippes. Now or never, and never indeed, but now it is time for
me (said she) to speake: and I thanke death which gave me
leave to discover that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath
bene the sharpest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end.
Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and master,
Pyrocles^ that your page Daiphantus is the unfortunat Zelmane^
who for your sake caused my (as unfortunate) lover, and cosen,
Palladius, to leave his fathers court, and cosequently, both him
& my Aunt his mother, to loose their lives. For your sake my
selfe have become, of a Princesse a Page : and for your sake
have put off the apparell of a woman, & (if you judge not more
mercifully) modestie. We were amazed at her speach, and
the had (as it were) new eyes give us to perceve that which
before had bene a present strager to our minds. For indeed,
we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelmane, who before we
had knowea in the court of Iberia, And sorrow and pittie
laying her paine upon me, I comforted her the best I could by
the tendernes of good-will, pretending indeed better hope then
I had of her recovery.

But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrat that 5
should shortly oppresse her. No, my deere master^ (said she) I
neither hope nor desire to live. I know you would never have
loved me (& with that she wept) nor, alas, had it bene reason
you should, considering manie wayes my unworthines. It
sufficeth me that the strange course I have take, shall to your
remembrance, witnesse my love : and yet this breaking of my
harte, before I would discover my paine, will make you (I hope)
think I was not altogether un modest. Thinke of me so, deare
Master, and that thought shal be my life: and with that,
languishingly looking upon me; And I pray you (said she)

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even by these dying eies of mine (which are onely sorrie to
dye, because they shall lose your sight) and by these pouled
lockes of mine (which while they were long, were the orna-
ment of my sex, now in their short curies, the testimonie of
my servitude) and by the service I have done you (which God
knowes hath beene full of love) thinke of me after my death
with kindnes, though ye cannot with love. And whensoever
ye shall make any other Ladie happie with your placed aiFedlio,
if you tell her my folly, I pray you speake of it, not with
scorne, but with pitie. I assure you (deare Princesse of my
life, for how could it be otherwise?) her words and her manners,
with the lively consideration of her love, so pearced me, that I,
though I had diverse griefes before, yet me thought I never
felt till then, how much sorow enfeebleth all resolution. For
I coulde not chuse, but yeeld to the weakenes of abundant
weeping; in trueth with such griefe, that I could willingly at
that time have chaunged lives with her.
6 But when she saw my teares, O God (said she) howe
largely am I recompenced for my losses? why then (said shee)
I may take boldnesse to make some requests unto you. I
besought her to doo, vowing the performance, though my life
were the price therof. She shewed great joy : The first (said
she) is this, that you will pardon my father the displeasure you
have justly conceived against him, and for this once succour,
him out of the daunger wherin he is: I hope he will amende:
and I pray you, whensoever you remember hipi to be the
faultie PlexirtuSy remember withall that he is Zelmanes father.
The second is, that when you come into Greece^ you will take
unto your selfe this name (though unlucky) of Daiphantus^ and
vouchsafe to be called by it: for so shal I be sure, you shall
have caus^ to remember me : and let it please your noble
cousin to be called PalladiuSy that I doo that right to that
poore Prince, that his name may yet live upon the earth in so
excellent a person : and so betwene you, I trust sometimes
your unluckie page shall be (perhaps with a sigh) mencioned.
Lastly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my
friends to knowe my fortune, till (when you are safely returned
to your own countrie) you cause my bones to be conveied
thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where your
selfe vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitions for

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such a suter; which yet she so earnestly craved, that I was
faine to sweare the accomplishment. And then kissing me,
& often desiring me not to condemne her of lightnesse, in
mine armes she delivered her pure soule to the purest place:
leaving me as full of agonie, as kindnes, pitie, and sorow could
make an honest harte. For I must confesse for true, that if
my starres had not wholy reserved me for you, there els
perhaps I might have loved, & (which had bene most strange)
begun my love after death : whereof let it be the lesse
marvaile, because somwhat shee did resemble you : though
as farre short of your perfe6ti6, as her selfe dying, was of her
flourishing: yet somthing there was, which (when I saw a
pidlure of yours) brought againe her figure into my reme-
brance, and made my harte as apte to receive the wounde, as
the power of your beauty with unresistable force to pearce.

But we in wofuU (& yet privat) manner burying her, per- 7
formed her commandement : & then enquiring of her fathers
estate, certainly learned that he was presentlie to be succoured,
or by death to passe the neede of succour. Therfore we deter-
mined to divide our selves; I, according to my vowe, to helpe
him, and Musidorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in
no lesse need then immediate succour, and even readie to
depart one from the other, there came a messenger from him,
who after some enquirie found us, giving us to understand, that
he trusting upon us two, had apointed the combat _ betweene
him & us, against Otaves, and the two Gyants. Now the day
was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to succour
P/exirtus, & be there, where my honour was not onely gaged
so far, but (by the straunge working of unjust fortune) I was to
leave the standing by Musidorus, whom better then my selfe I
loved, to go save him whom for just causes I hated. But my
promise given, & given to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, pre-
vailed more with me, then my friendship to Musidorus : though
certainely I may affirme, nothing had so great rule in my
thoughts as that. But my promise caried me the easier, because
Musidorus himselfe would not suiFer me to breake it. And so
with heavy mindes (more careful each of others successe, the of
our owne) we parted ; I towarde the place, where I understood
Plexirtus was prisoner to an auncient Knight, absolutely
governing a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it,

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whereof he acknowledged no other soveraigne, but himselfe:
whose hate to Plexirtus^ grew for a kinsman of his, who he
mahtiously had murdered, because in the time that he raigned
in Galatia^ he foud him apt to pra6tise for the restoring of his
vertuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for
revenge, used (as the way to it) a pollicie, which this occasion I
will tell you, prepared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had
maried Zelmanes mother, who dying of that only child-birth, he
a widdower, and not yet a King, haunted the Court of
Armenia ; where (as he was comming to winne favour) he
obteined great good liking of Artaxia^ which he pursued, till
(being called home by his father) he falsly got his fathers king-
dome ; and then negledled his former love : till throwen out of
that (by our meanes) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by
and by again placed in Trebisonde, understanding that Artaxia
by her brothers death was become Queen of Armenia^ he was
hotter then ever, in that pursuit, which being understood by
this olde Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written
from Artaxia^ entreating his present (but very privie) repaire
thether, giving him faithfuU promise of presente mariage : a
thing farre from her thought, having faithfully, and publiquely
protested, that she would never marrie any, but some such
Prince who woulde give sure proofe, that by his meanes we
were destroyed. But he (no more wittie to frame, then blinde
to judge hopes) bitte hastely at the baite, and in private maner
poasted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight,
far better accompanied, who quickly laid holde of him, & con-
demned him to death, cruell inough, if any thing may be both
cruell and just. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable
prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliver
him to be devoured by a monstrous beast, of most ugly shape,
armed like a Rhinoceros^ as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a
Lion, as nimble as a Leopard, and as cruell as a Tigre : whom
he having kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now
thought no fitter match, then such a beastly monster with a
monstrous Tyrant: proclaiming yet withall, that if any so well
loved him, as to venture their lives against this beast, for him,
if they overcame, he should be saved: not caring how many
they were (such confidence he had in the monsters strength)
but especially hoping to entrappe therby the great courages of
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no lesse hated, because they had
bene principall instruments of the others power.

I dare say, if Zelmane had knowen what daunger I should ^
have passed, she would rather have let her father perishe, then
me to have bidden that adventure. But my word was past,
and truely, the hardnes of the enterprise, was not so much a
bitte, as a spurre unto me; knowing well, that the jorney of"
high honor lies not in plaine wayes. Therefore, going thether,
and taking sufficient securitie, that Plexirtus should be delivered
if I were vid:orious, I undertooke the combatte : and (to make
shorte, excellent Ladie, and not trouble your eares with re-
counting a terrible matter) so was my weakenes blessed from
above, that without dangerous wounds I slewe that monster,
which hundreds durste not attempt : to so great admiration of
many (who from a safe place might looke on) that there was
order given, to have the fight, both by sculpture and pi6lure,
celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the olde nobleman so
well liked me, that he loved me ; onely bewayling, my vertue
had beene imployed to save a worse monster then I killed :
whom yet (according to faith given) he delivered, and accom-
panied me to the kingdome of Pontus, whether I would needes
in all speede go, to see whether it were possible for me (if per-
chance the day had bene delaied) to come to the combat. But
that (before I came) had bene thus finished.

The vQvtMoviS Leonatus understanding two so good friends of lo
his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one him selfe :
where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the
truthe is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable
Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants,
and the taking of Oiaves prisoner. To whom as he gave his
life, so he gotte a noble friend : for so he gave his worde to be,
and he is well knowen to thinke him selfe greater in being
subject to that, then in the greatnes of his principalitie.

But thither (understanding of our being there) flocked great n
multitudes of many great persons, and even of Princes;
especially those, whom we had made beholding unto us: as,
the Kings of Phrygia, Bythinia, with those two hurte, of Pontus
and Galatia, and Otaves the prisoner, by Musidorus set free;
and thither came Plexirtus of Trehisonde, and Antiphilus, then
King of Lycia-j with as many mo great Princes, drawen ether

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

by our reputation, or by willingnes to acknowledge them selves
obliged unto us, for what we had done for the others. So as
in those partes of the world, I thinke, in many hundreds of
yeares, there was not seene so royall an assemblie: where
nothing was let passe to doo us the highest honors, which such
persons (who might commaund both purses and inventions)
could perfourme. All from all sides bringing unto us right
royall presents (which we to avoide both unkindnes, and im-
portunitie, liberally received,) &c not content therewith, would
needes accept, as from us, their crownes, and acknowledge to
hold them of us: with many other excessive honors, which
would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe
unto you.

CHAP. 24.

^ T'he causes and provisions of the Princes embarking for Arcadia.
'Plexirtus his treason against them disclosed by one^ ^at-
tempted by another of his ministers. •* Sedition and slaughter
in the shippe about it. ' Their shipwrack by fire. ^ Pyrocles
fight with the Captaine^ and escape from sea. ' The amorous
concluding the olde^ and beginning a newe storie, both broken
of by Miso.

BUt wee quickely aweary thereof, hasted to Greece-wsird,
led thither partly with the desire of our parents, but
hastened principally, because I understoode that Anaxius with
open mouth of defamation had gone thither to seeke mee, and
was nowe come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he
made enquyrie of me, doing yet himselfe so noble deedes, as
might hap to authorize an ill opinion of me. We therefore
suftVed but short delayes, desiring to take this countrey in our
way, so renowmed over the worlde, that no Prince coulde
pretend height, nor begger lownesse, to barre him from the
sound thereof: renowmed indeede, not so much for the
ancient prayses attributed thereunto, as for the having in it
Argalus and Amphialus (two knights of such rare prowes, as we
desired especially to know) and yet by farre, not so much for
that, as without suffering of comparison for the beautie of you

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

and your sister, which makes all indifferent judges, that speake
thereof, account this countrie as a temple of deities. But these
causes indeed moving us to come by this land, we embarked
our selves in the next porte, whether all those Princes (saving
Antiphilusy who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry
long from Erond) conveied us. And there found we a ship
most royally furnished by Plexirtusy who made all thinges so
proper (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other
Princes greatly commended him for it : who (seeming a quite
altered man) had nothing but repetance in his eies, friendship
in his gesture, & vertue in his mouth : so that we who had
promised the sweete Zelmane to pardon him, now not onely
forgave, but began to favour ; perswading our selves with a
youthfull credulitie, that perchance things were not so evil as
we tooke them, & as it were desiring our owne memorie, that
it might be so. But so were we licensed from those Princes,
truly not without teares, especially of the vertuous Leonatus^
who with the king of Potus, would have come with us, but
that we (in respedt of the ones young wife, & both their new
settled kingdomes) would not suffer it. Then would they
have sent whole fleets to guard us: but we, that desired to
passe secretely into Greece^ made them leave that motion, when
they found that more ships, then one, would be displeasing
unto us. But so comitting our selves to the uncertaine dis-
cretio of the wind, we (then determining as soone as we came
to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, as
well for our owne promise to Zelmane, as because we desired to
come unknowne into Greece) left the Asian shore full of
Princely persons, who even upon their knees, recommended
our safeties to the devotion of their chiefe desires : among
whom none had bene so officious (though I dare affirme, all
quite contrarie to his unfaithfulnes) as Plexirtus.

So having sailed almost two dales, looking for nothing but 2
when we might looke upon the land, a grave man (whom we
had seene of great trust with Plexirtus, and was sent as our
principall guide) came unto us, and with a certaine kinde
manner, mixt with shame, and repentaunce, began to tell us,
that he had taken such a love unto us (considering our youth
and fame) that though he were a servaunt, and a servaunt of
such trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed unto him

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

even those secretes of his hart, which abhorde all other know-
ledge; yet he rather chose to reveale at this time a most
pernitious counsell, then by concealing it bring to ruin those,
whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and
tolde us, that Plexirtus (in hope thereby to have Artaxiay
endowed with the great Kingdome of Armenia^ to his wife) had
given him order, when we were neere Greece, to finde some
opportunitie to murder us, bidding him to take us a sleepe,
because he had seene what we could do waking. Now sirs
(said he) I would rather a thousand times loose my life, then
have my remembrance (while I lived) poysoned with such a
mischiefe : and therefore if it were onely I, that knewe herein
the Kings order, then should my disobedience be a warrant of
your safetie. But to one more (said he) namely the Captaine
of the shippe, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the
efFedl of murdering you, though I think, laying the cause
rather upon old grudge, then his hope of Artaxia. And my
selfe, (before the consideration of your excellencies had drawne
love and pittie into minde) imparted it to such, as I thought
fittest for such a mischiefe. Therefore, I wishe you to stand
upon your garde, assuring you, that what I can doo for your
safetie, you shall see (if it come to the pushe) by me per-
fourmed. We thanked him, as the matter indeed deserved,
and from that time would no more disarme our selves, nor the
one sleepe without his friendes eyes waked for him : so that it
delaied the going forwarde of their bad enterprize, while they
thought it rather chaunce, then providence, which made us so
behave our selves.

But when we came within halfe a daies sayling of the
shore, soone they saw it was speedily, or not at all to be done.
Then (and I remember it was about the first watch in the
night) came the Captaine and whispered the Councellour in the
eare: But he (as it should seem) disswading him from it, the
Captaine (who had bene a pyrate from his youth, and often
blouded in it) with a lowde voice sware, that if Plexirtus bact
him, he would not sticke to kill God him selfe. And there-
with cald his mates, and in the Kings name willed them to
take us, alive or dead; encouraging the with the spoile of us,
which he said, (& indeed was true) would yeeld many exceed-
ing rich jewels. But the Councellour (according to his promise)

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

commanded them they should not comit such a villany, pro-
testing that he would stad betweene them and the Kings anger
therein. Wherewith the Captaine enraged: Nay (said he) the
we must begin with this traitor him selfe : and therewith gave
him a sore blow upon the head, who honestly did the best he
could to revenge himselfe.

But then we knew it time rather to encounter, then waite 4
for mischiefe. And so against the Captaine we went, who
straight was environned with most parte of the Souldiers and
Mariners. And yet the truth is, there were some, whom
either the authoritie of the councellour, doubt of the Kings
minde, or liking of us, made draw their swords of our side : so
that quickly it grew a most confused fight. For the narrow-
nesse of the place, the darkenesse of the time, and the uncertainty
in such a tumult how to know frieds from foes, made the rage
of swordes rather guide, then be guided by their maisters. For
my cousin and me, truly I thinke we never perfourmed lesse in
any place, doing no other hurte, then the defence of our selves,
and succouring them who came for it, drave us to: for not
discerning perfedllie, who were for, or against us, we thought
it lesse evill to spare a foe, then spoyle a friend. But from the
hiest to the lowest parte of the shippe there was no place lefte,
without cries of murdring, and murdred persons. The Cap-
taine I hapt a while to fight withall, but was driven to parte
with him, by hearing the crie of the Councellour, who re-
ceived a mortall wounde, mistaken of one of his owne side.
Some of the wiser would call to parley, & wish peace, but
while the wordes of peace were in their mouthes, some of their
auditours gave them death for their hire. So that no man
almost could conceive hope of living, but being lefte alive : and
therefore every one was willing to make him selfe roome, by
dispatching almost any other : so that the great number in the
ship was reduced to exceeding few, when of those few the
most part weary of those troubles leapt into the boate, which
was fast to the ship: but while they that were first, were
cutting of the rope that tied it, others came leaping in, so
disorderly, that they drowned both the boate, and themselves.

But while even in that little remnant (like the children of 5
Cadmus) we continued still to slay one an other, a fire, which
(whether by the desperate malice of some, or intention to

s. A. u 305

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

separate, or accidentally while all things were cast up and
downe) it should seeme had taken a good while before, but
never heeded of us, (who onely thought to preserve, or revenge)
now violently burst out in many places, and began to maister
the principall partes of the ship. Then necessitie made us see,
that, a common enimy sets at one a civill warre : for that little
all we were (as if we had bene waged by one man to quench a
fire) streight went to resist that furious enimie by all art and
labour: but it was too late, for already it did embrace and
devoure from the sterne, to the wast of the ship : so as labouring
in vaine, we were driven to get up to the prowe of the ship, by
the worke of nature seeking to preserve life, as long as we
could : while truely it was a straunge and ougly sight, to see so
huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be, in the Sea, and in the
night, as if it had come to light us to death. And by and by
it had burned off the maste, which all this while had prowdly
borne the sayle (the winde, as might seeme, delighted to carrie
fire and bloud in ,his mouth) but now it fell over boord, and the
fire growing neerer us, it was not onely terrible in respedl of
what we were to attend, but insupportable through the heat
of it.
6 So that we were constrained to bide it no longer, but
disarming and stripping our selves, and laying our selves upon
such things, as we thought might help our swimming to the
lande (too far for our owne strength to beare us) my cousin and
I threw our selves into the Sea. But I had swomme a very
little way, when I felt (by reason of a wound I had) that I
should not be able to bide the travaile, and therefore seeing the
maste (whose tackling had bene burnt of) flote cleare from the
ship, I swamme unto it, and getting on it, I found mine owne
sworde, which by chaunce, when I threw it away (caught by a
peece of canvas) had honge to the maste. I was glad, because I ,
loved it well; but gladder, when I saw at the other end, the
Captaine of the ship, and of all this mischiefe; who having a
long pike, belike had borne him selfe up with that, till he had
set him selfe upon the mast. But when I perceived him,
Villaine (said I) doost thou thinke to overlive so many honest
men, whom thy falsehood hath brought to destruction? with
that bestriding the mast, I gat by little and little towards him,
after such a manner as boies are woq| (if ever you saw that

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

sport) when they ride the wild mare. And he perceiving my
intention, like a fellow that had much more courage then
honestie, set him selfe to resist. But I had in short space
gotten within him, and (giving him a sound blowe) sent him to
feede fishes. But there my selfe remainde, untill by pyrates I
was taken up, and among them againe taken prisoner, and
brought into Laconia.

But what (said Philoclea) became of your coiisin Musidorus ? 7
Lost said Pyrodes. Ah my Pyrocles, said Philoclea^ I am glad I
have take you. I perceive you lovers do not alwaies say truely :
as though I know not your cousin Dorus, the sheepeheard?
Life of my desires (saide Pyrodes) what is mine, even to my soule
is yours : but the secret of my friend is not mine. But if you
know so much, then I may truely say, he is lost, since he is no
more his owne. But I perceive, your noble sister & you are great
friends, and well doth it become you so to be. But go forward
deare PyrodeSy I log to heare out till your meeting me: for
there to me-warde is the best part of your storie. Ah sweet
Philoclea (said Pyrodes) do you thinke I can thinke so precious
leysure as this well spent in talking. Are your eyes a fit booke
(thinke you) to reade a tale upon ? Is my love quiet inough to
be an historian ? Deare Princesse, be gracious unto me. And
then he faine would have remembred to have forgot himselfe.
But she, with a sweetly disobeying grace, desired that her
desire (once for ever) might serve, that no spotte might disgrace
that love which shortly she hoped shold be to the world
warrantable. Faine he would not have heard, til she threatned
anger. And then the poore lover durst not, because he durst
not. Nay I pray thee, deare Pyrodes (said she) let me have my
story. Sweet Princesse (said he) give my thoughts a litle
respite : and if it please you, since this time must so be spoiled,
yet it shall suffer the lesse harme, if you vouchsafe to bestow
your voice, and let me know, how the good Queene Erona was
betraied into such dager, and why Plangus sought me. For
in deede, I should pitie greatly any mischance fallen to that
Princesse. I will, said Philoclea smiling, so you give me your
worde, your handes shall be quiet auditours. They shal, said
he, because subjedt. Then began she to speake, but with so
prettie and delightfull a majestie, when she set her counten-
ance to tell the matter, that Pyrodes could not chuse but

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

rebell so far, as to kisse her. She would have puld her head
away, and speake, but while she spake he kist, and it seemed he
fedde upon her wordes : but shee gate away. Howe will you
have your discourse (said she) without you let my lips alone ?
He yeelded and tooke her hand. On this (said he) will I
revenge my wrong: and so began to make much of that hand,
when her tale, & his delight were interrupted by Miso: who
taking her time, while Basilius backe was turned, came unto
them: and told Philoclea^ she deserved she knewe what, for
leaving her mother, being evill at ease, to keepe companie with
straungers. But Philoclea telling her, that she was there by her
fathers commandemet, she went away muttering, that though
her back, and her shoulders, and her necke were broken, yet as
long as her tongue would wagge, it should do her errand to her
mother.

CHAP. 25.

^ Gynecias divining dreame. ^ Her passionate jelousie in aSfions^
^ speach^ and ^ song described '^ Her troubling Philoclea and
Zelmane, ^ The rebels troubling her. ' Rebels resisted by
Zelmane. ^ Zelmane assisted by Dorus. ^ Dorus and Zel-
v[i?intsfive memorable strokes.

1 O O went up Miso to Gynecia^ who was at that time miserably
O vexed with this manner of dreame. It seemed unto her
to be in a place full of thornes, which so molested her, as she
could neither abide standing still, nor treade safely going
forward. In this case she thought Zelmane^ being upon a faire
hill, delightfuU to the eye, and easie in apparance, called her
thither: whither with much anguish being come, Zelmane was '
vanished, and she found nothing but a dead bodie like unto her
husband, which seeming at the first with a strange smell to
infedt her, as she was redie likewise within a while to die, the
dead bodie, she thought, tooke her in his armes, and said,
Gyneciay leave all; for here is thy onely rest.

2 With that she awaked, crying very loud, Zelmane, Zelmane,
But remembring her selfe, and seeing Basilius by, (her guiltic
conscience more suspedling, then being suspected) she turned
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

her call, and called for Philoclea. Miso forthwith like a valiant
shrew, (looking at Ba stilus^ as though she would speake though
she died for it) tolde Gynecia^ that her daughter had bene a
whole houre togither in secrete talke with Zelmane : And (sayes
she) for my part I coulde not be heard (your daughters are
brought up in such awe) though I tolde her of your pleasure
sufficiently. Gynecia, as if she had heard her last doome pro-
nounced agaynst her, with a side-looke and chaunged counten-
ance, O my Lorde (said she) what meane you to suffer these
yong folkes together? Basilius (that aymed nothing at the
marke of her suspition) smilingly tooke her in his armes, sweete
wife (said he) I thanke you for your care of your childe: but
they must be youthes of other mettall, then Zelmane^ that can
endaunger her. O but; cryed Gynecia, and therewith she
stayed: for then indeede she did suffer a right conflict, betwixt
the force of love, and rage of jealousie. Manie times was she
about to satisfie the spite of her minde, and tell Basilius, how
she knewe Zelmane to be farre otherwise then the outwarde
appearance. But those many times were all put backe, by the
manifolde objections of her vehement love. Faine she would
have barde her daughters happe, but loth she was to cut off her
owne hope. But now, as if her life had bene set uppon a
wager of quicke rysing, as weake as she was, she gat up ; though
Basilius, (with a kindnesse flowing onely from the fountaine of
unkindnesse, being in deede desirous to winne his daughter as
much time as might be) was loth to suffer it, swearing he sawe
sickenesse in her face, and therefore was loath she should adven-
ture the ayre.

But the great and wretched Ladie Gynecia, possessed with 3
those devils of Love and Jealousie, did rid herselfe from her tedious
husbande : and taking no body with her, going toward the ; O
Jealousie (said she) the phrensie of wise folkes, the well-wishing
spite, and unkinde carefulnesse, the selfe-punishment for others
faults, and selfe-miserie in others happinesse, the cousin of
envie, daughter of love, & mother of hate, how couldest thou
so quietly get thee a seate in the unquiet hart of Gynecia,
Gynecia (said she sighing) thought wise, and once vertuous?
Alas it is thy breeders power which plantes thee there: it is
the flaming agonie of affection, that works the chilling accesse
of thy fever, in such sort, that nature gives place; the growing

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of my daughter seemes the decay of my selfe; the blessings of
a mother turne to the curses of a copetitor; and the faire face of
Philocleay appeares more horrible in my sight, then the image
of death. Then remembred she this song, which she thought
tooke a right measure of her present mind.

WTth two strange fires of equall heate possest.
The one of Love, the other Jealousie,
Both still do worke, in neither finde I rest :
For bothy alasy their strengthes together tie:
The one aloft doth holde, the other hie.

Love wakes the jealous eye least thence it moves :
The jealous eye, the more it lookes, it loves.

4 These fires increase : in these I dayly hurne :
They feede on me, and with my wings do fiie :
My lovely joyes to dolefull ashes turne :

Their flames mount up, my powers prostrate lie :

They live in force, I quite consumed die.
One wonder yet farre passeth my conceate :
The fuell small: how be the fires so great?

5 But her unleasured thoughtes ran not over the ten first
wordes; but going with a pace, not so much too fast for her,
bodie, as slowe for her minde, she found them together, who '
after Misos departure, had left their tale, and determined what
to say to Basilius. But full abashed was poore Fhiloclea, (whose
conscience nowe began to knowe cause of blushing) for first
salutation, receyving an eye from her mother, full of the same
disdainefull scorne, which Pallas shewed to poore Arachne,
that durst contende with her for the prize of well weaving:
yet did the force of love so much rule her, that though for
Zelmanes sake she did detest her, yet for Zelmanes sake she used
no harder words to her, then to bid her go home, and
accompany her solitarie father.

6 Then began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of hci
deadly desires, when sodainly the confused rumor of a mutinous
multitude gave just occasion to Zelmane to breake of any such
conference, (for well she found, they were not friendly voices
they heard) and to retire with as much diligence as conveniently
they could, towards the lodge. Yet before they could winne

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

the lodge by twentie paces, they were overtaken by an unruly
sort of clownes, and other rebels, which like a violent floud,
were caried, they themselves knewe not whether. But assoone
as they came within perfe6t discerning these Ladies, like enraged
beastes, without respedl of their estates, or pitie of their sexe,
they began to runne against them, as right villaines, thinking
abilitie to doo hurt, to be a great advancement : yet so many
as they were, so many almost were their mindes, all knitte
together onely in madnes. Some cried. Take ; some. Kill ;
some. Save: but even they that cried save, ran for companie
with them that meant to kill. Everie one commaunded, none
obeyed, he only seemed chief Captain, that was most ragefull.

Zelmane (whose vertuous courage was ever awake) drew out 7
her sword, which upon those il-armed churls giving as many
wounds as blowes, & as many deathes almost as wounds
(lightning courage, and thundering smart upon them) kept
them at a bay, while the two Ladies got theselves into the
lodge i out of the which, Basilius (having put on an armour
long untried) came to prove his authoritie among his subjects,
or at lest, to adventure his life with his deare mistresse, to who
he brought a shield, while the Ladies tremblingly attended the
issue of this dangerous adventure. But Zelmane made them
perceive the ods betweene an Eagle and a Kight, with such a
nimble stayednes, and such an assured nimblenes, that while
one was running backe for feare, his fellow had her sword in
his guts.

And by and by was both her harte and helpe well encreased 8
by the comming of Dorus^ who having been making of hurdles
for his masters sheepe, hearde the horrible cries of this madde
multitude; and having streight represented before the eies of
his carefull love, the perill wherein the soule of his soule might
be, he went to Pamelas lodge, but found her in a cave hard by,
with Mopsa and Dametas^ who at that time would not have
opened the entrie to his father. And therfore leaving them
there (as in a place safe, both for being strong, and unknowen)
he ranne as the noise guyded him. But when he saw his
friend in such danger among them, anger and contempt (asking
no counsell but of courage) made him roome among them, with
no other weapon but his sheephooke, and with that over-
throwing one of the villaines, took away a two-hand sword

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from him, and withall, helpt him from ever being ashamed of
losing it. Then lifting up his brave head, and flashing terror
into their faces, he made armes & legs goe complaine to the
earth, how evill their masters had kept them. Yet the multi-
tude still growing, and the verie killing wearying them (fearing,
lest in long fight they should be conquered with coquering)
they drew back toward the lodge ; but drew back in such sort,
that still their terror went forwarder like a valiant mastifFe,
whom when his master pulles backe by the taile from the beare
(with whom he hath alreadie interchanged a hatefull imbrace-
ment) though his pace be backwarde, his gesture is foreward, his
teeth and eyes threatening more in the retiring, then they did
in the advancing: so guided they themselves homeward, never
stepping steppe backward, but that they proved themselves
masters of the ground where they stept.
g Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellowe, a tayler
by occupation, who fetching his courage onelie from their
going back, began to bow his knees, & very fencer-like to draw
neere to Ze/mane. But as he came within her distace, turning
his swerd very nicely about his crown, Basi/ius, with a side
blow, strake of his nose. He (being a suiter to a seimsters
daughter, and therfore not a little grieved for such a disgrace)
stouped downe, because he had hard, that if it were fresh put
to, it would cleave on againe. But as his hand was on the
grounde to bring his nose to his head, Ze/mane with a blow,
sent his head to his nose. That saw a butcher, a butcherlie
chufFe indeed (who that day was sworn brother to him in a cup
of wine) & lifted up a great leaver, calling Ze/mane all the vile
names of a butcherly eloquence. But she (letting slippe the
blowe of the leaver) hitte him so surely on the side of his face,
that she lefte nothing but the nether jawe, where the tongue-
still wagged, as willing to say more, if his masters remebrance
had served. O (said a miller that was halfe dronke) see the
lucke of a good fellow, and with that word, ran with a pitch-
forke at Dorus: but the nimblenes of the wine caried his head
so fast, that it made it over-runne his feet, so that he fell
withall, just betwene the legs of Dorus : who setting his foote
on his neck (though he offered two milche kine, and foure fatte
hogs for his life) thrust his sword quite through, from one eare
to the other ; which toke it very unkindlie, to feele such newes
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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

before they heard of them, in stead of hearing, to be put to such
feeling. But Dorus (leaving the miller to vomit his soul out in
wine and bloud) with his two-hand sword strake of another
quite by the waste, who the night before had dreamed he was
growen a couple, and (interpreting it he should be maried) had
bragd of his dreame that morning among his neighbors. But
that blow astonished quite a poore painter, who stood by with
a pike in his handes. This painter was to counterfette the
skirmishing betwene the Centaures and Lapithes, and had bene
very desirous to see some notable wounds, to be able the more
lively to expresse them ; and this morning (being caried by the
streame of this companie) the foolish felow was even delighted
to see the efFedl of blowes. But this last, (hapning neere him)
so amazed him, that he stood still, while Dorus (with a turne
of his sword) strake of both his hands. And so the painter
returned, well skilled in wounds, but with never a hand to
performe his skill.

CHAP. 26.

^ Zelmanes confident attempt to appease the mutinie, ^ A hone of
division cast by her, ^ and caught by them. * Her pacificatorie
oration. ^ The acceptation and issue of it,

IN this manner they recovered the lodge, and gave the rebels i
a face of wood of the out-side. But they then (though no
more furious, yet more couragious when they saw no resister)
went about with pickaxe to the wall, and fire to the gate, to
gette themselves entrance. Then did the two Ladies mixe
feare with love, especially Philoclea, who ever caught hold of
Zelmane, so (by the follie of love) hindering the help which she
desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, nor time to
deliberate (the number of those villaines still encreasing, and
their madnesse still encreasing with their number) thought it
onely the meanes to goe beyond their expedtation with an
unused boldenesse, and with danger to avoide danger: and
therfore opened againe the gate, and [Dorus and Basilius
standing redie for her defence) she issued againe among them.
The blowes she had dealt before (though all in generall were

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hastie) made each of them in particular take breath, before they
brought them sodainly over-neere her, so that she had time to
gette up to the judgement-seate of the Prince, which (according
to the guise of that countrie) was before the gate. There she
paused a while, making signe with her hand unto them, &
withall, speaking aloud, that she had something to say unto
them, that would please them. But she was answered a while
with nothing but shouts and cries; and some beginning to
throw stones at her, not daring to approach her. But at
length, a young farmer (who might do most among the
countrie sort, and was caught in a little affection towardes
Zelmane) hoping by this kindenesse to have some good of her,
desired them, if they were honest men, to heare the woman
speake. Fie fellowes, fie, (said he) what will all the maides in
our towne say, if so many tall men shall be afraide to heare a
faire wench ? I sweare unto you by no little ones, I had rather
give my teeme of oxen, then we should shewe our selves so
uncivill wights. Besides, I tell you true, I have heard it of old
men counted wisdome, to heare much, & say little. His sen-
tentious speech so prevailed, that the most parte began to listen.
Then she, with such efficacie of gracefulnes, & such a quiet
magnanimitie represented in her face in this uttermost perill, as
the more the barbarous people looked, the more it fixed their
looks upon her, in this sorte began unto them.
2 It is no small comfort unto me (said she) having to speake
something unto you for your owne behoofs, to find that I have
to deale with such a people, who shew indeed in theselves the
right nature of valure, which as it leaves no violence unat-
tempted, while the choller is nourished with resistance; so
when the subjed: of their wrath, doth of it self unloked-for
offer it self into their hands, it makes the at lest take a pause
before they determine cruelty. Now then first (before I come
to the principall matter) have I to say unto you; that your
Prince Basilius himselfe in person is within this Lodge, & was
one of the three, who a few of you went about to fight withall:
(& this she said, not doubting but they knew it well inough ;
but because she would have them imagine, that the Prince
might think that they did not know it) by him am I sent unto
you, as fro a Prince to his well approoved subjects, nay as from
a father to beloved children, to know what it is that hath bred

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ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

just quarrell among you, or who they be that have any way
wroged you? what it is with which you are displeased, or
of which you are desirous ? This he requires : and indeed (for
he knowes your faithfulnes) he commaunds you presently to set
downe, & to choose among your selves some one, who may relate
your griefes or demaundes unto him.

This (being more then they hoped for from their Prince) 3
asswaged well their furie, & many of them consented (especially
the young farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the
demauds that he might have Zelmane for his wife) but when
they began to talke of their grieves, never Bees made such a
cofused huming: the towne dwellers demanding putting downe
of imposts : the country felowes laying out of comons : some
would have the Prince keepe his Court in one place, some in
another. Al cried out to have new coucellors: but when they
should think of any new, they liked the as well as any other,
that they could remeber, especially they would have the treasure
so looked unto, as that he should never neede to take any more
subsidies. At length they fel to diredl contrarieties. For the
Artisans, they would have corne & wine set at a lower price,
and bound to be kept so stil : the plowmen, vine-laborers, &
farmers would none of that. The coutrimen demaunded that
every man might be free in the chief townes: that could not
the Burgesses like of. The peasats would have the Gentleme
destroied, the Citizens (especially such as Cookes, Barbers, &
those other that lived most on Gentlemen) would but have them
refourmed. And of ech side were like divisions, one neigh-
bourhood beginning to find fault with another. But no
confusion was greater then of particular mens likings and
dislikings: one dispraising such a one, who another praised,
& demanding such a one to be punished, whoni the other
would have exalted. No lesse ado was there about choosing
him, who should be their spokes-man. The finer sort of
Burgesses, as Marchants Prentises, & Clothworkers, because
of their riches, disdaining the baser occupations, & they because
of their number as much disdaining them : all they scorning
the countrimens ignoraunce, h the countrymen suspe6ting as
much their cuning: So that Zelmane (finding that their united
rage was now growne, not only to a dividing, but to a crossing
one of another, & that the mislike growne among theselves did

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

wel allay the heat against her) made tokes againe unto the (as
though she tooke great care of their wel doing, and were afraid
of their falling out) that she would speake unto the. They now
growne jealous one of another (the stay having ingedred divisio,
& divisio having manifested their weaknes) were willing inough
to heare, the most part striving to show themselves willingcr
then their fellowes : which Zelmane (by the acquaintaunce she
had had with such kinde of humors) soone perceiving, with an
angerles bravery, & an unabashed mildnes, in this manner spake
unto them.
4 An unused thing it is, & I think not heretofore scene, 6
Arcadians, that a woma should give publike cousel to men, a
strager to the coiitry people, & that lastly in such a presence by
a private person, the regall throne should be possessed. But
the straungenes of your aftion makes that used for vertue, which
your violent necessitie imposeth. For certainely, a woman may
well speake to such men, who have forgotte al manlike govern-
ment: a straunger may with reason instru6t such subjeds, that
negledl due points of subje6tion : and is it marvaile this place
is entred into by another, since your owne Prince (after thirtie
yeares government) dare not shew his face unto his faithfull
people? Heare therfore 6 Arcadians, Sc be ashamed: against
who hath this rage bene stirred ? whether have bene bent these
mafull weapons of yours? In this quiet harmles lodge are
harbourd no Argians your ancient enimies, nor Laconians your
now feared neighbours. Here be nether hard landlords, nor
biting usurers. Here lodge none, but such as either you have
great cause to love, or no cause to hate: here being none,
besides your Prince, Princesse, and their children, but my self.
Is it I then, 6 Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed?
Am I the marke of your vehemet quarrell ? if it be so, that
innocencie shall not be a stop for furie ; if it be so, that the law
of hospitalitie (so long & holily observed among you) may not
defend a straunger fled to your armes for succour: if in fine it
be so, that so many valiaunt mens courages can be enflamed to
the mischiefe of one silly woman ; I refuse not to make my life
a sacrifice to your wrath. Exercise in me your indignatio, so
it go no further, I am content to pay the great favours I have
received amog you, with my life, not ill deserving I present it
here unto you, 6 Arcadians, if that may satisfie you; rather

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the you (called over the world the wise and quiet Arcadians)
should be so vaine, as to attempt that alone, which all the rest
of your countrie wil abhor; the you should shew your selves
so ungratefull, as to forget the fruite of so many yeares peace-
able government; or so unnaturall, as not to have with the
holy name of your naturall Prince, any furie over-maistred.
For such a hellish madnes (I know) did never enter into your
harts, as to attept any thing against his person ; which no suc-
cessor, though never so hatefull, wil ever leave (for his owne
sake) unrevenged. Neither can your wonted valour be turned
to such a basenes, as in stead of a Prince, delivered unto you by
so many roiall ancestors, to take the tyrannous yoke of your
fellow subjedt, in whom the innate meanes will bring forth
ravenous covetousnes, and the newnes of his estate, suspedlfuU
cruelty. Imagine, what could your enimies more wish unto
you, then to see your owne estate with your owne handes under-
mined ? O what would your fore-fathers say, if they lived at
this time, & saw their ofspring defacing such an excellent
principalitie, which they with so much labour & bloud so
wisely have establisht ? Do you thinke them fooles, that saw
you should not enjoy your vines, your cattell, no not your
wives & children, without government ; and that there could
be no government without a Magistrate, and no Magistrate
without obedience, and no obediece where every one upon his
owne private passion, may interprete the doings of the rulers?
Let your wits make your present exaple to you. What
sweetnes (in good faith) find you in your present condition?
what choise of choise finde you, if you had lost Basilius} under
whose ensigne would you go, if your enimies should invade
you ? If you cannot agree upon one to speake for you, how
wil you agree upo one to fight for you? But with this feare of
I cannot tel what, one is troubled, and with that passed wrong
another is grieved. And I pray you did the Sunne ever bring
you a fruitfuU harvest, but that it was more hote then pleasant ?
Have any of you childre, that be not sometimes cumbersome ?
Have any of you fathers, that be not sometime weerish?
What, shall we curse the Sonne, hate our children, or disobey
our fathers ? But what need I use these wordes, since I see in
your countenances (now vertuously settled) nothing els but love
and dutie to him, by whom for your only sakes the governmet

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is embraced. For al what is done, he doth not only pardon
you, but thanke you; judging the action by the minds, & not
the minds by the aftio. Your grieves, and desires, whatsoever,
& whensoever you h'st, he wil consider of, and to his considera-
tion it is reason you should refer them. So then, to coclude ;
the uncertainty of his estate made you take armes; now you
see him well, with the same love lay them downe. If now you
end (as I know you will) he will make no other account of this
matter, but as of a vehement, I must cofesse over-vehement
affection : the only continuaunce might prove a wickednes.
But it is not so, I see very wel, you bega with zeale, & wil
end with reverece.
5 The aftion Zelmane used, being beautified by nature and
apparelled with skill, her gestures beyng such, that as her
wordes did paint out her minde, so they served as a shadow, to
make the picture more lively and sensible, with the sweete
cleernesse of her voice, rising & falling kindly as the nature of
the worde, and efficacie of the matter required, altogether in
such admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had
well felte, whose beautie did pearce through the thicke dulnes
of their senses, gave such a way unto her speach through the
rugged wildernesse of their imaginations, who (besides they
were striken in admiration of her, as of more then a humane
creature) were coold with taking breath, and had learned
doubts out of leasure, that in steed of roaring cries, there was
now heard nothing, but a cofused muttring, whether her saying
were to be followed, betwixt feare to pursue, h lothnesse to
leave : most of them could have bene cotent, it had never bene
begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they
knew not, finding it far easier to tie then to loose knots. But
Zelmane thinking it no evil way in such mutinies, to give the
mutinous some occasio of such service, as they might thinke (in
their own judgement) would countervaile their trespasse, withal,
to take the more assured possession of their mindes, which she
feared might begin to waver, Loiall Arcadians (said she) now do '
I offer unto you the manifesting of your duties: all those that
have taken armes for the Princes safetie, let the turne their
backs to the gate, with their weapons bent against such as
would hurt his sacred person. O weak trust of the many-
headed multitude, whom inconstancie onely doth guide to well

3'8

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

doing: who can set confidence there, where company takes
away shame, and ech may lay the fault of his fellow ? So said
a craftie felow among them, named Clinias, to himselfe, when
he saw the worde no sooner out of Zelmanes mouth, but that
there were some shouts of joy, with, God save Basilius, and
divers of them with much jollity growne to be his guard, that
but litle before met to be his murderers.

CHAP. 27.

^ A verhall craftie coward pur tray ed in Clinias. ^ His first raising,
and with the first , relenting in this mutinie, ^punished by the
farmer. ^ The uprore reenforced, ^ weakned by themselves,
° Clinias-/>/V Sinon-//>^^ narration of this driiken rebellions
original. ^ The kings order in it.

THis Clinias in his youth had bene a scholler so farre, as to I
learne rather wordes then maners, and of words rather
plentie then order ; and oft had used to be an a6lor in Trage-
dies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language,
acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to
beare the figure of them : long used to the eyes and eares of
men, and to recken no fault, but shamefastnesse ; in nature, a
most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely
venturous in privie practises.

This fellowe was become of neere trust to Cecropia, 2
Amphialus-\i\s mother, so that he was privy to al the mis-
chievous devises, wherewith she went about to ruine BasiliuSy
and his children, for the advauncing of her sonne : and though
his education had made him full of tongue, yet his love to be
doing, taught him in any evill to be secret; and had by his
mistresse bene used (ever since the strange retiring of Basilius)
to whisper rumors into the peoples eares: and this time (finding
great aptnes in the multitude) was one of the chiefe that set
them in the uprore (though quite without the cosent of
Amphialus, who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so
have advetured the life of Philoclea.) But now perceiving the
flood of their furie began to ebbe, he thought it policie to take

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the first of the tide, so that no ma cried lowder then he, upon
Basilius. And som of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to
the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his
comandement to lift him up, & then as if he had had a prologue
to utter, he began with a nice gravitie to demand audience.
But few attending what he said, with vehement gesture, as if
he would teare the stars from the skies, he fell to crying out so
lowde, that not onely Xelmane^ but Basilius might heare him.
O unhappie men, more madde then the Giants that would
have plucked Jupiter out of heaven, how long shal this rage
continue? why do you not all throw downe your weapons,
and submit your selves to our good Prince, our good Basi/tuSy
the Pelops of wisdom, & Minos of all good governmet ? when
will you begin to beleve me, and other honest and faithfuU
subjects, that have done all we could to stop your furie?

3 The farmer that loved Zelmane could abide him no longer.
For as at the first he was willing to speake of coditions, hoping
to have gotten great soverainties, & among the rest Zelmane:
so now perceiving, that the people, once any thing downe the
hill from their furie, would never stop till they came to the
bottom of absolute yeelding, and so that he should be nearer
feares of punishment, then hopes of such advancement, he was
one of them that stood most against the agreement: and to
begin withall, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher,
who had bin one of the chiefest make-bates, strake him a great
wound upon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch
fell down, crying for succour, & (scrambling through the legs
of them that were about him) gat to the throne, where Zelmane
tooke him, and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and
quaking for feare of more.

4 But as soone as that blow was given (as if Molus had broke
open the doore to let all his winds out) no hand was idle, ech
one killing him that was next, for feare he should do as much
to him. For being divided in minds & not divided in copanies,
they that would yeeld to Basilius were intermingled with the'
that would not yeeld. These men thinking their ruine stood
upo it ; those men to get favor of their Prince, converted their
ungracious motion into their owne bowels, & by a true judge-
ment grew their owne punishers. None was sooner killed the
those that had bene leaders in the disobedience : who by being
320

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

SO, had taught them, that they did leade disobediece to the
same leaders. And many times it fel out that they killed them
that were of their owne fadtion, anger whetting, and doubt
hastening their fingers. But then came downe Zelmane-, and
Basilius with Dorus issued, and somtimes seeking to draw
together those of their party, somtimes laying indifferently
among them, made such havocke (amog the rest Tel-mane
striking the farmer to the hart with her sworde, as before
she had done with her eyes) that in a while all they of the
contrary side were put to flight, and fled to certaine woods
upon the frontiers; where feeding coldly, and drinking onely
water, they were disciplined for their dronken riots; many of
them being slaine in that chase, about a score onely escaping.
But when these late rebels, nowe souldiers, were returned from
the chase, Basilius calling them togither, partly for policy sake,
but principally because Zelmane before had spoken it (which
was to him more the a divine ordinance) he pronounced their
generall pardon, willing them to returne to their houses, and
therafter be more circuspedt in their proceedings: which they
did most of them with share-marks of their folly. But imagin-
ing Clinias to be one of the chiefe that had bred this good
alteration, he gave him particular thanks, and withall willed
him to make him know, how this frenzie had entred into the
people.

Clinias purposing indeede to tell him the trueth of al, saving 5
what did touch himself, or Cecropia^ first, dipping his hand in
the blood of his woud. Now by this blood (said he) which is
more deare to me, then al the rest that is in my body, since it
is spent for your safety : this togue (perchance unfortunate, but
never false) shall not now begin to lie unto my Prince, of me
most beloved. Then stretching out his hand, and making
vehement countenaces the ushers to his speches, in such maner
of tearms recounted this accident. Yesterday (said he) being
your birth-day, in the goodly greene two mile hence before the
city of Enispusy to do honour to the day, were a four or five
thousand people (of all conditions, as I thinke) gathered together,
spending al the day in dancings and other exercises : and when
night came, under tents and bowes making great cheare, and
meaning to observe a wassaling watch all that night for your
sake. Bacchus (the learned say) was begot with thunder: I

S. A. X 321

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

think, that made him ever since so full of stur & debate.
Bacchus indeed it was which souded the first trupet to this
rude alaru. For that barbarous opinion being generally among
them, to thinke with vice to do honor, & with a6tivitie in
beastlines to shew abundace of love, made most of the seeke
to shew the depth of their afFedio in the depth of their
draught. But being once wel chafed with wine (having spent
al the night, & some peece of the morning in such revelling)
& imboldned by your absented maner of living, there was no
matter their eares had ever heard of that grew not to be a
subje6t of their winie conference. I speake it by proofe : for
I take witnes of the gods (who never leave perjuries unpunished)
that I ofte cried out against their impudency, & (whe that
would not serve) stopt mine eares, because I wold not be
partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me
to have mine eares & eies defiled. Publike affairs were mingled
with private grudges, neither was any man thought of wit, that
did not pretende some cause of mislike. Rayling was counted
the fruite of freedome, and saying nothing had his uttermoste
prayse in ignoraunce. At the length, your sacred person (alas
why did I hve to heare it? alas how do I breath to utter it?
But your comandement doth not onely enjoine obedience, but
give me force : your sacred person (I say) fell to be their table-
talke: a proud word swelling in their stomacks, & disdainfull
reproches against so great a greatnes, having put on the shew
of greatnes in their little mindes: till at length the very un-
brideled use of words having increased fire in their mindes
(which God knowes thought their knowledge notable, because
they had at all no knowledge to codemne their own want of
knowledge) they descended (O never to be forgotten presump-
tion) to a diredt mislike of your living from among them.
Whereupon it were tedious to remember their far-fetched
constru<Sions. But the summe was, you disdained them : and
what were the pompes of your estate, if their armes mainteyned
you not? Who woulde call you a Prince, if you had not a'
people ? When certaine of them of wretched estates, and worse
mindes (whose fortunes, change could not impaire) began to
say, that your government was to be looked into; how the
great treasures (you had levied amog the) had bene spent;
why none but great men & gentlemen could be admitted into

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ARCADIA, LIB. 2.

counsel, that the comons (forsooth) were to plain headed to say
their opinios: but yet their blood & sweat must maintain all.
Who could tell whether you were not betraied in this place,
where you lived ? nay whether you did live or no ? Therefore
that it was time to come & see; and if you were here, to know
(if Arcadia were grown e lothsome in your sight) why you did
not ridde your selfe of the trouble? There would not want
those that would take so faire a cumber in good part. Since
the Countrie was theirs, and the governement an adherent to
the countrie, why should they not consider of the one, as well
as inhabite the other? Nay rather (said they) let us beginne
that, which all Arcadia will foUowe. Let us deliver our Prince
from daunger of practises, and our selves from want of a Prince.
Let us doo that, which all the rest thinke. Let it be said, that
we onely are not astonished with vaine titles, which have their
force but in our force. Lastly, to have saide & heard so much,
was as dagerous, as to have attepted : & to attept they had the
name of glorious liberty with them. These words being spoke
(like a furious storme) presently caried away their wel inclined
braines. What I, and some other of the honester sort could
do, was no more, then if with a puffe of breath, one should goe
about to make a saile goe against a mightie winde : or, with
one hand, stay the ruine of a mightie wall. So generall grewe
this madnes among them, there needed no drumme, where each
man cried, each spake to other that spake as fast to him, and
the disagreeing sounde of so many voices, was the chiefe token
of their unmeete agreement. Thus was their banquette turned
to a battaile, their winie mirthes to bloudie rages, and the happie
prayers for your life, to monstrous threatning of your estate;
the solemnizing your birth-day, tended to have been the cause
of your funerals. But as a dronken rage hath (besides his
wickednes) that follie, that the more it seekes to hurt, the lesse
it considers how to be able to hurt: they never weyed how to
arme theselves, but tooke up every thing for a weapon, that
fiirie offered to their handes. Many swordes, pikes, and billes
there were: others tooke pitchforkes and rakes, converting
husbandrie to souldierie: some caught hold of spittes (thinges
serviceable for life) to be the instruments of death. And there
was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he drank
to your health, to use it (as he could) to your mischiefe. Thus

X2 323

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

armed, thus governed, forcing the unwilling, and hartening the
willing, adding furie to furie, and encreasing rage with running,
they came headlong towarde this lodge: no man (I dare say)
resolved in his own hart, what was the uttermost he would doo
when he came hether. But as mischief is of such nature,
that it cannot stand but with strengthning one evill by an
other, and so multiplie in it selfe, till it come to the highest,
and then fall with his owne weight : so to their mindes (once
passed the bounds of obedience) more and more wickednes
opened it selfe, so that they who first pretended to preserve
you, then to reforme you, (I speak it in my conscience, and
with a bleeding hart) now thought no safetie for them, without
murdering you. So as if the Gods (who preserve you for the
preservation of Arcadia) had not shewed their miraculous
power, and that they had not used for instruments, both your
owne valour (not fit to be spoken of by so meane a mouth as
mine) and some (I must confesse) honest minds, (who alas why
should I mention, since what we did, reached not the hundred
part of our duetie ?) our hands (I tremble to think of it) had
destroyed all that, for which we have cause to rejoyce that we
are Arcadians.
6 With that the fellow did wring his hands, & wrang out
teares: so as Basi/iuSy that was not the sharpest pearcer into
masked minds, toke a good liking to him; & so much the
more as he had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his
mistres. And therfore pitying his woud, willed him to get him
home, and looke well unto it, & make the best search he could,
to know if there were any further depth in this matter, for
which he should be well rewarded. But before he went away,
certain of the shepheards being come (for that day was ap-
pointed for their pastorals) he sent one of them to Philanax^
and an other to other principal noble-men, and cities there
abouts, to make through-inquirie of this uprore, and withall, to
place such garrisons in all the townes & villages neere unto
him, that he might thereafter keep his solitary lodge in more ^
security, upo the making of a fire, or ringijtig of a bell, having
them in a redines for him.

324

ARCADIA, LIB. 2.
CHAP. 28.

1 The praises of Zelmanes aSf. ^ Dametas his car oil for saving
himself and his charge. ^Basilius his conference with
Philanax of the Oracle {the ground of all this storie.) ^His
wrong-construSiion of it. ^ His hymne to Apollo. ^His
courting turnde over to tale-telling.

THis, Clinias (having his eare one way when his eye was I
an other) had perceived ; & therefore hasted away, with
mind to tell Cecropia that she was to take some speedie resolu-
tion, or els it were daunger those examinations would both
discover, & ruine her : and so went his way, leaving that little
companie with embracements, and praising of Zelmanes excellent
proceeding, to shew, that no decking sets foorth any thing so "
much, as afifedion. For as, while she stoode at the discretion
of those indiscreete rebelles, everie angrie countenance any of
them made, seemed a knife layde upon their owne throates; so
unspeakable was now their joy, that they saw (besides her
safetie & their owne) the same wrought, and safely wrought
by her meanes, in whom they had placed all their delightes.
What examples Greece could ever alledge of witte and fortitude,
were set in the ranke of trifles, being compared to this a<5tion.

But as they were in the midst of those unfained ceremonies, 2
a Gitterne, ill-played on, accompanied with a hoarce voice
(who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be merie in
spite of Fortune) made them looke the way of the ill-noysed
song. The song was this.

AHatefull cure with hate to heale:
A hlooddy helpe with blood to save:
A foolish thing with fooles to deale:
Let him be bold that bobs will have.
But who by meanes of wisdome hie
Hath sav d his charge? it is even I.

Let other deck their pride with skarres.
And of their wounds make brave lame showes :
First let them die^ then passe the starreSy
When rotten Fame will tell their blowes.

But eye from blade, and eare from crie :

Who hath sav''d all? it is even 1,

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They had soone found it was Dametas, who came with no
lesse lifted up countenance, then if he had passed over the
bellies of all his enemies: so wise a point he thought he had
perfourmed, in using the naturall strength of a cave. But
never was it his dooing to come so soone thence, till the coast
were more assuredly clearer for it was a rule with him, that
after a great storme there ever fell a fewe droppes before it be

"fully finished. But Pamela (who had now experienced how
much care doth sollicite a Lovers hart) used this occasion of
going to her parents and sister, indeed aswel for that cause, as
being unquiet, till her eye might be assured, how her shepheard
had gone through the daunger. But Basilius with the sight of
Pamela (of whom almost his head otherwise occupied, had left
the wonted remembrance) was sodainly striken into a devout
kind of admiration, remembring the oracle, which (according
to the fauning humour of false hope) he interpreted now his
owne to his owne best, and with the willing blindnesse of
aiFeftion (because his minde ran wholly upon Zelmane) he
thought the Gods in their oracles did principally minde her.

3 But as he was deepely thinking of the matter, one of the
shepheards tolde him, that Philanax was already come with a
hundred horse in his company. For having by chaunce rid not
farre of the little desert, he had heard of this uprore, and so
was come upon the spurre (gathering a company of Gentlemen
as fast as he could) to the succour of his Master. Basilius was
glad of it; but (not willing to have him, nor any other of the
Noble men, see his Mistresse) he himselfe went out of the
Lodge, and so giving order unto him of placing garrisons, and
examining these matters; and Philanax with humble earnest-
nesse beginning to entreate him to leave of his solitarie cours^
(which already had bene so daungerous unto him) Well (sa^H
Basilius) it may be ere long I wil codiscend unto your desire?"
In the meane time, take you the best order you can to keepe
me safe in my solitarinesse. But, (said he) doo you remember,
how earnestly you wrote unto me, that I should not be moved
by that Oracles authoritie, which brought me to this resolution?
Full well Sir (answered Philanax) for though it pleased you not
as then to let me knowe, what the Oracles words were, yet all
Oracles holding (in my conceipt) one degree of reputatio, it
suffised me to know, it was but an Oracle, which led you fro

326

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

your owne course. Well (said Basi/ius) I will now tell you the
wordes; which before I thought not good to doo; because
when al the events fall out (as some already have done) I may
charge you with your incredulitie. So he repeated them in
this sorte.

^Hy elder care shall from thy carefull face
By princely meane be stolne^ and yet not lost.
Thy yonger shall with Natures blisse embrace
An uncouth love^ which Nature hateth most.
Both they themselves unto such two shall wed^
Who at thy beer^ as at a barre^ shall plead;
Why thee {a living man) they had made dead.
In thy owne seate a forraine state shall sit.
And ere that all these blowes thy head doo hit.
Thou, with thy wife, adultry shall commit.

For you forsoth (said he) when I told you, that some super-
naturall cause sent me strange visios, which being cofirmed
with presagious chaunces, I had gone to Delphos, Sc there
received this answere : you replied to me, that the onely super-
naturall causes were the humors of my body, which bred such
melancholy dreames; and that both they framed a mind full of
conceipts, apt to make presages of things, which in theselves
were meerly chaungeable: & with all as I say, you remeber
what you wrot unto me, touching authoritie of the Oracle:
but now I have some notable triall of the truth therof, which
herafter I wil more largly comunicate unto you. Only now,
know that the thing I most feared is alredy performed; I mean
that a forraine state should possesse my throne. For that hath
ben done by Zelmane, but not as I feared, to my ruine, but to
my preservatio. But whe he had once named Zelmane, that
name was as good as a pully, to make the clocke of his praises
run on in such sort, that (Philanax found) was more exquisite
then the only admiration of vertue breedeth : which his faithful
hart inwardly repining at, made him shrinke away as soone as
he could, to go about the other matters of importance, which
Basilius had enjoyned unto him.

Basilius returned into the Lodge, thus by him selfe con- 4
struing the oracle, that in that he said, his elder care should by
Princely meane be stolne away from him, and yet not lost, it

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

was now perfourmed, since Zelmane had as it were robd from
him the care of his first begotten childe, yet was it not lost,
since in his harte the ground of it remained. That his younger
should with Natures blisse embrace the love of Zelmane^ because
he had so commaunded her for his sake to doo ; yet shoulde it
be with as much hate of Nature, for being so hatefuU an
opposite to the jealousie hee thought her mother had of him.
The sitting in his seate he deemed by her already perfourmed :
but that which most coforted him, was his interpretation of the
adulterie, which he thought he should commit with Zelmane,
whom afterwards he should have to his wife. The point of
his daughters marriage, because it threatned his death withall,
he determined to prevent, with keeping them unmaried while
he lived. But having as he thought, gotten thus much under-
standing of the Oracle, he determined for three daies after to
perfourme certaine rites to Apollo: and even then began with
his wife and daughters to singe this Hymne, by them yearely
used.

5 A Polio great, whose beames the greater world do light,
X~1l And in our little world do cleare our inward sight.
Which ever shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade,
Whose lights do ever live, but in our darkenesse fade;

Thou God, whose youth was deckt with spoiles of Pythos skin :
"(5(7 humble knowledge can throw downe the snakish kinne)
Latonas sonne, whose birth in paine and travaile long
Doth teach, to learne the good what travailes do belong:
" In travaile of our life [a short but tedious space)
While brickie houreglas runnes, guide thou our panting pace :
Give us foresightfull mindes : give us minds to obaye
What foresight tels; our thoughts upon thy knowledge staye.
Let so our fruites grow up, that nature be maintainde :
But so our hartes keepe downe, with vice they be not stainde.
Let this assured holde our judgements overtake,
" That nothing winnes the heaven, but what doth earth forsake.

6 Assone as he had ended his devotion (all the priviledged
shepheards being now come) knowing well inough he might
lay all his care upon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the
tast of this passed tumult, with some rurall pastimes. For
which while the shepheards prepared themselves in their best
328

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

maner, Basilius tooke his daughter Philoclea aside, and with
such hast, as if his eares hunted for wordes, desired to know-
how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered him,
according to the agreement betwixt them, that thus much for
her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former
resolutio, as to heare him, whesoever he would speake; &
further then that (she said) as Zelmane had not graunted, so she
nether did, nor ever would desire. Basilius kist her with more
then fatherly thanks, and straight (like a hard-kept warde new
come to his lands) would faine have used the benefite of that
graunt, in laying his sicknes before his onely physition. But
Zelmane (that had not yet fully determined with her selfe, how to
beare her selfe toward him) made him in a few words under-
stand, that the time in respedt of the copanie was unfit for
such a parley, & therfore to keep his braines the busier, letting
him understand what she had learned of his daughters, touching
Eronas distresse (whom in her travaile she had knowne, and
bene greatly beholding to) she desired him to finish the rest,
for so far as Plagus had told him; Because she said (& she said
truly) she was full of care for that Ladie, whose desart (onely
except an over-base choise) was nothing agreable to misfortune.
Basilius glad that she would commaund him any thing, but
more glad, that in excusing the unfitnesse of that time, she
argued an intention to graunt a fitter, obeyed her in this
manner.

CHAP. 29.

^Antiphilus his base-borne pride borne high by flatter ie. ^His
unkinde hating the loving Erona, and fond loving of hating
Artaxia. ^ Artaxias trap to take them both. •* The mans
weakenesse, and the womans strength in bearing captivitie.
^ Plangus love to her, employed by her to save Antiphilus,
^who againe betraies himself e and them. ''His execution by
women. « Plangus hardy attempts to save Erona. " The
conditions of her death. ^^ Her sorrow for Antiphilus, ^^ and
Plangus travaile for her: with his crosses, and course therein,

MAdame (said he) it is very true, that since yeares enhabled
me to judge what is, or is not to be pitied, I never
saw anything that more moved me to justifie a vehemet com-

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

passion in my self, then the estate of that Prince, whom strong
against al his owne affli6tions (which yet were great, as I
perceave you have heard) yet true and noble love had so pulled
downe, as to lie under sorrow for another. In so much as I
could not temper my long idle pen in that subject, which
I perceive you have seene. But then to leave that unrepeated,
which I finde my daughters have told you. It may please you
to understad, since it pleaseth you to demaud, that Antiphilus
being crowned, & so left by the famous Princes Musidorus &c
Pyrocles (led thece by the challenge of Jnaxius, who is now in
these provinces of Greece, making a dishonorable enquirie after
that excellent prince Pyrocles alreadie perished) Antiphilus (I say)
being crowned, and delivered from the presence of those two,
whose vertues (while they were present, good schoolmasters)
suppressed his vanities, he had not stregth of mind enough in
him to make long delay, of discovering what maner of man he
was. But streight like one caried up to so hie a place, that he
looseth the discerning of the ground over which he is; so was
his mind lifted so far beyod the levell of his owne discourse,
that remembring only that himselfe was in the high seate of a
King, he coulde not perceive that he was a king of reasonable
creatures, who would quickly scorne follies, and repine at
injuries. But imagining no so true propertie of sovereigntie,
as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoever pleased his fansie,
he quickly made his kingdome a Teniscourt, where his subjects
should be the balles; not in truth cruelly, but licenciously
abusing them, presuming so far upon himselfe, that what he did
was liked of every bodie : nay, that his disgraces were favours,
and all because he was a King. For in Nature not able to
conceyve the bonds of great matters (suddenly borne into an
unknowne Ocean of absolute power) he was swayed withall
(he knewe not howe) as everie winde of passions puffed him.
Whereto nothing helped him better, then that poysonous sugar
of flatterie : which some used, out of the innate basenesse of
their hart, straight like dogges fawning uppon the greatest;
others secretely hating him, and disdayning his great rising so
suddenly, so undeservedly (finding his humour) bent their
exalting him only to his overthrow; like the bird that caries
the shell-fish high, to breake him the easier with his fall. But
his minde (being an apt matter to receive what forme their
330

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

amplifying speeches woulde lay upon it) daunced so prettie a
musicke to their false measure, that he thought himselfe the
wysest, the woorthyest, and best beloved, that ever gave honour
to a royall tytle. And being but obscurely borne, he had
found out unblushing pedegrees, that made him not onely of
the blood royall, but true heyre, unjustly dispossest by Eronas
auncestours. And like the foolish birde, that when it so hides
the heade that it sees not it selfe, thinkes no bodie else sees it :
so did he imagine, that no bodie knew his basenesse, while he
himselfe turned his eyes from it.

Then vainenesse (a meager friend to gratefulnesse) brought 2
him so to despise Erona, as of whom he had received no benefit,
that within halfe a yeeres mariage he began to pretend barren-
nesse : and making first an unlawfull law of having mo wives
then one, he still keeping Erona^ under-had, by message sought
Artaxia^ who no lesse hating him, then loving (as unluckie a
choise) the naughtie King Plexirtus^ yet to bring to passe what
he purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, till
alreadie his imagination had crowned him King of Armenia^ &
had made that, but the foundation of more, and more mon-
archies; as if fortune had only gotte eies to cherish him. In
which time a great assembly of most part of al the Princes of
Asia being to do honour to the never sufficiently praised
Pyrocles & Musldorus, he would be one not to acknowledge his
obligation (which was as great as any of the others,) but looking
to have bene yong master among those great estates, as he was
amog his abusing underlings. But so many valorous Princes,
in-deed farre neerer to disdaine him then otherwise, he was
quickly (as standing upon no true ground, inwardly) out of
countenance with himselfe, till his seldom-cofortlesse flatterers
(perswading him, it was envie & feare of his expected greatnes)
made him hast away fro that company, & without further
delay appointed the meeting with A r taxi a-, so incredibly blinded
with the over-bright shining of his roialty, that he could thinke
such a Queene could be content to be joined-patent with an
other to have such an husband. Poore Erona to all this obeied,
either vehemecy of aiFeftion making her stoop to so overbase a
servitude, or astonished with an unlooked-for fortune, dull to
any behoofeful resolutio, or (as many times it falles out even in
great harts when they can accuse none but theselves) desperatly

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bent to maintaine it. For so went she on in that way of her
love, that (poore Lady) to be beyond all other examples of ill-
set afFe(Slion, she was brought to write to Artaxia^ that she was
content, for the publike good, to be a second wife, and yeeld
the first place to her : nay to extoll him, and even woo Artax'ia
for him.

3 But Artaxia (mortally hating them both for her brothers
sake) was content to hide her hate, til she had time to shewe
it: and pretending that all her grudge was against the two
paragons of vertue, Musidorus & Pyrocles^ even met them halfe
way in excusing her brothers murder, as not being principall
adors; and of the other-side, driven to what they did by the
ever-pardonable necessitie : and so well handled the matter, as,
though she promised nothing, yet Anttphilus promised himselfe
all that she woulde have him thinke. And so a solemne enter-
view was appointed. But (as the Poets say) Hy?nen had not
there his safFron-coloured cote. For Artaxia laying men
secretly (and easily they might be secret, since Anttphilus
thought she overran him in love) when he came even readie to
embrace her, shewing rather a countenaunce of accepting then
offering, they came forth, and (having much advauntage both
in number, valure, and fore-preparation) put all his companie
to the sword; but such as could flie away. As for Antiphilus
she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, hasting
backe toward her brothers tombe, upo which she ment to
sacrifice them ; making the love of her brother stand betwene
her and all other motions of grace, from which by nature she
was alienated.

4 But great diversitie in them two quickely discovered it selfe
for the bearing of that affliftion. For Antiphilus that had no
greatnesse but outwarde, that taken away, was readie to fall
faster then calamitie could thrust him ; with fruitlesse begging ' |
(where reason might well assure him his death was resolved)
and weake bemoning his fortune, to give his enemies a most
pleasing musique, with manie promises, and protestations, to as
little purpose, as from a little minde. But Erona sadde in-
deede, yet like one rather used, then new fallen to sadnesse (as
who had the joyes of her hart alreadie broken) seemed rather to
welcome then to shunne that ende of miserie, speaking little,
but what she spake was for Antiphilus^ remembring his guiltles-

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

nesse, being at that time prisoner to TiridateSj when the vah'ant
princes slue him : to the disgrace of men, shewing that there
are women more wise to judge what is to be expedled, and
more constant to beare it when it is happened.

But her witte endeared by her youth, her afflidlion by her 5
birth, and her sadnesse by her beautie, made this noble prince
P/anguSy who (never almost from his cousin Artaxla) was nowe
present at Eronaes taking, to perceyve the shape of lovelinesse
more perfedlly in wo, then in joyfulnesse (as in a pidlure which
receives greater life by the darkenesse of shadowes, then by
more glittering colours) and seeing to like; and liking to love;
and loving straight to feele the most incident effedls of love, to
serve and preserve. So borne by the hastie tide of short
leysure, he did hastily deliver together his afFedlion, and
affe<5lionate care. But she (as if he had spoken of a small
matter, when he mencioned her life, to which she had not
leisure to attend) desired him if he loved her, to shew it, in
finding some way to save Anttphilus. For her, she found the
world but a wearisom stage unto her, where she played a part
against her will : and therefore besought him, not to cast his
love in so unfruitfull a place, as could not love it selfe: but for
a testimonie of constancie, and a sutablenes to his word, to do
so much comfort to her minde, as that for her sake Antiphilus
were saved. He tolde me how much he argued against her
tendering him, who had so ungratefully betraied her, and
foolishly cast away himselfe. But perceiving she did not only
bend her very goodwits to speake for him against her-selfe, but
when such a cause could be allied to no reaso, yet love would
needs make it-self a cause, & barre her rather fro hearing, then
yeeld that she should yeeld to such arguments : he likewise in
who the power of Love (as they say of spirits) was subjedl to
the love in her, with griefe cosented, & (though backwardly)
was diliget to labor the help of Antiphilus : a man whom he
not onely hated, as a traitour to Erona^ but envied as a
possessor of Erona. Yet Love sware, his hart, in spite of his
hart, should make him become a servant to his rivall. And so
did he, seeking all the meanes of perswading Artaxia^ which
the authority of so neere, and so vertuous a kinsma would give
unto him. But she to whom the eloquence of hatred had
given revenge the face of delight, rejected all such motions;

333

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chiefe
citie, where she kept them with intention at the birth-day of
Tiridates (which was very nere) to execute Antiphilus^ & at the
day of his death (which was about halfe a yeere after) to use
the same rigor towar[ds] Erona. Plangus much grieved (because
much loving) attempted the humors of the Lycians^ to see,
whether they would come in with forces to succor their
Princesse. But there the next inheritor to the crowne (with
the true play that is used in the game of kingdos) had no
sooner his mistres in captivity, but he had usurped her place, &
making her odious to her people, because of the unfit eledtio
she had made, had so left no hope there : but which is worse,
had sent to Artaxia^ perswading the justicing her, because that
unjustice might give his title the name of justice. Wating
that way, Plangus practised with some deere friends of his, to
save Antiphtlus out of prison, whose day because it was much
neerer then Eronaes, & that he wel found, she had twisted her
life upo the same threed with his, he determined first to get
him out of prison : & to that end having prepared al matters as
wel as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of
Tiridates old servants to have well-marking eyes, he coferred
with Antiphilus^ as (by the audlhoritie he had) he found meanes
to do; & agreed with him of the time and maner, how he
should by the death of some of his jaylors escape.
6 But all being well ordered, and Plangus willinglie putting
himselfe into the greatest danger, Antiphilus (who, like a
bladder, sweld redie to breake, while it was full of the winde
of prosp^ritie, that being out, was so abjedled, as apt to be
trode on by every bodie) when it came to the point, that with
some hazard, he might be in apparant likelihoode to avoide the
uttermost harm, his harte fainted, and (weake foole, neither
hoping, nor fearing as he should) gat a conceite, that with -
bewraying his practise, he might obtaine pardon : and there-
fore, even a little before Plangus should have come unto him,
opened the whole practise to him that had the charge, with '
unpittyed teares idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxias
commaundement, then against her will escape : yet begging
life upon any the hardest, and wretchedest conditions that she
woulde lay upon him. His keeper provided accordingly, so
that when Plangus came, he was like, himself to have bene

334

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

entrappud : but that finding (with a luckie in-sight) that it was
discovered, he retired; and (calling his friendes about him)
stood upon his guard, as he had good cause. For, Artaxia
(accounting him most ungrateful considering that her brother
and she, had not onely preserved him against the malice of his
father, but ever used him much liker his birth, then his fortune)
sent forces to apprehend him. But he among the martiall men
had gotten so great love, that he could not onely keepe himself
from the malice, but worke in their mindes a compassion of
Eronas adversitie.

But for the succour oi Antiphilus he could gette no bodie to 7
joyne with him, the contempt of him having not bene able to
qualifie the hatred ; so that Artaxia might easilie upon him
perfourme her will; which was (at humble suite of all the
women of that citie) to deliver him to their censure, who
mortally hating him for having made a lawe of Polygamie^ after
many tortures, forste him to throwe himselfe from a high
Pyramis, which was built over Tiridates tombe, and so to end
his fallse-harted life, which had planted no strong thought in
him, but that he could be unkinde.

But P/angus well perceiving that Artaxia staled onely for 8
the appointed day, that the faire Eronas bodie, (consumed to
ashes) should make a notorious testimonie, how deepely her
brothers death was engraven in her brest, he assembled good
numbers of friendes, who his vertue (though a stranger) had tied
unto him, by force to give her libertie. Contrariwise, Artaxia^
to whom Anger gave more courage then her sexe did feare,
used her regall authoritie (the most she could) to suppresse that
sedition, and have her will : which (she thought) is the most
princely thing that may be. But Plangusy who indeede (as all
men witnes) is one of the best captains (both for policie and
valour) that are trained in the schoole of Marsy in a conflict
overthrew Artaxias power, though of far greater number : and
there toke prisoner a base sonne of her brothers, whom she
deerly afFedted, & then sent her word that he should run the
same race of fortune (whatsoever it was) that Erona did: &
happy was that threatning for her ; for els Artaxia had hastened
the day of her death, in respe(5te of those tumults.

But now (some principal noble-me of that countrie inter- 9
posing theselves) it was agreed, that all persons els fullie

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

pardoned, and all prisoners (except Erona) delivered, she should
be put into the hands of a principall nobleman, who had a
castle of great strength, upon oath, that if by the day two
yeare fro Ttridates death, Pyrocles and Musidorus did not in
person combat, & overcome two knights, who she appointed to
maintain her quarrell against Erona and them, of having by
treason destroyed her brother, that the Erona should be that
same day burned to ashes: but if they came, and had the
vidlorie, she should be delivered ; but upon no occasion, neither
freed, nor executed, till that day. And hereto of both sides, all
toke solemne oath, and so the peace was concluded ; they of
Plangus partie forcing him to agree, though he himselfe the
sooner condiscended, knowing the courtesie of those two
excellent Princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrell, and their
power such, as two more (like the other two) were not able to
resist. But Artaxia was more, and upon better ground, pleased
with this adtion; for she had even newly received newes fro
P/exirtuSy that upon the sea he had caused them both to perish,
and therefore she held her selfe sure of the match.

10 But poore Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing
his partie (as most times it falles out in like case) hungry of
conditions of peace, accepted them; & then obteined leave of
the Lord, that indifferently kept her, to visite Erona^ whom he
founde full of desperate sorowe, not suffering, neither his un-
woorthinesse, nor his wronges, nor his death (which is the
naturall conclusion of all worldly a6ls) either to cover with
forgetfulnes, or diminish with consideration, the affection she
had borne him : but even glorying in affliftion, and shunning
all comforte, she seemed to have no delight, but in making her
selfe the picture of miserie. So that when Plangus came to
her, she fell in deadlie traunces, as if in him she had seene the
death of Antiphilus^ because he had not succoured him : and
yet (her vertue striving) she did at one time acknowledge her
selfe bound, and professe her selfe injured ; in steede of allowing
the conclusion they had made, or writing to the Princes (as he
wisht her to doo) craving nothing but some speedie death tqfl
followe, her (in spite of just hate) beloved Antiphilus. 9

11 So that Plangus having nothing but a ravisht kisse from her ■
hande at their parting, went away towarde Greece^ whether-
ward he understoode the Princes were embarked. But by the

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

way it was his fortune to intercept letters, written by Artaxia
to Plexirtus: wherein she signified her accepting him to her
husband, whom she had ever favoured, so much the rather, as
he had perfourmed the conditions of her mariage, in bringing
to their deserved end, her greatest enemies: withall, thanking
the sea, in such tearmes, as he might well perceive, it was by
some treason wrought in Plexirtus shippe. Whereupon (to
make more diligent search) he tooke shippe himselfe, and came
into Laconia^ enquiring, and by his enquirie finding, that such
a shippe was indeede with fight, and fire, perished, none
(almost) escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorusy it was
assuredly determined that they were cast away : for the name
of such Princes (especially in Greece) would quickly els have
bene a large witnesse to the contrarie. Full of griefe with
that, for the losse of such, who left the world poor of per-
fection : but more sorie for Eronas sake, who now by them
could not be relieved. A new advertisement from Armenia
overtooke him, which multiplied the force of his anguish. It
was a message from the Nobleman who had Erona in ward,
giving him to understad, that since his departure, Artaxia
(using the benefite of time) had besieged him in his castell,
demaunding present delivery of her, whom yet for his faith
given, he would not, before the day appointed, if possibly he
could resist, which he foresaw, log he should not do for want
of vidluall, which he had not so wisely provided, because he
trusted upon the generall oth taken for two yeares space: &
therfore willed him to make hast to his succour, & come with
no small forces ; for all they that were of his side in Armenia^
were consumed, & Artaxia had encreased her might by mariage
of Plexirtus^ who now crowned King there, stickt not to glory
in the murder oi Pyrocles and Musidorus^ as having just cause
thereto, in respedl of the deaths of his sister Andromana^ her
Sonne his nephew, and his own daughter Zelmane^ all whose
losse he unjustly charged them withal, & now openly stickt
not to cofesse, what a revenge his wit had brought forth.
Plangus much astonished herewith, bethought himselfe what to
doo. For to returne to Armenia was vaine, since his friends
there were utterly overthrowne. The thought he of going to
his father; but he had already (even since the death of his
stepmother, & brother) attempted the recovering his favour, &

s. A. Y 337

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

all in vaine. For they, that had before joined with Andromana
to do him the wrong, thought now no life for the if he returned,
h therfore kept him stil (with new forged suspicions) odious to
his father. So that Plangus reserving that for a worke of
longer time, then the saving of Erona could beare, determined
to go to the mighty and good King Euarchus : who lately
having (to his eternall fame) fully, not onely conquered his
enimies, but established good government in their countries, he
hoped he might have present succour of him, both for the
justnes of the cause, & revenge of his childrens death, by so
hainous a treason murthered. Therefore with diligence he
went to him; & by the way (passing through my country) it
was my hap to find him, the most overthrowne ma with griefe,
that ever I hope to see againe. For stil it seemed he had
Erona at a stake before his eies ; such an apprehension he had
taken of her daunger; which m despite of all the comfort I
could give him, he poured out in such lamentations, that I was
moved not to let him passe, till he had made full declaration,
which by peeces my daughters & I have delivered unto you.
Fayne he would have had succour of my selfe, but the course
of my life being otherwise bent, I onely accompanied him with
some that might safely guide him to the great Euarchus : for
my parte having had some of his speeches so feelingly in my
memory, that at an idle time (as I tolde you) I set them downe
Dialogue-wise, in such manner as you have seene. And thus,
excellent Ladie, I have obeyed you in this storie; wherein if it
well please you to consider, what is the straunge power of
Love, and what is due to his authoritie, you shall exercise
therein the true noblenesse of your judgement, and doo the
more right to the unfortunate Historian. Ze/mane (sighing for
Eronaes sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she assured her
selfe, Euarchus would not spare to take in hande the just
delivering of her, joyned with the just revenge of his childrens
losse) having now what she desired of Basilius^ to avoide his
further discourses of affe6lion, encouraged the shepheards to '
begin, whom she saw all ready for them.

338

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

The second Eclogues.

THe rude tumulte of the Enispians gave occasion to the
honest shepheards to beginne their pastorals this day
with a dauce, which they called the skirmish betwixt Reason
and Passion. For seven shepheards (which were named the
Reasonable shepheards) joined theselves; foure of them making
a square, and the other two going a litle wide of either side,
like winges for the maine battell; and the seventh man for-
most, like the forlorne hope to begin the skirmish. In like
order came out the seven appassionated shepheards; all keeping
the pase of their foote by their voice, and sundry consorted
instrumets they held in their armes. And first, the formost of
Reasonable side began to sing.

R. Thou Rehell viky come^ to thy master yelde.

And the other that met with him answered.

P. Noy Tyranty no : mine^ mine shall be the fielde.

Reason. Can Reason then a Tyraunt counted be ?

Passion. If Reason will^ that Passions be not free.

R. But Reason will^ that Reason governe most.

P. And Passion willy that Passion rule the rost.

R. Tour will is will ; but Reason reason is.

P. JVill hath his willy when Reasons will doth misse.

R. Whom Passion leades unto his death is bent.

P. And let him diey so that he die content.

R. By nature you to Reason faith have sworne.

P, Not sOy but fellow like together borne.

R. Who Passion doth ensuey lives in annoy.

P. Who Passion doth forsakey lives void of joy.

R. Passion is blindey and treades an unknowne trace.

P. Reason hath eyes to see his owne ill case.

Then as they approched neerer, the two of Reasons sides, as

if they shot at the other, thus sange.

R. Dare Passions then abide in Reasons light?

P. And is not Reason dimde with Passions might?

R. O foolish thingy which glory doth destroye.

P. 0 glorious title of a foolish toye.

R. Weakenes you arey dare you with our strength fight?

P. Because our weaknes weakeneth all your might.

^^ 339

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

R. 0 sacred Reason, heipe our vertuous toiles.

P. O Passion, passe on feeble Reasons spoiles.

R. We with ourselves abide a daily strife.

P. We gladly use the sweetnes of our life.

R. But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breede.

P. We now have peace^ your peace we doo not neede.

Then did the two square battailes meete, & in steed of
fighting embrace one another, singing thus.

R. We are too strong: but Reason seekes no blood.

P. Who be too weake^ do feigne they be too good.

R. Though we cannot orecome^ our cause is just.

P. Let us orecome^ and let us be unjust.

R. Tet Passion, yeeld at length to Reasons stroke.

P. What shall we winne by taking Reasons yoke?

R. The joyes you have shall be made permanent.

P. But so we shall with griefe learne to repent.

R. Repent indeed^ but that shall be your blisse.

P. How know we that^ since present joyes we misse?

R. You know it not : of Reason therefore know it.

P. No Reason yet had ever skill to show it.

R. P. Then let us both to heavenly rules give place^

Which Passions skilly and Reason do deface.

THen embraced they one another, and came to the King,*!
who framed his praises of the according to Zelmanes
liking; whose unrestrained parts, the minde & eie, had their
free course to the delicate Philoclea, whose looke was not short
in well requiting it, although she knew it was a hatefull sight
to her jealous mother. But Dicus (that had in this time taken
a great liking of Dorus for the good partes he found above his
age in him) had a delight to taste the fruites of his wit, though
in a subjedl which he him selfe most of all other despised: and
so entred to speach with him in the manner of this following
Eclogue.

Dicus. Dorus.

Dicus. T~\Orus, tell me^ where is thy wonted motion

JLy To make these woods resounde thy lamentation ?
Thy sainte is dead^ or dead is thy devotion.

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

For who doth holds his love in estimation,
To witnes, that he thinkes his thoughts delicious,
Thinks to make ech thing badge of his sweet passion.

But what doth make thee Dicus so suspicious Dorus.

Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable ?
Who others vertue doubt, themselves are vicious.

Not so; although my mettall were most mutable,
Her beames have wrought therin most faire impression :
To such a force some chaunge were nothing sutable.

The harte well set doth never shunne confession: Dicus.

If noble be thy bandes, make them notorious:
Silence doth seeme the maske of base oppression.

Who glories in his love, doth make Love glorious :
But who doth feare, or bideth muet wilfully,
Showes, guilty harte doth deeme his state opprobrious.

Thou then, that framste both words &' voice most skilfully,
Teeld to our eares a sweet and sound relation.
If Love tooke thee by force, or caught thee guilefully.

If Sunnie beames shame heav'nly habitation ; Dorus,

If three-leaved grasse seeme to the sheepe unsavorie.
Then base and sower is Loves most high vocation.

Or if sheepes cries can helpe the Sunnes owne braverie.
Then may I hope, my pipe may have abilitie.
To helpe her praise, who decks me in her slaverie.

No, no : no wordes ennoble selfe-nobilitie.
As for your doubts -, her voice was it deceaved me.
Her eye the force beyond all possibilitie.

Thy words well voiced, well gra^ste had almost heaved me Dicus.
Quite from my selfe to love Loves contemplation ;
Till of these thoughts thy sodaine ende bereaved me.

Goe on therefore, and tell us, by what fashion
In thy owne proofe he gets so straunge possession.
And how possest he strengthens his invasion?

Sight is his roote, in thought is his progression^ Dorus.

His childhood woonder, prenticeship attention.
His youth delight, his age the soules oppression :

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Doubte is his sleepe^ he waketh in invention \
Fancie his foode^ his clothing is of carefulnes \
Beautie his boote^ his play lovers dissention:

His eyes are curious search, but vailde with warefulnesse :
His wings desire oft dipt with desperation:
Largesse his hands could never skill of sparefulnesse.

But how he doth by might, or by persuasion
To conquere, and his conquest how to ratifie.
Experience doubts, and schooles holde disputation,
Dicui. But so thy sheepe may thy good wishes satisfie
With large encrease, and wooll of fine perfeSfion^
So she thy love, her eyes thy eyes may gratife.

As thou wilt give our soules a deare refeSiion,
By telling how she was, how now she framed is
To helpe, or hurt in thee her owne infection,

Dorus. Blest be the name, wherewith my mistres named is:

Whose wounds are salves, whose yokes please more then pleasure doth*.
Her Staines are beames ; vertue the fault she blamed is.

The hart, eye, eare here onely find his treasure doth :
All numbring artes her endlesse graces number not:
Time, place, life, wit scarcely her rare gifts measure doth.

Is she in rage? so is the Sunne in sommer hot.
Yet harvest brings. Doth she alas absent her self e?
The Sunne is hid; his kindly shadows cumber not.

But when to give some grace she doth content herselfe,
O then it shines; then are the heavens distributed.
And Venus seemes, to make up her, she spent herselfe.

Thus then (I say) my mischief es have contributed
A greater good by her divine refleSiion;
My harmes to me, my blisse to her attributed.

Thus she is framde : her eyes are my direSfion ;
Her love my life; her anger my destruSiion.
Lastly what so she is, that*s my prote^ion.

Dicus. Thy safetie sure is wrapped in destru6iion:

For that construction thine owne wordes do beare,

A man to feare a womans moodie eye.

Makes Reason lie a slave to servile Sense.

A weake defence where weakenesse is thy force :

So is remorse in follie dearely bought.

342

ARCADIA. LIB. 2,

If I had thought to heare blasphemous worries.
My brest to swords, my soule to hell have solde
I rather would, then thus mine eares defile
With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed.
O heards take heed; for I a woolfe have found;
Who hunting round the strongest for to kill.
His breast doth fill with earth of others joyes.
And loden so puis downe, puld downe destroyes.
0 sheepheards boyes, eschue these tongues of venome,
Which do envenome both the soule and senses.
Our best defenses are to flie these adders.
0 tongues like ladders made to clime dishonour.
Who judge that honour, which hath scope to slander.

Dorus you wander farre in great reproches ;
So love encroches on your charmed reason.
But it is season for to end our singing.
Such anger bringing : as for me, my fancie

In sicke-mans frenzie rather takes compassion.
Then rage for rage : rather my wish I send to thee.
Thou soone may have some helpe, or change of passion.

She oft her lookes, the starres her favour bend to thee .
Fortune store. Nature health. Love grant perswasion.

A quiet mind none but thy selfe can lend to thee.
Thus I commend to thee all our former love.

Well do I prove, errour lies oft in %eale.
Yet it is seale, though errour, of true hart.
Nought could impart such heates to friendly mind.
But for to find thy words did her disgrace.
Whose onely face the little heaven is.

Which who doth misse his eyes are but delusions.
Barred from their chiefest objeh of delight fulnesse,
Throwne on this earth the Chaos of confusions.

As for thy wish to my enraged spitefulnesse.
The lovely blowne with rare reward, my prayer is
Thou mayest love her that I may see thy sightfulnesse.

The quiet mind {whereof my selfe empairer is.
As thou doest thinke) should most of all disquiet me
Without her love, then any mind who fairer is.

Her onely cure from surfet-woes can diet me :

Dorus.

Dicus.

Dorus.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

She holdes the ballance of my contentation :

Her cleared eyes^ nought els, in stormes can quiet me.

Nay rather then my ease discontentation
Should breed to her^ let me for aye dejeSfed be
From any joy^ which might her griefe occasion.

With so sweete plagues my happie harmes infeSfed be:
Paine willes me die, yet will of death I mortifie :
For though life irkes, in life my loves protected be.

Thus for ech change my changelesse hart I fortifie.

WHen they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants,
especially of Zelmane, who never forgat to give due
comedations to her friend Dorus, the more to advance him in
his pursute (although therein he had brought his matters to a
more wished conclusion then yet she knew of) out starte a
jolly yonker, his name was Nico, whose tongue had borne a
very itching silence all this while. And having spied one Pas^
a mate of his, as mad as himselfe (both indeed lads to clime any
tree in the world) he bestowed this maner of salutation upon
him, and was with like reverence requited.

Nico. Dorus.

Nico. \Nd are you there old Pasr" in troth I ever thought,

X3L Among us all we should find out some thing of nought.

Pas. And I am here the same, so mote I thrive and thee,
Despairde in all this flocke to find a knave, but thee.

Nico. Ah now I see, why thou art in thy selfe so blind:

Thy gray- hood hides the thing, that thou despair st to find.

Pas. My gray-hood is mine owne, all be it be but gray.

Not like the scrippe thou stol'ste, while Dorcas sleeping lay.

Nico. Mine was the scrippe: but thou, that seeming raid with love,
Didst snatch from Cosmas hand her greeny wroughfe glove.

Pas. Ah joole ; so Courtiers do. But who did lively skippe.
When for a treene-dish stolne, thy father did thee whippe ?

Nico. In deed the witch thy dam her crouch from shoulder spred.
For pi If ring Lalus lambe, with crouch to blesse thy head.

344

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

My voice the lamhe did winne^ Menalcas was our judge : Pas.
Of singing match was made^ whence he with shame did trudge.

Couldst thou make Lalus Jlie F so nightingales avoide, Nico.

^hen with the kawing crowes their musicke is annoide.

Nay like to nightingales the other birds give eare: Pas.

My pipe and song made him both pipe and song forsweare.

I thinke it well: such voice would make one musicke hate: Nico.
But if I had bene there^ tFadst met another mate.

Another sure as is a gander from a goose : Pas.

But still when thou dost sing^ me thinkes a colt is loose.

Well aimed by my hat : for as thou sangst last day ; Nico.

The neighbours all did crie, alas what asse doth bray?

But here is Dicus old\ let him then speake the woord, Pas.

To whether with best cause the Nymphes faire flowers affoord.

Content: but I will lay a wager hereunto^ Nico.

That profit may ensue to him that best can do.
I have {and long shall have) a white great nimble cat^
A king upon a mouse^ a strong foe to the rat.
Fine eareSy long taile he hath, with Lions curbed clawe,
Which oft he lifteth up, and stayes his lifted pawe,
Deepe musing to himselfe, which after-mewing showes.
Till with lickt beard, his eye of fire espie his foes.
If thou [alas poore if) do winne, then winne thou this.
And if I better sing, let me thy Cosma kisse.

Kisse her? now mayst thou kisse. I have a better match'. Pas.
A prettie curre it is ', his name iwis is Catch,
No eare nor taile he hath, least they should him disgrace,
A ruddie haire his cote, with fine long speSfled face :
He never musing standes, but with himselfe will play
Leaping at every flie, and angrie with a flea :
He eft would kill a mouse, but he disdaines to fight.
And makes our home good sport with dauncing bolt upright.
This is my pawne ; the price let Dicus judgement show :
Such oddes I willing lay, for him and you I know.

Sing then my lads, but sing with better vaine then yet, Dicus.

Or else who singeth worst, my skill will hardly hit.

345

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Nico. Who doubts but Pas fine pipe againe will bring

The auncient prayse to Arcad shepheards skill?
Pan is not dead, since Pas beginnes to sing.

Pas. Who evermore will love Apollos quill.

Since Nico doth to sing so widely gape?
Nico his place farre better furnish will.

Nico. Was not this he, who did for Syrinx scape

Raging in woes teach pastors first to plaine ?
Do you not heare his voice, and see his shape ?

Pas. This is not he that failed her to gaine.

Which made a Bay, made Bay a holy tree:
But this is one that doth his musicke staine.

Nico. O Faunes, 0 Fairies all, and do you see.

And suffer such a wrong? a wrong I trowe.
That Nico must with Pas compared be?

Pas. O Nymphes, I tell you newes, for Pas you knowe :

While I was warbling out your woonted praise,
Nico would needes with Pas his bagpipe blowe.

Nico. If never I did faile your holy-dayes.

With daunces, carols, or with barlybreake :
Let Pas now know, how Nico makes the layes.

Pas. If each day hath bene holy for your sake.

Unto my pipe, O Nimphes, helpe now my pipe.
For Pas well knowes what layes can Nico make.

Nice. Alas how oft I looke on cherries ripe.

Me thinkes I see the lippes my Leuca hath.
And wanting her, my weeping eyes I wipe.

Pas. Alas, when I in spring meete roses rathe.

And thinke from Cosmas sweet red lips I live,
I leave mine eyes unwipte my cheekes to bathe.

Nico. As I of late, neer bushes usde my sive,

I spied a thrush where she did make her nest.
That will I take, and to my Leuca give.

Pas- But long have I a sparrow gailie drest.

As white as milke, and comming to the call.
To put it with my hand in Cosmas brest.

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

/ oft doo sue^ and Leuca saithy I shall^ Nicd.

But when I did come neere with heate and hope^
She ranne away, and threw at me a ball.

Cosma once said, she left the wicket ope. Pas.

For me to come, and so she did: I came.
But in the place found nothing but a rope.

When Leuca dooth appeare, the Sunne for shame Nico.

Dooth hide himself e : for to himself e he sayes.
If Leuca live, she darken will my fame.

When Cosma doth come forth, the Sun displaies Pas.

His utmost light : for well his witte doth know,
Cosmas faire beames emblemish much his raies.

Leuca to me did yester-morning showe Nico.

In perfect light, which could not me deceave.
Her naked legge, more white then whitest snowe.

But yesternight by light I did receave Pas.

From Cosmas eyes, which full in darkenes shine,
1 sawe her arme, where purest Lillies cleave.

She once starke nak'd did bathe a little tine; Nico.

But still [me thought) with beauties from her fell.
She did the waters wash, and make more fine.

She once, to coole her selfe, stood in a well, ^ Pas.

But ever since that well is well besought.
And for Rose-water sould of rarest smell.

To rivers banke, being on walking brought, Nico.

She bad me spie her babie in the brooke,
Alas {said I) this babe dooth nurce my thought.

As in a glasse I held she once did looke. Pas.

/ said, my hands well paide her for mine eyes.
Since in my hands selfe goodly sight she tooke.

O if I had a ladder for the skies, Nico.

/ would climbe up, and bring a prettie starre^
To weare upon her neck, that open lies,

O if I had ApoUos golden carre. Pas.

/ would come downe, and yeeld to her my place.
That (shining now) she then might shine more farre.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Nothing (O Leuca) shall thy fame deface.^
While shepheards tunes be heard^ or rimes be ready
Or while that shepheards love a lovely face.

Thy name (0 Cosma) shall with praise be spread^
As farre as any shepheards piping be :
As farre as Love possesseth any head.

Thy monument is layd in many a treey
With name engraved: so though thy bodie die.
The after-folkes shall wonder still at thee.

So oft these woods have heard me Cosma cr/V,
That after death^ to heaven in woods resound^
With Echoes help^ shall Cosma, Cosma fie.

Peace^ peace good Pas, thou weeriest even the ground
With sluttish song: I pray thee learne to blea.
For good thou mayst yet proove in sheepish sound.

My father hath at home a prettie Jay^

Goe winne of him [for chattering) praise or shame:

For so yet of a conquest speake thou may.

Tell me [and be my Pan) the monsters name^
That hath foure legs^ and with two onely goes^
That hath foure eyes^ and onely two can frame.

Tell me [and Phoebus be) what monster growes
With so strong lives, that bodie cannot rest
In ease, untill that bodie life forgoes.

Enough, enough: so ill hath done the best.
That since the having them to neither^ due.
Let cat and dog fight which shall have both you.

SOme speech there streight grew among the hearers, wha
they should meane by the riddles of the two monstei
But Zelmane, whose harte better delighted in wailefuU dittic
as more according to her fortune, she desired Lamon, he woi
againe repeatesome other lamentation of the still-absent Strepi
and Klaius. Basilius (as soone as he understood Zelmani
pleasure) commaunded Lamon upon paine of his life (as thougl
every thing were a matter of life and death, that pertained
his mistresse service) immediately to sing it: who with grc

348

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

cunning, varying his voice according to the diversitie of the
persons, began this Dizaine, answered in that kinde of verse,
which is called the Crowne.

Strephon. Klaius.

Joye in griefe^ and doo detest all joyes : Strephon.

Despise delight^ and tyrde with thought of ease
I turne my minde to all formes of annoyes^
And with the chaunge of them my fancie please,
I studie that which may me most displease^
And in despite of that displeasures might.
Embrace that most, that most my soule destroyes.
Blinded with beames, fell darkenes is my sight :
Dole on my ruine feedes, with sucking smarte,
I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte.

I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte, Klaius.

And loth this time, calld life, nay thinke, that life
Nature to me for torment did emparte ;
Thinke, my harde haps have blunted deaths sharpe knife.
Not sparing me, in whom his workes be rife :
And thinking this, thinke Nature, Life, and Death
Place Sorrowes triumph on my conquered brest :
IVhereto I yeeld, and seeke none other breath.
But from the sent of some infectious grave :
Nor of my fortune ought, but mischieve crave.

Nor of my fortune ought but mischiefe crave, Strephon.

And seeke to nourish that, which now contaynes
All what I am: if I my selfe will save.
Then must I save, what in me chiefly raignes.
Which is the hatefull web of Sorowes paines.
Sorow then cherish me, for I am sorowe :
No being now, but sorowe I can have:
Then decke me as thine owne; thy helpe I borowe,
Since thou my riches arte, and that thou haste
Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste.

Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste Klaius.

Is that huge storme, which powres it selfe on me:
Hailestones of teares, of sighes a monstrous blast,

349

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Thunders of cries ; lightnings my wilde lookes be^
The darkened hea'u'n my soule which nought can see\
The flying sprites which trees by rootes up teare
Be those despaires^ which have my hopes quite wast.
The diffrence is ; all folkes those stormes forbear e :
But I cannot \ who then my selfe should flie
So close unto my selfe my wrackes doo lie.

So close unto my selfe my wrackes doo lie;
Both cause^ effeSf^ beginning^ and the ende
Are all in me : what helpe then can I trie ?
My ship^ my selfe; whose course to love doth bende^
Sore beaten doth her mast of Comforte spende :
Her cable. Reason, breakes from anchor, Hope :
Fancie, her tackling, tome away doth flie:
Ruine, the winde, hath blowne her from her scope :
Brused with waves of Cares, but broken is
On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse.

On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse
I long doo plowe with plough of deepe Desire :
The seed Fast-meaning is, no truth to misse :
1 harowe it with Thoughts, which all conspire
Favour to make my chiefs and onely hire.
But, woe is me, the yeare is gone about.
And now I faine would reape, I reape but thisy
Hate fully growne. Absence new sprongen out.
So that I see, although my sight empaire,
Faine is their paine, who labour in Despaire.

Faine is their paine, who labour in Despaire.
For so did I, when with my angle. Will,
/ sought to catch the flsh Torpedo faire.
Ev'n then Despaire did Hope already kill:
Yet Fancie would perforce employ his skill,
And this hath got; the catcher now is caught,
Lamde with the angle, which it selfe did beare.
And unto death, quite drownde in Dolours, brought
To death, as then disguisde in her faire face.
Thus, thus I had, alas, my losse in chase.

350

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

'hus^ thus I had^ alas^ my losse in chase^ Klaius

JVhen first that crowned Basiliske / knewe^
Whose footesteps I with kisses oft did trace^
Till by such hap, as I must ever rewe.
Mine eyes did light upon her shining hewe,
And hers on me, astonisht with that sight.
Since then my harte did loose his wonted place,
InfeSfed so with her sweet poysons might.
That, leaving me for dead, to her it went :
But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent.

ut ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent, Strephon.

Her flight from me, from me, though dead to me,
Tet living still in her, while her beames lent
Such vitall sparke, that her mine eyes might see.
But now those living lights absented be.
Full dead before, I now to dust should fall.
But that eternall paines my soule should hent.
And keepe it still within this body thrall:
That thus I must, while in this death I dwell.
In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell.

'■ earthly fetters feele a lasting hell Klaius.

Alas I doo\ from which to finde release,
I would the earth, I would the heavens fell.
But vaine it is to thinke these paines should cease.
Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace.

0 faire, t onely faire, from thee, alas.
These foule, most foule, distresses to me fell \
Since thou from me [o me) o Sunne didst passe.
Therefore esteeming all good blessings toyes

1 joy in griefe, and doo detest all joyes.

joye in griefe, and doo detest all joyes. Strephon

And now an ende, (o Claius) now an ende

For even the hearbes our mournefull musique stroyes.

And from our burning breath the trees doo bende.

) wel did Lamons voice expresse the passios of those

shepheards, that all the Princely beholders were striken

silent cosideration of them ; indeed every one making, that

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

he heard of another the balace of his own troubles. And
Basilius perceiving such melancholique musique best consorted
to the humor of his mistresse, entreated againe the young
melancholy shepheard, that he would emparte some part of
the sorow his coutenaunce so well witnessed unto them.
Which he in parte to satisfie, began an Eclogue betwixt
himself and the Echo : framing his voice in those deserte places,
as what words he would have the Echo replie, unto those he
would singe higher then the rest, and so kindly framed a
disputation betwixt himselfe and it. Which with these Hexa-
meters in the following order he uttered. |

Echa

FAire rocks^ goodly riversy sweet woods^ when shall I see peace ? Peace.
Peace ? who debars me my tongue ? who is it that comes me so

nie ? I.

0 I doo know what guest I doo meete : it is Echo. T'is Ech(

Pf^ell mett Echo ; aproch, and tell me thy will too. I nvill m

Echo, what doo I get yeelding my sprite to my grieves P Grievei.

What medicine may I finde for a paine that drawes me to death? Death.
O poisonous medicine : what worse to me can be then it P It.

In what state was I then^ when I tooke this deadly disease ? Ease.

And what maner a minde, which had to that humor a vaine ? Vaine.

Hath not reason enough vehemence the desire to reprove ? Prove.

Oft prove I : hut what salve^ when Reason seeks to be gone?. One.

0 what is it ? what is it, that may be a salve to my love ? Ltnr

What doo lovers seeke for^ long seeking for i* enjoye ? Joy

What be the joyes^ for which t* enjoye they went to the paines ? Paifus.

Then to an earnest love what doth best viSforie lende ? Ende.

Ende ? but I can never ende : Love will not give me the leave. Leave.
How be the mindes disposdey that cannot taste the Physicke ? Sicke.

Tet say againe th"* advice for th'ils that I tolde thee. I told tkti

Doth thUnfeSfed wretch of his ill tFextremitie know ? No.

But if he know not his harmeSy what guids hath he whilst he be

blind? Blinde.

What blinde guides can he have that leades to a fancie? A fanat.

Can fancies wante eyes ? or he fall that steppeth aloft? Oft.

What causes first made these torments on me to light ? Light.

Can then a cause be so light y that for ceth a man to goe die ? 1.

Yet telly what light thing 1 had in me to drawe me to die ? Eye.

Eie-sight made me to yeeld : but what first pearst to my eyes ? Eyes.

352

ARCADIA. LIB. 2.

Eyes hurters ? eyes hurte? hut what from them to me falls f Falls.

But when I first did fall, what brought most fall to my harte ? Arte.
Arte ? what can be that arte, which thou doost meane by thy speach? Speach.
What be the fruites of speaking arte, what growes by the wordes? Wordes.
O much more then wordes : those wordes served more me to blesse. Lesse.
O when shall I be knowne, where most to be known I doo long ? Longe.
Long be thy woes for such bad newes : how recks she my thoughts P Oughts.
Then, then what doo I gayne, since unf her will I doo winde ? Winde.
Winde, tempests, and stormes : yet in ende what gives she desire ? ire.
Silly rewarde: yet above women hath she a title. A tittle.

IVhat great name may I give to so heavenly a woman ? Anvo-man.

Woe, but seems to me joy e, that agrees to my thought so. 1 thought io.

Thinke so: for of my desired blisse it is onely the course. Course.

Curst be thy self e for cursing that, which leades me to joyes. Toyes.

What be the sweete creatures where lowly demaundes be not harde f Harde.
Harde to be gott, but got constant, to be helde very steeles. Eeles.

How be they helde unkinde ? speake, for th' hast narrowly prfde. Pride.
How can pride come there since springs of beaut ie be thence ? 'Thence.

Horrible is this blasphemie unto the most holie. O lye.

Thou It* St, false Echo ; their mindes, as vertue, be juste. Juste.

Mockst thou those Diamonds, which onely be matcht by the Godds ? Odds.
Odds ? what an odds is there, since them to the heavens I preferre ? Erre.
Tell yet againe, how name ye the goodly made evill ? A de^ill.

Devill ? in hell where such Devill is, to that hell I doo goe. Goe.

AFter this well placed Echo, the other shepheards were
ofFring themselves to have continued the sports: But
the night had so quietly spent most part of her selfe, that the
King for that time licensed them : & so bringing Zelmane to
her lodging, who would much rather have done the same for
Philoclea, of all sides they went to counterfait a sleep in their
beds, for a true one their agonies could not afoord them. Yet
there lay they (for so might they be most solitarie) for the
foode of their thoughts, till it was neere noone the next day.
After which Basilius was to continue his Apollo devotions, and
the other to meditate upon their private desires.

The end of the second Booke.
s. A. z 353

THE THIRDE BOOKE

OF THE COUNTESSE OF
PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

CHAP. I.

Dorxis-his ^faire and ^foule weather in his love. ^ His forlorne
agonies. ^ His doubts to write^ ^ and Pamelaes to reade^
^ his elegie.

I 'nr^His last dayes daunger, having made Pamelaes love discerne,
X what a losse it should have suffered, if Dorus had bene
destroyed, bredde such tendernesse of kindnes in her toward
him: that she coulde no longer keepe Love from looking
through her eyes, and going forth in her words ; whom before
as a close prisoner she had to her hart onely committed ; so as
finding not only by his speeches & letters, but by the pitiful!
oratio of a languishing behavior, & the easily discyphered
character of a sorowful face, that Despair began no we to
threaten him destruction, she grewe content both to pitie him,
and let him see she pityed him: as well by making her owne
beautifull beames thawe away the former icinesse of her be-,
haviour, as by entertaining his discourses (whensoever he did;
use them) in the third person of Musidorus\ to so farre a
degree, that in the ende she said, that if she had bene the
Princesse, whom that disguised Prince had vertuously loved,
she would have requited his faith with faithfuU affection:

„ finding in her hart, that nothing could so hartily love as
vertue: with many mo words to the same sense of noble
favour, & chast plainnesse. Which when at the first it made
that expe6led blisse shine upon Dorus., he was like one frozen
with extremitie of colde, over-hastily brought to a great fire,
rather oppressed, then relieved with such a lightning of felicitie.
But after the strength of nature had made him able to feel the
sweetnesse of joyfulnes, that again being a child of Passion, &
never acquainted with mediocrity, could not set bouds upon
his happiries, nor be cotent to give Desire a kingdome, but that

354

RCADIA. LIB. 3.

it must be an unlimited Monarchy. So that the ground he
stood upon being over-high in happines, & slipperie through
afFedtion, he could not hold himselfe fro falling into such an
error, which with sighs blew all cofort out of his brest, &
washt away all cheerfulnes of his cheere, with teares. For
this favour filling him with hope, Hope encouraging his desire,
& Desire considering nothing, but oportunitie : one time
{Mopsa being called away by her mother, & he left alone
with Pamela) the sudden occasion called Love, & that never
staid to aske Reasons leave; but made the too-much loving
Dorus take her in his armes, offering to kisse her, and, as it
were, to establish a trophee of his vi6torie.

But she, as if she had bin ready to drinke a wine of excellent 2
tast & colour, which suddenly she perceived had poison in it, so
did she put him away fro her: Inking first unto heaven, as
amazed to find herselfe so beguiled in him; then laying the
cruel punishment upon him of angry Love, and lowring
beautie, shewing disdain, & a despising disdain, Away (said
she) unworthy man to love, or to be loved. Assure thy selfe,
I hate my selfe for being so deceived; judge then what I doo
thee, for deceiving me. Let me see thee no more, the only
fell of my judgement, and staine of my conscience. With
that she called Mopsa^ not staying for any answer (which was
no other, but a flood of tears, which she semed not to mark
(much lesse to pity) & chid her for having so left her alone.

It was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow, but it was 3
even a death, which then laid hold of Dorus : which certainly
at that instant would have killed him, but that the feare to
tary longer in her presence (contrary to her comandement)
gave him life to cary himselfe away fro her sight, and to run
into the woods, where, throwing himselfe downe at the foot of
a tree, he did not fall to lamentation (for that proceeded of
pitying) or grieving for himselfe (which he did no way) but to
curses of his life, as one that detested himselfe. For finding
himselfe not onely unhappy, but unhappie after being falne
from all happinesse : and to be falne from all happines, not by
any misconceiving, but by his own fault, and his fault to be
done to no other but to Pamela : he did not tender his owne

testate, but despised it; greedily drawing into his minde, all
^onceipts which might more and more torment him. And so
z2 355

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

remained he two dayes in the woods, disdaining to give his
bodie food, or his mind comfort, loving in himselfe nothing, but
the love of her. And indeed that love onely strave with the
fury of his anguish, telling it, that if it destroyed Dorus, it
should also destroy the image of her that lived in Dorus : and
when the thought of that was crept in unto him, it bega to
win of him some copassion to the shrine of the image, & to
bewaile not for himselfe (who he hated) but that so notable a
love should perish. The began he onely so farre to wish his
owne good, as that Pamela might pardon him the fault, though
not the punishment: & the uttermost height he aspired unto,
was, that after his death, she might yet pittie his error, and
know that it proceeded of love, and not of boldnesse.
4 That conceipt found such friendship in his thoughts, that at
last he yelded, since he was banished her presece, to seeke some
meanes by writing to shew his sorrow, & testifie his repentance.
Therfore getting him the necessarie instruments of writing, he
thought best to couterfaite his hand (fearing that as alreadie she
knew his, she would cast it away as soone as she saw it) and to
put it in vers, hoping, that would draw her on to read the
more, chusing the Elegiac as fittest for mourning. But pen did
never more quakingly performe his office; never was paper
more double moistned with inke & teares; never words more
slowly maried together, & never the Muses more tired, then
now with changes & rechanges of his devises : fearing howe to
ende, before he had resolved how to begin, mistrusting ech
word, condemning eche sentence. This word was not sig-
nificant, that word was too plain: this would not be coceived;
the other would be il conceived. Here Sorow was not inough
expressed ; there he seemed too much for his owne sake to be
sory. This sentence rather shewed art, then passion; that
sentence rather foolishly passionate, then forcibly moving. At
last, marring with mending, and putting out better, then he
left, he made an end of it; & being ended, & diverse times
ready to teare it: till his reason assuring him, the more he
studied, the worse it grew, he folded it up, devoutly invoking
good acceptation unto it; and watching his time, when they
were all gone one day to dinner (saving Mopsa) to the other
lodge, stale up into Pamelaes chamber, and in her stadish
(which first he kissed; and craved of it a safe and friendly

356

P ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

keeping) left it there, to be seene at her next using her inke
(himselfe returning againe to be true prisoner to desperate
sorrow) leaving her standish upon her beds head, to give her
the more occasion to marke it : which also fell out.

For she finding it at her after noone-returne, in another 5
place then she left it, opened it. But when she saw the letter,
her hart gave her from whence it came. And therefore clapping
it to againe, she went away from it, as if it had bin a con-
tagious garment of an infected person: and yet was not long
away, but that she wished she had read it, though she were
loth to reade it. Shall I (said she) second his boldnesse so
farre, as to reade his presumptuous letters ? And yet (said she)
he sees me not to growe the bolder thereby : And how can I
tell, whether they be presumptuous? The paper came from
him, and therefore not worthie to be receyvedj and yet the
paper (she thought) was not guiltie. At last, she concluded, it
were not much amisse to looke it over, that she might out of
his wordes picke some further quarrell against him. Then she
opened it, and threwe it away, and tooke it up againe, till (ere
she were aware) her eyes woulde needes reade it, conteining
this matter.

UN to a caitife wretch^ whom long affliSfion holdeth^ 6

and now fully beleeves helpe to be quite perished ;
Grant yety grant yet a looke, to the last monumet of his anguish^

O you [alas so I find) cause of his onely ruine.
Dread not a whit (O goodly cruell) that pittie may enter

into thy hart by the sight of this Epistle I send :
And so refuse to behold of these strange wounds the recitall^

least it might th"* allure home to thy selfe to returne,
( Vnto thy selfe I do meane those graces dwell so within thee,

gratefulneSy sweetnes, holy love, hartie regard)
Such thing cannot I seeke [Despaire hath giv*n me my answer

despaire most tragicall clause to a deadly request)
Such thing canot he hope, that knowes thy determinat hardnes ;

hard like a rich marble : hard, but a faire Diamond.
Can those eyes that of eyes drownd in most harty fiowing teares,

(teares and teares of a man) had no returne to remorse ;
Ca?i those eyes now yeeld to the kind conceit of a sorow,

which inke onely relates, but ne laments, ne replies ?

ZS7

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Ahy thaty that I do I not conceive [though that to my blisse were)

more then Nestors yeareSy more then a Kings diademe.
Ahy that^ that I do not cdceive ; to the heave when a mouse climes

then may I hope fatchieve grace of a heavenly tiger.
Buty but alaSy like a man codemn^d doth crave to he heard speake

not that he hopes for amends of the desaster he feeles^
But finding th" approch of death with an ougly relenting^

gives an adieu to the world^ as to his onely delight :
Right so my boiling hart^ enfiam^de with fire of a fair e eye^

bubling out doth breath signes of his hugie dolours :
Now that he finds to what end his life and love be reserved^

and that he hence must part where to live onely he lov''d.
O faire^ O fair est ^ are such thy triumphs to thy fairnesse f

can death beautie become ? must be such a monument ?
Must I be onely the marke^ shall prove that Vertue is angrie ?

shall prove that fiercenes can with a white dove abide?
Shall to the world appeare that faith and love be rewarded

with mortall disdaine, bent to unendly revenge ?
Unto revenge f O sweete^ on a wretch wilt thou be revenged P

shall such high Plannets ende to the losse of a worme P
And to revenge who doo bend, would in that kind be revenged^

as th* offence was done, and goe beyond if he can.
All mf offence was Love : with Love then must I be chastnedy

and with more^ by the lawes that to Revenge doo belong.
If that love be a fault , more fault in you to be lovely :

Love never had me opprest^ but that I saw to be lov*d.
You be the cause that I lov^d : what Reason blameth a shadowe^

that with a bodft goes ? since by a body it is.
If that Love you did hate, you should your beautie have hidden:

you should those fa ire eyes have with a veile covered.
But fooky foole that I am, those eyes would shine fri a dark cave,

what veiles then doo prevaile, but to a more miracle ?
Or those golden lockes, those lockes which lock me to bondage^

tome you should disperse unto the blasts of a winde.
But foole, foole that I am, tho I had but a hair of her head foud^

ev^n as I am, so I should unto that haire be a thrall.
Or with fair hads-nailes {5 had which nailes me to this death)

you should have your face {since Love is ill) blemished.
O wretch^ what do I say f should that fair e face be defaced?

should my too-much sight cause so true a Sunne to be lost ?

358

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

First let Cimmerian darknes be my one? hahitacion :

first he mine eyes pulde out^ first be my braine perished ;
Ere that I should consent to doo such excessive a dammage

unto the earthy by the hurt of this her heavenly Jewell.
0 no : but such love you say you could have afoorded,

as might learne Temperance voyde of a rages events.
0 sweet simplicitie : from whence should Love so be learned f

unto Cupid that boy shall a Pedante be found ?
Well : but faultie I was : Reason to my Passion yeelded^

Passion unto my rage^ Rage to a hastie revenge,
hut what's this for a faulty for which such fault is abolisht^

such faith y so staineles^ inviolate^ violent?
Shall I not ? 6 may I not thus yet refresh the remembrance^

what sweete joyes I had once^ and what a place I did hold ?
Shall I not once obje^^ that you^ you graunted a favour

unto the man^ whom now such miseries you awarde ?
Bed your thoghts to the dear sweet words which the to me giv'n were :

think what a world is now^ think who hath altred her hart.
What f was I then worthie such goody now worthie such evill ?

now fled y then cherished? then so nie^ now so remote P
Did not a rosed breath, from lips more rosie proceeding,

say, that I should well finde in what a care I was had ?
With much more : now what doo I finde, but Care to abhor me,

Care that I sinke in griefe. Care that I live banished f
And banished doo I live, nor now will seeke a recov*rie, ^

since so she will, whose will is to me more then a lawe.
If then a man in most ill case may give you a farewell-,

farewell, long farewell, all my woe, all my delight.

CHAP. 2.

"^The young Ladies mette: ^invited to the countrie-wenches sports,
^ goe thether, ^ there are taken, and thence caried to Am-
phialus castle. ^ Their entertainement there. ^Cecropias
auricular confession of her proud cariage in prosperitie, ' and
ambitious pra^ises in adversitie. ^Amphialus his affeSiion
in these adlions.

WHat this would have wrought in her, she her selfe could i
not tell: for, before her Reason could moderate the
disputation betwene Favour & Faultines, her sister, and Miso,

359

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

called her downe to entertaine Zelmaney who was come to visite
the two sisters ; about whom, as about two Poles, the Skie of
Beautie was turned: while Gynecia wearied her bed with her
melancholie sicknes, and made Misos shrewdnesse (who like a
sprite, sette to keep a treasure, barde Zelmane from any further
conference) to be the Lieutenant of her jealousie : Both she and
her husband, driving Zelmane to such a streit of resolution,
either of impossible graunting, or dangerous refusing, as the
best escape she had, was (as much as she coulde) to avoyde
their companie. So as, this day, being the fourth day after the
uprore, (Basilius being with his sicke wife, conferring upon such
examinations, as Philanax, and other of his noble-men had
made of this late seditio, all touching Cecropia with vehemet
suspition of giving either flame or fuell unto it) Zelmane came
with her bodie, to find her mind, which was gone long before
her, & had gotten his seate in Philoclea: who now with a
bashfuU cheerefulnesse (as though she were ashamed, that she
could not choose but be glad) joyned with her sister, in making
much of Zelmane.
2 And so as they sate devising how to give more feathers to
the winges of Time, there came to the lodge dore, sixe maides,
all in one liverie of skarlette petticotes, which were tuckt up
almoste to their knees, the petticoates them selves beinge in
many places garnished with leaves, their legges naked, saving
that above the anckles they had little black silke laces, upon
which did hang a few silver belles : like which they had a little
above their elbowes, upon their bare armes. Upon their haire
they ware garlands of roses and gilliflowers ; and the haire was
so drest, as that came againe above the garlandes ; enterchaung-
ing a mutuall covering: so as it was doubtfull, whether the
haire drest the garlandes, or the garlandes drest the haire.
Their breasts liberall to the eye : the face of the formoste
of them, in excellencie faire; and of the rest lovely, if not
beautifull: and beautifull would have bene, if they had not
suffered greedy Phoebus, over-often, and harde, to kisse them.
Their countenaunces full of a gracefull gravitie; so as the
gesture matcht with the apparrell, it might seem a wanton
modestie, and an entising sobernes. Each of them had an
instrument of musick in their hands, which consorting their
wel-pleasing tunes, did charge each eare with unsensiblenes,

360

P ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

that did not lende it selfe unto them. The Musicke entring
alone into the lodge, the Ladies were all desirous to see from
whence so pleasant a guest was come : and therefore went out
together; where, before they coulde take the paines to doubt,
much lesse to aske the question of their qualitie, the fairest of
them (with a gay, but yet discreete demeanour) in this sort
spake unto them. Most excellent Ladies, (whose excellencies
have power to make cities envie these woods, and solitarines to
be accounted the sweetest companie) vouchsafe our message
your gracious hearing, which as it comes from Love, so comes
it from lovely persons. The maides of all this coast of Arcadia^
understanding the often accesse that certaine shepheards of
these quarters, are allowed to have in this forbidden place; and
that their rurall sports are not disdained of you, have bene stird
with emulation to them, and afFedtion to you, to bring forth
some thing, which might as well breede your contentment:
and therefore hoping that the goodnes of their intention, &
the hurtlesnes of their sex shall excuse the breach of the com-
mandemet in coming to this place unsent for, they chose out
us, to invite both your princely parents, & your selves, to a
place in the woods about half a mile hence: where they have
provided some such sports, as they trust your gratious accep-
tatios will interpret to be deliteful. We have bene at the other
lodge, but finding them there, busied in weightier affaires, our
trust is, that you yet will not denie the shining of your eies
upQ us.

The Ladies stood in some doubte, whether they should goe 3
or not, lest Basilius might be angry withall. But Miso (that
had bene at none of the pastorals, and had a great desire to lead
her old senses abroad to some pleasure) told them plainely, they
should nor will nor choose, but go thether, and make the honest
countrie people know, that they were not so squeamish as folkes
thought of them. The Ladies glad to be warranted by her
authoritie; with a smiling humblenesse obeied her: Pamela
only casting a seeking looke, whether she could see Dorus (who
poore wretch wandred halfe mad for sorrow in the woods,
crying for pardon of her, who could not heare him) but indeed
was grieved for his absence, having given the wound to him
through her owne harte. But so the three Ladies & Miso
went with those six Nymphes^ conquering the length of the

361

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

way with the force of musique, leaving only Mopsa behind,
who disgraced weeping with her countenaunce, because her
mother would not suffer her to shewe her newskoured face
among them. But the place apointed (as they thought) met
them halfe in their way, so well were they pleased with the
sweete tunes and prettie conversation of their inviters. There
founde they in the midst of the thickest part of the wood, a
litle square place, not burdened with trees, but with a boord
covered, & beautified with the pleasantest fruites, that Sun-
burnd Autumne could deliver unto the. The maids besought
the Ladies to sit downe, and tast of the swelling grapes, which
seemed great with child of Bacchus: & of the divers coloured
plums, which gave the eye a pleasant tast before they came to
the mouth. The Ladies would not shew to scorne their
provision, but eat, and dranke a little of their coole wine,
which seemed to laugh for joy to come to such lips.

4 But after the collation was ended, and that they looked for
the coming foorth of such devises, as were prepared for them,
there rusht out of the woods twentie armed men, who round
about environed them, & laying hold of Zelmane before she
could draw her sword, and taking it from her, put hoods over
the heads of all fower, and so muffled, by force set them on
horsebacke and carried them away; the sisters in vaine crying
for succour, while Zelmanes harte was rent in peeces with rage
of the injurie, and disdaine of her fortune. But when they had
caried them a foure or five mile further, they lefte Miso with a
gagge in her mouth, and bound hande and foote, so to take her
fortune : and brought the three Ladies (by that time that the
Night seemed with her silence to conspire to their treason) to
a castle about ten mile of from the Lodges : where they were
fayne to take a boate whiche wayted for them. For the castle
stood in the midst of a great lake, uppon a high rocke, where
partly by Arte, but principallie by Nature, it was by all men
esteemed impregnable.

5 But at the Castle gate their faces were discovered, and
there were mett with a great number of torches, after whome
the sisters knewe their aunt in lawe, Cecropia. But that sight
increased the deadly terrour of the Princesses, looking for
nothing but death, since they were in the power of the wicked
Cecropia : who yet came unto them, making curtesie the outside

362

ARCADIA. LIB.

|»f mischiefe, and desiring them not to be discomforted: for
hey were in a place dedicated to their service. Philoclea (with
, looke where Love shined through the miste of Feare) besought
ler to be good unto them, having never deserved evill of her.
Jut Pamelas high harte disdayning humblenesse to injurie,
Aunt, (said she) what you have determined of us I pray you

Idoo it speedily: for my part I looke for no service, where
I finde violence.
But Cecropia (using no more wordes with them) conveyed
them all three to severall lodgings {Zelmanes harte so swelling
with spite, that she coulde not bring foorth a worde) and so
lefte them: first taking from them their knives, because they
should do themselves no hurte, before she had determined of
them: and then giving such order that they wanted nothing
but libertie, & comfort, she went to her sonne, who yet kept
his bed, because of his wound he had received of Zelmane^ &
told him, whom now he had in his power. Amphialus was but
even then returned from far countries, where he had wonne
immortall fame, both of courage & curtesie, when he met with
the Princesses, and was hurt by Xelmane^ so as he was utterly
ignorant of all his mothers wicked devises ; to which he would
never have consented, being (like a rose out of a brier) an
excellent sonne of an evill mother : and now when he heard of
this, was as much amazed, as if he had seen the Sunne fall
to the earth. And therefore desired his mother that she
would tell him the whole discourse, how all these matters had
happened.

Sonne (said she) I will doo it willingly, and since all is done 6
for you, I will hide nothing from you. And howsoever I
might be ashamed to tell it strangers, who would thinke it
wickednesse, yet what is done for your sake (how evill soever
to others) to you is vertue. To begin then even with the
beginning, this doting foole Basilius that now raignes, having
lived unmarried till he was nigh threescore yeares old (and in
all his speaches affirming, and in all his dooings assuring, that
he never would marrie) made all the eyes of the country to be
bent upon your father, his onely brother (but then younger by
thirty yeares) as upon the undoubted successour : being indeed
a man worthy to raigne, thinking nothing enough for himselfe :
where this goose (you see) puts downe his head, before there be

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

any thing neere to touch him. So that he holding place and
estimation as heyre of Arcadia^ obteyned me of my father the
King of ArgoSy his brother helping to the conclusion, with
protesting his bachelerly intention : for else you may be sure the
King of ArgoSy nor his daughter would have suffered their
Royall bloud to be stained with the base name of subjection.
So that I came into this countrie as apparant Princesse therof,
and accordingly was courted, and followed of all the Ladies of
this countrie. My porte and pompe did well become a King
of Argos daughter : in my presence their tongues were turned
into eares, & their eares were captives unto my tongue. Their
eyes admired my Majestie, & happy was he or she, on whom I
would suffer the beames thereof to fall. Did I goe to church ?
it seemed the very Gods way ted for me, their devotions not
being solemnized till I was ready. Did I walke abroad to see
any delight? Nay, my walking was the delight it selfe : for to
it was the concourse ; one thrusting upon another, who might
shewe him selfe most diligent and serviceable towardes me : my
sleepes were inquired after, and my wakings never unsaluted:
the very gate of my house full of principall persons, who were
glad, if their presents had receaved a gratefull acceptation.
And in this felicitie wert thou borne, the very earth sub-
mitting it selfe unto thee to be troden on as by his Prince ;
and to that passe had my husbandes vertue (by my good helpe)
within short time brought it, with a plot we laide, as we should
not have needed to have waited the tedious worke of a naturall
end of Basi/ius; when the heaves (I thinke envying my great
felicity) the stopt thy fathers breath, whe he breathed nothing
but power and soveraigntie. Yet did not thy orphancie, or my
widdowhood, deprive us of the delightfull prospedt, which the
hill of honour dooth yeeld, while expectation of thy succession
did bind dependencies unto us.

7 But before, (my sonne) thou wert come to the age to feele
the sweetnesse of authoritie, this beast (whom I can never name
with patience) falsely and foolishly married this Gynecia, then a
young girle, and brought her to sit above me in al feasts, to turne
her shoulder to me-ward in all our solemnities. It is certaine,

„ it is not so great a spite to be surmounted by straungers, as by-
ones owne allies. Thinke then what my minde was, since
withall there is no question: The fall is greater from the first

3^4

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

to the second, then from the second to the undermost. The
rage did swell in my harte, so much the more as it was faine to
be suppressed in silece, Sc disguised with humblenes. But
above al the rest, the griefe of grieves was, whe with these
daughters (now thy prisoners) she cut of al hope of thy suc-
cessio. It was a tedious thing to me; that my eies should
looke lower then any bodies, that (my selfe being by) anothers
voice then mine, should be more respedled. But it was insup-
portable unto me, to think that not only I, but thou shouldst
spend al thy time in such misery, & that the Sun should see my
eldest son lesse then a Prince. And though I had ben a sainA
I could not choose, finding the chauge this chauge of fortune
bred unto me, for now fro the multitude of followers, silece
grew to be at my gate, & absece in my presence. The guesse
of my mind could prevaile more before, then now many of my
earnest requests. And thou (my deare sonne) by the fickle
multitude no more then any ordinary person (borne of the mud
of the people) regarded. But I (remebring that in all miseries,,
weeping becomes fooles, and pra6lize wise folks) have tried,,
divers meanes to pull us out of the mire of subjedio. And
though many times Fortune failed me, yet did I never faile
my self. Wild beasts I kept in a cave hard by the lodges,
which I caused by night to be fed in the place of their pastorals,
I as then living in my house hard by the place, and against the
houre they were to meete (having kept the beasts without
meate) then let them loose, knowing that they would seeke
their food there, and devoure what they founde. But blind
Fortune hating sharpe-sighted inventions, made them unluckily
to be killed. After, I used my servant Clinias to stir a notable
tumult of country people: but those louts were too grosse
instruments for delicate conceits. Now lastly, finding Philanax-
his examinations grow daungerous, I thought to play double or
quit; & with a sleight I used of my fine-witted wech Artesia^
with other maids of mine, would have sent these good inheri-
trixes of Arcadia^ to have pleaded their cause before Pluto, but
that over-fortunatly for the, you made me know the last day
how vehemently this childish passion of love doth torment you.
Therfore I have brought them unto you, yet wishing rather
hate the love in you. For Hate often begetteth victory ; Love "
commonly is the instrument of subjection. It is true, that I

36s

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

would also by the same practise have entrapped the parents,
but my maids failed of it, not daring to tary long about it.
But this sufficeth, since (these being taken away) you are the
undoubted inheritor, and Basilius will not long over-live this
losse.
8 O mother (said Amphialus) speake not of doing them hurt,
no more then to mine eies, or my hart, or if I have any thing
more deare then eyes, or hart unto me. Let others finde what
sweetnesse they will in ever fearing, because they are ever
feared: for my part, I will thinke my selfe highly intitled, if I
may be once by Philoclea accepted for a servant. Well (said
Cecropid) I would I had borne you of my minde, as well as of
my body : then should you not have suncke under base
weakenesses. But since you have tied your thoughts in so
wilfull a knot, it is happie I have brought matters to such a
passe, as you may both enjoy afFedtion, and uppon that build
your soveraigntie. Alas (said Amphialus) my hart would faine
yeeld you thanks for setting me in the way of felicitie, but that
feare killes them in me, before they are fully borne. For if
Philoclea be displeased, how can I be pleased ? if she count it
unkindnes, shal I give tokens of kindnes? perchance she
codemnes me of this adlion, and shall I triumph? perchance
she drownes nowe the beauties I love with sorrowful teares,
and where is then my rejoicing? You have reason (said
Cecropia with a feined gravitie) I will therefore send her away
presently, that her contentment may be recovered. No good
mother (said Amphialus) since she is here, I would not for my
life constraine presence, but rather would I die then cosent to
absence. Prety intricat follies (said Cecropia) but get you up, &
see how you can prevaile with her, while I go to the other
sister. For after we shal have our hands full to defend our
selves, if Basilius hap to besiege us. But remembring herself,
she turned back, & asked him what he woulde have done with
Zelmane^ since nowe he might be revenged of his hurt. Nothing
but honorably, answered Amphialus, having deserved no other of '
me, especially bemg (as 1 heare) greatly cherished of Philoclea.
And therefore I could wish they were lodged together. O no
„(said Cecropia) company confirmes resolutios, & lonelines breeds
„ a werines of ones thoughts, and so a sooner consenting to
reasonable profers.

3b6

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.
CHAP. 3.

* Amphialus addressing him to Philoclea. ' Her melancholie habit,
^ His humble sute. * Her pitifull answere : ^ and his com"
passionate replie. ® Their parting with cold comfort.

BUt Amphialus (taking of his mother Philocleas knives, which I
he kept as a rehque, since she had worne them) gat up,
and calling for his richest apparell, nothing seemed sumptuous
inough for his mistresses eyes : and that which was costly, he
feared were not daintie : and though the invention were delicat,
he misdoubted the making. As carefull he was too of the
colour; lest if gay, he might seeme to glorie in his injury, and
her wrong; if mourning, it might strike some evill presage
uhto her of her fortune. At length he tooke a garment more
rich then glaring, the ground being black velvet, richly em-
brodered with great pearle, & precious stones, but they set so
among certaine tufFes of cypres, that the cypres was like blacke
clowds, through which the Starrs might yeeld a darke luster.
About his necke he ware a brode & gorgeous coller; whereof
the pieces enterchangeably answering; the one was of Diamonds
and pearle, set with a white enamell, so as by the cunning of
the workman it seemed like a shining ice, and the other piece
being of Rubies, and Opalles, had a fierie glistring, which he
thought pictured the two passions of Feare and Desire, wherein
he was enchayned. His hurt (not yet fully well) made him a
little halt, but he strave to give the best grace he could unto
his halting.

And in that sort he went to Philocleas chamber : whome he 2
found (because her chamber was over-lightsome) sitting of that
side of her bedde which was from the windowe; which did
cast such a shadow upon her, as a good Painter woulde bestowe
uppon f^enusy when under the trees she bewayled the murther
of Adonis: her handes and fingers (as it were) indented one
within the other : her shoulder leaning to her beds head, and
over her head a scarfe, which did eclipse almost halfe her eyes,
which under it fixed their beames upon the wall by, with so
steddie a maner, as if in that place they might well chaunge,
but not mende their objedl: and so remayned they a good
while after his comming in, he not daring to trouble her, nor

367

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

she perceyving him, till that (a little varying her thoughts
something quickening her senses) she heard him as he happed
to stirre his upper garment : and perceyving him, rose up, with
a demeanure, where in the booke of Beautie there was nothing
to be read but Sorrow : for Kindnesse was blotted out, and
Anger was never there.

3 But Amphialm that had entrusted his memorie with long
and forcible speeches, found it so locked up in amazement, that
he could pike nothing out of it, but the beseeching her to take
what was don in good part, and to assure herselfe there was
nothing but honour meant unto her person. But she making
no other aunswere, but letting her handes fall one from the
other, which before were joyned (with eyes something cast
aside, and a silent sigh) gave him to understande, that con-
sidering his dooings, she thought his speech as full of incon-
gruitie, as her aunswere would be voyde of purpose : whereuppon
he kneeling downe, and kissing her hande, (which she suffered
with a countenaunce witnessing captivitie, but not kindnesse)
he besought her to have pitie of him, whose love went beyonde
the boundes of conceite, much more of uttering: that in her
handes the ballance of his life or death did stande; whereto
the least motion of hers woulde serve to determine, she being
indeede the mistresse of his life, and he her eternall slave ; and
with true vehemencie besought her that he might heare her
speake, whereupon she suffered her sweete breath to turne it
selfe into these kind of words.

4 Alas cousin, (saide she) what shall my tongue be able to
doo, which is infourmed by the eares one way, and by the
eyes another ? You call for pittie, and use crueltie ; you
say, you love me, and yet do the effedles of enmitie. You
affirme your death is in my handes, but you have brought
me to so neere a degree to death, as when you will, you ,
may lay death upon me : so that while you say I am mistresse
of your life, I am not mistresse of mine owne. You en-
title your selfe my slave, but I am sure I am yours. If^
then violence, injurie, terror, and depriving of that which is
more dear then life it selfe, libertie, be fit orators for affection,
you may exped that I will be easily perswaded. But if the
nearenesse of our kinred breede any remorse in you, or there
be any such thing in you, which you call love towarde

368

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

me, then let not my fortune be disgraced with the name of
imprisonment : let not my hart waste it selfe by being vexed
with feeling evill, and fearing worse. Let not me be a cause
of my parents wofull destru<Stion ; but restore me to my selfe ;
and so doing I shall account I have receyved my selfe of you.
And what I say for my selfe, I say for my deare sister, and my
friend Zelmane : for I desire no wel being, without they may be
partakers. With that her teares rained downe from her heavenly
eyes, and seemed to water the sweet and beautifull flowers of her
face.

But Amphialus was like the poore woman, who loving a 5
tame Doe she had, above all earthly things, having long played
withall, and made it feede at her hand and lappe, is constrained
at length by famine (all her flocke being spent, and she fallen
into extreeme povertie) to kill the Deare, to sustaine her life.
Manie a pitiful! looke doth she cast upon it, and many a time
doth she draw backe her hand before she can give the stroke.
For even so Amphialus by a hunger-sterved affection, was com-
pelled to offer this injurie, and yet the same afFedlion made him
with a tormenting griefe, thinke unkindnesse in himselfe, that
he could finde in his hart any way to restraine her freedome.
But at length, neither able to grant, nor denie, he thus answered
her. Deare ladie (said he) I will not say unto you (how justly
soever I may do it) that I am neither author, nor accessarie unto
this your withholding. For since I do not redres it, I am as
faulty as if I had begun it. But this I protest unto you (and
this protestation of mine, let the heavens heare, and if I lie, let
them answer me with a deadly thunderbolt) that in my soule I
wish I had never seene the light, or rather, that I had never had
a father to beget such a child, the that by my meanes those eyes
should overflow their owne beauties, then by my meanes the
skie of your vertue should be overclowded with sorrow. But
woe is me, most excellent Ladie, I finde my selfe most willing
to obey you : neither truely doo mine eares receave the least
word you speak, with any lesse reverence, then as absolute, and
unresistable commaundements. But alas, that Tyrant Love,
(which now possesseth the holde of all my life and reason) will
no way suflFer it. It is Love, it is Love, not I, which disobey
you. What then shall I say ? but that I, who am redie to lie
under your feete, to venture, nay to loose my life at your least
s. A. AA 369

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

comman dement : I am not the staye of your freedome, but Love,
Love, which ties you in your owne knots. It is you your selfe,
that imprison your selfe : it is your beautie which makes these
castle-walles embrace you: it is your owne eyes, which refledt
upon themselves this injurie. Then is there no other remedie,
but that you some way vouchsafe to satisfie this Loves vehe-
mencie; which (since it grewe in your selfe) without question
you shall finde it (far more then I) tradable.

But with these wordes Philoclea fell to so extreame a
quaking, and her lively whitenesse did degenerate to so dead
a palenesse, that Amphialus feared some daungerous traunce : so
that taking her hande, and feelinge that it (which was woonte
to be one of the chiefe firebrands of Cupid) had all the sense of
it wrapt up in coldnes, he began humblie to beseech her to put
away all feare, and to assure herselfe upon the vowe he made
thereof unto God, and her selfe, that the uttermost forces he
would ever employ to conquere her afFedlion, should be Desire,
and Desert. That promise brought Philoclea againe to her selfe,
so that slowly lifting up her eyes upon him, with a countenaunce
ever courteous, but then languishing, she tolde him, that he
should doo well to do so, if indeede he had ever tasted what
true love was: for that where now she did beare him good will,
she should (if he tooke any other way) hate, and abhor the very
thought of him: offering him withall, that though his mother
had taken away her knives, yet the house of Death had so many
doores, as she would easihe fiie into it, if ever she founde her
honor endaungered.
6 Amphialus having the colde ashes of Care cast upon the
coales of Desire, leaving some of his mothers Gentlewomen
to waite upon Philoclea^ himselfe indeede a prisoner to his
prisoner, and making all his authoritie to be but a footestoole to
Humblenes, went from her to his mother. To whom with
words which AfFedlion endited, but Amazement uttered, he
delivered what had passed betwene him and Philoclea : be-
seeching her to trie what her perswasions could doo with her,
while he gave order for all such things as were necessarie against
such forces, as he looked dayly Basilius would bring before his
castle. His mother bade him quiette him selfe, for she doubted
not to take fitte times. But that the best way was, first to let
her owne Passion a little tire it selfe.

370

ARCADIA. LIB. 3,

CHAP. 4.

lAmphialus warlike preparations. ^ His Justification. ^ His
fortifications. * His Arte of men. ^ His Love-passions, and
passionate complaints.

SO they calling CliniaSy and some other of their counsell, i
advised upon their present affaires. First, he dispatched
privat letters to al those principall Lords and gentlemen of the
country, who he thought ether alliance, or friendship to himselfe
might drawe ; with speciall motions from the generall considera-
tion of duetie : not omitting all such, whom either youthful!
age, or youth-like mindes did fill with unlimited desires: besides
such, whom any discontentment made hungry of change, or an
over-spended wante, made want a civill warre : to each (accord-
ing to the counsell of his mother) conforming himselfe after
their humors. To his friends, friendlines ; to the ambitious,
great expectations ; to the displeased, revenge ; to the greedie,
spoyle : wrapping their hopes with such cunning, as they rather
seemed given over unto them as partakers : then promises sprong
of necessitie. Then sent he to his mothers brother, the King
of Jrgos : but he was as then so over-laide with warre himselfe,
as from thence he could attend small succour.

But because he knewe, how violently rumors doo blow the 2
sailes of popular judgemets, Sc how few there be, that can dis-
cerne betweene trueth and truthlikenes, betweene showes and
substance ; he caused a justification of this his a6lion to be
written, wherof were sowed abroad many copies, which with
some glosses of probabilitie, might hide indeede the foulenes of
his treason; and from true common-places, fetch downe most
false applications. For, beginning how much the duetie which
is owed to the countrie, goes beyond all other dueties, since in
it selfe it conteines them all, and that for the respedt therof,
not onely all tender respedls of kinred, or whatsoever other
friendshippes, are to be laide aside, but that even long-helde
opinions (rather builded upon a secreate of governement, then
any groud of truthe) are to be forsaken. He fell by degrees to
shew, that since the ende whereto any thing is directed, is ever
to be of more noble reckning, then the thing thereto directed :

AA2 571

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

that therefore, the weale-publicke was more to be regarded,
then any person or magistrate that thereunto was ordeined.
The feeling consideration whereof, had moved him (though as
nere of kinne to Basilius as could be, yet) to set principally
before his eyes, the good estate of so many thousands, over
whom Basilius raigned : rather then so to hoodwinke himselfe
with afFecStion, as to suffer the realme to runne to manifest
ruine. The care whereof, did kindly appertaine to those, who
being subalterne magistrates and officers of the crowne, were to
be employed as fro the Prince, so for the people; and of all
other, especiallie himselfe, who being descended of the Royall
race, and next heire male, Nature had no soner opened his
eyes, but that the soyle where-upon they did looke, was to
looke for at his hands a continuall carefulnes: which as fro his
childhood he had ever caried; so now finding that his uncle
had not only give over al care of government, but had put
it into the hands of Philanax, (a man neither in birth com-
parable to many, nor for his corrupt, prowde, and partiall dealing,
liked of any) but beside, had set his daughters (in whom the
whole estate, as next heires thereunto, had no lesse interest the
himselfe) in so unfit & il-guarded a place, as it was not only
dagerous for their persons, but (if they should be conveied to
any forraine country) to the whole common-wealth pernicious :
that therfore he had brought them into this strog castle of his,
which way, if it might seem strange, they were to consider,
, that new necessities require new remedies: but there they
should be served & honored as belonged to their greatnes, until
by the generall assembly of the estates, it should be determined
how they should to their best (both private, and publique) ad-
vantage be matched ; vowing all faith & duty both to the father
& children, never by him to be violated. But if in the meane
time, before the estates could be assebled, he were assailed, he
would the for his own defence take armes : desiring all, that
either tendred the dangerous case of their country, or in their
harts loved justice, to defed him in this just a6ti6. And if the
Prince should commaund them otherwise, yet to know, that
therein he was no more to be obeied, then if he should call for
poison to hurt himself withall : since all that was done, was
done for his service, howsoever he might (seduced by Philanax)
interprete of it : he protesting, that what soever he should doo

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

for his owne defence, should be against Phi/anax, & no way
against Basilius.

To this efFe6l, amplified with arguments and examples, and 3
pointed with rhetoricall colours, did he sow abroad many dis-
courses: which as they prevayled with some of more quicke
then sounde conceipte, to runne his fortune with him; so in
many did it breed a coolenesse, to deale violently against him,
and a false-minded neutralitie to expedl the issue. But besides
the waies he used to weaken the adverse partie, he omitted
nothing for the strengthning of his owne. The chiefe trust
whereof (because he wanted men to keepe the field) he reposed
in the suretie of his castle ; which at lest would winne him
much time, the mother of many mutations. To that therfore
he bent his outward & inward eyes, striving to make Art strive
with Nature, to whether of them two that fortification should
be most beholding. The seat Nature bestowed, but Arte gave
the building: which as his rocky hardnesse would not yeeld to
undermining force, so to ope assaults he tooke counsell of skill,
how to make all approches, if not impossible, yet difficult; as
well at the foot of the castle, as round about the lake, to give
unquiet lodgings to the, whom onely enmitie would make
neighbors. Then omitted he nothing of defence, as wel
simple defence, as that which did defend by ofifending, fitting
instrumets of mischiefe to places, whence the mischiefs might
be most liberally bestowed. Nether was his smallest care for
vi6tuals, as wel for the providing that which should suffice both
in store & goodnesse, as in well preserving it, and wary dis-
tributing it, both in quantitie, and qualitie; spending that first
which would keepe lest.

But wherein he sharpned his wits to the pearcingest point, 4
was touching his men (knowing them to be the weapon of
weapons, & master-spring (as it were) which makes all the rest
to stir; and that therefore in the Arte of man stood the quint-
essence, & ruling skill of all prosperous governement,. either
peaceable, or military) he chose in number as many as without
pestring (and so daunger of infection) his vidtuall would seem
for two yeare to maintaine; all of hable bodies, and some few
of able mindes to direft, not seeking many commaunders, but
contenting himselfe, that the multitude should have obeying
wills, every one knowing whom he should commaund, and

373

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

whom he should obey, the place where, and the matter where-
in ; distributing each office as neere as he could, to the disposition]
of the person that should exercise it : knowing no love, daunger,
nor discipline can sodainly alter an habite in nature. Therfore!
would he not employ the stil ma to a shifting practise, nor the
liberall man to be a dispenser of his vi6tuals, nor the kind-harted
man to be a punisher: but would exercise their vertues in sorts,
where they might be profitable, employing his chief care to
know the all particularly, & throughly, regarding also the
costitutio of their bodies; some being able better to abide
watching, some huger, some labour, making his benefit of ech
hability, & not forcing beyond power. Time to every thing
by just proportio he allotted, & as well in that, as in every thing
els, no small errour winckt at, lest greater should be animated.
Even of vices he made his profite, making the cowardly Clinias
to have care of the watch, which he knew his own feare would
make him very wakefully performe. And before the siege
began, he himselfe caused rumors to be sowed, and libels to be
spread against himselfe, fuller of mallice, then witty persuasion :
partly, to knowe those that would be apt to stumble at such
motions, that he might cull them from the faithfuUer band ;
but principally, because in necessitie they should not know
when any such thing were in earnest attempted, whether it
were, or not, of his owne invention. But even then (before
the enemies face came neere to breed any terrour) did he exercise
his men dayly in all their charges, as if Daunger had presently
presented his most hideous presence : him selfe rather instruct-
ing by example, then precept ; being neither more sparing in
travaile, nor speding in diet, then the meanest souldier :
hand and body disdaining no base matters, nor shrinking froi
the heavy.
5 The onely ods was, that when others tooke breath,
sighed ; and when others rested, he crost his armes. For Lo^
passing thorow the pikes of Dauger, & tumbling it selfe in tl
dust of Labour, yet still made him remember his sweete desir(
and beautifull image. Often when he had begun to commaun^
one, somewhat before halfe the sentence were ended, his inwj
guest did so entertaine him, that he would breake it of, and
prettie while after end it, when he had (to the marvaile of th^
standers by) sent himself in to talke with his own thought

374

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

>metimes when his hand was lifted up to some thing, as if with
the sight of Gorgons head he had bene sodainely turned into a
stone, so would he there abide with his eyes planted, and handes
hfted, till at length, comming to the use of himself, he would
looke about whether any had perceived him; then would he
accuse, and in himselfe condemne all those wits, that durst
affirme Idlenesse to be the well-spring of Love. O, would he
say, al you that affedl the title of wisdome, by ungratefuU
scorning the ornaments of Nature, am I now piping in a
shaddow ? or doo slouthfull feathers now enwrap me ? Is
not hate before me, and doubte behinde me ? is not daunger
of the one side, and shame of the other? And doo I not
stande upon paine, and travaile, and yet over all, my affec-
tion triumphes? The more I stirre about urgent affaires, the
more me thinks the very stirring breeds a breath to blow
the coales of my love: the more I exercise my thoughts, the
more they encrease the appetite of my desires. O sweet Phi-
loclea (with that he would cast up his eies wherin some water
did appeare, as if they would wash themselves against they
should see her) thy heavenly face is my Astronomic ; thy sweet
vertue, my sweet Philosophic : let me profite therein, and fare-
well all other cogitations. But alas, my mind misgives me, for
your planets beare a contrarie aspe6t unto me. Woe, woe is
me, they threaten my destrudtion : and whom doo they threaten
this destruction ? even him that loves them ; and by what means
will they destroy, but by loving them ? O deare (though killing)
eyes, shall death head his darte with the golde of Cupids arrowe ?
Shall death take his ayme from the rest of Beautie? O beloved
(though hating) Philoclea^ how if thou beest mercifull, hath
crueltie stolne into thee? Or how if thou beest cruell, doth
crueltie looke more mercifull then ever Mercie did ? Or alas,
is it my destinie that makes Mercie cruell ? Like an evill
vessell which turnes sweete licour to sowernes; so when thy
grace fals upon me, my wretched constitution makes it become
nercenesse. Thus would he exercise his eloquence, when she
could not heare him, and be dumbe-striken, when her presence
gave him fit occasion of speaking : so that his witte could finde
out no other refuge, but the comfort and counsell of his mother,
desiring her (whose thoughts were unperplexed) to use for his
sake the most prevailing manners of intercession.

375

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 5.

^ Suttle Cecropia visites sad Philoclea. ^ ^fje shamelesse Aunts
shrewd temptations 'to love and manage. The modest neeces
maidenly resistance.

I f^^Ecropia seing her sonnes safetie depende thereon, (though
V_^ her pride much disdained the name of a desire) tooke
the charge upon her, not doubting the easie conquest of an
unexpert vjrgin, who had alreadie with subtiltie and impudencie
begun to undermine a monarchy. Therfore, waighing Phi-
locleas resolutions by the counterpease of her own youthful
thoughts, which she then called to minde, she doubted not at
least to make Philoclea receive the poyson distilled in sweete
liquour, which she with little disguising had drunke up thirstily.
Therefore she went softly to Philocleas chamber, & peeping
through the side of the doore, then being a little open, she sawe
Philoclea sitting lowe upon a cushion, in such a given-over
manner, that one would have thought, silence, solitarinesse, and
melancholie were come there, under the ensigne of mishap, to
conquere delight, and drive him from his naturall seate of beau-
tie: her teares came dropping downe like rainein Sunshine, and
she not taking heede to wipe the teares, they ranne downe upon
her cheekes, and lips, as upon cherries which the dropping tree
bedeweth. In the dressing of her haire and apparell, she might
see neither a careful arte, nor an arte of carelesnesse, but even
left to a neglected chaunce, which yet coulde no more unperfedt
her perfections, then a Die anie way cast, could loose his square-
nesse.

Cecropia (stirred with no other pitie, but for her son) came
in, and haling kindnesse into her countenance, What ayles this
sweete Ladie, (said she) will you marre so good eyes with weep-
ing? shall teares take away the beautie of that complexion,
which the women of Arcadia wish for, and the men long after ?
Fie of this peevish sadnesse ; in sooth it is untimely for your
age. Looke upon your owne bodie, and see whether it deserve
to pine away with sorrow: see whether you will have these
hands (with that she tooke one of her hands and kissing it,
looked uppon it as if she were enamoured with it) fade from

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

their whitenesse, which makes one desire to touch them ; &
their softnesse, which rebounds againe a desire to looke on them,
and become drie, leane and yellowe, and make everie bodie
woonder at the chaunge, and say, that sure you had used some
arte before, which nowe you had left? for if the beauties had
beene naturall, they woulde never so soone have beene blemished.
Take a glasse, and see whether these tears become your eies :
although, I must cofesse, those eies are able to make tears
comely. Alas Madame (answered Philoclea) I know not whether
my teares become mine eyes, but I am sure mine eies thus
beteared, become my fortune. Your fortune (saide Cecropia) if
she could see to attire herselfe, would put on her best raiments.
For I see, and I see it with griefe, and (to tell you true) un-
kindnes : you misconster every thing, that only for your sake is
attempted. You thinke you are offended, and are indeed de-
fended : you esteeme your selfb a prisoner, and are in truth a
mistres : you feare hate, and shall find love. And truely, I had
a thing to say to you, but it is no matter, since I find you are
so obstinatly melancholy, as that you woo his felowship : I will
spare my paines, and hold my peace : And so staied indeede,
thinking Philoclea would have had a female inquisitivenesse of
the matter. But she, who rather wished to unknowe what she
knewe, then to burden her hart with more hopeles knowledge,
only desired her to have pity of her, and if indeed she did meane
her no hurt, then to grant her liberty : for else the very griefe
& feare, would prove her unappointed executioners. For that
(said Cecropia) beleve me upo the faith of a kings daughter, you
shall be free, so soone as your freedome may be free of mortal
dager, being brought hither for no other cause, but to prevent
such mischiefes as you know not of. But if you thinke indeed
to winne me to have care of you, even as of mine owne
daughter, then lend your eares unto me, & let not your mind
arme it self with a wilfulnesse to be flexible to nothing. But
if I speake reason, let Reason have his due reward, persuasion.
Then sweet neece (said she) I pray you presuppose, that now,
eve in the midst of your agonies, which you paint unto your
selfe most horrible, wishing with sighes, & praying with vowes,
for a soone & safe deliverie. Imagin neece (I say) that some
heavenly spirit should appeare unto you, and bid you follow him
through the doore, that goes into the garden, assuring you, that

377

THE COUi.TESSE OF PEMBROKES

you should therby return to your deare mother, and what
other delights soever your mind esteemes delights : would
you (sweet neece) would you refuse to folow him, & say,
that if he led you not through the chiefe gate, you would
not enjoy your over-desired liberty ? Would you not drinke
the wine you thirst for, without it were in such a glasse, as
you especially fancied? tel me (deare neece:) but I wil answer
for you, because I know your reason and will is such, as must
needs conclude, that such nicenesse can no more be in you, to
disgrace such a mind, then disgracefulnesse can have any place
in so faultles a beauty. Your wisdom would assuredly de-
termin, how the marke were hit, not whether the bow were
of Ewe or no, wherein you shot. If this be so, and thus sure
(my deare neece) it is, then (I pray you) imagin, that I am that
same good Angel, who grieving in your griefe, and in truth not
able to suffer, that bitter sighs should be sent foorth with so
sweete a breath, am come to lead you, not only to your desired,
and imagined happines, but to a true and essentiall happines ;
not only to liberty, but to libertie with commandement. The
way I will shew you (which if it be not the gate builded hither-
to in your private choise, yet shall it be a doore to bring you
through a garden of pleasures, as sweet as this life can bring
foorth; nay rather, which makes this life to be a life: (My son,)
let it be no blemish to him that I name him my son, who was
your fathers own nephew : for you know I am no smal kings
daughter,) my Sonne (I say) farre passing the neernesse of his
kinred, with the neernesse of good-will, and striving to match
your matchlesse beautie with a matchlesse affection, doth by
me present unto you the full enjoying of your liberty, so as
with this gift you wil accept a greater, which is, this castell,
with all the rest which you knowe he hath, in honorable
quantitie ; and will confirme his gift, and your receipt of both,
with accepting him to be yours. I might say much both for
the person and the matter ; but who will crie out the Sun
shines? It is so manifest a profit unto you, as the meanest
judgement must straight apprehend it: so farre is it from the
sharpenesse of yours, therof to be ignorant. Therfore (sweet
neece) let your gratefulnes be my intercession, & your gentl
nesse my eloquence, and let me cary comfort to a hart which
greatly needs it. Philoclea looked upon her, & cast downe her

378

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

eie again. Aunt (said she) I would I could be so much a
mistres of my owne mind, as to yeelde to my cousins vertuous
request: for so I construe of it. But my hart is already set
(and staying a while on that word, she brought foorth after-
wards) to lead a virgins life to my death : for such a vow I have
in my selfe devoutly made. The heavens prevent such a
mischiefe (said Cecropia.) A vowe, quoth you? no, no, my
deere neece. Nature, when you were first borne, vowed you a
woma, & as she made you child of a mother, so to do your best
to be mother of a child : she gave you beautie to move love ;
she gave you wit to know love ; she gave you an excellet body
to reward love : which kind of liberall rewarding is crowned
with unspeakable felicitie. For this, as it bindeth the receiver,
so it makes happy the bestower : this doth not impoverish, but
enrich the giver. O the sweet name of a mother : O the cofort
of coforts, to see your childre grow up, in who you are (as
it were) eternized : if you could conceive what a hart-tickling
joy it is to see your own litle ones, with awfull love come
running to your lap, and like litle models of your selfe, still cary
you about them, you would thinke unkindnes in your own
thoughts, that ever they did rebell against the mean unto it.
But perchace I set this blessednes before your eies, as Captains
do vi(5torie before their souldiers, to which they might come
through many paines, grieves & dangers. No, I am cotent you
shrinke from this my counsel, if the way to come unto it, be
not most of all pleasant. I know not (answered the sweet
Philoclea^ fearing least silence would offend her sullennes) what
contentment you speake of: but I am sure the best you can
make of it, (which is mariage) is a burdenous yoke. Ah, deer
neece (said Cecropia) how much you are deceived ? A yoke
indeed we all beare, laid upo us in our creation, which by
mariage is not increased, but thus farre eased, that you have a
yoke-fellow to help to draw through the cloddy cumbers of this
world. O widow-nights, beare witnes with me of the differ-
ence. How often alas do I embrace the orfan-side of my bed,
which was wot to be imprinted by the body of my deare
husband, & with teares acknowledge, that I now enjoy such
a liberty as the banished ma hath ; who may, if he list, wader
over the world, but is ever restrained fro his most delightful
home ? that I have now such a liberty as the seeled dov hath,

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THE COUjNlESSE OF PEMBROKES

which being first deprived of eies, is then by the falconer cast
off? For beleve me, neece, beleve me, mans experiece is
womas best eie-sight. Have you ever seene a pure Rosewater
kept in a christal glas; how fine it lokes, how sweet it smels,
while that beautifull glasse imprisons it ? Breake the prison,
and let the water take his owne course, doth it not imbrace
dust, and loose all his former sweetenesse, and fairenesse? Truly
so are we, if we have not the stay, rather then the restraint of
Cristalline mariage. My hart meltes to thinke of the sweete
comfortes, I in that happie time received, when I had never
cause to care, but the care was doubled: whe I never rejoiced,
but that I saw my joy shine in anothers eies. What shall I say
of the free delight, which the hart might embrace, without the
accusing of the inward conscience, or feare of outward shame ?
and is a solitary life as good as this? then can one string make
as good musicke as a consort : the can one colour set forth a
beautie. But it may be, the generall consideration of mariage
dooth not so much mislike you, as the applying of it to him.
He is my sone, I must confesse, I see him with a mothers
eyes, which if they doo not much deceive me, he is no such
one, over whom Contempt may make any just chalenge. He
is comely, he is noble, he is rich ; but that which in it selfe
should carie all comelinesse, nobilitie, and riches, he loves you ;
and he loves you, who is beloved of others. Drive not away
his affection (sweete Ladie) and make no other Ladie hereafter
proudly bragge, that she hath robbed you of so faithfull and
notable a servant. Philoclea heard some pieces of her speches,
no otherwise then one doth when a tedious pratler cobers the
hearing of a delightful musicke. For her thoughts had left her
eares in that captivitie, and conveied themselves to behold (with
such eies as imagination could lend the) the estate of her Zel-
mane: for who how wel she thought many of those sayings
might have ben used with a farre more gratefull acceptation.
Therefore listing not to dispute in a matter whereof her selfe
was resolute, and desired not to enforme the other, she onely
told her, that whilest she was so captived, she could not conceive
of any such persuasions (though never so reasonable) any other-
wise, then as constraints : and as constraints must needs eve in
nature abhor the, which at her libertie, in their owne force of
reason, might more prevaile with her: and so faine would have

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ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

returned the strength of Cecropias perswasions, to have procured
freedome.

CHAP. 6.

^ Fresh motives to Philoclea. ^ Cecropias new fetch to attempt
Pamela. ^ Pamelas prayer^ ^ and SainSi-like graces in it.
^ Her Auntes fruiteles argumentes,

BUt neither her wittie wordes in an enemie, nor those I
wordes, made more then eloquent with passing through
such lips, could prevaile in Cecropia^ no more then her perswasions
coulde winne Philoclea to disavowe her former vowe, or to leave
the prisoner Zelmane^ for the commaunding Amphialus. So that
both sides being desirous, and neither graunters, they brake of
conference. Cecropia sucking up more and more spite out of
her deniall, which yet for her sonnes sake, she disguised with a
visarde of kindnes, leaving no office unperfourmed, which might
either witnes, or endeare her sonnes affedtion. Whatsoever
could be imagined likely to please her, was with liberall dili-
gence perfourmed : Musickes at her windowe, & especially such
Musickes, as might (with dolefull embassage) call the mind to
thinke of so row, and thinke of it with sweetnes; with ditties so
sensiblie expressing Amphialus case, that everie worde seemed to
be but a diversifying of the name of Amphialus. Daily presents,
as it were oblations, to pacifie an angrie Deitie, sent unto her :
wherein, if the workmanship of the forme, had striven with the
sumptuousnes of the matter, as much did the invention in the
application, contende to have the chiefe excellencie: for they
were as so many stories of his disgraces, & her perfedlions;
where the richnes did invite the eyes, the fashion did entertaine
the eyes, and the device did teach the eyes the present miserie
of the presenter himselfe, awefuUy serviceable: which was the
ore notable, as his authoritie was manifest. And for the
[bondage wherein she lived, all meanes used to make knowen,
at if it were a bondage, it was a bondage onely knitte in love-
nots. But in harte alreadie understanding no language but
ne, the Musicke wrought indeede a dolefulnes, but it was a
olefulnes to be in his power : the dittie intended for Amphialus.,

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

she translated to Zelmane : the presents seemed so many tedious
clogs of a thralled obligation : and his service, the more diligent
it was, the more it did exprobrate (as she thought) unto her, her
unworthie estate : that even he that did her service, had authoritie
of commanding her, onely construing her servitude in his own
nature, esteeming it a right, and a right bitter servitude : so that
all their shots (how well soever levelled) being carried awrie
from the marke, by the storme of her mislike, the Prince
Amphialus affectionately languished, & Cecropia spitefullie cun-
ning, disdained at the barrennes of their successe.

2 Which willingly Cecropia woulde have revenged, but that
she sawe, her hurte could not be divided from her sonnes mis-
chiefe: wherefore, she bethought her self to attempt Pamela^
whose beautie being equall, she hoped, if she might be woon,
that her sonnes thoughtes would rather rest on a beautifull
gratefulnes, then still be tormented with a disdaining beautie.
Wherfore, giving new courage to her wicked inventions, and
using the more industry, because she had mist in this, &
taking even precepts of prevailing in Pamela^ by her fayling in
Philoclea^ she went to her chamber, & (according to her own
ungratious method of a subtile proceeding) stood listning at the
dore, because that out of the circiistance of her present be-
haviour, there might kindly arise a fitte beginning of her
intended discourse.

3 And so she might perceave that Pamela did walke up and
down, full of deep (though patient) thoughts. For her look
and countenance was setled, her pace soft, and almost still of
one measure, without any passionate gesture, or violent motion :
till at length (as it were) awaking, & strengthning her selfe,
Well (said she) yet this is the best, & of this I am sure, that how
soever they wrog me, they cannot over-master God. No dark-
nes blinds his eyes, no Jayle barres him out. To whome then
else should I flie, but to him for succoure ? And therewith
kneeling down, eue in the same place where she stood, she thus
said. O all-seeing Light, and eternal Life of all things, to
whom nothing is either so great, that it may resist; or so small,
that it is contemned: looke upon my miserie with thine eye of
mercie, and let thine infinite power vouchsafe to limite out
some proportion of deliverance unto me, as to thee shall seem
most convenient. Let not injurie, 6 Lord, triumphe over me,

382

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

and let my faultes by thy handes be corredled, and make not
mine unjuste enemie the minister of thy Justice. But yet, my
God, if in thy wisdome, this be the aptest chastizement for my
inexcusable follie; if this low bondage be fittest for my over-
hie desires; if the pride of my not-inough humble harte, be thus
to be broken, O Lord, I yeeld unto thy will, and joyfully em-
brace what sorrow thou wilt have me sufiFer. Onely thus much
let me crave of thee, (let my craving, 6 Lord, be accepted of
thee, since even that proceedes from thee) let me crave, even
by the noblest title, which in my greatest afflidlion I may give
my selfe, that I am thy creature, & by thy goodnes (which is
thy self) that thou wilt suffer some beame of thy Majestie so to
shine into my mind, that it may still depende confidently upon
thee. Let calamitie be the exercise, but not the overthrowe of
my vertue: let their power prevaile, but prevaile not to de-
struction : let my greatnes be their praie : let my paine be the
sweetnes of their revenge: let them (if so it seem good unto
thee) vexe me with more and more punishment. But, 6 Lord,
let never their wickednes have such a hand, but that I may
carie a pure minde in a pure bodie. (And pausing a while) And
6 most gracious Lord (said she) what ever become of me, pre-

I' serve the vertuous Musidorus.
The other parte Cecropia might well heare, but this latter 4
prayer for Musidorus^ her hart helde it, as so jewel-like a
treasure, that it would scarce trust her owne lippes, withall.
But this prayer, sent to heaven, from so heavenly a creature,
with such a fervent grace, as if Devotion had borowed her
bodie, to make of it self a most beautifull representation ; with
her eyes so lifted to the skie-ward, that one would have thought
they had begunne to flie thetherward, to take their place amog
their felow stars; her naked hands raising up their whole
length, & as it were kissing one another, as if the right had
bene the picture of Zeale, and the left, of Humblenesse^ which
both united themselves to make their suites more acceptable.
Lastly, all her senses being rather tokens then instruments of
her inwarde motions, altogether had so straunge a working

I power, that even the harde-harted wickednesse of Cecropia^ if
it founde not a love of that goodnes, yet it felt an abashment
at that goodnes ; & if she had not a kindly remorse, yet had
she an yrksome accusation of her owne naughtines, so that she
■ 383

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

was put fro the biasse of her fore-intended lesson. For well
she found there was no way at that time to take that mind, but
with some, at lest, image of Vertue, and what the figure thereof
was her hart knew not.
5 Yet did she prodigally spende her uttermost eloquence,
leaving no argument unproved, which might with any force
invade her excellent judgement: the justnes of the request
being, but for marriage; the worthinesse of the suiter: then
her owne present fortune, if she would not onely have amend-
ment, but felicitie: besides falsely making her believe, that her
sister would thinke her selfe happie, if now she might have his
love which before she contemned: and obliquely touching,
what daunger it should be for her, if her sonne should accept
Philoclea in marriage, and so match the next heire apparant,
she being in his powre: yet plentifully perjuring, how ex-
treamely her sonne loved her, and excusing the little shewes he
made of it, with the dutifull respect he bare unto her, & taking
upo her selfe that she restrayned him, since she found she
could set no limits to his passions. And as she did to Philoclea^
so did she to her, with the tribute of gifts, seeke to bring her
minde into servitude: and all other meanes, that might either
establish a beholdingnesse, or at the lest awake a kindnes; doing
it so, as by reason of their imprisonment, one sister knew not
how the other was wooed ; but each might thinke, that onely
she was sought. But if Philoclea with sweete and humble
dealing did avoid their assaults, she with the Majestie of
Vertue did beate them of.

CHAP. 7.

'^ An Allarme to the Amphialians. "^ Base cowardise in Clinias;
^ brave courage imaged in Amphialus. ■* His onset with the
death of two friendes his foes. " The horrour of Mars-/ . j
game, ' Two deaths taken where they were not lookt for^ i
third delayed where it was expeSfed.

I T) Ut this day their speach was the sooner broken of, by

Ij reason that he, who stood as watche upon the top of the

keepe, did not onely see a great dust arise (which the earth sent

384

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Up, as if it would strive to have clovv^des as well as the aire) but
might spie sometimes, especially when the dust (wherein the
naked winde did apparaile it self) was caried aside fro them,
the shining of armour, like flashing of lightning, wherwith
the clowdes did seeme to be with child ; which the Sunne
guilding with his beames, it gave a sight delightful! to any, but
to them that were to abide the terrour. But the watch gave a
quick Alarum to the souldiers within, whome pra6tise already
having prepared, began each, with unabashed hartes, or at lest
countenaunces, to looke to their charge, or obedience, which
was allotted unto them.

Onely Clinias and Amphialus did exceed the bounds of 2
mediocrity: the one in his naturall coldnesse of cowardise,
the other in heate of courage. For Clinias (who was bold
onely in busie whisperings, and even in that whisperingnes
rather indeed confident in his cunning, that it should not be
bewraied, then any way bolde, if ever it should be bewrayed)
now that the enemy gave a dreadful aspedl unto the castle, his
eyes saw no terror, nor eare heard any martiall sounde, but
that they multiplied the hideousnesse of it to his mated minde.
Before their comming he had many times felt a dreadfull ex-
pectation, but yet his minde (that was willing to ease it selfe of
the burden of feare) did somtimes feine unto it selfe possibility
of let ; as the death of Baftliusy the discord of the nobility, &
(when other cause fayled him) the nature of chaunce served as
a cause unto him: and sometimes the hearing other men speake
valiantly, and the quietnesse of his unassailed senses, would
make himselfe beleve, that he durst do something. But now,
that present daunger did display it selfe unto his eye, & that a
daungerous dooing must be the onely meane to prevet the
dager of suffering, one that had marked him would have judged,
that his eies would have run into him, & his soule out of him;
so unkindly did either take a sent of danger. He thought the
lake was too shallow, & the walles too thin: he misdouted
ech mans treason, and conjectured every possibilitie of mis-
fortune, not onely fore-casting likely perils, but such as all the
planets together could scarce have conspired : & already began
to arme him selfe, though it was determined he should tarrie
within doores; and while he armed himselfe, imagined in what
part of the vault he might hide himselfe if the enimies wonne

s. A. BB 385

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the castle. Desirous he was that every body should do valiantly,
but himselfe; and therefore was afraid to shew his feare, but
for very feare would have hid his feare ; lest it should discofort
others: but the more he sought to disguize it, the more the
unsutablenes of a weake broke voice to high brave wordes, and
of a pale shaking countenance to a gesture of animating, did
discover him.

3 But quite contrarily Amphiaius^ who before the enimies
came was carefull, providently diligent, and not somtimes with-
out doubting of the issue ; now the nearer danger approched (like
the light of a glow-worme) the lesse still it seemed : and now
his courage began to boile in choler, and with such impatience
to desire to powre out both upo the enimie, that he issued
presently into certaine boates he had of purpose, and carying
with him some choise men, went to the fortresse he had upo
the edge of the lake, which he thought would be the first thing,
that the enimy would attempt ; because it was a passage, which
comanding all that side of that country, & being lost would
stop vidluall, or other supply, that might be brought into the
castle: & in that fortresse having some force of horsemen, he
issued out with two hundred horse, & five hudred footmen,
embushed his footme in the falling of a hill, which was over-
shadowed with a wood, he with his horsme went a quarter of
a mile further; aside had of which he might perceave the
many troupes of the enimie, who came but to take view where
best to encampe themselves.

4 But as if the sight of the enimie had bene a Magnes stone
to his courage he could not cotaine himself, but shewing his
face to the enimie, & his backe to his souldiers, used that adl:ion,
as his onely oration, both of denouncing warre to the one, and
persuading help of the other. Who faithfully folowing an
example of such authoritie, they made the earth to grone under
their furious burden, and the enimies to begin to be angry with
the, whom in particular they knew not. Among whom there
was a young man, youngest brother to Philanax^ whose face as
yet did not bewray his sex, with so much as shew of haire; of
a minde having no limits of hope, nor knowing why to feare;
full of jollitie in conversation, and lately growne a Lover. His
name was Agenor^ of all that armie the most beautifull: who
having ridden in sportfull conversatio among the foremost, all

386

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

armed saving that his beaver was up, to have his breath in
more freedome, seing Amphialus come a pretty w^ay before his
copany, neither staying the comaundement of the captaine, nor
recking whether his face were armed, or no, set spurs to his
horse, & with youthful! bravery casting his stafFe about his
head, put it then in his rest, as careful! of comely carying it, as
if the marke had ben but a ring, & the lookers on Ladies.
But Amphialus launce was already come to the last of his
descending line, and began to make the full point of death
against the head of this young Gentleman, when Amphialus
perceyving his youth and beautie. Compassion so rebated the
edge of Choller, that he spared that faire nakednesse, and let
his StafFe fall to Agenors vamplat : so as both with brave break-
ing should hurtleslie have perfourmed that match, but that the
pittilesse launce of Amphialus (angry with being broken) with
an unlucky counterbufFe full of unsparing splinters, lighted
upon that face farre fitter for the combats of Venus \ geving
not onely a suddaine, but a fowle death, leaving scarsely any
tokens of his former beautie: but his hads abandoning the
reynes, and his thighes the saddle, he fell sidewarde from the
horse. Which sight comming to Leontius^ a deere friende of
his, who in vayne had lamentably cried unto him to stay,
when he saw him beginne his careere, it was harde to say,
whether pittie of the one, or revenge of the other, helde as
then the soveraigntie in his passions. But while he, directed
his eye to his friende, and his hande to his enimie, so wrongly-
consorted a power could not resist the ready minded force of
Amphialus: who perceyving his il-diredled dire6tion against
him, so paide him his debt before it was lent, that he also fell
to the earth, onely happy that one place, & one time, did finish
both their loves and lives together.

But by this time there had bene a furious meeting of either 5
side: where after the terrible salutation of warlike noyse, the
shaking of handes was with sharpe weapons: some launces
according to the mettall they mett, and skill of the guider, did
staine themselves in bloud ; some flew up in pieces, as if they
would threaten heaven, because they fayled on earth. But
their office was quickly inherited, either by (the Prince of
weapons) the sworde, or by some heavy mase, or biting axej
iwhich hunting still the weakest chase, sought ever to light

BB2 387

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

there, where smallest resistace might worse prevent mischief.
The clashing of armour, and crushing of staves ; the justling
of bodies, the resounding of blowes, was the first part of that
ill-agreeing musicke, which was beautified with the griselinesse
of wounds, the rising of dust, the hideous falles, and grones of
the dying. The verie horses angrie in their maisters anger,
with love and obedience brought foorth the effedls of hate and
resistance, and with minds of servitude, did as if they afFedled
glorie. Some lay deade under their dead maisters, whome
unknightly wounds had unjustly punished for a faithfull dutie.
Some lay uppon their Lordes by like accidents, and in death
had the honour to be borne by them, who in life they had
borne. Some having lost their commaunding burthens, ranne
scattered about the field, abashed with the madnesse of man-
kinde. The earth it selfe (woont to be a buriall of men) was
nowe (as it were) buried with men: so was the face thereof
hidden with deade bodies, to whome Death had come masked
in diverse manners. In one place lay disinherited heades, dis-
possessed of their naturall seignories : in an other, whole bodies
to see to, but that their harts wont to be bound all over so close,
were nowe with deadly violence opened: in others, fowler
deaths had ouglily displayed their trayling guttes. There lay
armes, whose fingers yet mooved, as if they woulde feele for
him that made them feele: and legges, which contrarie to
common nature, by being discharged of their burthen, were
growne heavier. But no sworde payed so large a tribute of
soules to the eternall Kingdome, as that of AmphialuSy who like
a Tigre, from whome a companie of Woolves did seeke to
ravish a newe gotten pray; so he (remembring they came to
take away Philoclea) did labour to make valure, strength,
hatred, and choller to answere the proportion of his love, whicli
was infinit.
6 There died of his handes the olde knight /Eschylus^ who
though by yeares might well have beene allowed to use rather
the exercise of wisedome, then of courage ; yet having a lustic
bodie & a merrie hart, he ever tooke the summons of Time in
jest, or else it had so creepingly stollen upon him, that he had
heard scarcely the noise of his feete, and therefore was as fresh
in apparell, and as forwarde in enterprises, as a farre yonger
man: but nothing made him bolder, then a certaine prophecie

388

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

had beene tolde him, that he shoulde die in the armes of his
Sonne, and therefore feared the lesse the arme of an enemie.
But nowe, when Amphialus sworde was passed through his
throate, he thought himselfe abused; but that before he died,
his Sonne, indeede, seeing his father beginne to fall, helde him
up in his armes, till a pitilesse souldier of the other side, with a
mace brained him, making father and sonne become twinnes
in their never againe dying birth. As for Driaius, Memnon,
Nisus and Policrates ; the first had his eyes cut out so, as he
could not see to bid the neare following death welcome: the
seconde had met with the same Prophet that olde /Eschylus had,
and having founde manie of his speeches true, beleeved this to,
that he should never be killed, but by his owne companions: and
therefore no man was more valiant then he against an enemie,
no man more suspicious of his friends: so as he seemed to
sleepe in securitie, when he went to a battell, and to enter into
a battaile, when he began to sleepe, such guards he would set
about his person; yet mistrusting the verie guardes, that they
would murther him. But nowe Amphialus helped to unriddle
his doubts; for he overthrowing him from his horse, his owne
companions comming with a fresh supplie, pressed him to death.
Nisus grasping with Amphialus^ was with a short dagger slaine.
And for Policrates^ while he shunned as much as he could,
keeping onely his place for feare of punishment, Amphialus with
a memorable blowe strake of his head, where, with the con-
vulsions of death setting his spurres to his horse, he gave so
brave a charge upon the enemie, as it grewe a proverbe, that
Policrates was onely valiant, after his head was off. But no
man escaped so well his handes as Phebilus did : for he having
long loved Philoclea^ though for the meannesse of his estate he
never durst reveale it, nowe knowing Amphialus^ setting the
edge of a rivall upon the sworde of an enemie, he helde strong
fight with him. But Amphialus had alreadie in the daun-
gerousest places disarmed him, and was lifting up his sworde
to sende him away from him, when he thinking indeede to die,
O Philoclea (said he) yet this joyes me, that I die for thy sake.
The name of Philoclea first staied his sworde, and when he
heard him out, though he abhorde him much worse then before,
yet could he not vouchsafe him the honour of dying for
Philoclea^ but turned his sword another way, doing him no

389

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

hurt for over-much hatred. But what good did that to poore
PhebiluSy if escaping a valiant hand, he w^as slaine by a base
souldiour, w^ho seeing him so disarmed, thrust him through ?

CHAP. 8.

The Basilians reemhattelled '^ first by Philanax, ^ then by the blacke
Knight. 2 Ismenus slaine by Philanax. ^ Philanax captived
by Amphialus. * The blacke Knights exploits, ° His encounter
with Amphialus, parted by a by-blow. ^ The Amphialians
retraity and departure of the blacke Knight.

1 'nr^Hus w^ith the wrell-followed valure of Amphialus were the

X other almost overthrowne, when Philanax (who was the
marshal of the army) came in, with newe force renuing the
almost decayed courage of his souldiers. For, crying to them
(and asking them whether their backes or their armes were
better fighters) he himselfe thrust into the presse, and making
force and furie waite uppon discretion and governement, he
might seeme a brave Lion, who taught his yong Lionets, how
in taking of a pray, to joine courage with cunning. The
Fortune (as if she had made chases inow of the one side of that
blooddy Teniscourt) went of the other side the line, making as
many fall downe of Amphialus followers, as before had done of
Philanaxis; they loosing the ground, as fast as before they had
woon it, only leaving them to keepe it, who had lost themselves
in keeping it. Then those that had killed, inherited the lot of
those that had bene killed; and cruel Death made the lie quietly
togither, who most in their lives had sought to disquiet ech
other; and many of those first overthrowne, had the comfort
to see the murtherers overrun them to Charons ferrie.

2 CodruSy Ctesiphon, and Milo, lost their lives upon Philanax^
his sword : but no bodies case was more pitied, then of a yong
esquire of Amphialus, called Ismenus, who never abandoning his
maister, and making his tender age aspire to adtes of the
strongest manhoode, in this time that his side was put to the ■
worst, and that Amphialus-h'is valure was the onely stay of
them from delivering themselves over to a shamefull flight, he

390

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

sawe his masters horse killed under him. Whereupon, asking
no advise of no thought, but of faithfulnes and courage, he
presently lighted from his owne horse, and with the helpe of
some choise and faithful! servants, gat his master up. But in
the multitude that came of either side, some to succour, some
to save AmphialuSy he came under the hande of Philanax : and
the youth perceyving he was the man that did most hurt to his
partie, (desirous eve to change his life for glorie) strake at him,
as he rode by him, and gave him a hurt upon the leg, that made
Philanax turn towards him ; but seing him so yog, & of a most
lovely presence, he rather toke pity of him; meaning to make
him prisoner, & the to give him to his brother Agenor to be his
companion, because they were not much unlike, neither in
yeeres, nor countenance. But as he loked down upon him
with that thought, he spied wher his brother lay dead, &
his friend Leonttus by him, eve almost under the squiers feet.
The soroing not only his owne sorow, but the past-cofort
sorow, which he fore-knew his mother would take, (who with
many teares, & misgiving sighs had suffred him to go with his
elder brother Philanax) blotted out all figures of pitie out of his
minde, and putting foorth his horse (while Ismenus doubled two
or three more valiant, then well set blowes) saying to himselfe.
Let other mothers bewaile an untimely death as well as mine ; \
he thrust him through. And the boy fearce though beautiful; &
beautifull, though dying, not able to keepe his failing feete, fel
downe to the earth, which he bit for. anger, repining at his
Fortune, and as long as he could resisting Death, which might
seeme unwilling to ; so long he was in taking away his yong
struggling soule.

Philanax himselfe could have wished the blow ungiven, 3
when he saw him fall like a faire apple, which some uncourteous
bodie (breaking his bowe) should throwe downe before it were
ripe. But the case of his brother made him forget both that,
and himselfe : so as overhastily pressing uppon the retiring
enemies, he was (ere he was aware) further engaged then his
owne souldiers could relieve him ; were being overthrowne by
Amphialus^ Amphialus glad of him, kept head aginst his enemies
while some of his men caried away Philanax,

But Philanax-his men as if with the losse of Philanax they 4
had lost the fountaine of their valure, had their courages so

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

dried up in feare ; that they began to set honour at their backes,
and to use the vertue of pacience in an untimely time : when
into the presse comes (as hard as his horse, more afraied of the
spurre, then the sword could carie him) a Knight in armor as
darke as blacknes coulde make it, followed by none, and adorned
by nothing; so far without authoritie that he was without
knowledge. But vertue quickly made him knowne, and ad-
miration bred him such authoritie, that though they of whose
side he came knew him not, yet they all knew it was fitte to
obey him : and while he was followed by the valiantest, he
made way for the vilest. For, taking part with the besiegers,
he made the Amphialians bloud serve for a caparison to his
horse, and a decking to his armour. His arme no oftner gave
blowes, then the blowes gave wounds, then the wounds gave
deathes: so terrible was his force, and yet was his quicknes
more forcible then his force, and his judgement more quick
then his quicknes. For though the sword went faster then
eyesight could follow it, yet his owne judgement went still
before it. There died of his hand, Sarpedon, P/istonax, Strophilus^
and Hippolitus^ men of great proofe in warres, and who had
that day undertaken the guard of Amphialus. But while they
sought to save him, they lost the fortresses that Nature had placed
them in. The slew he Megalus^ who was a little before proude,
to see himselfe stained in the bloud of his enemies: but when
his owne bloud came to be married to theirs, he then felt, that

„Crueltie dooth never enjoy a good cheape glorie. After him
sent he Falemon^ who had that daye vowed (with foolish braverie)
to be the death of tenne : and nine already he had killed, and
was carefull to performe his (almost performed) vowe, when the
Blacke Knight helpt him to make up the tenth himselfe.

5 And now the often-changing Fortune began also to chaunge
the hewe of the battailes. For at the first, though it were
terrible, yet Terror was deckt so bravelie with rich furniture,
guilte swords, shining armours, pleasant pensils, that the eye
with delight had scarce leasure to be afraide: But now all
universally defiled with dust, bloud, broken armours, mangled
bodies, tooke away the maske, and sette foorth Horror in his
owne horrible manner. But neither could danger be dreadfull
to AmphialmA\\% undismayable courage, nor yet seeme ougly to
him, whose truely-affedted minde, did still paint it over with

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ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

the beautie of Philoclea. And therefore he, rather enflamed
then troubled with the encrease of dangers, and glad to finde a
woorthie subject to exercise his courage, sought out this newe
Knight, whom he might easilie finde: for he, like a wanton
rich man, that throwes down his neighbours houses, to make
himselfe the better prospedle, so had his sworde made him so
spatious a roome, that Amphialus had more cause to wonder at
the finding, then labour for the seeking: which, if it stirred
hate in him, to see how much harme he did to the one side, it
provoked as much aemulation in him, to perceave how much
good he did to the other side. Therefore, they approaching
one to the other, as in two beautiful! folkes, Love naturally
stirres a desire of joyning, so in their two courages Hate stirred
a desire of triall. Then began there a combatte betweene
them, worthy to have had more large listes, and more quiet
beholders: for with the spurre of Courage, and the bitte of
Respedt, each so guided himselfe, that one might well see, the
desire to overcome, made them not forget how to overcome :
in such time & proportion they did employ their blowes, that
none of Ceres servaunts coulde more cunningly place his flaile:
while the lefte foote spurre set forwarde his owne horse, the
right sette backward the contrarie horse, even sometimes by the
advauntage of the enemies legge, while the lefte hande (like him
that helde the sterne) guyded the horses obedient courage : All
done in such order, that it might seeme, the minde was a right
Prince indeede, who sent wise and diligent Lieutenants into
each of those well governed partes. But the more they fought,
the more they desired to fight; and the more they smarted, the
lesse they felte the smarte : and now were like to make a quicke
proofe, to whom Fortune or Valour woulde seeme most friendly,
when in comes an olde Governour of Amphialus^ alwayes a
good Knight, and carefull of his charge; who giving a sore
wounde to the blacke Knights thigh, while he thought not of
him, with an other blowe slewe his horse under him. Amphialus
cried to him, that he dishonoured him : You say well (answered
the olde Knight) to stande now like a private souldier, setting
your credite upon particular fighting, while you may see Basilius
with all his hoste, is getting betweene you and your towne.

He looked that way, and found that true indeede, that the 6
enemie was beginning to encompasse him about, and stoppe his

393

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

returne: and therefore causing the retreite to be sounded, his
Governour ledde his men homewarde, while he kepte him selfe
still hindmoste, as if hee had stoode at the gate of a sluse, to lette
the streame goe, with such proportion, as shoulde seeme good
unto him: and with so manfull discretion perfourmed it, that
(though with losse of many of his men) he returned in him selfe
safe, and content, that his enemies had felte, how sharpe the
sworde coulde bite of Philocleas Lover. The other partie being
sorie for the losse of Philanax, was yet sorrier when the blacke
Knight could not be found. For he having gotten on a horse,
whom his dying master had bequeathed to the world, finding
himselfe sore hurt, and not desirous to be knowen, had in the
time of the enemies retiring, retired away also: his thigh not
bleeding bloud so fast, as his harte bledde revenge. But BasUiiis
having attempted in vaine to barre the safe returne of Jmphialus,
encamped himselfe as strongly as he could, while he (to his
grief) might heare the joy was made in the towne by his owne
subjedles, that he had that day sped no better. For Amphialus
(being well beloved of that people) when they sawe him not
vanquished, they esteemed him as vidlorious, his youth setting
a flourishing shew upon his worthinesse, and his great nobilitie
ennobling his dangers.

CHAP. 9.

^The Love-divining dreame of Amphialus song to Philoclea.
'^Philanax his captivitie^ and deaths-doome^ ^for Philocleas
sake turnde to life and libertie. ^His loyall answere of
his Lords intents. "^Cecropias artes to perswade the sisters,

BUt the first thing Amphialus did, being returned, was to
visite Philoclea^ and first presuming to cause his dreame
to be song unto her (which he had seen the night before he fell
in love with her) making a fine boy he had, accorde a prettie
dolefulnes unto it. The song was this.

I IV T Ow was our heavenly vaulte deprived of the light
1 \| With Sunnes depart : and now the darkenes of the night
Did light those beamye stars which greater light did darke :
Now each thing that enjoyed that firie quickning sparke

394

r ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

{Which life is cald) were mov*d their spirits to repose^

And wanting use of eyes their eyes began to close :

A silence sweet each where with one consent emhraste

{A musique sweet to one in carefull musing plaste)

And mother Earthy now clad in mourning weedsy did breath

A dull desire to kisse the image of our death:

When /, disgraced wretch^ not wretched then, did give

My senses such reliefe^ as they which quiet live^

Whose braines broile not in woes, nor brests with beatings ake,

With natures praise are wont in safest home to take.

Far from my thoughts was ought, whereto their minds aspire.

Who under courtly pompes doo hatch a base desire.

Free all my powers were from those captiving snares.

Which heavenly purest gifts defile in muddy cares.

Ne could my soule it selfe accuse of such a faulte.

As tender conscience might with furious panges assaulte.

But like the feeble flower [whose stalke cannot sustaine

His weighty top) his top doth downeward drooping leane :

Or as the silly birde in well acquainted nest

Doth hide his head with cares but onely how to rest:

So I in simple course, and unentangled minde

Did suffer drousie lids mine eyes then clear e to blinde',

And laying downe my head, did natures rule observe.

Which senses up doth shut the senses to preserve.

They first their use forgot, then fancies lost their force^'.

Till deadly sleepe at length possest my living coarse.

A living coarse I lay : but ah, my wakefull minde

{Which made of heavenly stuffe no mortal chauge doth blind)

Flew up with freer wings of fleshly bondage free ;

And having plaste my thoughts, my thoughts thus placed me.

Me thought, nay sure I was, I was in fairest wood

Of Samothea lande ; a lande, which whilom stood

An honour to the world, while Honour was their ende.

And while their line of yeares they did in vertue spende.

But there I was, and there my calmie thoughts I fedd

On Natures sweet repast, as healthfull senses ledd.

Her giftes my study was, her beauties were my sporte :

My worke her workes to know, her dwelling my resorte.

Those lampes of heavenly fire to fixed motion bound.

The ever-turning spheares, the never-moving ground;

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

What essence desfnie hath', if fortune he or no;

Whence our immortal/ soules to mortall earth doo fowe :

What life it is, and how that all these lives doo gather^

With outward makers force, or like an inward father.

Such thoughts, me thought, I thought, and straind my single mind

Then void of neerer cares, the depth of things to find.

When lo with hugest noise [such noise a tower makes

When it blowne downe with winde a fall of ruine takes)

{Or such a noise it was, as highest thunders sende.

Or canons thunder-like, all shot togither, lende)

The Moone a sunder rent ; whereout with sodaine fall

{More swift then falcons stoope to feeding Falconers call)

There came a chariot faire by doves and sparrowes guided :

Whose stormelike course staid not till hard by me it bided.

I wretch astonisht was, and thought the deathfull doome

Of heaven, of earth, of hell, of time and place was come.

But streight there issued forth two Ladies {Ladies sure

They seemd to me) on whom did waite a Virgin pure:

Straunge were the Ladies weeds-, yet more unfit then strange.

The first with cloth's tuckt up as Nymphes in woods do range;

Tuckt up even with the knees, with bowe and arrowes prest :

Her right arme naked was, discovered was her brest.

But heavy was her pace, and such a meagre cheere.

As little hunting minde {God knowes) did there appeere.

The other had with arte {more then our women knowe,

As stuffe meant for the sale set out to glaring showe)

A wanton womans face, and with curld knots had twinde

Her haire, which by the helpe of painters cunning, shinde.

When I such guests did see come out of such a house.

The mountaines great with childe I thought brought foorth a mouse.

But walking forth, the first thus to the second saide,

Venus come on: said she, Diane you are obaide.

Those names abasht me much, whe those great names I hard:

Although their fame {me seemd) from truth had greatly jard.

As I thus musing stood, Diana cald to her

The waiting Nymphe, a Nymphe that did excell as farr

All things that earst I sawe, as orient pearles exceed.

That which their mother hight, or els their silly seed.

Indeed a perfeSi hewe, indeed a sweet consent

Of all those Graces giftes the heavens have ever lent.

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

And so she was attirdey as one that did not prize
Too much her peerles parts, nor yet could them despise.
But cald, she came apace', a pace wherein did move
The hande of beauties all, the little world of Love.
And bending humbled eyes {p eyes the Sunne of sight)
She waited mis tr esse will : who thus disclosd her spright.
Sweet Mira mine [quoth she) the pleasure of my minde.
In whom of all my rules the perfect proofe I finde.
To onely thee thou seest we graunt this speciall grace
Us to attend, in this most private time and place.
Be silent therefore now, and so be silent still
Of that thou seest : close up in secrete knot thy will.
She answer'* d was with looke, and well performed behest:
And Mira / admirde: her shape sonke in my brest.
But thus with irefull eyes, and face that shooke with spite
Diana did begin. What mov'd me to invite
Your presence {sister deare) first to my Moony spheare,
And hither now, vouchsafe to take with willing eare.
I know full well you know, what discord long hath raign*d
Betwixt us two; how much that discord foule hath stained
Both our estates, while each the other did deprave,
Proofe speakes too much to us that feeling triall have.
Our names are quite forgot, our temples are defaced:
Our offrings spoiVd, our priest from priesthood are displaced
Is this the fruite of strife ? those thousand churches hie.
Those thousand altars faire now in the dust to lie ?
In mortall mindes our mindes but planets names preserve:
No knees once bowed, forsooth, for them they say we serve.
Are we their servants growne ? no doubt a noble staye :
Celestiall powers to wormes, Joves children serve to claye.
But such they say we be: this praise our discord bred.
While we for mutuall spight a striving passion fed.
But let us wiser be-, and what foule discorde brake.
So much more strong againe let fastest concorde make.
Our yeares doo it require : you see we both doo feele
The weakning worke of Times for ever-whirling wheele.
Although we be divine, our grandsire Saturne is
With ages force decayed, yet once the heaven was his.
And now before we seeke by wise Apollos skill
; Our young yeares to renew [for so he saith he will)

397

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Let us a perfeSi peace betweene us two resolve:

Which lest the ruinous want of government dissolve y

Let one the Princesse be^ to her the other yeeld :

For vaine equalitie is but contentions field.

And let her have the giftes that should in both remaine:

In her let beautie both, and chastnesse fully raigne.

So as if I prevaiky you give your giftes to me :

If you , on you I lay what in my office be.

Now resteth onely this, which of us two is she.

To whom precedence shall of both accorded be.

For that {so that you like) hereby doth lie a youth

{She beckned unto me) as yet of spotlesse truth.

Who may this doubt discerne : for better, witt, then lot

Becommeth us : in us fortune determines not.

This crowne of amber faire {an amber crowne she held)

To worthiest let him give, when both he hath beheld:

And be it as he saith. Venus was glad to heare

Such proffer made, which she well showd with smiling cheere.

As though she were the same, as when by Paris doome

She had chiefe Goddesses in beautie overcome.

And smirkly thus gan say. I never sought debate

Diana deare\ my minde to love and not to hate

Was ever apt: but you my pastimes did despise.

I never spited you, but thought you overwise.

Now kindnesse prof red is, none kinder is then I :

And so most ready am this meane of peace to trie.

And let him be our judge : the lad doth please me well.

Thus both did come to me, and both began to tell

{For both togither spake, each loth to be behinde)

That they by solemne oth their Deities would binde

To stand unto my will: their will they made me know,

I that was first agast, when first I saw their showe :

Now bolder waxt, waxt prowde, that I such sway must beare,

For neere acquaintance dooth diminish reverent feare.

And having bound them fast by Styx, they should obaye

To all what I decreed, did thus my verdiSi saye.

How ill both you can rule, well hath your discord taught:

Ne yet for ought I see, your beauties merite ought.

To yonder Nymphe therefore {to Mira / did point)

The crowne above you both for ever I appoint.

398

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

/ would have spoken out: but out they both did crie;

Fiey Jie, what have we done ? ungodly rebell fie.

But now we needs must yeelde^ to that our othes require.

Yet thou shalt not go free [quoth Venus) such a fire

Her beautie kindle shall within thy foolish minde.

That thou full oft shalt wish thy judging eyes were blinde.

Nay then (Diana said) the chastnesse I will give

In ashes of despaire {though burnt) shall make thee live.

Nay thou {said both) shalt see such beames shine in her face

That thou shalt never dare seeke helpe of wretched case.

And with that cursed curse away to heaven they fled^

First having all their giftes upon faire Mira spred.

The rest I cannot tell^ for therewithall I wak'd

And found with deadly feare that all my sinewes shak^d.

Was it a dreame? O dreame, how hast thou wrought in me^

That I things erst unseene should first in dreaming see ?

And thou 6 traytour Sleepe^ made for to be our resty

How hast thou framde the paine wherewith I am opprest f

O cowarde Cupid thus doost thou thy honour keepe^

IJnarmde (alas) unwares to take a man asleepe ?

Laying not onely the conquests, but the hart of the
coquerour at her feet. * * * But she receiving him after her
woonted sorrowfull (but otherwise unmoved) maner, it made
him thinke, his good successe w^as but a pleasant monument of
a dolefull buriall : Joy it selfe seeming bitter unto him, since it
agreed not to her taste.

Therefore, still craving his mothers helpe to persuade her, 2
he himself sent for Philanax unto him, whom he had not onely
long hated, but nowe had his hate greatly encreased by the
death of his Squire Ismenus. Besides he had made him as one
of the chiefe causes that mooved him to this rebellion, and
therefore was enclined (to colour the better his adtion, and the
more to embrewe the handes of his accomplices by making
them guiltie of such a trespasse) in some formall sort to cause
him to be executed : being also greatly egged thereunto by his
mother, and some other, who long had hated Philanax, onely
because he was more worthy to be loved then they.

But while that deliberation was handeled, according rather 3
; to the humour then the reason of ech speaker, Philoclea comming

399

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

to knowledge of the hard plight wherein Philanax stood, she
desired one of the gentlewomen appoynted to waite upon her,
to goe in her name, and beseech Amphialusy that if the love of
her had any power of perswasion in his minde, he would lay no
further punishment, then imprisonment, uppon Philanax. This
message was delivered even as Philanax was entring to the pres-
ence of Amphialus^ comming (according to the warning was
given him) to receyve a judgement of death. But when he
with manfiill resolution attended the fruite of such a tyran-
nicall sentence, thinking it wrong, but no harme to him that
shoulde die in so good a cause; Amphialus turned quite the
fourme of his pretended speech, and yeelded him humble
thankes, that by his meanes he had come to that happinesse,
as to receive a commaundement of his Ladie : and therefore he
willingly gave him libertie to returne in safetye whither he
would; quitting him, not onely of all former grudge, but
assuring him that he would be willing to do him any friend-
ship, and service: onely desiring thus much of him, that he
would let him know the discourse and intent of Basilius-hls
proceeding.
4 Truely my Lorde (answered Philanax) if there were any
such knowne to me, secrete in my maisters counsaile, as that
the revealing thereof might hinder his good successe, I shoulde
loath the keeping of my blood, with the losse of my faith ; and
woulde thinke the just name of a traitour a harde purchase of a
fewe yeares living. But since it is so, that my maister hath
indeede no way of privie practise, but meanes openly and
forcibly to deale against you, I will not sticke in fewe wordes
to make your required declaration. Then tolde he him ii
what amaze of amazement, both Basilius and Gynecia wer<
when they mist their children and Zelmane, Sometimes apt t<
suspedl some practise of Zelmane, because she was a straungeri
sometimes doubting some reliques of the late mutinie, whici
doubt was rather encreased, then any way satisfied, by Miso^
who (being founde, almost deade for hunger, by certain^
Countrey-people) brought home worde, with what cunninj
they were trayned out, and with what violence they wer^
caried away. But that within a fewe dayes they came t(
knowledge where they were, with Amphialus-his owne lettei
sent abroade to procure confederates in his attemptes. Tha^

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ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Basilius his purpose was never to leave the siege of this towne,
till he had taken it, and revenged the injurie done unto him.
That he meant rather to winne it by time, and famine, then
by force of assault : knowing howe valiaunt men he had to deale
withall in the towne : that he had sent order, that supplyes of
souldiours, pioners, and all things else necessarie, shoulde dayly
be brought unto him : so as, my Lorde (sayde Philanax) let me
nowe, having receyved my life by your grace, let me give you
your life and honour by my counsaile; protesting unto you,
that I cannot choose but love you, being my maister-his
nephewe ; and that I wish you well in all causes : but this, you
knowe his nature is as apte to forgive, as his power is able to
conquere. Your fault passed is excusable, in that Love per-
swaded, and youth was perswaded. Do not urge the efFefts of
angrie vi6lorie, but rather seeke to obtaine that constantly by
courtesie, which you can never assuredly enjoy by violence.
One might easily have seene in the cheare of Amphialus, that
disdainfuU choller woulde faine have made the aunswere for
him, but the remembraunce of Fhiloclea served for forcible
barriers betweene Anger, and angry effedts : so as he saide no
more, but that he woulde not put him to the trouble to give
him any further counsaile: But that he might returne, if he
listed, presently. Philanax glad to receyve an uncorrupted
libertie, humbly accepted his favourable convoy out of the
towne; and so departed, not having visited the Princesses,
thinking it might be offensive to Amphialus, and no way fruit-
full to them, who were no way but by force to be relieved.

The poore Ladies indeede, not suffered either to meet 5
together, or to have coference with any other, but such as
Cecropta had alreadie framed to sing all her songs to her tune,
she herselfe omitting no day, and catching holde of everie
occasion to moove forwarde her sonnes desire, and remove their
knowne resolutions : using the same arguments to the one sister,
as to the other ; determining that whome she coulde winne first,
the other shoulde (without her sonnes knowledge) by poyson be
made away. But though the reasons were the same to both,
yet the handeling was diverse, according as she sawe their
humours to preferre a more or lesse aptnesse of apprehension :
this day having used long speech to Fhiloclea^ amplifying not a
little the great duetifulnesse her sonne had shewed in delivering

s. A. cc 401

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Philanax : of whome she coulde get no aunswere, but a silence
sealed up in vertue, and so sweetly graced, as that in one instant
it caried with it both resistance, and humblenesse.

CHAP. 10.

^Pamelas exercise. Cecropias ta/h with her "^of Beautie ^and the
use thereof. ^The Auntes Atheisme ^refuted by the Neeces
Divinitie.

I r~^Ecropia threatning in her selfe to runne a more ragged race
V^ with her, went to her sister Pamela : who that day having
wearied her selfe with reading, and with the height of her hart
disdaining to keepe companie with any of the Gentlewomen
appointed to attende her, whome she accounted her jaylours,
was woorking uppon a purse certaine Roses and Lillies, as by
the iinenessc of the worke, one might see she had borowed her
wittes of the sorow that owed them, & lent them wholy to that
exercise. For the flowers she had wrought, caried such life in
them, that the cuningest painter might have learned of her
needle: which with so prety a maner made his careers to & fro
through the cloth, as if the needle it selfe would have bene loth
to have gone froward such a mistres, but that it hoped to return
theceward very quickly againe: the cloth loking with many eies
upon her, & lovingly embracing the wounds she gave it: the
sheares also were at hand to behead the silke, that was growne
to short. And if at any time she put her mouth to bite it ofF^
it seemed, that where she had beene long in making of a R<
with her hand, she would in an instant make Roses with h<
lips; as the Lillies seemed to have their whitenesse, rather
the hande that made them, then of the matter whereof the]
were made ; and that they grew there by the Sunes of her eye
& were refreshed by the most in discomfort comfortable ayrc
which an unwares sigh might bestow upon them. But th<
colours for the grounde were so well chosen, neither sullenl)
darke, nor glaringly lightsome, and so well proportioned, as that
though much cunning were in it, yet it was but to serve for
ornament of the principall woorke; that it was not withoui
marvaile to see, howe a minde which could cast a careles

402

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

semblant uppon the greatest confli6les of Fortune, coulde com-
maunde it selfe to take care for so small matters. Neither had
she neglected the daintie dressing of her selfe: but as it had
ben her mariage time to Affliction, she rather semed to remember
her owne worthinesse, then the unworthinesse of her husband.
For well one might perceyve she had not rejedled the counsaile
of a glasse, and that her handes had pleased themselves, in paying
the tribute of undecey ving skill, to so high perfections of Nature.

The sight whereof so diverse from her sister, (who rather 2
suffered sorrow to distresse it selfe in her beautie, then that she
would bestow any intertainment of so unwelcome a guest) made
Cecropia take a suddaine assurednesse of hope, that she should
obtaine somewhat of Pamela: thinking (according to the
squaring out of her own good nature) that beauty, carefully
set forth, wold soone prove a signe of an unrefusing harborough.
Animated wherewith, she sate downe by Pamela : and taking the
purse, and with affeCted curiositie looking upon the worke. Full
happie is he (saide she) at least if he knew his owne happinesse,
to whom a purse in this maner, and by this hand wrought, is
dedicated. In faith he shall have cause to account it, not as a
purse for treasure, but as a treasure it selfe, worthie to be pursed
up in the purse of his owne hart. And thinke you so indeed
(said Pamela halfe smiling) I promise you I wrought it, but to
make some tedious houres beleeve, that I thought not of them :
for else I valued it, but even as a verie purse. It is the right
nature (saide Cecropia) of Beautie, to woorke unwitting efFedles
of wonder. Truely (saide Pamela) I never thought till nowe,
that this outward glasse, intitled Beautie, which it pleaseth you
to lay to my (as I thinke) unguiltie charge, was but a pleasaunt
mixture of naturall colours, delightfuU to the eye, as musicke is
to the eare, without any further consequence: since it is a
thing, which not onely beastes have; but even stones and trees
many of them doo greatly excell in it. That other thinges
(answered Cecropia) have some portion of it, takes not away the
excellencie of it, where indeede it doth excell : since we see, that
even those beastes, trees, & stones, are in the name of Beauty
only highly praised. But that the beautie of humaine persons
be beyond all other things there is great likelihood of reason,
since to them onely is given the judgement to discerne Beautie ;
and among reasonable wights, as it seemes, that our sex hath the

cc 2 403

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

preheminence, so that in that preheminence, Nature counter-
vailes all other liberalities, wherin she may be thought to have
dealte more favourably towarde mankind. How^ doo men
crowne (thinke you) themselves v^^ith glorie, for having either
by force brought others to yeeld to their minde, or with long
studie, and premeditated orations, perswaded what they woulde
have perswaded ? and see, a faire woman shall not onely com-
maund without authoritie, but perswade without speaking. She
shall not neede to procure attention, for their owne eyes will
chaine their eares unto it. Men venture lives to conquere ; she
conqueres lives without venturing. She is served, and obeyed,
which is the most notable, not because the lawes so commaund
it, but because they become lawes to theselves to obey her ; not
for her parents sake, but for her owne sake. She neede not dis-
pute, whether to governe by Feare, or by Love, since without
her thinking thereof, their love will bring foorth feare, and their
feare will fortifie their love: and she neede not seeke offensive,
or defensive force, since her lippes may stande for ten thousand
shieldes, and tenne thousand unevitable shot goe from her eyes.
Beautie, Beautie (deare Neece) is the crowne of the feminine
greatnes; which gifte, on whom soever the heavens (therein
most nigardly) do bestowe, without question, she is bound to use
it to the noble purpose, for which it is created : not onely
winning, but preserving; since that indeede is the right happines,
which is not onely in it selfe happie, but can also derive the
happines to another. Certainly Aunt (said Pamela) I feare me
you will make me not onely thinke my selfe fairer then ever I
did, but think my fairnes a matter of greater valew then here-
tofore I coulde imagine it. For I ever (till now) conceavec
these conquests you spake of, rather to proceed from the weake
nes of the conquered, then from the strength of the coquerinj
power: as they say, the Cranes overthrowe whole battailes oi
Pygmees^ not so much of their Cranish courage, as because th«
other are Pygmees : and that we see, young babes think babies
of woonderful excellencie, and yet the babies are but babies.
But since your elder yeares, and abler judgement, finde Beautie]
to be worthy of so incomparable estimation, certainly me thinks,!
it ought to be held in dearnes, according to the excellencie, andj
(no more then we would do of things which we accout pretious)!
ever to suffer it to be defiled.

404

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Defiled ? (said Cecropia) Mary God forbid that my speech 3
should tend to any such purpose, as should deserve so foul a
title. My meaning is to joyn your beauty to love ; your youth
to delight. For truely, as colours should be as good as nothing,
if there were no eyes to behold them : so is Beauty nothing,
without the eye of Love behold it: and therfore, so far is it
from defiling it, that it is the only honoring of it, the only pre-
serving of it: for Beauty goes away, devoured by Time, but
where remaines it ever flourishing, but in the hart of a true
lover ? And such a one (if ever there were any) is my son :
whose love is so subje6led unto you, that rather then breed any
offence unto you, it will not delight it selfe in beholding you.
Ther is no effe6l of his love (answered Pamela) better pleaseth
me then that: but as I have ofte answered you, so, resolutely
I say unto you, that he must get my parents consent, & then he
shall know further of my mind; for, without that, I know I
should offend God. O sweet youth (said Cecropia) how un-
timely subjeft it is to devotion? No, no sweet neece, let us old
folks think of such precise consideratios, do you enjoy the
heaven of your age, whereof you are sure : and like good hous-
holders, which spend those thinges that will not be kept, so do
you pleasantly enjoy that, which else will bring an over-late
repentance, whe your glas shall accuse you to your face, what
a change there is in you. Do you see how the spring-time is
fill of flowers, decking it self with them, & not aspiring to the
fruits of Autumn? what lesson is that unto you, but that in the
april of your age, you should be like April? Let not some of
the, for whom alredy the grave gapeth, & perhaps envy the
felicity in you, which theselves cannot enjoy, perswade you to
lose the hold of occasio, while it may not only be taken, but
offers, nay sues to be take: which if it be not now taken, will
never hereafter be overtaken. Your self know, how your
father hath refused all offers made by the greatest Princes about
you, & wil you suffer your beauty to be hid in the wrinckles of
his pevish thoughts ? If he be pevish (said Pamela) yet is he my
father, & how beautiful soever I be, I am his daughter: so as
God claimes at my hands obedience, and makes me no judge of
his imperfections.

These often replies upon conscience in Pamela^ made 4

405

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Cecropia thinke, that there was no righter waye for her, then
as she had (in her opinion) set her in liking of Beautie, with
perswasion not to suffer it to be voide of purpose, so if she
coulde make her lesse feeling of those heavenly conceipts, that
then she might easilie winde her to her croked bias. Therefore,
employing the uttermost of her mischievous witte, and speaking
the more earnestly, because she spake as she thought, she thus
dealt with her. Deare neece, or rather, deare daughter (if my
affedtion and wishe might prevaile therein) how much dooth it
increase (trowe you) the earnest desire I have of this blessed
match, to see these vertues of yours knit fast with such zeale
of Devotion, indeede the best bonde, which the most politicke
wittes have found, to holde mans witte in well doing ? For, as
children must first by feare be induced to know that, which after
(when they doo know) they are most glad of : So are these bug-
beares of opinions brought by great Clearkes into the world, to
serve as shewelles to keepe them from those faults, whereto els
the vanitie of the worlde, and weakenes of senses might pull
them. But in you (Neece) whose excellencie is such, as it
neede not to be helde up by the stafFe of vulgar opinions, I would
not you should love Vertue servillie, for feare of I know not
what, which you see not: but even for the good effects of
vertue which you see. Feare, and indeede, foolish feare, and
fearefull ignorance, was the first inventer of those conceates.
For, when they heard it thunder, not knowing the naturall
cause, they thought there was some angrie body above, that
spake so lowde : and ever the lesse they did perceive, the more
they did conceive. Whereof they knew no cause that grewe
streight a miracle : foolish folks, not marking that the alterations^
be but upon particular accidents, the universalitie being alwaies
one, Yesterday was but as to day, and to morrow will treac
the same footsteps of his foregoers: so as it is manifest inough,
that all things follow but the course of their own nature, saving
only Man, who while by the pregnancie of his imagination hej
strives to things supernaturall, meane-while he looseth his owne]
naturall felicitie. Be wise, and that wisedome shalbe a God untaJ
thee; be contented, and that is thy heaven: for els to thinke J
that those powers (if there be any such) above, are moved eithen
by the eloquence of our prayers, or in a chafe by the folly of our J

406

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

adlions ; caries asmuch reason as if flies should thinke, that men
take great care which of them hums sweetest, and which of
them flies nimblest.

She would have spoken further to have enlarged & cofirmed 5
her discourse: but Pamela (whose cheeks were died in the
beautifullest graine of vertuous anger, with eies which glistered
forth beames of disdaine) thus interrupted her. Peace (wicked
woman) peace, unworthy to breathe, that doest not acknowledge
the breath-giver; most unworthy to have a tongue, which
speakest against him, through whom thou speakest: keepe
your affeftion to your self, which like a bemired dog, would
defile with fauning. You say yesterday was as to day. O
foolish woman, and most miserably foolish, since wit makes you
foolish. What dooth that argue, but that there is a constancie
in the everlasting governour? Would you have an inconstant
God, since we count a man foolish that is inconstant ? He is not
seene you say, and would you thinke him a God, who might be
seene by so wicked eyes, as yours? which yet might see enough
if they were not like such, who for sport-sake willingly hood-
wincke themselves to receave blowes the easier. But though I
speake to you without any hope of fruite in so rotten a harte,
and there be no bodie else here to judge of my speeches, yet be
thou my witnesse, O captivitie, that my eares shall not be
willingly guiltie of my Creators blasphemie. You sale, because
we know not the causes of things, therefore feare was the
mother of superstition : nay, because we know that each effect
hath a cause, that hath engendred a true & lively devotion.
For this goodly worke of which we are, and in which we live,
hath not his being by Chaunce; on which opinion it is beyond
mervaile by what chaunce any braine could stumble. For if it
be eternall (as you would seeme to conceive of it) Eternity, &
Chaunce are things unsufferable together. For that is chaunce-
able which happeneth ; & if it happen, there was a time before it
hapned, when it might not have happened; or els it did not
happen ; and so of chaunceable, not eternall, as now being, the
not being. And as absurd it is to thinke that if it had a begin-
ning, his beginning was derived fro Chaunce : for Chaunce
could never make all thinges of nothing: and if there were
substaunces before, which by chaunce shoulde meete to make
up this worke, thereon foUowes another bottomlesse pitt of

407

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

absurdities. For then those substaunces must needes have bene
from ever, and so eternall : and that eternall causes should bring
forth chaunceable effefts, is as sensible, as that the Sunne should
be the author of darkenesse. Againe, if it were chaunceable,
then was it not necessarie ; whereby you take away all conse-
quents. But we see in all thinges, in some respedl or other,
necessitie of consequence : therfore in reason we must needs
know that the causes were necessarie.

Lastly, Chaunce is variable, or els it is not to be called
Chaunce : but we see this worke is steady and permanent. If
nothing but Chaunce had glewed those pieces of this All, the
heavie partes would have gone infinitely downewarde, the light
infinitely upwarde, and so never have mett to have made up
this goodly bodie. For before there was a heaven, or a earth,
there was neyther a heaven to stay the height of the rising, nor
an earth, which (in respedt of the round walles of heaven)
should become a centre. Lastly, perfedt order, perfect beautie,
perfe6t constancie, if these be the children of Chaunce, or
Fortune the efficient of these, let Wisedome be counted the
roote of wickednesse, and eternitie the fruite of her incon-
stancie. But you will say it is so by nature, as much as
if you said it is so, because it is so: if you meane of many
natures conspiring together, as in a popular governement
to establish this fayre estate ; as if the Elementishe and ethe-
reall partes should in their towne-house set downe the boundes
of each ones office; then consider what followes: that there
must needes have bene a wisedome which made them concurre :
for their natures beyng absolute contrarie, in nature rather
woulde have sought each others ruine, then have served as well
consorted partes to such an unexpressable harmonie. For that
contrary things should meete to make up a perfecStio without a
force and Wisedome above their powers, is absolutely im-
possible; unles you will flie to that hissed-out opinion of]
Chaunce againe. But you may perhaps affirme, that one
universall Nature (which hath bene for ever) is the knitting
together of these many partes to such an excellent unitie. If j
you meane a Nature of wisdome, goodnes, & providence,,
which knowes what it doth, then say you that, which I seeke|
of you, and cannot conclude those blasphemies, with which you;
defiled your mouth, & mine eares. But if you meane a
408

I ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Nature, as we speake of the fire, which goeth upward, it
knowes not why : and of the nature of the Sea which in ebbing
and flowing seemes to observe so just a daunce, and yet under-
stands no musicke, it is but still the same absurditie subscribed
with another title. For this worde, one, being attributed to
that which is All, is but one mingling of many, and many ones ;
as in a lesse matter, when we say one kingdome which con-
teines many citties; or one cittie which conteines many
persons, wherein the under ones (if there be not a superiour
power and wisedome) cannot by nature regarde to any pre-
servation but of themselves: no more we see they doo, since
the water willingly quenches the fire, and drownes the earth ; so
farre are they from a conspired unitie : but that a right heavenly
Nature indeed, as it were unnaturing them, doth so bridle them.

Againe, it is as absurde in nature that from an unitie many
contraries should proceede still kept in an unitie : as that from
the number of contrarieties an unitie should arise. I say still,
if you banish both a singularitie, and pluralitie of judgement
from among them, then (if so earthly a minde can lift it selfe
up so hie) doo but conceave, how a thing whereto you give the
highest, and most excellent kinde of being (which is eternitie)
can be of the base and vilest degree of being, and next to a
not-being; which is so to be, as not to enjoy his owne being?
I will not here call all your senses to witnes, which can heare,
nor see nothing, which yeeldes not most evident evidence of
the unspeakeablenesse of that Wisedome: each thing being
dire6ted to an ende, and an ende of preservation: so proper
effects of judgement, as speaking, and laughing are of mankind.

But what madd furie can ever so enveagle any conceipte, as
to see our mortall and corruptible selves to have a reason, and
that this universalitie (whereof we are but the lest pieces)
should be utterly devoide thereof? as if one should saie, that
ones foote might be wise, and him selfe foolish. This hearde
I once alledged against such a godlesse minde as yours, who
being driven to acknowledge these beastly absurdities, that our
bodies should be better then the whole worlde, if it had the
knowledge, whereof the other were voide; he sought (not able
to answere diredly) to shifte it of in this sorte: that if that
reason were true, then must it followe also, that the worlde
must have in. it a spirite, that could write and reade to, and be

409

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

learned; since that was in us so commendable: wretched foole,
not considering that Bookes be but supplies of defers ; and so
are praysed, because they helpe our want, and therefore cannot
be incident to the eternall intelligence, which needes no re-
cording of opinions to confirme his knowledge, no more then
the Sunne wants waxe to be the fewell of his glorious lightful-
nesse. This worlde therefore cannot otherwise consist but by
a minde of Wisedome, whiche governes it, which whether you
wil allow to be the Creator thereof, as undoubtedly he is,
or the soule and governour thereof, most certaine it is that
whether he governe all, or make all, his power is above either
his creatures, or his governement. And if his power be above
all thinges, then consequently it must needes be infinite, since
there is nothing above it to limit it. For beyond which there
is nothing, must needes be boundlesse, and infinite: if his
power be infinite, then likewise must his knowledge be infinite :
for else there should be an infinite proportion of power which
he shoulde not know how to use ; the unsensiblenesse whereot
I thinke even you can conceave: and if infinite, then must
nothing, no not the estate of flies (which you with so unsaverie
skorne did jest at) be unknowne unto him. For if it were,
then there were his knowledge bounded, and so not infinite:
if knowledge and power be infinite, then must needs his good-
nesse and justice march in the same rancke: for infinitenes or
power, & knowledge, without like measure of goodnesse, must
necessarily bring foorth destruction and ruine, and not orna-
ment and preservation. Since then there is a God, and an all-
knowing God, so as he sees into the darkest of all naturall
secretes, which is the harte of Man; and sees therein the
deepest dissembled thoughts, nay sees the thoughts before they
be thought: since he is just to exercise his might, and mightie
to performe his justice, assure thy selfe, most wicked woman
(that hast so plaguily a corrupted minde, as thou canst not
keepe thy sickenesse to thy selfe, but must most wickedly infedl
others) assure thy selfe, I say, (for what I say dependes of ever-
lasting and unremooveable causes) that the time will come,
when thou shalt knowe that power by feeling it, when thou
shalt see his wisedome in the manifesting thy ougly shameles-
nesse, and shalt onely perceive him to have bene a Creator in
thy destruction.
410

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

CHAP. II.

* Cecropia malcontent^ still praSftseth. ^ The besiegers discipliney
and attempts of the besieged. ^ Phalantus chalengeth ^ by
Letter Amphialus: ^ who by Letter accepteth it. ^ Amphialus
' and Phalantus militar accoustrements. ^ Their fo-like corn-
bate^ ^ but friendly conclusion.

THus she saide, thus she ended, with so faire a majestie of i
unconquered vertue, that captivitie might seeme to have
authoritie over tyrannie: so fowly w^as the filthinesse of im-
pietie discovered by the shining of her unstayned goodnes, so
farre, as either Cecropia saw indeed, or else the guilty amaze-
ment of her selfe-accusing conscience, made her eies untrue
judges of their natural objedt, that there was a light more then
humaine, which gave a lustre to her perfections. But Cecropia^
like a Batte (which though it have eyes to discerne that there
is a Sunne, yet hath so evill eyes, that it cannot delight in the
Sunne) found a trueth, but could not love it. But as great
persons are woont to make the wrong they have done, to be a
cause to doo the more wrong, her knowledge rose to no higher
point, but to envie a worthier, and her will was no otherwise
bent, but the more to hate, the more she founde her enemie
provided against her. Yet all the while she spake (though with
eyes cast like a horse that woulde strike at the stirrop, and with
colour which blushed through yellownesse) she sate rather still
then quiet, and after her speech rather muttered, then replied :
for the warre of wickednesse in her selfe, brought forth dis-
dainefull pride to resist cunning dissimulation; so as, saying
little more unto her, but that she shoulde have leysure inough
better to bethinke her selfe ; she went away repining, but not
repenting: condemning greatly (as she thought) her sonnes
over-feeble humblenesse, and purposing to egge him forward to
a course of violence. For her selfe, determining to deale with
neither of them both any more in maner of a suter : for what
majestie of vertue did in the one, that did silent humblenesse
in the other. But finding her sonne over-apt to lay both con-
demnation, and execution of sorrowe uppon himselfe, she sought
to mitigate his minde with feigned delayes of comforte, who

411

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

(having this inward overthrow in himselfe) was the more vexed,
that he coulde not utter the rage thereof upon his outward
enemies.

2 For Basilius taught by the last dayes triall, what daungerous
effe6les chosen courages can bring forth, rather used the spade,
then the sworde; or the sworde, but to defende the spade;
girding aboute the whole towne with trenches; which be-
ginning a good way of from the towne, with a number of well
diredled Pioners, he still caryed before him till they came to a
neere distance, where he builded Fortes, one answering the
other, in such sort, as it was a prettie consideration in the
discipline of warre, to see building used for the instrument of
ruine, and the assayler entrenched as if he were besieged. But
many sallies did Amphialus make to hinder their woorking.
But they (exercising more melancholie, then choller in their
resolution) made him finde, that if by the advauntage of place,
fewe are able to defende themselves from manie, that manie
must needes have power, (making themselves strong in seate)
to repell fewe; referring the revenge rather to the ende, then
a present requitall. Yet oftentimes they dealt some blowes in
light skirmishes, eche side having a strong retyring place, and
rather fighting with manie alarums, to vexe the enemie, then
for anie hope of great successe.

3 Which everie way was a tedious comber to the impacient
courage of Amphialus : till the fame of this warre, bringing
thither diverse, both straungers, and subjects, as well of princely,
as noble houses, the gallant Phalantus, who restrayned his
sportfuU delightes as then, to serve Basilius, (whome he
honoured for receyved honours) when he had spent some time
in considering the Arcadian manner in marching, encamping,
and fighting, and had learned in what points of governement,
and obedience their discipline differed from others, and had
satisfied his minde in the knowledge, both for the cutting o^
the enemies helpes, and furnishing ones selfe, which Basilius
orders coulde deliver unto him, his yong spirites (wearie of
wanting cause to be wearie) desired to keepe his valure in
knowledge, by some private adte, since the publique policie
restrayned him; the rather, because his olde mistresse Artesia
might see, whome she had so lightly forsaken : and therefore
demaunding and obteyning leave of Basilius -y he caused a

412

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Heraulde to be furnished with apparell of his office, and tokens
of a peaceable message, and so sent him to the gate of the
towne to demaunde audience of Amphialus : who understanding
thereof, caused him both safely, and courteously to be brought
into his presence : who making lowly reverence unto him,
presented his Letters, desiring Amphialus that whatsoever they
conteyned, he woulde consider that he was onely the bearer, but
not the inditer. Amphialus with noble gentlenesse assured
him both, by honourable speeches, and a demeanure which
aunswered for him, that his revenge, whensoever, should sort
unto it selfe a higher subjedl. But opening the Letters, he
found them to speake in this maner.

PHalantus of Corinthe^ to Amphialus of Arcadia^ sendeth the 4
greeting of a hatelesse enemie. The liking of martiall
matters without anie mislike of your person, hath brought me
rather to the companie, then to the minde of your besiegers :
where languishing in idlenesse, I desire to refresh my minde
with some exercise of armes, which might make knowne the
dooers, with delight of the beholders. Therefore, if there be
any Gentleman in your Towne, that eyther for the love of
Honour, or honour of his Love, well armed, on horsebacke,
with launce, and sworde, will winne another, or loose himselfe,
to be a prisoner at discretion of the conquerour, I will to
morrowe morning by Sunne rising, with a trumpet and a Squire
onely, attende him in like order furnished. The place I thinke
fittest, the Hand within the Lake, because it standes so well in
the view of your Castell, as that the Ladies may have the
pleasure of seeing the combate : which though it be within the
commaundement of your Castell, I desire no better securitie,
then the promise I make to my selfe of your vertue. I attende
your aunswere, and wish you such successe as may be to your
honour, rather in yeelding to that which is just, then in main-
teyning wrong by much violence.

^Aphialus read it with cheerefull countenance, and thinking 5
Jt\. but a little with himselfe, called for inke and paper, and
wrote this aunswere.

\Mphialus of Arcadia^ to Phalantus of Corinthe^ wisheth all
±\, his owne wishes, saving those which may be hurtful to

413

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

another. The matter of your letters so fit for a worthy minde,
and the maner so sutable to the noblenesse of the matter, give
me cause to thinke howe happie I might accounte my selfe, if
I coulde.get such a friende, who esteeme it no small happinesse
to have mette with so noble an enemie. Your chalenge shall
be aunswered, and both time, place, and weapon accepted.
For your securitie for any treacherie (having no hostage
woorthie to countervail you) take my woorde, which I esteeme
above all respedles. Prepare therefore your armes to fight, but
not your hart to malice; since true valure needes no other
whetstone, then desire of honour.

HAving writte and sealed his letter, he delivered it to the
Heraulde, and withall tooke a faire chaine from off his
owne necke, and gave it him. And so with safe convoy sent
him away from out his Citie: and he being gone, Amphialus
shewed unto his mother, and some other of his chiefe Coun-
sailours, what he had receyved, and howe he had aunswered:
telling them withall, that he was determined to aunswere the
chalenge in his owne person. His mother with prayers
authorized by motherly commaundement ; his olde governour
with perswasions mingled with reprehensions, (that he would
rather afFe6l the glorie of a private fighter, then of a wise
Generall) Clinias with falling downe at his feete, and beseech-
ing him to remember, that all their lives depended uppon his
safetie, sought all to dissuade him. But Amphialus (whose hart
was enflamed with courage, and courage enflamed with affec-
tion) made an imperious resolution cutte off the tediousnesse of
replyes, giving them in charge, what they shoulde doo uppon
all occasions, and particularly to deliver the Ladies, if otherwise
then well happened unto him : onely desiring his mother,
that she woulde bring Philoclea to a window, where she might
with ease perfectly discerne the combat. And so, as soone as
the morning beganne to draw dewe from the fairest greenes, to
wash her face withall, against the approach of the burning
Sunne, he went to his stable, where himselfe chose out a horse,
whom (though he was neere twentie yeere olde) he preferred
for a peece of sure service, before a great nuber of yonger. Hisj
colour was of a browne bay, dapled thick with black spots ; hisj
forhead marked with a white starre j to which, in all his bodic

414

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

there was no part sutable, but the left foote before; his mane
and taile black, and thick, of goodly, and well proportioned
greatnes. He caused him to be trimmed with a sumptuous
saddle of tawnie, and golde ennamell, enriched with pretious
stones : his furniture was made into the fashio of the branches
of a tree, from which the leaves were falling: and so artificiallie
were the leaves made, that as the horse moved, it seemed indeed
that the leaves wagged, as when the winde plaies with them;
and being made of a pale cloath of gold, they did beare the
straw-coloured liverie of ruine. His armour was also of tawnie
and golde, but formed into the figure of flames darckened, as
when they newelie breake the prison of a smoakie furnace. In
his shielde he had painted the Torpedo fish. And so appointed,
he caused himselfe, with his trumpet and squire (whom he had
taken since the death of Ismenus) to be ferried over into the
Hand : a place well chosen for such a purpose. For, it was so
plaine, as there was scarcely any bush, or hillock, either to
unlevell, or shadowe it : of length and breadth enough, to trie
the uttermost both of launce and sword, and the one end of it
facing of the castle, the other extending it selfe toward the
campe, and no accesse to it, but by water: there coulde no
secreate trecherie be wrought, and for manifest violence, ether
side might have time inough to succour their party.

But there he found Phalantus^ alredy waiting for him upon 7
a horse, milke white, but that upon his shoulder and withers,
he was fretned with red staines, as when a few strawberies are
scattered into a dish of creame. He had caused his mane and
taile to be died in carnation; his reines were vine branches,
which ingendring one with the other, at the end, when it came
to the bitte, there, for the bosse, brought foorth a cluster of
grapes, by the workeman made so lively, that it seemed, as the
horse champed on his bitte, he chopped for them, and that it
did make his mouth water, to see the grapes so neere him. His
furniture behind was of vines, so artificially made, as it semed
the horse stood in the shadow of the vine, so pretily were
clusters of rubie grapes dispersed among the trappers which
embraced his sides. His armour was blew, like the heaven,
which a Sun did with his rayes (proportionately delivered)
guilde in most places. His shield was beautified with this
device ; A greyhound, which overrunning his fellow, and taking

415

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

the hare, yet hurts it not whe it takes it. The word was, The
glorte^ not the pray.
8 But as soone as Amphialm landed, he sent his squire to
Phalantus^ to tel him, that there was the Knight, redy to know
whether he had any thing to him. Phalantus answered, that
his answere now must be in the laguage of launces ; & so each
attended the warning of the trupets, which were to sound at
the appointment of foure judges, who with consideration of the
same, had devided the ground. Phalantus-h'is horse young, and
feeling the youth of his master, stoode corvetting; which being
wel governed by Phalatus^ gave such a glittering grace, as when
the Sunne shines upon a waving water, j^mphialus-horse stood
panting upon the ground, with his further foot before, as if he
would for his masters cause begin to make himselfe angry: till
the trumpet sounded together. Together they set spurres to
their horses, together took their launces from their thighes,
conveied them up into their restes together, together let them
sinke downward ; so as it was a deledlable sight, in a dangerous
effeft; and a pleasant consideration, that there was so perfect
agreement, in so mortall disagreement : like a musick, made of
cunning discords. But their horses keeping an even line their
masters had skilfully allotted unto them, passed one by another
without encountring, although either might feel the angry
breath of other. But the staves being come to a just
descent, but even when the mark was ready to meet them,
Amphialus was runne through the vamplate, and under the
arme: so as the stafFe appearing behind him, it semed to the
beholders he had bene in danger. But he strake Phalantus just
upon the gorget, so as he battred the lamms therof, and made I
his head almost touch the back of his horse. But either side
having staied the spur, & used the bit to stop their horses fury^.
casting away the trocheons of their staves, & drawing their
swords, they attended the second summons of the death-
threatning trumpet, which quickly folowed; and they assoonej
making their horses answer their hads, with a getle galop, set
the one toward the other; til being come in the neernes of litl<
more then a staves length. Amphialus trusting more to the
strength, then to the nimblenes of his horse, put him foortl
with speedie violence, and making his head joyne to the other
flanke, guiding his blow with discretion, and strengthning \\

416

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

with the course of his horse, strake Phalantus upon the head, in
such sort, that his feehng sense did both dazell his sight, and
astonish his hearing. But Phalantus (not accustomed to be un-
grateful! to such beneiites) strake him upon the side of his
face, with such a force, that he thought his jawe had bene
cut asunder: though the faithfulnes of his armour indeede
garded him from further damage. And so remayned they
awhile, rather angry with fighting, then fighting for anger, till
Amphialus-h.\s horse, leaning harde upon the other, and winning
ground, the other horse feeling himselfe prest, began to rise a
little before, as he was woont to doo in his corvette: which
advantage Amphialus taking, set forward his own horse with
the further spurre, so as Phalantus-h\s horse came over with his
master under him. Which Amphialus seeing, lighted, with
intention to help Phalantus. But his horse that had faulted,
rather with untimely arte, then want of force, gatte up from .
burdning his burden, so as Phalantus (in the fall having gotten
his feete free of & the stirrop) could (though something bruised)
arise, seeing Amphialus neere him, he asked him, Whether he
had give him any help in removing his horse. Amphialus said
No. Truely sayd Phalantus^ I asked it, because I would not
willingly have fought with him, that had had my life in his
mercie. But now (said Phalantus) before we proceed further,
let me know who you are, because never yet did any man
bring me to the like fortune. Amphialus listing to kgepe him
selfe unknowne, told him he was a Gentlema, to whom
Amphialus that day had given armour and horse to trie his
valour, having never before bene in any combat worthy re-
membrance. Ah, (said Phalantus in a rage) And must I be the
exercise of your prentis-age? & with that, choler tooke away
either the bruse, or the feeling of the bruse, so as he entred a
fresh into the cobat, & boiling in his armes the disdaine of his
harte, strake so thicke upon Amphialus^ as if every blow would
faine have bene foremost. But Amphialus (that many like trials
had taught, great spending to leave small remnants) let passe
the storme with strong wardes, and nimble avoidings: till
seeing his time fit, both for distaunce and nakednes, he strake
him so cruell a blow on the knee, that the poore Gentleman
fell downe withall in a sowne.

But Amphialus^ pittying approved valourc, made pretious by 9

s. A. DD 417

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

naturall curtesie, went to him; & taking of his head-piece to
give him aire, the young Knight (disdained to buy life with
yeelding) bad him use his fortune : for he was resolved never to
yeeld. No more you shall (said Amphialus) if it be not to my
request, that you will account your self to have great interest
in me. Phalantus more overcome by his kindnes, the by his
fortune, desired yet once againe to know his name, who in his
first beginning had shewed such furie in his force, and yet such
stay in his furie. Amphialus^ then named himselfe, telling him
withal, he would think his name much bettred, if it might be
honored by the title of his fried. But no Baulme could be
more comfortable to his wound, then the knowledge thereof
was to his mind, when he knew his mishap should be excused
by the renowmed valour of the other. And so promising
each to other assurednes of good will, Phalantus^ (of whom
Amphialus would have no other raunsome, but his word of
friedship) was conveyed into the campe, where he would but
litle remaine among the enimies of Amphialus : but went to
seeke his adventures other-where.

CHAP. 12.

^ Philocleas il-taking Amphialus w el-meaning. ^ His challenge and
conquests continued for Love^ ^ his love. ^ Argalus sent for
to this challenge. * The conjugall happines of him and his
wife. ^ The passions stirred by this message. ^ Their sorrow-
sounding farewell. 'Argalusis defie. ^Amphialusis answere.
^ Arg3.\us\s furniture. ^'^ Their combat^ bloudy to both, deadly
to Argalus. " Parthenia comes to the end of it, and him.
^2 Her " and his lamentations. ^* The funerals.

I AS for Amphialus he was receaved with triumph into the
X~jl castle; although one might see by his eyes (humbly
lifted up to the window where Philoclea stood) that he was
rather suppliaunt, then victorious: whiche occasion Cecropia
taking, (who as then stoode by Philoclea, and had lately lefte
Pamela in another roome, whence also she might see the
combate) Sweet Lady (said she) now you may see, whether you

418

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

have cause to love my sonne, who then h'es under your feete,
when he standes upon the necke of his bravest enemies. Alas
said Philoclea^ a simple service to me, me thinkes it is, to have
those, who come to succour me, destroied : If it be my dutie to
call it love, be it so : but the effeds it brings foorth I confesse
I account hatefull. Cecropia grew so angry with this unkind
answere, that she could not abstayne from telling her, that she
was like them that could not sleepe, when they were softly
layed: but that if her sonne would follow her counsell, he
should take another course with her: and so flange away
from her.

Yet (knowing the desperate melancholy of Amphialus in 2
like cases) framed to him a very thankefuU message, poudring it
with some hope-giving phrases; which were of such joy to
Amphialus^ that he (though against publike respeft, & impor-
tunity of dissuaders) presently caused it to be made knowne to
the campe, that whatsoever Knight would trie the like fortune
as Phalantus did, he should in like sorte be answered: so as
divers of the valiantest, partly of themselves, partly at the
instigation of Basi/ius, attempted the combat with him: and
according to every ones humour, so were the causes of the
challege grouded : one laying treason to his charge ; another
preferring himselfe in the worthines to serve Philoclea-y a third,
exalting some Ladies beautie beyond ether of the sisters; a
fourth, laying disgraces to Love it selfe, naming it the bewitcher
of the witt, the rebell to Reason, the betrayer of resolution, the
defiler of thoughts, the underminer of magnanimitie, the
flatterer of vice, the slave to weakenesse, the infection of youth,
the madnesse of age ; the curse of life, and reproch of deathe ;
a fifth, disdayning to caste at lesse then at all, woulde make the
cause of his quarrell the causers of love, and proclayme his
blasphemies against womankinde ; that namely that sex was the
oversight of Nature, the disgrace of reasonablenes, the obstinate
cowards, the slave-borne tyrants, the shops of vanities, the
guilded wethercocks; in who conscience is but peevishnes,
chastitie waywardnes, & gratefulnes a miracle. But all these
challenges (how wel so ever endited) were so well answered,
that some by death taught others, though past learning them-
selves; & some by yeelding gave themselves the lie for having
blasphemed ; to the great griefe of BasiliuSy so to see his Rebell

DD2 419

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

prevaile, and in his own sight to crowne himselfe with deserved
honour.

3 Wherupon thirsting for revenge, & else not hoping to
prevaile, the best of his campe being already overthrowne; he
sent a messenger to Argalus^ in whose approved courage and
force, he had (and had cause) to have great confidence, with a
letter; requiring him, to take this quarrell in hand, from which
he had hetherto spared him in respedl of his late mariage. But
now his honour, and (as he esteemed it) felicitie standing upon it,
he could no longer forbeare to chalenge of him his faithfull service.

4 The messenger made speede, and found Argalus at a castle
of his owne, sitting in a parler with the faire Parthenia, he
reading in a booke the stories oi Hercules ^ she by him, as to
heare him reade; but while his eyes looked on the booke, she
looked on his eies, & sometimes staying him with some prety
question, not so much to be resolved of the doubte ; as to give
him occasion to looke upon her. A happy couple, he joying
in her, she joying in her selfe, but in her selfe, because she
enjoyed him: both encreasing their riches by giving to each
other; each making one life double, because they made a
double life; one, where desire never wanted satisfadtio, nor
satisfadtion never bred sacietie; he ruling, because she would
obey : or rather because she would obey, she therein ruling.

5 But when the messenger came in with letters in his hand,
& hast in his countenance, though she knew not what to feare,
yet she feared, because she knew not; but she rose, and went
aside, while he delivered his letters and message; yet a far of
she looked, now at the messenger, & then at her husband : the
same feare, which made her loth to have cause of feare, yet
making her seeke cause to nourish her feare. And wel she
foud there was some serious matter ; for her husbands counten-i
ance figured some resolution betweene lothnesse and necessitie:!
and once his eie cast upon her, & finding hers upon him, he]
blushed; & she blushed, because he blushed; and yet streightj
grew paler, because she knew not why he had blushed. But
when he had read, & heard, & dispatched away the messenger]
(like a man in whom Honour could not be rocked on sleepe byj
AfFedtion) with promise quickly to follow; he came to Par-^
theniay and as sorie as might be for parting, and yet more sori<
for her sorrow, he gave her the letter to reade. She wit!

420

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

fearful slownes tooke it, and with fearefull quicknesse read it ;
and having read it, Ah my Argalus (said she) and have you
made such hast to ansvi^ere? and are you so soone resolved to
leave me? But he discoursing unto her, how^ much it im-
parted his honour (which since it was deare to him, he knew it
would be deare unto her) her reason overclowded with sorow,
suffered her not presently to replie, but left the charge thereof
to teares, and sighes ; which he not able to beare, left her alone,
and went to give order for his present departure.

By that time he was armde, and readie to go, she had 6
recovered a little strength of spirite againe, h coming out, h
seing him armed, & wanting nothing for his departure but her
farewell, she ran to him, tooke him by the arme, and kneeling
downe without regard, who either heard her speach, or saw
her demeanour. My Argalus^ my Argalus (said she) doo not thus
forsake me. Remember, alas, Remember that I have interest
in you, which I will never yeeld shalbe thus adventured. Your
valour is already sufficiently knowne: sufficiently have you
already done for your country : ennow, ennow there are besides
you to loose lesse worthie lives. Woe is me, what shall become
of me, if you thus abandon me ? Then was it time for you to
follow these adventures, when you adventured no body but
your selfe, and were no bodies but your owne. But now
pardon me, that now, or never, I claime mine owne ; mine you
are, & without me you can undertake no dager: & will you
endager Parthenia? Parthenia shalbe in the battle of your
fight : Parthenia shall smart in your paine, & your blood must
be bled by Parthenia. Deare Parthenia (said he) this is the first
time, that ever you resisted my will : I thanke you for it ; but
persever not in it ; & let not the teares of those most beloved
eies be a presage unto me of that, which you would not should
happen. I shal live, doubte not: for so great a blessing, as
you are, was not given unto me, so soone to be deprived of it.
Looke for me therefore shortly, and vidlorious; and prepare a
joyfull welcome, and I will wish for no other triumph. She
answered not, but stood as it were thunder-striken with amaze-
ment: for true Love made obedience stande up against all
other passions. But when he tooke her in his armes, and
sought to printe his harte in her sweete lippes, she fell in a
sounde, so as he was faine to leave her to her Gentlewomen :

421

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

and caried away by the tyrannic of Honour, though with
manie a backe-cast looke, and hartie grone, went to the campe.
When understanding the notable vidlories of Amphialus^ he
thought to give him some dayes respite of rest, because he
woulde not have his vidtorie disgraced by the others wearinesse.
In which dayes, he sought by all meanes (having leave to parley
with him) to dissuade him from his enterprise: and then
imparting his mind to Basiliusy because he found Amphialus
was inflexible, wrote his defie unto him in this maner.

7 "T) Ight famous Amphialus^ if my persuasion in reason, or
Xv praier in good wil, might prevaile with you, you should
by better meanes be like to obteine your desire. You shoulde
make many brave enemies become your faithful servats, &
make your honor flie up to the heave, being caried up by both
the wings of valure & justice ; whereof now it wants the latter.
But since my suite, nor counsel can get no place in you,
disdaine not to receive a mortall chalenge, from a man so farre
inferiour unto you in vertue, as that I do not so much mislike
of the deed, as I have the doer in admiration. Prepare therfore
your self, according to the noble maner you have used, and
think not lightly of never so weake an arme, which strikes with
the sword of justice.

To this quickely he received this answere.

8 A /r Uch more famous Argalus, I, whom never threatnings
i.VX could make afraid, am now terrified by your noble

curtesie. For wel I knowe, from what height of vertue it
doth proceed, and what cause I have to doubt such vertue bent
to my ruine : but Love, which justifieth the unjustice you lav
unto me, dooth also animate me against all daungers, since
come full of him by whom your selfe have beene (if I be noi
deceived) sometimes conquered. I will therfore attend youi
appearaunce in the He, carying this advantage with me, that
it shal be a singular honour if I get the vidtorie, so there cai
be no dishonour in being overcome by Argalus.
Q The chalenge thus denounced, and accepted, Argalus wa
armed in a white armour, which was guilded over with knots
womans haire, which came downe from the crest of his headn
peece, and spred it selfe in rich quatitie over all his armour:
his furniture was cut out into the fashion of an Eagle, wherec
the beake (made into a rich Jewell) was fastened to the saddle

422

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

the taile covered the crooper of the horse, and the wings served
for trappers; which faUing of ech side, as the horse stirred, the
bird seemed to flie. His pettrell and reines, were embrodered
with feathers sutable unto it : upon his right arme he ware a
sleeve, which his deare Parthenia had made for him, to be
worne in a justes, in the time that successe was ungrateful! to
their well-deserved love : It was full of bleeding hartes, though
never intended to any blooddie enterprise. In this shield (as
his owne device) he had two Palme trees, neere one another,
with a worde signifying. In that sort flourishing. His horse was
of a firie sorrell, with blacke feete, and blacke list on his back,
who with open nostrels breathed warre, before he could see an
enemy : and now up with one legge, and then with another,
seemed to complain of Nature, that she had made him any
whit earthie.

But he had scarcely viewed the grounde of the Ilande, and lO
considered the advauntages (if any were) therof, before the
Castel boat had delivered Amphialus^ in al points provided to
give a hard entertainmet. And then sending ech to other
their Squires in honourable maner, to knowe whether they
should attende any further ceremony; the trumpets sounding,
the horses with smooth running, their staves with unshaked
motion, obediently performed their cholericke comandements.
But when they drew nere, Jrgalus-his horse being hot, prest
in with his head : which Amphialus perceiving, knowing if he
gave him his side, it should be to his disadvauntage, prest in also
with him, so as both the horses & men met shoulder to shoulder,
so as the horses (hurt as much with the striking, as being
striken)' tumbled downe to the earth, daungerously to their
maister, but that they by strength nimble, and by use skilfull,
in the falling shunned the harme of the fall, and without more
respite, drewe out their swordes with a gallant braverie, eche
striving to shewe himselfe the lesse endamaged, and to make
knowne that they were glad, they had nowe nothing else to
trust to, but their owne vertue. True it is, that Amphialus
was the sooner up ; but Argalus had his sworde out the sooner :
and then fell they to the cruellest combate, that any present
eye had seene. Their swordes first, like Canons, battering
downe the walles of their armour, making breaches almost in
everie place for troupes of woundes to enter. Among the rest,

43^3

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Argalus gave a great wound to Jmphialus-his disarmed face;
though part of the force of it Amphialus warded upon his
shielde, and with-all (first casting his eye up to Philocleas
Window, as if he had fetched his courage thence) feyning to
entend the same sort of blowes, turned his sword, and with
a mightie reverse, gave a cruell wounde to the right arme
of Argalus^ the unfaythfull armour yeelding to the swoordes
strong-guided sharpenesse. But though the blood accused the
hurt of Argalus^ yet woulde he in no action of his confesse it :
but keeping himselfe in a lower warde, stoode watching with
timely thrustes to repaire his losse; which quickly he did.
For Amphialus (following his fawning fortune) laid on so thicke
upon Argalus^ that his shield had almost fallen peece-meale to
the earth, when Argalus comming in with his right foote, and
something stowping to come under his armour, thrust him into
the belly daungerously, and mortally it would have beene, but
that with the blowe before, Amphialus had overthrowne him-
selfe so, as he fell side- warde downe, and with falling saved
himselfe from ruine. The sworde by that meanes slipping
aside, and not pearcing more deepely, Argalus seeing him fall,
threatning with voyce and sworde, bad him yeelde. But he
striving without aunswere to rise, Argalus strake with all
his might upon his head. But his hurte arme not able to
maister so sounde a force, let the swoorde fall so, as Amphialus^
though astonished with the blowe, could arise: which Argalus
considering, ranne in to graspe with him, and so closed
together; falling so to the grounde, nowe one getting above,
and then the other; at length, both wearie of so unlovely
embracements, with a dissenting consent gate up, and went to
their swordes: but happened eche of his enemies: where
Argalus finding his foes sworde garnished in his blood, his hart
rase with the same swoorde to revenge it, and on that blade to
allie their bloods together. But his minde was evill wayted-on
by his lamed force, so as he receyved still more and more
woundes, which made all his armour seeme to blush, that it
had defended his master no better. But Amphialus perceiving
it, & waying the small hatefulnesse of their quarrel), with the
worthinesse of the Knight, desired him to take pitie of himselfe.
But Argalus^ the more repining, the more he founde himselfe
in disadvauntage, filling his veynes with spite in steade of blood,

424

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

and making courage arise agaynst faintnesse, (like a Candle,
which a little before it goes out, gives then the greatest blaze)
so did he unite all his force, that casting away the little
remnaunt of his shielde, and taking his swoorde in both handes,
he stroke such a notable blowe, that he cleft his shielde,
armour, and arme almost to the bone.

But then Amphialus forgat all ceremonies, and with cruell 1 1
blowes made more of his blood succeed the rest; til his hand
being staied by his eare, his eare filled with a pitifull crie, the
crie guided his sight to an excellent faire Ladie, who came
running as fast as she could, and yet because she coulde not as
fast as she would, she sent her lamentable voyce before her:
and being come, and being knowne to them both, to be the
beautifull Parthenia^ (who had that night dreamed shee sawe
her husbande in such estate, as she then founde him, which
made her make such haste thither) they both marvailed. But
Parthenia ranne betweene them (feare of love making her forget
the feare of Nature) and then fell downe at their feete, deter-
mining so to part them, till she coulde get breathe to sigh out
her doolefuU speeches : and when her breath (which running had
spent, and dismayednesse made slowe to returne) had by sobbes
gotten into her sorow-closed breast, for a while she coulde say
nothing, but, O wretched eyes of mine, O wailefull sight, O
day of darkenesse : at length turning her eyes (wherein sorrowe
swamme) to Amphialus^ My Lorde (saide she) it is saide you
love ; in the power of that love, I beseech you to leave of this
combate, as even your harte may finde comfort in his affection,
even for her sake, I crave it : or if you be mortally determined,
be so pitifull unto me, as first to kill me, that I may not see the
death of Argalus. Amphialus was aboute to have aunswered,
when Argalus^ vexed with his Fortune, but most vexed that
she shoulde see him in that fortune. Ah Parthenia (saide he)
never till nowe unwelcome unto me, do you come to get my
life by request ? And can not Argalus live but by request ? Is it
a life ? With that he went aside, for feare of hurting her, and
woulde have begunne the combate afresh. But Amphialus not
onely conjured by that which helde the Monarchie of his mind,
but even in his noble hart melting with compassion at so pas-
sionate a sight, desired him to withholde his handes, for that he
shoulde strike one, who sought his favour, and woulde not make

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

resistaunce. A notable example of the woonderfull efFeftes of
Vertue, where the conquerour, sought for friendship of the
conquered, and the conquered woulde not pardon the con-
querour : both indeede being of that minde to love eche other
for accepting, but not for giving mercie, and neyther afFedted to
over-live a dishonour: so that Argalus not so much striving vv^ith
Amphialus (for if he had had him in the like sorte, in like sort
he v^^ould have dealt vv^ith him) as labouring against his ow^ne
power (which he chiefly despised) set himselfe forward, stretching
his strength to the uttermost. But the fire of that strife, blowen
with his inward rage, boyled out his bloud in such aboundance,
that he was driven to rest him upon the pommel of his sword :
and then each thing beginning to turne rounde in the daunce of
Death before his eyes, his sight both dazled, and dimmed, till
(thinking to sit downe) he fell in a sowne. Parthenia^ and
Amphialus both hastely went unto him : Amphialus tooke of
his helmet, and Parthenia laid his head in her lap, tearing of
her linnen sleeves & partlet, to serve about his wounds; to bind
which, she tooke of her hair-lace, and would have cut of her
faire haire herselfe, but that the squires and judges came in with
fitter things for the purpose : while she bewayled her selfe with
so lamentable sweetnes, as was inough to have taught sorrow to
the gladdest thoughts, and have engraved it in the mindes of
hardest mettall.

12 O Parthenia, no more Parthenia (said she) What art thou?
what seest thou? how is thy blisse in a moment fallen? how art
thou, even-now before all Ladies the example of perfect happines,
and now the gasing-stock of endles miserie ? O God, what
hath bene my desert to be thus punished ? or if such have bene
my desert, why was I not in my selfe punished ? O wandrinj
life, to what wildernes wouldst thou lead one ? But Sorow,
hope thou art sharp inough to save my labour from othel
remedies. Argalus, Argalus, I will folow thee, I wil folo>
thee.

13 But with that Argalus came out of his sowne, and lifting
up his languishing eyes (which a painefull rest, and iron sleep<
did seeke to lock up) seeing her, in who (even dying) he live(
and him selfe seated in so beloved a place, it seemed a litth
cheerefull bloud came up to his cheekes, like a burning colt
almost dead, if some breath a little revive it: & forcing up (the

426

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

best he could) his feeble voice, My deare, my deare, my better
halfe (said he) I finde I must now leave thee : and by that sweet
hand, and faire eyes of thine I sweare, that Death bringes no-
thing with it to grieve me, but that I must leave thee, and
cannot remaine to answere part of thy infinit deserts, with being
some comfort unto thee. But since so it pleaseth him, whose
wisdome and goodnesse guideth all, put thy confidence in him,
and one day we shall blessedly meet againe, never to depart:
meane while live happily, deare Parthenta, and I perswade my
selfe, it will increase the blessednes of my soule, so to see thee.
Love well the remembrance of thy loving, and truely loving,
Ar gains: and let not (with that worde he sighed) this disgrace
of mine, make thee one day thinke, thou hadst an unwoorthie
husband. They could scarcely understand the last wordes : for
Death began to seaze him selfe of his harte, neither coulde
Parthenia make answere, so full was her breast of anguish.
But while the other sought to stanch his remediles wounds,
she with her kisses made him happie: for his last breath was
delivered into her mouth.

But when indeede she found his ghost was gone, then
Sorrowe lost the witte of utterance, and grewe ragefuU, and
madde, so that she tare her beautifull face, and rent her haire,
as though they could serve for nothing, since Argalus was gone ;
till Amphialus (so moved with pittie of that sight, as that he
honoured his adversaries death with teares) caused her (with the
helpe of her women that came with her) partelie by force, to
be conveyed into boate, with the dead body of Argalus^ from
which she could not depart. And being come of the other
side, there she was receaved by Basilius him selfe, with all the
funerall pompe of militarie discipline, trayling all their Ensignes
upon the ground, making his warlike instruments sound dolefull
notes, and Basilius (with comfort in his mouth, and woe in his
face) sought to perswade some ease into Parthenias minde: but
all was as easefull to her, as the handling of sore woundes: all
the honour done, being to her but the triumph of her ruine,
she finding no comfort, but in desperate yeelding to Sorrow:
and rather determined to hate her selfe, if ever she should finde
ease thereof. And well might she heare as she past through the
Campe, the great prayses spoken of her husbande, which all
were recordes of her losse. But the more excellent he was

427

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

(being indeede accounted seconde to none in all Greece) the
more did the breath of those praises, beare up the winges of
Amphialus-h\s fame: to whom yet (such was his case) that
Trophe upon Trophe, still did but builde up the monumet of
his thraldome; he ever finding himselfe in such favour of
Philoclea, that she was most absent, when he was present with
her; and ever sorriest, when he had best successe: which would
have made him renounce all comfort, but that his mother, with
diversity of devises, kept up his hart.

But while he allayed thus his outward glorie, with inward
discomfort, he was like to have bene overtaken with a notable
treason, the beginning wherof (though meerely ridiculous) had
like to have brought forth unto him a weeping effedl.

CHAP. 13.

^Dametas put in harte ^to defie Clinias. 'Clinias out of harte to
see the vie, '^Dametas hraverie^ adoubements, and imprese.
"^Clinias drawne ^to answere him, ''Their passions in comming
to the field, ^ Their actions in it, not so doubty, as their fortune
douhtfull, ® Clinias yeelding to triumphant Dametas.

I A Mong other that attended Basilius in this expedition, Dametas
£\. was one ; whether to be present with him, or absent from
Miso: once, certaine it was without any minde to make his
sworde cursed by any widow. Nowe, being in the campe,
while each talke seemed injurious, which did not acknowledge
some duety to the fame of Amphialus, it fell out sometimes in
communication, that as the speech of heaven doth often beget
the mention of hell, so the admirable prowes of Amphialus (by a
cotrarie) brought forth the remembrance of the cowardise of
Clinias : in so much, as it grew almost to a proverb, As very a
cowarde, as Clinias, Describing him in such sort, that in the
end, Dametas began to thinke with himselfe, that if he made a
chalenge unto him, he would never answere it; and that then
he should greatly encrease the favourable conceite of Basilius,
This fancie of his he uttered to a young Gentleman, that
waited upon Philanax, in whose friendship he had especiall

428

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

cofidence, because he haunted his company, laughing often merely
at his speeches, and not a little extolling the goodly dotes of Mopsa.
The young Gentleman as glad, as if he had found a Hare sitting,
egd him on, breaking the matter with Philanax^ and then (for
feare the humour should quayle in him) wrote a challenge him
selfe for Damatas^ and brought it to him. ' But when Damcetas
read it, putting his head on his shoulder, and somewhat smiling;
he said, it was prettie indeed ; but that it had not a loftie stile
enough : and so would needes indite it in this sort.

OClinias, thou Clinias, the wickedest worme that ever went 2
upon two legges', the very fritter offraude^ and seething pot
of iniquitie : I Damaetas, chiefe gbvernour of all the royall cattell,
and also of Pamela [whom thy Maister most perniciously hath
suggested out of my dominion) doo defie thee^ in a mortall affray from
the bodkin to the pike upwarde. Which if thou doost presume to
take in hande^ I will out of that superfluous bodie of thine make thy
soule to be evacuated.

The young Gentleman seemed dumbe-striken with admira- 3
tion, and presently tooke upon him to be the bearer thereof,
while the heate of the fit lasted : and having gotten leave of
Basilius (every one helping on, to ease his minde overcharged
with melancholy) he went into the towne according to the
manner before time used, and in the presence of Amphialus
delivered this letter to Clinias \ desiring to have an answere,
which might be fit for his reputation. Clinias opened it, and
read it; and in the reading, his bloud not daring to be in so
daungerous a place, went out of his face, and hid it selfe more
inwardly : and his very wordes (as if they were afraid of blowes)
came very slowly out of his mouth : but, aswell as his painting
breath would utter it, he bad him tell the lowte that sent him,
that he disdained to have any thing to doo with him. But
Amphialus^ perceaving the matter, tooke him aside, and very
earnestly dealt with him not to shame himselfe ; Amphialus not
onely desirous to bring it to passe to make some sport to Philoclea^
but not being able to perswade with him, Amphialus licenced
the Gentleman, telling him, by the next morning he should
have answere.

The yong Gentlema (sory he had sped no better) returned 4

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to Damatasy who had fetched many a sower-breathed sigh, for
fear Clinias would accept the chalege. But whe he perceived
by his trusty messenger, that this delay was in efFe6l a denial,
there being no dispositio in him to accept it; then lo, Damatas
began to speake his lowd voice, to looke big, to march up &
down, & in his march to lift his legs higher the he was wont,
swearing by no meane devotios, that the wals should not keepe
the coward fro him, but he would fetch him out of his connie-
berrie : & then was hotter then ever to provide himselfe of horse
& armour, saying, he would go to the Hand bravely addoubed,
& shew himself to his charge Pamela. To this purpose many
willing hads were about him, letting him have reynes, pettrell,
with the rest of the furniture, and very brave bases; but all
comming from divers houses, nether in coulour or fashion,
shewing any kinred one with another; but that liked Damatas
the better: for that he thought would argue, that he was
maister of many brave furnitures. Then gave he order to a
painter for his device; which was, a plowe with the oxen
lewsed from it, a sword with a great many armes and legges
cut of; and lastly a great armie of pen and inke-hornes, and
bookes. Nether did he sticke to tell the secrete of his intent,
which was, that he had lefte of the plowe, to doo such bloudy
deedes with his swoorde, as many inkehornes and bookes should
be employed about the historifying of them : and being asked,
why he set no worde unto it, he said, that was indeede like the
painter, that sayeth in his pidlure. Here is the dog, and here is
the Hare: & with that he laughed so perfectly, as was great
consolation to the beholders. Yet remembring, that Miso
would not take it well at his returne, if he forgat his dutie to
her, he caused about in a border to be written :

Miso mine own pigsnie^ thou shalt heare news o* Damaetas.

Thus all things being condignely ordered, with an ill favoured
impatiencie he waited, until the next morning, that he might
make a muster of him selfe in the Hand; often asking thei
that very diligently wayted upon him, whether it were
pittie, that such a coward, as Clinias, should set his runawa]
feete upon the face of the earth?
5 But as he was by divers principal yong Gentlemen, to hi
no small glory, lifted up on horsebacke, comes me a page

430

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Amphialus^ who with humble smiling reverence delivered a
letter unto him from Clinias : whom Amphtalm had brought to
this, first with perswasions (that for certaine, if he did accept
the combat, Damastas would never dare to appeare, and that
then the honour should be his) but principally threatning him,
that if he refused it, he would turne him out of the towne to
be put to death for a traitour by Basilius : so as the present
feare (ever to a coward most terrible) of being turned out of the
towne, made him, though full unwillingly, undertake the other
feare, wherein he had some shewe of hope, that Damatas might
hap either to be sick, or not to have the courage to performe
the matter. But when Damatas heard the name of Clinias,
very aptly suspedling what the matter might be, he bad the
page carry backe his letter, like a naughty boy as he was: for
he was in no humour, he tolde him, of reading letters. But
Damcetas-h\s fried, first persuading him, that for certaine it was
some submission, tooke upon him so much boldnesse, as to open
his letter, and to reade it alowd in this sort.

Filthy drivell, unworthy to have thy name set in any letter by ad
souldiers hande written : could thy wretched harte thinke it
was timorousnesse, that made Clinias suspende a while his answere?
No caitiffe, no : it was hut as a Ramme, which goes backe to returne
with the greater force. Know therefore that thou shalt no sooner
appeare [appeare now if thou darest) I say thou shalt no sooner
appeare in the Ilande (O happy thou, if thou doo not appeare^ but
that I will come upon thee withall my force ; and cut thee in pieces
[marke, what I saie) joynte after joynte, to the eternall terrour of all
presumptuous villaynes. Therefore looke what thou doost : for I tell
thee, horrible smarte, and paine shalbe thy lot, if thou wilt needes be
50 foolish (/ having given thee no such cause) as to meete with me.

These terrible wordes Clinias used, hoping they would give 7
a cooling to the heate of Dametas-his courage : and so indeede
they did, that he did grone to heare the thundring of those
threatnings. And when the Gentleman had ended the reading
of them, Damatas tolde them, that in his opini£>n he thought
his answere came too late, and that therefore he might very
well go, and disarme him selfe : especially considering, the other
had in curteous maner warned him not to come. But they

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

(having him now on horsebacke) led him unto the ferrie, and so
into the Hand ; the clashing of his owne armour striking miser-
able feare into him, and in his minde thinking greate unkindnesse
in his friende, that he had brought him to a matter so contrarie
to his complexion. There stayed he but a little (the Gentlemen
that came with him teaching him how to use his sworde and
launce, while he cast his eye about, to see which way he might
runne away, cursing all Hands in being evill scituated) when
Clinias with a brave sounde of trumpets landed at the other
ende : who came all the way debating with himselfe, what he
had deserved of Amphtalus to drive him to those inconveniences.
Sometimes his witte made him bethinke him selfe what was
beste to be done : but feare did so corrupt his witt, that whatso-
ever he thought was best, he still found daunger therein ; feare-
fulnesse (contrarie to all other vices) making him thinke the
better of another, the worse he found him selfe ; rather imagining
in him selfe, what wordes he would use (if he were overcome) to
get his life of Damatas^ then how to overcome, whereof he
could thinke with no patience. But oftentimes looking to the
Earth pittifully complayning, that a man of such sufficiencie (as
he thought him selfe) shoulde in his best yeares be swallowed up
by so base an element. Faine he would have prayed, but he
had not harte inough to have confidence in praier; the glittering
of the armour, and sounding of the trumpets giving such an
assault to the weake-breache of his false senses, that he grewe
from the degree of feare to an amazement, not almost to know
what he did ; till two judges (chosen for the purpose) making
the trumpets cease, and taking the oth of those champions, that
they came without guile or witchcraft, set them at wonted
distaunce; one from the other.
8 Then the trumpets sounding, Damcetas-\{\% horse (used t<
such causes) when he thought lest of the matter, started out
lustely, that Damatas was jogde back with head, and bodie, andj
pulling withall his bridle-hande, the horse (that was tender of
mouth) made halfe a stop, and fell to bounding, so that Dameeti
threw away his launce, and with both his hands held by th«
pummell : the horse, halfe running, halfe leaping, till he met
with Clinias: who fearing he should misse his reste, had put
his staffe therein before he began his careere : neither would he
then have begun, but that at the trumpets warning, one (that^

432

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Stood behinde) strake on his horse, who running swiftly, the
winde tooke such holde of his stafFe, that it crost quite over his
breast, and in that sorte gave a flat bastonado to Dam^etas : who,
halfe out of his sadle, went neere to his olde occupation of
digging the earth, but with the creste of his helmet. Clinias
when he was paste him, not knowing what he had done, but
fearing lest Darmetas were at his backe, turned with a wide
turne; & seeing him on the ground, he thought then was his
time, or never, to treade him under his horses feete ; & withall
(if he could) hurt him with his launce, which had not broken,
the encounter was so easie. But putting forth his horse, what
with the falling of the stafFe to low before the legs of the horse,
& the coming upon Damastas^ who was then scrabling up, the
horse fell over & over, and lay upon Clinias. Which Damatas
(who was gotten up) perceiving, drew out his sword, prying
which way he might best come to kil Clinias behind. But the
horse that lay upon him, kept such a pawing with his feet, that
Damcetas durst not approch, but verie leysurely ; so as the horse
(being lustie) gat up, and withall fell to strike, and leape, that
Damcetas started up a good way, and gave Clinias time to rise,
but so bruised in bodie, and broken in hart, that he meant to
yeeld himselfe to mercie: and with that intent drew out his
sworde, entending when he came nearer, to present the pommell
of it to Damcetas, But Damcetas^ when he sawe him come
with his sword drawne, nothing conceiving of any such intent,
went backe as fast as his backe and heeles woulde leade him.
But as Clinias founde that, he beganne to thinke a possibilitie
in the vi<5lorie, and therefore followed with the cruell haste of
prevailing cowarde; laying upon Damcetas^ who did nothing
but crie out to him to holde his hand : sometimes that he was
dead, sometimes that he woulde complaine to Basilius : but still
bare the blowes ungratefully, going backe, till at length he came
into the water with one of his feete.

But then a new feare of drowning tooke him, so that not 9
daring to go back, nor to deliberat (the blows stil so lighted on
him) nor to yeelde (because of the cruell threatnings of Clinias)
feare being come to the extremitie, fell to a madnesse of des-
ire: so that (winking as hard as ever he could) he began to
le some blowes, and his arme (being used to a flaile in his
jrouth) laid the on so thick, that Clinias now began with lamet-

S. A. EE 433

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

able eies to see his owne blood come out in many places, and
before he had lost halfe an ounce, finding in himselfe that he
fainted, cried out aloud to Damatas^ that he yeelded. Throw
away thy sword then (said Damatas) and I will save thee ; but
still laying on, as fast as he could. Clinias straight obeyed, and
humbly craved mercie, telling him, his sworde was gone. Then
Damesta$ first opened his eyes, and seeing him indeed unweaponed,
made him stande a good way of from it ; and then willed him to
lie downe upon the earth as flat as he could. Clinias obeyed ;
and Damatas (who never could thinke himselfe safe, till Clinias
were deade) began to thinke with himselfe, that if he strake at
him with his sworde, if he did not kill him at the first blowe,
that then Clinias might happe to arise, and revenge himselfe.
Therefore he thought best to kneele downe upon him, and
with a great whittle he had (having disarmed his heade) to cut
his throate, which he had used so with Calves, as he had no
small dexteritie in it. But while he sought for his Knife,
which under his armour he coulde not well finde out, and that
Clinias lay with so sheepish a countenaunce, as if he would
have beene glad to have his throate cut for feare of more paine,
the Judges came in, and tooke Damcetas from off him, telling
him he did against the lawe of Armes, having promised life, if
he threwe away his sworde. Damatas was loath to consent,
till they sware, they woulde not suffer him to fight any more,
when he was up : and then more forced, then perswaded, he
let him rise, crowing over him, and warning him to take heede
how he dealt any more with any that came of his fathers
kinred. But thus this comhate ofcowardes being finished, Damatas
was with much mirth and melodie received into the campe as
victorious, never a Page there failing to waite upon this
Triumph.

CHAP. 14.

^Clinias a site traitour. ^Artesia his malcontent accomplice. ^Zt
imnes passions. * Her pra<^ise with Artesia.. '^The compi
revealed to the disliking sisters^ ^bewrayed by Pamela.

I T) UT Clinias^ though he wanted hart to prevent shame, y<

IJ he wanted not witte to feele shame; not so much r<

pining at it for the abhorring of shame, as for the discommoditie

434

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

that to them that are shamed, ensue. For well he deemed, it
would be a great barre to pradlize, and a pulling on of injuries,
when men needed not care, how they used him. Insomuch,
that Clinias (finding himselfe the scorning-stocke of every com-
panie) fell with repining to hate the cause thereof; & hate in a
cowards hart, could set it selfe no other limites, but death.
Which purpose was well egged on by representing unto him-
selfe, what daunger he lately was in ; which still kept no lesse
ougly figure in his minde, then when it was present: and
quickly (even in his dissembling countenance) might be discerned
a concealed grudge. For though he forced in himselfe a farre
more diligent officiousnesse towarde Amphialus^ then ever before,
yet a leering eye upon the one side at him, a countenance still
framed to smiling before him (how little cause soever there was
of smiling) and grombling behind him, at any of his com-
maundements, with an uncertaine manner of behaviour: his
words comming out, though full of flatterie, yet slowly, and
hoarcely pronounced, might well have blazed, what armes his
false hart bare. But despised, because of his cowardlinesse, and
not marked, because despised, he had the freer scope of pradlize.
Which he did the more desperately enter into, because the
dayly dangers Amphialus did submit himselfe into, made Clinias
assuredly looke for his overthrow, and for his owne consequently,
if he did not redeme his former treason to Basilius^ with a more
treasonable falshood toward Amphialus.

His chiefe care therefore was, to find out among all sorts of 2
AmphialuSy whom either like feare, tediousnes of the siege, or
discotentment of some unsatisfied ambitio would make apt to
dig in the same mine that he did: & some alredy of welthy
weary folks, & unconstat youths (who had not found such
sudden successe as they had promised theselves) he had made
stoupe to the lure. But of none he made so good account as
of Artesia^ sister to the late slain Ismenus, Sc the chiefe of six
maids, who had trained out the Princesses to their banket of
miserie: so much did the sharpnes of her wit countervail (as
he thought) any other defedls of her sex : for she had under-
taken that dangerous practise by the persuasion of Cecropiay
who assured her that the two princesses should be made away ;
& the Amphialus wold marry her: which she was the apter to

ibeleve, by some false persuasio her glas had give her of her own
EE2 435

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

incoparable excellencies, & by the great favor she knew he bare
to her brother Ismenus, which (like a self-flattering woma) she
conceived was done for her sake. But when she had atchieved
her attempt, & that she found the Princesses were so far fro
their intended death, as that the one of them was like to be her
sovereigne, & that neither her service had woon of Amphialus
much more the ordinary favor, nor her over-large ofFring herself
to a mind otherwise owed, had obteined a loked-for acceptatio;
disdain to be disdained spite of a frustrate hope, & perchance
unquenched lust-growne rage, made her unquiet thoughts find
no other rest, but malice : which was increased by the death of
her brother, who she judged neither succoured against Philanax^
nor reveged upon Philanax. But all these coles were wel blowne
by the copany she especially kept with Zelmane, all this time of
her imprisonment. For finding her presence uncheerfull to the
mourning Philoclea^ and contemned of the hie harted Pamela,,
she spent her time most with Zelmane. Who though at the
first hardly broking the instrument of their miserie, learning
cunning in the schoole of adversitie, in time framed her selfe to
yeeld her acceptable intertainment.
3 For Zelmane, when she had by that unexpe6ted mischief
her bodie imprisoned, her valure overmastred, her wit beguiled,
her desires barred, her love eclipsed; assured of evill, fearing
worse, able to knowe Philocleas misfortune, and not able to
succour her, she was a great while, before the greatnes of her
hart could descend to sorow, but rather rose boyling up in spight
and disdain; Reason hardly making Courage beleeve, that it was
distressed : but as if the walles would be afraid of her, so woulde
her lookes shoote out threatning upon them. But the fetters
of servitude (growing heavier with wearing) made her feele her
case, and the little prevailing of repining: and then griefe gat
seate in her softned minde, making sweetenesse of passed
comfortes by due title claime teares of present discomfort:
and since her fortune made her able to helpe as litle as any
bodie, yet to be able to waile as much as any bodie; solitarie
Sorrowe, with a continuall circle in her selfe, going out at her
owne mouth, to come in againe at her owne eares. Then was
the name of Philoclea graved in the glas windowes, and by the
foolish idolatrie of afFedlion, no sooner written, the adored ; &
no sooner adored, the pitied : al the woted praises (she was wont

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

to give unto her) being now but figures of rethorick to ampHfie
the injuries of misfortune; against which being alone, she
woulde often make invedlive declamations, methodized onely
by raging sorow.

But whe Artesia did insinuat herself into her acquaintance, 4
she gave the government of her courage to wit, & was cotent
to familiarize herselfe with her : so much the rather, as that she
perceived in her certaine flawes of il-c6cealed discontentmet.
Insomuch that whe Zelmane would sweete her mouth with the
praises of the sisters, especially setting forth their noble grate-
fulnes, in never forgetting wel-intended services, & invoking
the justice of the gods, not to suffer such treasures to be wrog-
fully hidde, & somtimes with a kind unkindnes, charging
Artesia that she had ben abused to abuse so worthy persos :
Artesia (though falsly) wold protest, that she had bin beguiled
in it, never meaning other matter the recreatio : & yet withall
(by alleaging how ungratefully she was dealt with) it was easie
to be scene, it was the unrewarding, & not the evil employing
her service, which grieved her. But Zelmane (using her own
bias to bowle neer the mistresse of her owne thoughtes) was
content to lende her beleefe, and withall, to magnifie her
desert, if willingly she would deliver, whom unwillingly she
had imprisoned; leaving no argument which might tickle
ambition, or flatter revenge. So that Artesia^ (pusht forward
by Clinias, and drawne onward by Zelmane) bound her selfe to
that pra6tise; wherin Zelmane (for her part) desired no more,
but to have armour and weapons brought into her chamber, not
doubting, therewith to perfourm any thing, how impossible
soever, which longing Love can perswade, and invincible
Valour dare promise.

But Clinias (whose faith could never comprehende the 5
misteries of Courage) perswaded Artesia, while he by corruptio
had drawn the guard of one gate, to open it (when he would
appoint the time) to the enemie: that she should impoyson
Amphialusy which she might the easier do, because she her selfe
had used to make the broaths, when Amphialus (either wearied
or wounded) did use such diet. And al things alredy were
ready to be put in executio, when they thought best to breake
the matter with the two excellent sisters, not doubting of their
cosent in a thing so behoofefull to theselves : their reasons

437

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

being, that the Princesses knowing their service, might be
sure to preserve them from the fury of the entring souldiers :
whereof Clinias (even so) could scarcely be sufficiently certaine :
and withall, making them privie to their adtion, to binde them
afterwardes to acknowledg gratefulnes towards them. They
went therefore at one time, when they knewe them to be
alone, Clinias to Philoclea^ and Artesia to Pamela : and Clinias,
with no fewe words, did set forth what an exploite was intended
for her service. But Philoclea (in whose cleere minde treason
could finde no hiding place) told him, that she would be glad,
if he could perswade her cosin to deliver her, and that she
would never forgett his service therin: but that she desired
him to lay down any such way of mischiefe, for that (for her
part) she would rather yeeld to perpetuall imprisonment, then
consent to the destroying her cosin, who (she knewe) loved her,
though wronged her. This unlooked-for answere amazed
CUniaSy so that he had no other remedie in his minde, but
to kneele downe to Philoclea, and beseech her to keep it secrete,
considering that the intention was for her service : and vowing
(since she misliked it) to proceed no further therin. She
comforted him with promise of silence, which she perfourmed.
6 But that little avayled : for Artesia having in like sort
opened this device to Pamela, she (in whose mind Vertue
governed with the scepter of Knowledge) hating so horrible a
wickednes, and streight judging what was fitte to doo. Wicked
woman (said she) whose unrepenting harte can find no way to
amend treason, but by treason : nowe the time is come, that
thy wicked wiles have caught thy selfe in thine owne nette : as
for me, let the Gods dispose of me as shall please them; buti
sure it shall be no such way, nor way-leader, by which I willj
come to libertie. This she spake something with a lowdei
voice then she was woont to use, so as Cecropia heard the]
noise; who was (sooner then Artesia imagined she would) comej
up, to bring Pamela to a window, where she might see a
notable skirmish happened in the Campe, as she thought,]
among themselves: and being a cunning fisher in troubled]
waters, streight found by their voices and gestures, there was
some matter of consequence, which she desired Pa?nela to tell]
her. Aske of her (said Pamela) & learne to know, that whoj
do falshoode to their superiours, teach falshoode to theii

438

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

inferiours. More she would not say. But Cecropia taking
away the each-way guiltie Artesia, with feare of torture, gat
of her the whole pradlise : so as Zelmane was the more closely
imprisoned, and Cltnias (with the rest of his corrupted mates,
according to their merites) executed : For, as for Artesia^ she
was but lockt up in her chamber, Amphialus not consenting
(for the love he bare Ismenus) that further punishment should
be laide upon her.

CHAP. 15.

^Proude Anaxius breaketh through the besiegers. ^ His welcome
by Amphialus. ^The Musicke^ '^ and lovesong made to
Philoclea. ^ The salUe of Anaxius and his on the Basilians,
^ backt by Amphialus, ''beaten backe by three unknowen
Knightes. ^ The Retraite of both sides.

BUt the noyse they hearde in the campe, was occasioned by the i
famous Prince Anaxius, nephewe to the Giant Euardes
whom Pyrocles slew: A Prince, of body excedingly strong; in
armes so skilfull and fortunate, as no man was thought to excel
him ; of courage that knew not how to feare : partes worthie
praise, if they had not bene guyded by pride, and followed by
unjustice. For, by a strange composition of minde, there was
no man more tenderly sensible in any thing ofFred to himselfe,
which in the farthest-fette construction, might be wrested to
the name of wrog; no man, that in his own actions could
worse distinguish betwene Valour and Violence : So proud, as
he could not abstaine from a Thraso-\\k.Q boasting, and yet (so
unluckie a lodging his vertues had gotten) he would never boast
more then he would accomplish : falsly accounting an unflexible
anger, a couragious constancie: esteeming feare, and astonish-
ment, righter causes of admiration, then Love and Honour.
This man had foure sundrie times fought with Amphialus, but
Mars had bene so unpartiall an arbiter, that neither side gate
advauntage of the other. But in the end it hapned, that
Anaxius found Amphialus (unknowen) in a great danger, and
saved his life: wherupon (loving his owne benefite) began to

439

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

favour him, so much the more, as, thinking so well of himselfe,
he coulde not choose but like him, whom he founde a match
for himselfe : which at last grewe to as much friendship towardes
him, as could by a proud harte be conceived. So as in this
travaile (seeking Pyrocles to be revenged of his uncles death)
hearing of this siege, never taking paines to examine the
quarrell (like a man whose will was his God, and his hand his
lawe) taking with him his two brothers (men accounted little
inferiour to him selfe in martiall matters) and two hundred chosen
horsemen (with whome he thought him selfe able to conquere
the world) yet commaunding the rest of his forces to follow, he
him selfe upon such an unexped:ed suddainenesse entred in
upon the backe of Basiiius, that many with great unkindnesse
tooke their death, not knowing why, nor how they were so
murdred. There, if ever, did he make knowne the wonder-
fulnes of his force. But the valiant, & faithfull Philanax^ with
wel governed speed made such head against him, as would have

„ shewed, how soone Courage falles in the ditch which hath not
the eie of Wisdome: but that Amphialus at the same time
issued out, & winning with an abondaunce of courage one of
the sconses, which Basiiius had builded, made waie for his
friend Anaxius with great losse of both sides, but especially of
the Basiiians; such notable monuments had those two swords
especially lefte of their Maisters redoubted worthynesse.

2 There with the respedl fit to his estate, the honour dewe to
his worthinesse, and the kindnesse which accompanies friendship
(made fast by enterchaunged benefites) did Amphialus enforce
him selfe (as much as in a besieged towne he could) to make
Anaxius know, that his succour was not so needefull, as hisj
presence gratefull. For causing the streates and houses of the
towne to witnes his welcome (making both souldiers and
Magistrates in their countenaunces to shewe their gladnesse
of him) he led him to his mother, whom he besought to
entertain him with no lesse love and kindnesse, then as one,
who once had saved her sonnes life, and now came to save'
both life and honour. Tush (said Anaxius, speaking alowde,
looking upon his brothers) I am onely sorie there are not halfe
a dozen Kinges more about you: that what Anaxius can doo,
might be the better manifested. His brothers smiled, as though
he had over-modestly spoken farre underneath the pitch of his

440

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

power. Then was he disarmed at the earnest request of
Amphialus : for Anaxius boiled with desire to issue out uppon
the enemies, perswading himselfe, that the Sunne shoulde not be
sette, before he had overthrowne them. And having reposed
himselfe, Amphialus asked him, whether he woulde visite the
yong Princesses. But Anaxius whispered him in the eare: In
trueth (saide he) deare friende Amphialus, though I am none of
those, that love to speake of themselves, I never came yet in
companie of Ladies, but that they fell in love with me. And
I that in my hart scorne them as a peevish paltrie sexe, not
woorthie to communicate with my vertues, would not do you
the wrong : since (as I heare) you doo debase your selfe so much
as to afFedt them. The curteous Amphialus could have beene
angrie with him for those wordes ; but knowing his humour,
suffered him to daunce to his owne musicke : and gave himselfe
to entertaine both him and his brothers, with as cheerefuU a
maner, as coulde issue from a minde whome unluckie love had
filled with melancholic. For to Anaxius he yeelded the direction
of all. He gave the watchwoorde, and if any grace were
graunted, the meanes were to be made to Anaxius. And that
night when supper was ended, wherein Amphialus woulde
needes himselfe waite upon him, he caused in Boates upon the
Lake an excellent musicke to be ordered : which, though
Anaxius might conceive was for his honour, yet indeede he was
but the Bricke-wall to convey it to the eares of the beloved
Phi lode a.

The musicke was of Cornets, whereof one aunswering the 3
other, with a sweete emulation, striving for the glorie of
musicke, and striking upon the smooth face of the quiet Lake,
was then delivered up to the castell walles, which with a
proude reverberation, spreading it into the aire ; it seemed
before the harmonic came to the eare, that it had enriched it
selfe in travaile, the nature of those places adding melodie to
that melodious instrument. And when a while that instrument
had made a brave proclamation to all unpossessed mindes of
attention, an excellent consort streight followed of five VioUes,
and as manie voyces; which all being but Oratours of their
maisters passions, bestowed this song uppon her, that thought
uppon another matter.

441

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

4 '' I ^He Fire to see my woes for anger burneth :

X T'he Aire in raine for my affliSiion weepeth :
The Sea to ebhe for griefe his flowing turneth :
The Earth with pitie dull his center turneth.

Fame is with wonder blazed:

Time runnes away for sorrow :

Place standeth still amaxed^
To see my night of ilsy which hath no morrowe.

Alas all onely she no pitie taketh
To know my miseries^ but chaste and cruell

My fall her glory maketh ;
Tet still her eyes give to my fames their fuelL

Firey burne me quite till sense of burning leave me :
Airey let me drawe thy breath no more in anguish:
Sea^ drowned in thee of tedious life bereave me :
Earthy take this earth wherein my spirits languish,

Famey say I was not borne:

Timey hast my dying hower :

Placey see my grave uptorne :
Firey airey setty earthy fame, timey place show your power,

Alas from all their helpe I am exiled :
For hers am /, and Death feares her displeasure.

Fie Death thou art beguiled:
Though I be hersy she sets by me no treasure.

5 But Anaxius (seeming a weary before it was ended) told
Amphialusy that for his part he liked no musick, but the
neighing of horses, the sound of trumpets, and the cries of^
yeelding persons: and therefore desired, that the next morning]
they shoulde issue upon the same place, where they had entred
that day, not doubting to make them quickly a wearie of being!
the besiegers of Anaxius. AmphialuSy who had no whit lesse
courage, though nothing blowne up with pride, willingly
condiscended : and so the next morning (giving false alarum to^
the other side of the campe) Amphialus at Anaxius earnest
request, staying within the towne to see it garded, Anaxius and!
his brethren, Lycurgusy and ZoiluSy sallied out with the best
chosen men. But Basilius (having bene the last day somewhat
unprovided) now had better fortified the overthrowne sconse;]

442

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

and so well had prepared every thing for defence, that it was
impossible for any valour from within, to prevaile. Yet things
were perfourmed by Anaxius beyonde the credite of the
credulous. For thrise (valiantly followed by his brothers) did
he set up his banner upon the rampire of the enemie : though
thrise againe by the multitude, and advauntage of the place, but
especially by the comming of three valiant Knights, he were
driven downe againe. Nubers there were that day, whose
deathes and overthrowes were executed by the well knowen
sworde of Anaxius: but the rest, by the length of time and
injurie of Historians, have bene wrapped up in darke forgetful-
nesse: onely Tressenntus is spoken of, because when all
abandoned the place, hee onely made head to Anaxius ', till
having lost one of his legs, yet not lost the harte of fighting,
Lycurgus (second brother to Anaxius) cruellie murthered him ;
Anaxius him selfe disdayning any further to deale with him.

But so farre had Anaxius at the thirde time prevayled, that 6
now the Basilians began to let their courage descende to their
feete, Basiiius, and Philanax in vaine striving, with reverence of
authoritie to bridle the flight of astonishment, and to teach
Feare discretion: so that Amphialus^ seeing Viftorie shew such
a flattering countenaunce to him, came out with all his force;
hoping that day to end the siege.

But that fancie altered quicklie by the suddaine comming 7
to the other side of three Knights, whereof the one was in
white armour, the other in greene, and the thirde by his blacke
armour, and device streight knowne to be the notable Knight,
who the first day had given Fortune so short a stoppe with his
notable deedes, and fighting hand to hand with the deemed
invincible Amphialus. For the very cowardes no sooner saw
him, but as borrowing some of his spirit, they went like yong
Eagles to the pray, under the wing of their damme. For the
three adventurers, not content to keepe them from their
rampier, leapt downe among, them, and entered into a brave
combate with the three valiaunt brothers. But to whether
side Fortune woulde have beene partiall, could not be deter-
mined. For the Basilians^ lightened with the beames of these
straungers valure; followed so thicke, that the Amphialians were
glad with some haste to retire to the walles warde: though
Anaxius neither reason, feare, nor example, coulde make him

443

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

asswage the furie of his fight: untill one of the Basilians
(unwoorthie to have his name registred, since he did it cowardly,
sidewarde, when he least looked that way) almost cut off one
of his legges : so as he fell downe, blaspheming heaven, that all
the influences thereof had power to overthrow him; and there
death would have seazed of his proude hart, but that Amphialm
tooke in hand the blacke knight, while some of his souldiers
conveied away Anaxius^ so requiting life for life unto him.
8 And for the love and example of Ainph'ialus^ the fight began
to enter into a new fitte of heate: when Basilius (that thought
inough to be done for that day) caused retraite to be sounded ;
fearing least his men following over-hastily, might bee the losse
of those excellent Knights whom he desired to knowe. The
Knights as soone as they heard the retraite (though they were
„ eagerly set, knowing that courage without discipline is nearer
„ beastlinesse then manhood) drew backe their swords, though
hungrie of more blood: especially the blacke Knight, who,
knowing Amphialus^ could not refraine to tell him, that this
was the second time he escaped out of his hands, but that he
would shortly bring him a bill of all the former accounts.
Amphialm seing it fit to retire also (most of his people being
hurt, both in bodies and harts) withdrew himselfe, with so well
seated a resolution, that it was as farre from anger, as from
dismayednesse ; answering no other to the blacke Knights
threats, but that when he brought him his account, he should
finde a good pay-master.

CHAP. 1 6.

^ The unknowne Knights will not be knowne. ^ The Knight of thi
Tombes sheWy ^ and challenge accepted by Amphialus. ■* Theh
fighty with the death of the Tombe-knight. " Who thai
Knight was. ^ The dying speeches^ and ' the lamentablA
funerals.

THe fight being ceased, and ech side withdrawne withii
their strengthes, Basilius sent Philanax to entertaine th<
straunge Knights, and to bring them unto him, that he might]

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

acknowledge what honour was due to their vertue. But they
excused themselves, desiring to be knowne first by their deedes,
before their names should accuse their unworthinesse: and
though the other replied according as they deserved, yet
(finding that unwelcome curtesie is a degree of injury) he »
suffered them to retire themselves to a tent of their owne
without the campe, where they kept themselves secrete:
Philanax himselfe being called away to another straunge
Knight; straunge not onely by the unlookedfornesse of his
comming, but by the straunge maner of his comming.

For he had before him foure damosels, and so many behind 2
him, all upon palfreys, & all appareled in mourning weedes;
ech of them servants of ech side, with like liveries of sorrow.
Himselfe in an armour, all painted over with such a cunning of
shadow, that it represented a gaping sepulchre, the furniture of
his horse was all of Cypresse braunches; wherwith in olde
time they were woont to dresse graves. His Bases (which he
ware so long, as they came almost to his ankle) were imbro-
dered onely with blacke wormes, which seemed to crawle up
and downe, as readie alreadie to devoure him. In his shielde
for Impresay he had a beautifull childe, but having two heades ;
whereof the one shewed, that it was alreadie dead : the other
alive, but in that case, necessarily looking for death. The
word was. No way to be rid from death^ but by death.

This Knight of the tombe (for so the souldiours termed him) 3
sent to Basilius, to demaund leave to send in a damosel into the
towne, to cal out Amphialus^ according as before time some
others had done. Which being grated (as glad any would
undertake the charge, which no bodie else in that campe was
knowne willing to do) the damosell went in, and having with
tears sobbed out a brave chalenge to Amphialus^ from the
Knight of the Tombe, Amphialusy honourably enterteining the
gentlewoman, & desiring to know the Knights name (which
the doolefuU Gentlewoman would not discover) accepted the
chalenge, onely desiring the Gentlewoman to say thus much to
the strange Knight, from him ; that if his minde were like to
his title, there were more cause of affinitie, then enmitie
betweene them. And therefore presently (according as he was
woont) as soone as he perceyved the Knight of the Tombe,
with his Damosels and Judge, was come into the Hand, he also

445

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

went over in accustomed maner : and yet for the curtesie of his
nature, desired to speake with him.

4 But the Knight of the Tombe, with silence, and drawing
his horse backe, shewed no will to heare, nor speake: but with
Launce on thigh, made him knowe, it was fitte for him to go
to the other ende of the Career, whence wayting the starte of
the unknowne Knight, he likewise made his spurres claime
haste of his horse. But when his stafFe was in his rest,
comming downe to meete with the Knight, nowe verie neere
him, he perceyved the Knight had mist his rest : wherefore the
curteous Amphialm woulde not let his Launce descende, but
with a gallant grace, ranne over the heade of his there-in
friended enemie: and having stopped his horse, and with the
turning of him, blessed his sight with the Windowe where he
thought Philoclea might stand, he perceyved the Knight had
lighted from his horse, and throwne away his stafFe, angrie with
his misfortune, as having mist his rest, and drawne his sworde
to make that supply his fellowes fault. He also lighted, and

J) drew his sworde, esteeming vi<5torie by advantage, rather
robbed then purchased: and so the other comming eagerly
toward him, he with his shield out, and sword aloft, with more
braverie then anger, drew unto him; and straight made their
swords speake for them a pretie-while with equall fearcenes.
But Amphialm (to whom the earth brought forth few matches)
having both much more skill to choose the places, and more
force to worke upon the chosen, had already made many
windowes in his armour for death to come in at; whe (the
noblenes of his nature abhorring to make the punishment
overgoe the offence) he stept a little backe, and withal, Sir^
Knight (said he) you may easely see, that it pleaseth God tOj
favour my cause; employ your valour against them that wish
you hurte : for my part, I have not deserved hate of you.
Thou lyest false traytor, saide the other, with an angrie, but
weake voyce. But Amphialm^ in whome abused kindnesse
became spitefull rage, Ah barbarous wretch (said hee) onely
couragious in discourtesie ; thou shalt soone see whether thy
toonge hath betrayed thy harte, or no: and with that, re-
doubling his blowes, gave him, a great wounde upon his necke,
and closing with him overthrew him, and with the fall thrust
him mortally into the bodie: and with that went to pull off his

446

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

helmet, with intention to make him give himselfe the lye, for
having so saide, or to cut off his head.

But the head-peece was no sooner off, but that there fell 5
about the shoulders of the overcome Knight the treasure of
faire golden haire, which with the face (soone knowne by the
badge of excellencie) witnessed that it was Parthenia^ the
unfortunatelie vertuous wife of Argalus : her beautie then even
in despight of the passed sorrow, or comming death, assuring
all beholders, that it was nothing short of perfedlion. For her
exceeding faire eyes, having with continuall weeping gotten a
little rednesse about them ; her roundy sweetly swelling lippes
a little trembling, as though they kissed their neighbour death;
in her cheekes the whitenesse striving by little and little to get
upon the rosinesse of them; her necke, a necke indeed of
Alablaster, displaying the wounde, which with most daintie
blood laboured to drowne his owne beauties; so as here was
a river of purest redde, there an Hand of perfittest white, each
giving lustre to the other; with the sweete countenace (God-
knowes) full of an unaffected languishing : though these thinges
to a grosly conceaving sense might seeme disgraces; yet indeed
were they but apparailing beautie in a new fashion, which all
looked-upon thorough the spectacles of pittie, did eve encrease
the lynes of her naturall fairenes, so as Amphialus was astonished
with griefe, compassion, & shame, detesting his fortune, that
made him unfortunate in victory.

Therfore, putting off his headpeece & gauntlet; kneeling 6
down unto her, & with teares testifying his sorow, he ofFred
his (by himselfe accursed) hands to helpe her: protesting his
life and power to be readie to doo her honour. But Parthenia
(who had inward messingers of the desired deathes approch)
looking upon him, and streight turning away her feeble sight,
as from a delightlesse object, drawing out her wordes, which
her breath (loath to parte from so sweete a bodie) did faintly
deliver. Sir (saide she) I pray you (if prayers have place in
enemies) to let my maides take my body untouched by you:
the onely honour I now desire by your meanes, is, that I have
no honour of you. Argalus made no such bargaine with you,
that the hands which killed him, shoulde helpe me. I have of
them (and I doo not onely pardon you, but thanke you for it)
the service which I desired. There rests nothing now, but

447

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

that I go live with him, since whose death I have done nothing
but die. Then pawsing, and a little fainting, and againe
comming to herselfe, O sweete life, welcome (saide she) nowe
feele I the bandes untied of the cruell death, which so long
hath helde me. And O life, O death, aunswere for me, that
my thoughts have not so much as in a dreame tasted any
comfort; since they were deprived of Argalm. I come, my
Argalus^ I come: And, O God hide my faultes in thy mercies,
and graunt (as I feele thou doost graunt) that in thy eternall
love, we may love eche other eternally. And this O Lorde :
But there Atropos cut off her sentence : for with that, casting
up both eyes and hands to the skies, the noble soule departed
(one might well assure himselfe) to heaven, which left the bodie
in so heavenly a demeanure.
7 But Amphialus (with a hart oppressed with griefe, because
of her request) withdrewe himselfe, but the Judges, as full of
pitie, had bene al this while disarming her, and her gentle-
women with lamentable cries, laboring to stanch the remediles
wounds: & a while she was dead before they perceived it;
death being able to divide the soul, but not the beauty fro that
body. But whe the infallible tokens of death assured the of
their losse, one of the women would have killed her selfe, but
that the squire of Amphialus perceaving it, by force held her.
Others that had as strong passions, though weaker resolution,
fell to cast dust upon their heads, to teare their garments: all
falling upon, and crying upon their sweet mistres; as if their
cries could perswade the soul to leave the celestiall happines,
to come again into the elemets of sorrow : one time calling to
remembrance her vertue, chastnes, sweetnes, goodnes to them :
another time accursing themselves, that they had obeyed her,
they having bene deceaved by her words, who assured the,
that it was revealed unto her, that she should have her harts
desire in the battaile against Amphialus^ which they wrongly
understood. Then kissing her cold hands and feet, wearie of j
the world, since she was gone, who was their world. The.
very heavens semed, with a cloudie countenance, to loure at
the losse, and Fame it selfe (though by nature glad to tell rare
accidents, yet) could not choose but deliver it in lamentable
accents, & in such sort went it quickly all over the Campe : &,
as if the aire had bene infedted with sorow, no hart was so

448

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

hard, but was subjedl to that contagion ; the rarenes of the
accident, matching together (the rarely matched together) pittie
with admiration, Basilius himselfe came foorth, and brought
foorth the faire Gynecia with him, who was gone into the
campe under colour of visiting her husband, and hearing of her
daughters: but indeed Zelmane was the Saincft, to which her
pilgrimage was entended : cursing, envying, blessing, and in her
harte kissing the walles which imprisoned her. But both they
with Philanaxy and the rest of the principall Nobilitie, went
out, to make Honour triumph over Death, conveying that
excellent body (wherto Basilius himself would needes bend his
shoulder) to a church a mile from the campe, where the valiant
Argalus lay intombedj recommending to that sepulchre, the
blessed reliques of faithfull and vertuous Love : giving order for
the making of marble images, to represent them, & each way
enriching the tombe. Upon which, Basilius himself caused
this Epitaphe to be written.

s. A. FF 449

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 17.

^ The remorse ^Amphial us j^r his last deede^ and lasting destinie.
2 His reverent respeSl in love. ^ His mothers ghosty counsell
to a rape,

I 'nr^Hen with eyes full of teares, and mouthes full of her
X prayses, returned they to the campe, with more and more
hate against Amphialus : who (poore Gentleman) had therfore
greater portion of woe, then any of them. For that courteous
harte, which would have grieved but to have heard the like
adventure, was rent with remembring himselfe to be the
author: so that his wisdome could not so farre temper his
passion, but that he tooke his sword, counted the best in the
world (which with much bloud he had once conquered of a
mightie Giant) and brake it into many peeces (which after-
wardes he had good cause to repent) saying, that neither it was
worthie to serve the noble exercise of chivalrie, nor any other
worthie to feel that sword, which had stroken so excellent a
Ladie : & withall, banishing all cheerfulnes of his countenance,
he returned home. Where he gate him to his bed, not so
much to rest his restles minde, as to avoyd all companie, the
sight whereof was tedious unto him. And then melancholic
(onely riche in unfortunate remembrances) brought before him
all the mishappes, with which his life had wrestled : taking
this, not onely as a confirming of the former, but a presage of
following miserie; and to his harte (alredie overcome by
sorrowfulnes) even trifling misfortunes came, to fill up the rolle
of a grieved memorie, labouring onely his wittes to pearce
farther and farther into his owne wretchednes. So all that
night (in despite of darkenes) he held his eyes open ; and the
morning when the light began to restore to each body his
colour, then with curtaines barde he himselfe from the enjoying
of it : neither willing to feele the comfort of the day, nor the
ease of the night : untill his mother (who never knew what love
meant, but onely to himward) came to his bed side, and
beginning with loving earnestnes to lay a kinde chiding upon
him, because he would suffer the weakenesse of sorow, to
conquere the strength of his vertues; he did with a broaken
peecemeale speach (as if the tempest of passion unorderly
450

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

blewe out his words) remember the mishappes of his youth, the
evils he had bene cause of, his rebelling with Shame, and that
shame increased with shamefull accidents, the deaths of
Philoxenus and Parthenia^ wherein he found himselfe hated of
the ever-ruling powers, but especially (and so especially, as the
rest seemed nothing when he came to that) his fatall love to
Philoclea: to whom he had so governed himselfe, as one that
could neither conquere, nor yeeld; being of the one side a
slave, and of the other a jaylor: and with all, almost up-
brayding unto his mother the little successe of her large hoping
promises, he in efFeft finding Philoclea nothing moUified, and
now himselfe so cast downe, as he thought him unworthy of
better.

But his mother (as she had plentifull cause) making him 2
see, that of his other griefes there was little or no faulte in him
selfe, and therefore there ought to be little or no griefe in him;
when she came to the head of the sore, indeed seeing that she
could not patch up her former promises (he taking a desperate
deafnesse to all delaying hopes) she confest plainly, that she
could prevaile nothing: but the faulte was his owne, who had
marred the yong Girle by seeking to have that by praier, which
he should have taken by authoritie. That as it were an absurd
cunning to make hie ladders to go in a plaine way; so was it
an untimely and foolish flattery, there to beseech, where one
might commaund, puffing the up by being besought, with such
a selfe-pride of superioritie, that it was not (forsooth) to be held
out, but by a denial. O God (said Amphialus) how wel I
thought my fortune would bring forth this end of your labors?
assure your self, mother, I will sooner pull out these eies then
they shal looke upon the heavenly Philoclea^ but as upo a
heave, whence they have their light, & to which they are
subjed:, if they will power down any influeces of cofort, O
happy I : but if by the sacrifice of a faithfull hart, they will not
be called unto me, let me languish, & wither with languishing,
& grieve with withering, but never so much as repine with
never so much grieving. Mother, 6 Mother, lust may well be „
a tyrant, but true-love where it is indeed, it is a servant. „
Accursed more then I am, may I be, if ever I did approch
her, but that I friezed as much in a fearefull reverence, as I
burned in a vehement desire. Did ever mans eye looke

FF 2 45 1

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

thorough love upo the majesty of vertue, shining through
beauty, but that he became (as it wel became him) a captive ?
& is it the stile of a captive, to write. Our will and pleasure ?

3 Tush, tush Sonne (said Cecropia) if you s^ you love, but
withall you feare ; you feare lest you should offend ; offend ? &
how know you, that you should offend? because she doth
denie: denie? Now by my truth; if your sadnes would let
me laugh, I could laugh hartily, to see that yet you are
ignorant, that No, is no negative in a womans mouth. My

„ Sonne, beleeve me, a woma, speaking of women: a lovers
modesty among us is much more praised, then liked : or if we
like it, so well we like it, that for marring of his modestie, he
shall never proceed further. Each vertue hath his time: if
you comand your souldier to march formost, & he for curtesie
put others before him, would you praise his modesty? love is
your Generall: he bids you dare: & will Amphialus be a
dastard? Let examples serve: doo you thinke Theseus should
ever have gotten Antiope with sighing, and crossing his armes ?
he ravished her, and ravished her that was an Amazon^ and
therefore had gotten a habite of stoutnes above the nature of a
woman ; but having ravished her, he got a child of her. And
I say no more, but that (they say) is not gotten without consent
of both sides. lole had her owne father killed by Hercules^ Sc
her selfe ravished, by force ravished, & yet ere long this
ravished, and unfathered Lady could sportfully put on the
Lions skin upon her owne faire shoulders, & play with the
clubbe with her owne delicate hands: so easily had she
pardoned the ravisher, that she could not but delight in those
weapos of ravishing. But above all, mark Helen daughter t<
Jupiter^ who could never brooke her manerly- wooing Menelausl
but disdained his humblenes, & lothed his softnes. But so well]
she could like the force of enforcing Paris^ that for him sh<
could abide what might be abidden. But what? Menelaus\
takes hart; he recovers her by force; by force carries hei
home; by force injoies her; and she, who could never like himl
for serviceablenesse, ever after loved him for violence. For]
what can be more agreable, then upon force to lay the fault of
desire, and in one instant to joyne a deare delight with a justj
excuse ? or rather the true cause is (pardon me 6 woman-kindej
for revealing to mine owne sonne the truth of this mystery) wej

452

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

thinke there wants fire, where we find no sparkles at lest of
fiirie. Truly I have knowen a great Lady, long sought by
most great, most wise, most beautifull, most valiant persons;
never wonne; because they did over-suspiciously sollicite her:
the same Ladie brought under by an other, inferiour to all
them in all those qualities, onely because he could use that
imperious maisterfulnesse, which nature gives to men above
women. For indeede (sonne, I confesse unto you) in our verv
creatio we are servants : and who prayseth his servaunts shall
never be well obeyed: but as a ready horse streight yeeldes,
when he findes one that will have him yeelde ; the same fals to
boundes when he feeles a fearefull horseman. Awake thy
spirits (good Amphialus) and assure thy selfe, that though she
refuseth, she refuseth but to endeere the obtaining. If she
weepe, and chide, and protest, before it be gotten, she can but
weepe, and chide, and protest, when it is gotte. Thinke, she
would not strive, but that she meanes to trie thy force : and my
Amphialus^ know thy selfe a man, and shew thy selfe a man :
and (beleeve me upon my word) a woman is a woman.

CHAP. 18.

^ The forsaken Knights defie. ^ Amphialus answere. ■* The one
^ and others armour and imprese. ^ The issue of their quarrell.
^ Their heroicall monomachy on horse^ "^ and foot. ^ Their
breathings, ^ & reencounters. ^^ Amphialus rescued by An-
axius brethren, the Blacke Knight by the greene and white.
^^ The supply of both sides to cary away the breathles Knights.
^2 The Blackknights grieves.

\Mphialus was aboute to answere her, when a Gentlema of
Xx. his made him understande, that there was a messenger
come, who had brought a letter unto him from out of the
campe : whom he presently calling for, tooke, opened, and read
the letter, importing this.

TO thee Amphialus <?/' Arcadia, the forsaken Knight wisheth I
healthy and courage, that by my hand thou maiest receyve
punishment for thy treason, according to thine owne offer, which
wickedly occasioned, thou haste proudly begun, and accursedly main-

453

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

teyned. I will presently [if thy minde faint thee not for his owne
guiltinesse) meete thee in thy Hand, in such order, as hath by the
former heene used: or if thou likest not the time, place, or weapon,
I am ready to take thine owne reasonable choise in any of them ; so
as thou do perfourme the substaunce. Make me such answere as
may shew that thou hast some taste of honour : and so I leave thee,
to live till I meete thee.

Amphialus read it, and with a deepe sigh (according to the
humour of inward affection) seemed even to codemne him selfe,
as though indeed his reproches were true. But howsoever the
dulnes of Melancholy would have languishingly yeelded there-
unto, his Courage (unused to such injuries) desired helpe of
Anger to make him this answere.

2 TT Orsaken Knight, though your namelesse challenge might carry
X ^^ ^t ^^ifi excuse for a man of my birth and estate, yet herein

set your harte at rest, you shall not be forsaken. I will without
stay answere you in the woonted manner, and come both armed in
your foolish threatnings, and yet the more fearelesse, expelling weake
blowes, where I finde so strong wordes. Tou shall not therefore
long attende me in the Ilande, before proofe teache you, that of my
life you have made your selfe too large a promise. In the meane
time. Farewell.

3 This being written, and delivered, the messenger tolde him,
that his Lord would (if he liked the same) bring two Knights
with him to be his Patrons. Which Amphialus accepted, and
withall shaking of (with resolution) his mothers importunate^
disswasions, he furnished him selfe for the fight : but not in his]
wonted furniture. For now (as if he would turne his inside]
outwarde) he would needes appeare all in blacke; his decking}
both for him selfe, and horse, being cut out into the fashion of)
very ragges: yet all so dainty, joyned together with pretious
stones, as it was a brave raggednesse, and a riche povertie : and
so cunningly had a workeman followed his humour in hiS]
armour, that he had given it a rustie shewe, and yet so, as any
man might perceive was by arte, and not negligence; carying
at one instant a disgraced handsomnesse, and a new oldnes.
In his shield he bare for his devise, a Night, by an excellently
painter, with a Sunne with a shadow, and upon the shadow

454

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

with a speech signifying, that it onely was harrd from injoying
thaty whereof It had his life: or, From whose I am hannished. In
his creste he caried Philocleas knives, the onely token of her
forwarde favour.

So past he over into the Hand, taking with him the two 4
brothers of Jnaxius; where he founde the forsaken Knight,
attired in his owne liverie, as blacke, as sorrowe it selfe could see
it selfe in the blackest glasse : his ornaments of the same hew,
but formed in the figure of Ravens, which seemed to gape for
carrion : onely his raynes were snakes, which finely wrapping
themselves one within the other, their heads came together to
the cheekes and bosses of the bit, where they might seeme to
bite at the horse, and the horse (as he champte the bit) to bite
at them; and that the white foame was ingendred by the
poysonous furie of the combatt. His Impresa was a Catoblepta
which so long lies dead, as the Moone (whereto it hath so
naturall a sympathie) wants her light. The worde signified
that The Moone wanted not the light^ but the poore beast wanted
the Moones light. He had in his headpiece, a whippe, to
witnesse a selfe-punishing repentaunce. Their very horses
were cole-blacke too, not having so much as one starre to give
light to their night of blackenesse : so as one would have thought
they had bene the two sonnes of Sorrow, and were come
thether to fight for their birth-right in that sorie inheritance.

Which aliance of passions so moved Amphialus (alredy 5
tender-minded by the affliftions of Love) that without stafFe or
sword drawne, he trotted fairely to the forsake Knight, willing
to have put off his combat, to which his melancholy hart did
(more then ever in like occasion) misgive him : and therefore
saluting him. Good Knight (said he) because we are men, and
should knowe reason why we doo things ; tell me the cause,
that makes you thus eager to fight with me. Because I affirme
(answered the forsaken Knight) that thou dost most rebellious
injurie to those Ladies, to whome all men owe service. You
shall not fight with me (saide Amphialus^ upon that quarrell:
for I confesse the same too : but it proceeds from their owne
beauty, to inforce Love to offer this force. I maintaine then
(said the forsaken Knight) that thou art not worthy so to love.
And that confesse I too (saide Amphialus^ since the world is
not so richly blessed, as to bring forth any thing worthy thereof.

455

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

But no more unworthy then any other, since in none can be a
more worthy love. Yes, more unworthy then my self (said
the forsaken Knight) for though I deserve contempt, thou
deservest both contempt, and hatred.
6 But Amphialus by that thinking (though wrongly, each
indeede mistaking other) that he was his rivall, forgat all minde
of reconciliation, and having all his thoughts boud up in choler,
never staying either judge, trupet, or his owne lauce, drew out
his sword, & saying. Thou lyest false villaine, unto him; his
words & blowes came so quick togither, as the one seemed a
lightning of the others thuder. But he foud no barre groud of
such seede: for it yeelded him his owne with such encrease,
that though Reason and Amazement go rarely togither, yet the
most reasonable eies that saw it, founde reason to be amazed at
the fury of their combat. Never game of death better plaid ;
never fury set it self forth in greater braverie. The curteous
Vulcan^ whe he wrought at his nowe more curteous wives
request, Mnaas an armour, made not his hammer beget a
greater sounde; then the swordes of those noble Knights did;
they needed no fire to their forge; for they made the fire to
shine at the meeting of their swords, & armours; ech side
fetching new spirit from the castle window, and careful of
keeping their sight, it was a matter of greater consideration in
their combat, then either the advantage of Sun or winde:
which Sunne and wind (if the astonished eies of the beholders
were not by the astonishment deceived) did both stand still to
be beholders of this rare match. For neither could their,
amazed eies discerne motion in the Sunne, and no breath of
wind stirred, as if either for feare it would not come amog suchj
blows, or with delight had his eies so busie, as it had forgot toj
open his mouth. This fight being the more cruell, since both}
Love and Hatred conspired to sharpen their humours, that!
hard it was to say, whether Love with one trumpet, or Hatre(
with another, gave the lowder alarum to their courages. Spite,]
rage, disdaine, shame, revenge, came waighting upon Hatred :f
of the other side came with love-longing Desire, both invincible]
Hope, and fearelesse Despaire, with rivallike Jealousie, whichj
(although brought up within doores in the schoole of^ Cupid)\
woulde shewe themselves no lesse forwarde, then the other i
dustie bande of Marsy to make themselves notable in the

456

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

notablenes of this combat. Of eyther side Confidence, un-
acquainted with Losse, but assured trust to overcome, and good
experience howe to overcome : nowe seconding their terrible
blovires w^ith cunning labouring the horses, to w^inne ground of
the enimie ; now unlooked-for parting one from the other, to
win advantage by an advantageous retourne. But force against
force, skill against skill, so enterchangeably encountred, that it
was not easie to determine, whether enterprising, or preventing
came former : both, sometimes at one instant, doing and
sufFring wrong, and choUer no lesse rising of the doing, then of
the sufFring. But as the fire, the more fuell is put to it, the
more hungrie still it is to devoure more: so the more they
strake, the more unsatisfied they were with striking. Their
verie armour by piecemeale fell away from them: and yet
their flesh abode the wounds constantly, as though it were lesse
sensible of smarte, then the senselesse armour: their blood in
most places stayning the blacke, as if it would give a more
lively coulour of mourning, then blacke can doo. And so a
long space they fought, while neither vertue, nor fortune
seemed partiall of either side : which so tormented the unquiet
hart of Amphialus^ that he resolved to see a quicke ende : and
therefore with the violence of courage, adding strength to his
blow, he strake in such wise upon the side of the others heade,
that his remembrance left that battered lodging: so as he was
quite from himselfe, casting his armes abroade, and redie to
fall downe; his sword likewise went out of his hande; but
that being fast by a chaine to his arme, he could not loose.
And Amphialus used the favour of occasion, redoubling his
blowes: but the horse (weary to be beaten, as well as the
master) carried his master away, till he came unto himselfe:
But then who could have seene him, might wel have discerned
shame in his cheekes, and revenge in his eyes : so as setting his
teeth togither with rage, he came running upon AmphialuSy
reaching out his arme, which had gathered up the sword,
meaning with that blow to have cleaved Amphialus in two.
But Amphialus seeing the blow comming, shunned it with
nimble turning his horse aside ; wherwith the forsaken Knight
over-strake himself so, as almost he came downe with his owne
strength. But the more hungrie he was of his purpose, the
more he was bard the food of it: disdaining the resistance,

457

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

both of force, and fortune, he returned upon the spurre againeJ
and ranne with such violence upon Amphialus^ that his horse)
with the force of the shocke rose up before, almost overturned:'
which Amphialus perceaving, with rayne and spurre put forth'
his horse; and withall gave a mightie blow in the descent of |
his horse, upon the shoulder of the forsaken Knight; from
whence sliding, it fell upon the necke of his horse, so as horse
and man fell to the ground : but he was scarce downe before
he was up on his feete againe, with brave gesture shewing
rising of corage, in the falling of fortune.
7 But the curteous Amphialus excused himselfe, for having
(against his will) kild his horse. Excuse thy selfe for viler
faults (answered the forsaken Knight) and use this poo re
advantage the best thou canst; for thou shalt quickely finde
thou hast neede of more. Thy folly (said Amphialus) shall not
make me forget my selfe : and therewith (trotting a little aside)
alighted from his horse, because he would not have fortune
come to claime any part of the victory. Which curteous adl
would have mollified the noble harte of the forsaken Knight, if
any other had done it, besides the Jaylor of his mistres: but
that was a sufficient defeazaunce for the firmest bonde of good
nature; and therfore he was no sooner alighted, but that he
ranne unto him, re-entring into as cruel a fight, as eye did
ever see, or thought could reasonably imagine ; farre beyond
the reach of weak words to be able to expresse it. For what
they had done on horsebacke, was but as a morsell to keep their
stomakes in appetite, in comparison of that, which now (being
themselves) they did. Nor ever glutton by the chage of daintie
diet could be brought to fetch feeding (when he might have
bene satisfied before) with more earnestnes, then those (by the
change of their maner of fight) fell cleane to a new fight, though
any else would have thought they had had their fill alredy.
Amphialus being the taller man, for the most part stood with
his right legge before ; his shield at the uttermost length of his
arme; his sword hie, but with the point toward his enemy.
But whe he strake, which came so thick, as if every blow
would strive to be foremost, his arme seemed still a postillion of
death. The forsaken Knight shewed with like skil, unlike
gesture, keeping himselfe in continual motion, proportioning
the distance betweene the to any thing that Amphialus

458

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

attempted: his eye guided his foote, and his foote conveighed
his hand ; and since nature had made him something the lower
of the two, he made art follow, and not strive with nature:
shunning rather the warding his blowes; like a cuning mastifFe,
who knowes the sharpnes of the home, and stregth of the Bui;
fights low to get his proper advatage; answering mightines
with nimblenes, and yet at times imploying his wonderfull
force, wherein he was seconde to none. In summe, the blowes
were stronge, the thrusts thicke, and the avoydings cunning.
But the forsaken Knight (that thought it a degree of being
coquered to be long in conquering) strake so mightie a blow,
that he made Amphialus put knee to the ground, without any
humblenes. But when he felt himselfe striken downe, and
saw himselfe striken downe by his rivall, then shame seemed
one arme, and disdaine another; fury in his eyes, and revenge
in his hart; skill and force gave place, & they tooke the place
of skil & force : with so unweariable a manner, that the forsaken
Knight was also driven to leave the streame ot cunning, and
give himselfe wholly to be guided by the storme of fiiry : there
being in both (because hate would not suffer admiration)
extreame disdaine to finde themselves so matched.

What (said Amphialus to himselfe) am I Amphialus^ before i
whom so many monsters & Gyants have falne dead, when I
onely sought causelesse adventures ? and can one Knight now
withstand me in the presence of Philoclea^ and fighting for
Philoclea ? or since I lost my liberty, have I lost my courage ?
have I gotten the hart of a slave, as well as the fortune? If an
armie were against me in the sight of Philoclea, could it resist
me ? O beast, one man resistes thee ; thy ryvall resists thee :
or am I indeed Amphialus? have not passions kild him, and
wretched I (I know not how) succeeded into his place? Of the
other side the forsaken Knight with no lesse spite, fel out with
himself; Hast thou broke (said he to himselfe) the comademet
of thy only Princesse to come now into her presece, & in her
presece to prove thy self a coward ? Doth Asia and Mgypt set
up Trophes unto thee, to be matched here by a traytor? O
noble Barsanes, how shamed will thy soule be, that he that slew
thee, should be resisted by this one man? O incomparable
Pyrocles, more grieved wilt thou be with thy friends shame, the
with thine owne imprisonment, when thou shalt know how

459

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

little I have bene able to doo for the deliverie of thee, and those
heavenlie Princesses. Am I worthie to be friend to the most
valourous Prince that ever vv^as entituled valourous, and shevvre
my selfe so w^eake a w^retch? No, shamed Musidorus^ worthie
for nothing, but to keepe sheepe, get thee a sheephooke again,
since thou canst use a sword no better.
9 Thus at times did they, now with one thought, then with
another, sharpen their over-sharpe humors; like the Lion, that
beates himselfe with his owne taile, to make himselfe the more
angrie. These thoughtes indeede not staying, but whetting
their angrie swordes, which now had put on the apparraile of
Crueltie: they bleeding so aboundantly, that every bodie that
sawe them, fainted for them, & yet they fainted not in them-
selves : their smart being more sensible to others eyes, then to
their owne feeling : Wrath and Courage barring the common
sense from bringing any message of their case to the minde:
Paine, Wearines, and Weakenes, not daring to make knowen
their case (though already in the limits of death) in the presence
of so violent furie : which filling the veines with rage, in stead
of bloud, and making the minde minister spirites to the bodie, a
great while held out their fight, like an arrowe shotte upward
by the force of the bowe, though by his owne nature he would
goe downward. The forsaken Knight had the more wounds,
but Amphialm had the soarer; which the other (watchinge time
and place) had coningly geven unto him. Who ever saw
a well-mand Galley fight with a tall ship, might make unto
himselfe some kind of comparison of the difference of these twoj
Knights; a better couple then which, the world could not]
bragge of. Amph'ialus seemed to excell in strength, the forsaken]
Knight in nimblenes; and yet did the ones strength excelj
in nimblenes, and the others nimblenes excell in strength:!
but now, strength and nimblenes were both gone, and excesse
of courage only maintayned the fight. Three times had!
Amphialm with his mightie blowes driven the forsaken
Knight to go staggering backwarde, but every one of those
times he requited pain with smarte, and shame with repulse.
And now, whether he had cause, or that over-much confidence]
(an over-forward scholer of unconquered Courage) made him
think he had cause, he bega to persuade himself he had the]
advatage of the combat, though the advantage he toke himselfej

460

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

to have, was onely that he should be the later to die: which
hopes, Hate (as unsecrete as Love) could not conceale, but
drawing himself a little back fro him, brake out in these
maner of words.

Ah Amphialus (said the forsake knight) this third time thou 8
shalt not escape me, but thy death shall satisfie thy injury, &
my malice ; and pay for the cruelty thou shewedst in killing the
noble Argalus^ & the fair Parthenia. In troth (said Amphialus)
thou art the best knight that ever I fought withal, which would
make me willing to graut thee thy life, if thy wit were as good
as thy corage; that (besides other follies) layest that to my
charge, which most against my will was committed. But
whether my death be in thy power, or no, let this tel thee;
And upon the worde wayted a blow, which parted his shield
into two peeces; & despising the weak resistance of his alredie
broke armor, made a great breach into his hart side, as if he would
make a passage for his love to get out at.

But paine rather seemed to increase life, then to weaken life 9
in those champions. For, the forsaken Knight comming in with
his right leg, and making it guide the force of the blow, strake
Amphialus upon the bellie, so horrible a woud, that his guts
came out withall. Which Amphialus perceaving (fearing death,
onely because it should come with overthrow) he seemed to
conjure all his strength for one moments service ; and so, lifting
up his sword with both hands, hit the forsaken knight upo the
head, a blow, wherewith his sword brake. But (as if it would
do a notable service before it died) it prevayled so, even in the
instant of breaking, that the forsaken Knight fell to the ground,
quite for that instant forgetting both love and hatred : and
Amphialus (finding him self also in such weaknes, as he loked
for speedy death) glad of the vidorie, though little hoping to
enjoy it, puld up his visar, meaning with his dagger to give him
death ; but in stead of death, he gave him life : for, the aire so
revived his spirits, that comming to himself, and seeing his
present danger, with a life conquering death, he tooke Amphialus
by the thigh, & together rose himselfe, and overturned him.
But Amphialus scrambled up againe, both now so weake indeede,
as their motions rather seemed the afterdrops to a storme, then
any matter of great furie.

But Amphialus might repent himselfe of his wilfull breaking

461

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

his good sword : for, the forsaken Knight (having with the ex-
tremitie of justly-conceived hate, and the unpitifulnes of his
owne neere-threatning death, blotted out all complements of
courtesie) let flie at him so cruelly, that though the blowes
were weake, yet weaknes upon a weakned subjedl, proved such
stregth, that Amphialus having attempted in vaine, once or twise
to close with him, receaving wound upo wound, sent his whole
burden to strike the earth with falling, since he could strike his foe
no better in standing: geving no other tokens of himself, then as
of a man even ready to take his oath to be Deathes true servant.

10 Which when the hardie brothers of Anaxius perceaved, not
recking law of armes, nor use of chivalrie, they flew in to
defende their friende, or revenge their losse of him. But they
were foorthwith encountred with the two brave copanions of
the forsaken Knight; whereof the one being all in greene, both
armour and furniture, it seemed a pleasant garden, wherein
grewe orange trees, which with their golden fruites, cunningly
beaten in, & embrodered, greatly enriched the eye-pleasing
colour of greene. In his shield was a sheep, feeding in a pleasant
field, with this word, Without feare^ or envie. And therfore was
called the Knight of the sheep. The other Knight was all in
milke white, his attiring els, all cutte in starres, which made of
cloath of silver, and silver spangles, each way seemed to cast
many aspects. His device was the very Pole it selfe, about
which many starres stirring, but the place it selfe lefte voide.
The word was, The best place yet reserved. But these foure
Knights, inheriting the hate of their friends, began a fierce,
combat: the forsaken Knight himselfe not able to helpe hisi
side, but was driven to sit him downe, with the extreame faint-j
nesse of his more & more fainting body. But those valiantj
couples seeking honour by dishonouring, and to build safetyj
upon ruine, gave new appetites, to the almost glutted eies of^
the beholders: and now bloud began to put sweat from the fullj
possession of their outsides, no advantage being yet to beseene;)
onely the Knight of the sheepe seeming most deliver, and.|
afFedting most all that viewed him, when a company of souldiers
sent by Cecropia, came out in boates to the Ilande: and all
came running to the destruction of the three Knights, whereof
the one was utterly unable to defend himselfe.

1 1 But then did the other two Knights shewe their wonderfull]

462

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

courage, and fidelitie. For turning backe to backe, and bothe
bestriding the blacke forsaken Knight (who had fainted so long
till he had lost the feeling of faintnesse) they helde playe against
the rest, though the two brothers unknightly helped them; till
Philanax (who watchfully attended such traiterous pradlises)
sent likewise over, both by boate and swimming, so choise a
number as did put most of the other to the sworde. Onely the
two Brothers, with some of the bravest of them, carrying away
the body of Amphialus^ which they would rather have died, then
have left behind them.

So was the forsaken Knight (layed upon clokes) carried home 12
to the campe. But his two friends knowing his earnest desire
not to be knowen, covering him from any bodies eyes, con-
veyed him to their owne tente: Basilius himselfe conquering
his earnest desire to see him, with feare to displease him, who
had fought so notably in his quarrell. But Fame set the honour
upon his backe, which he would not suffer to shine in his face :
no mans mouth being barrein of prayses to the noble Knight,
that had bettered the most esteemed Knight in the world:
every bodie praying for his life, and thinking that therein they
prayed for themselves. But he him selfe, when by the diligent
care of friends, and well applied cunning of surgeons, he came
to renewe agairie the league betweene his minde and body, then
fell he to a freshe warre with his owne thoughts, wrongfully
condemning his manhood, laying cowardise to him selfe, whome
the impudentest backbiter would not so have wroged. For his
courage (used to use victory as an inheritaunce) could brooke no
resistance at any time : but now that he had promised him selfe,
not onely the conquest of him, but the scaling of the walles, and
delivery of Pamela, though he had done beyond al others ex-
pectation, yet so short was he of his owne; that he hated to
looke upon the Sunne, that had scene him do so weakely : and
so much abhorred all visitation or honour, whereof he thought
him selfe unworthy, that he besought his two noble friends to
Carrie him away to a castle not far of, where he might cure his
wounds, and never be knowne till he made successe excuse this
(as he thought) want in him. They lovingly obeyed him,
leaving Basilius and all the campe very sorrie for the parting of
these three unknowne Knights, in whose prowesse they had
reposed greatest trust of victory.

463

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 19.

^The state of the leaguer^ and beleaguered. ^The agonies of
Amphialus. ^The wit-craft of Cqcxo^\2l, to threaten Basilius
with the three Ladies death. ^K-sdanders compassion. "^Philanax-
his counter-counsell. ^ The breaking up the siege.

I T) Ut they being gone, Basilius and Philanax gave good order
J3 to the strengthning of the siege, fortifying themselves,
so as they feared no more any such suddaine onset, as that of
Anaxius. And they within (by reaso of Anaxius hurt, but
especially of Amphialus-his) gave themselves onely to diligent
watch & ward, making no sallies out, but committing the
principall trust to Zoilus and Lycurgus. For Anaxius was yet
forced to keepe his chamber. And as for Amphialus^ his body
had such wounds, and gave such wounds to his mind, as easily
it coulde not be determined, whether death or he made the
greater hast one to the other : for when the diligent care of
cunning surgeons, had brought life to the possession of his
owne right, Sorrowe and Shame (like two corrupted servaunts)
came waiting of it, perswading nothing but the giving over of
it selfe to destruction. They laide before his eyes his present
case, painting every piece of it in moste ougly colours: they
shewed him his love wrapped in despaire, his fame blotted by
overthrow; so that if before he languished, because he could
not obtaine his desiring, he now lamented because he durst not
desire the obtaining. Recreant Amphialus^ (would he say t<
him selfe) how darest thou intitle thy selfe the lover oiPhiloclec
that hast neither shewed thy self a faithfiill coward, nor
valiant rebell, but both rebellious and cowardly, which no lai
ca quite, nor grace have pitie of? Alas life, what little pleasure
thou doost me, to give me nothing but sense of reproach, an<
exercise of ruine ? I would sweete Philoclea^ I had died, before
thy eies had seene my weaknes : & then perchaunce with som<
sigh thou wouldest have cofessed, thou hadst lost a worthj
servaunt. But now, caitife that I am, what ever I have dom
serves but to builde up my rivals glory. To these speeches h<
would couple such gestures of vexation, & would fortifie th«
gestures with such effedts of furie, as sometimes ofFring to teare

464

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Up his wouds, sometimes to refuse the sustenance of meat, &
counsell of phisitions, that his perplexed mother was driven to
make him by force to be tended, with extreame corsey to her
selfe, & annoiance to him : till in the end he was contented to
promise her, he would attempt no violence upon himself, upon
condition he might be troubled by no body, but onely his
Phisitions: his melancholy detesting all copany, so as not the
very surgeons nor servants durst speak unto him in doing him
service : only he had praied his mother, as she tendered his life,
she would procure him grace; and that without that, she would
never come at him more.

His mother, who had cofined all her love only unto him, 3
set only such about him, as were absolutely at her comande-
ment, whom she forbad to let him know any thing that passed
in the castle, till his wounds were cured, but as she from time
to time should instruct them : she (for her selfe) being resolved,
now she had the government of al things in her owne hands, to
satisfie her sonnes love, by their yeelding, or satisfie her owne
revenge in their punishment. Yet first, because he should be the
freer fro outward force, she sent a messenger to the campe, to
denounce unto BasiliuSy that if he did not presently raise his
siege, she would cause the heads of the three Ladies, prisoners,
to be cut of before his eies. And to make him the more feare
a present performance, she caused his two daughters & Ze/mane
to be led unto the wals, where she had made a scaflFold, easie to
be scene by Basilius: and there caused the to be kept, as ready
for the slaughter, til answere came from Basilius. A sight full
of pittie it was, to see those three (all excelling in all those
excellencies, wherwith Nature can beautifie any body : Pamela
giving sweetnes to majesty, Philoclea enriching noblenes with
humblenes, Zelmane setting in womanly beautie manhke valour)
to be thus subje6led to the basest injury of unjust Fortune.
One might see in Pamela a willingnesse to die, rather then to
have life at others discretion, though sometimes a princely
disdaine would sparkle out of her Princely eies, that it should
be in others power to force her to die. In Philoclea a prety
feare came up, to endamaske her rosie cheekes: but it was
such a feare, as rather seemed a kindly childe to her innate
humblenes, then any other dismaiednes : or if she were
dismaied, it was more for Zelmane^ then for her selfe j or if

s. A. GG 465

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

more for her selfe, it was because Zelmane should loose her.
As for Zelmane^ as she went with her hands bound (for they
durst not adventure on her well knowne valour, especially
amog people which perchace might be moved by such a
spectacle to some revoke) she was the true image of over-
maistred courage, & of spite, that sees no remedie. For her
breast swelled withall, the bloud burst out at her nose, and she
looked paler then accustomed, with her eies cast on the ground,
with such a grace, as if she were fallen out with the heavens,
for suiFering such an injury. The lookers on were so moved
withal, as they misliked what themselves did, and yet still did
what themselves misliked. For some, glad to rid themselves of
the dangerous annoyaunce of this siege, some willing to shorten
the way to Jmphia/us-his succession (whereon they were de-
pendents) some, & the greatest some, doing because others did,
and sufFring because none durst begin to hinder, did in this
sort set their hands to this (in their owne conscience) wicked
enterprise.

4 But whe this message was brought to BasiliuSy & that this
pittifull preparation was a sufficient letter of credit for him to
beleeve it, he called unto him his chief coucelors: amog which,
those he chiefly trusted were Philanax and Kalander (lately
come to the campe at Basilius comandement, & in him selfe
wery of his solitary life, wanting his sons presence, & never
having heard him his beloved guestes since they parted from
him). Now in this doubt what he should do, he willed
Kalander to give him his advise: who spake much to this
purpose. You comaund me Sir (said he) to speake, rather
because you will keepe your wonted grave, & noble manner, to
do nothing of importace without coucell, then that in this
cause (which indeed hath but one way) your mind needs to
have any counsell : so as my speech shall rather be to cofir:
what you have alredy determined, the to argue against an
possibilitie of other determination. For what sophistical scholl
can finde any question in this, whether you will have yo
incomparable daughters live, or dye? whether since you be her
to cause their deliverance, you will make your being here th
cause of their destruction? for nothing can be more unsensible,

„ then to thinke what one doth, & to forget the end why it is
done, Do therfore as I am sure you meane to doo, remove the

466

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

siege, and after seeke by pra(5lise, or other getle meanes, to
recover that which by force you canot: & therof is indeed
(whe it please you) more cousel to be take. Once, in extremi- „
ties the winning of time is the purchase of life, & worse by no
meanes then their deaths ca befal unto you. A ma might use
more words, if it were to any purpose to guild gold, or that I
had any cause to doubt of your mind : But you are wise, & are
a father. He said no more, for he durst not attempt to per-
swade the marrying of his daughter to Amphialus^ but left that
to bring in at another consultation. But Basi/ius made signe
to Pbt/anaxy who stading a while in a maze as inwardly
perplexed, at last thus delivered his opinio.

If ever I could wish my faith untried, & my counsell un- 5
trusted, it should be at this time, whe in truth I must cofesse
I would be cotent to purchase silece with discredit. But since
you comand, I obey : onely let me say thus much, that I obey
not to these excellent Ladies father, but to my Prince : & a
Prince it is to who I give cousel. Therefore as to a Prince I
say, that the grave and (I well know) true-minded counsell of
my Lord Kalander had come in good time whe you first tooke
armes, before al your subjects gate notice of your intention,
before so much blood was spet, & before they were drive to
seek this shift for their last remedy. But if now, this force
you away, why did you take armes r since you might be sure
when ever they were in extremitie they would have recourse to
this threatning? and for a wise man to take in hand that which
his enimie may with a word overthrow, hath in my conceit
great incongruity, & as great not to forethink what his enemy
in reason wil doo. But they threaten they wil kil your
daughters. What if they promised you if you removed your
siege, they would honorably send home your daughters? would
you be angled by their promises? truly no more ought you be
terrified by their threatnings. For yet of the two, promise,,
binds faith more then threatning. But indeede a Prince of,,
judgemet ought not to consider what his enimies promise, or,,
threaten, but what the promisers and threatners in reaso wil,,
do : & the neerest c6je6ture therunto, is what is best for their „
own behoofe to do. They threate if you remove not, they wil
kil your daughters, and if you doo remove, what surety have
you, but that they will kil the, since if the purpose be to cut off

GG 2 467

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

al impediments of Amphialus-h\% ambitio, the same cause wil
continue when you are away; & so much the more encoraged,
as the revenging power is absent, & they have the more
oportunitie to draw their fadtious friends about them : but if it
be for their security onely, the same cause wil bring forth the
same effeft : & for their security they wil preserve the. But
it may be said, no man knows what desperate folkes will do : it
is true, and as true that no reason nor policie can prevent what
„ desperate folks wil do: & therfore they are amog those dangers,
„ which wisdome is not to recke. Only let it suffice to take
away their despaire, which may be by granting pardon for what
is past; so as the Ladies may be freely delivered. And let
them that are your subjefts, trust you that are their Prince:
doo not you subjedl your selfe to trust them, who are so untrusty
as to be manifest traitors. For if they finde you so base-minded,
as by their th[r]eatning to remove your force, what indignitie is
it, that they would not bring you unto, still by the same
threatning? since then if Love stir them, love will keep them
from murthering what they love; and if Ambition provoke
them, ambitious they will be, when you are away, as well as
while you are here : take not away your force, which bars not
the one, & bridels the other. For as for their shewes and
words they are but to feare babes, not worthy once to move a
worthy mans conceit; which must still cosider what in reaso
they are like to do. Their despaire I grant you shall do wel
to prevent, which as it is the last of all resolutions, so no man
„ fals into it, while so good a way as you may offer, is open unto
„ the. In su, you are a Prince, & a father of people, who ought
„ with the eye of wisdome, the hand of fortitude, and the hart ol
5, justice to set downe all private conceits, in comparison of wha^
„ for the publike is profitable.
6 He would have proceeded on, whe Gynecia came runing ii
amazed for her daughter Pamela^ but mad for Zelmane;
falling at Basilius feet, besought him to make no delay: usin(
such gestures of copassio insteed of stopped words, that BasiliusX
otherwise enough tender minded, easily granted to raise the
siege, which he saw dangerous to his daughters: but indee(**
more carefull for Zelmane^ by whose besieged person, the poor*
old man was streightly besieged : so as to rid him of the famim
of his minde, he went in speed away; discharging his soul-

468

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

diors: only leaving the authority, as before, in Phtlanax his
hands, he himselfe went with Gynecia to a strong Castle of his,
where he took cousell how first to deliver Zelmane, whom he
called the poore stranger, as though onely Law of hospitalitie
moved him; and for that purpose sent divers messengers to
trafficke with Cecropia.

CHAP. 20.

^ The sweete resistance of the true sisters ^ to the sower assaultes of
their false Aunt. The whipping of^ Philoclea ^ and Pamela.
^ The patience of both ^ and passions for their lovers.

CEcropia by this meanes rid of the present daunger of the I
siege (desiring Zoilus and Lycurgus to take the care, till
their brother recovered, of revidlualling, and furnishing the
Citie, both with men and what els wanted, against any new
occasion should urge them, she her selfe disdaining to harken
to BasiliuSy without he would grant his daughter in mariage to
her son, which by no means he would be brought unto) bent
all the sharpenesse of her malicious wit, how to bring a comfort-
able graunt to her sonne ; whereupon she well found no lesse
then his life depended. Therfore for a while she attepted all
meanes of eloquent praying, and flattering perswasion, mingling
sometimes gifts, somtimes threatnings, as she had cause to hope,
that either open force, or undermining, would best winn the
castle of their Resolution. And ever as much as she did to
Philoclea, so much did she to Pamela, though in manner some-
times differing, as she found fit to levell at the ones noble
height, and the others sweet lowHnesse. For though she knew
her sonnes harte had wholly given it selfe to Philoclea, yet
seeing the equall gifts in Pamela, she hoped, a faire grant would
recover the sorrow of a faire refusal: cruelly enteding the
present impoysoning the one, as soone as the others affection
were purchased.

But in vaine was all her vaine oratory employed. PamelaesZ
determination was built upo so brave a Rock, that no shot of
hers could reach unto it : and Philoclea (though humbly seated)

469

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

was so invironed with sweete rivers of cleere vertue, as could
neither be battred, nor undermined : her witty perswasions had
wise answeres ; her eloquence recompenced with sweetnes ; her
threatnings repelled with disdaine in the one, & patience in the
other j her gifts either not accepted, or accepted to obey, but not
to bind. So as Cecropia in nature violent; cruel, because am-
bitious; hateful, for old rooted grudge to their mother, & now
spitefull because she could not prevaile with girles, as she counted
them; lastly, drawne on by her love to her son, & held up by
a tyrannical authoritie, forthwith followed the byas of her own
crooked disposition, & doubling and redoubling her threatnings,
fel to cofirme some of her threatned efFedls: first withdrawing
al cofort, both of servats, & service from the. But that those
excellet Ladies had bene used unto, eve at home, & the foud in
theselves how much good the hardnes of educatio doth to the
resistace of misery. Then dishonorably using them both in
dyet, and lodging, by a contempt to pull downe their thoughts
to yeelding. But as before, the consideration of a prison had
disgraced al ornamets, so now the same cosideratio made the
attend al diseasefulnes. Then stil, as she found those not pre-
vaile, would she go forward with giving them terrors, sometimes
with noices of horror, sometimes with suddaine frightings in the
night, when the solitary darkenesse thereof might easier astonish
the disarmed senses. But to all Vertue, and Love resisted,
strengthned one by the other, when each found it selfe over-
vehemently assaulted. Cecropia still sweetning her fiercenesses
with faire promises, if they would promise faire; that feeling
evill, and seing a way far better, their minds might the sooner be
mollified. But they that could not taste her behaviour, when it
was pleasing, indeed could worse now, when they had lost al
taste by her injuries.
3 She resolving all extremities, rather then faile of coquest,
pursued on her rugged way : letting no day passe, without new
and new perplexing the poore Ladies minds, and troubling their
bodies : and still swelling, the more she was stopped, and grow-
ing hot with her owne doings, at length, abhominable rage
carried her to absolute tyranies, so that taking with her certaine
olde women (of wicked dispositions, and apt for envie-sake to
be cruel to youth and beautie) with a countenace impoysoned
with malice, flew to the sweet Philoclea^ as if so many Kites

470

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

should come about a white Dove, & matching violent gestures
vvrith mischievous threatnings, she having a rod in her had (like
a fury that should carry wood to the burning of Dianas temple)
fel to scourge that most beautifull body : Love in vaine holding
the shield of Beautie against her blind cruelty. The Son drew
clouds up to hide his face from so pitiful a sight; & the very
stone wals did yeeld drops of sweate for agonie of such a mis-
chiefe : each senselesse thing had sense of pittie; onely they that
had sense, were senseles. Vertue rarely found her worldly weake-
nes more, then by the oppression of that day : and weeping Cupid
told his weeping mother, that he was sorie he was not deaf, as
well as blind, that he might never know so lamentable a worke.
Philoclea^ with tearefull eyes, and sobbing breast (as soon as her
wearines rather then compassion, gave her respite) kneeled
dow[n]e to Cecropia, and making pittie in her face honourable,
and torment delightfull, besought her, since she hated her (for
what cause she tooke God to witnesse she knew not) that she
would at once take away her life, and not please her self with the
tormenting of a poore Gentlewoman. If (said she) the common
course of humanitie cannot move you, nor the having me in
your owne walles, cannot claime pittie : nor womanly mercie,
nor neere alliance, nor remebrance (how miserable so ever now)
that I am a Princes daughter ; yet let the love (you have often
tolde me) your sonne beares me, so much procure, that for his
sake, one death may be thought inough for me ; I have not lived
so many yeares, but that one death may be able to conclude
them: neither have my faults, I hope, bene so many, but that
one death may satisfie them. It is no great suite to an enemie,
when but death is desired. I crave but that, and as for the
graunting your request, know for certaine you lose your labours,
being every day furtherof-minded from becoming his wife, who
useth me like a slave. But that in stead of getting grace renued
againe Cecropias^ fury : so that (excellent creature) she was
newly again tormented by those hellish monsters: Cecropia
using no other words, but that she was a proud and ungratefuU
wench : and that she would teach her to know her owne good,
since of her selfe she would not conceave it.

So with silence and patience (like a faire gorgeous armour, 4
hammered upon by an ilfavoured Smith) she abode their pittiles
dealing with her : till, rather reserving her for more, then

471

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

meaning to end, they left her to an uncomfortable leysure, to
consider with her selfe her fortune; both helplesse her selfe,
being a prisoner, and hopeles, since Zelmane was a prisoner : who
therein onely was short of the bottome of miserie, that she knew
not how unworthilie her Angell, by these devils was abused :
but wanted (God wot) no stings of griefe, when those words did
but strike upon her hart, that Philoclea was a captive, and she
not able to succour her. For well she knew the confidence
Philoclea had in her, and well she knew, Philoclea had cause to
have confidence: and all troden under foot by the wheele of

6 senselesse Fortune. Yet if there be that imperious power in
the soule, as it can deliver knowledge to another, without bodilie
organs ; so vehement were the workings of their spirites, as one
mette with other, though themselves perceaved it not, but only
thought it to be the doubling of their owne loving fancies. And
that was the onely wordly thing, whereon Philoclea rested her
minde, that she knewe she should die beloved of Zelmane, and
shoulde die, rather then be false to Zelmane. And so this most
daintie Nimphe, easing the paine of her minde with thinking
of anothers paine ; and almost forgetting the paine of her bodie,
through the paine of her minde, she wasted, even longing for
the conclusion of her tedious tragedie.

5 But for a while she was unvisited, Cecropia employing her
time in using the like crueltie upon Pamela, her harte growing
not onely to desire the fruite of punishing them, but even to
delight in the punishing them. But if ever the beames of per-
fection shined through the clowdes of afflidlion, if ever Vertue
tooke a bodie to shewe his (els unconceaveable) beautie, it was
in Pamela. For when Reason taught her there was no resistance,
(for to just resistance first her harte was enclined) then with so
heavenly a quietnes, and so gracefuU a calmenes, did she suffer
the divers kindes of torments they used to her, that while they
vexed her faire bodie, it seemed, that she rather directed, then
obeyed the vexation. And when Cecropia ended, and asked
whether her harte woulde yeelde: she a little smiled, but such
a smiling as shewed no love, and yet coulde not but be lovelie.
And then. Beastly woman (saide she) followe on, doo what thou
wilt, and canst upon me : for I know thy power is not unlimited.
Thou maist well wracke this sillie bodie, but me thou canst
never overthrowe. For my part, I will not doo thee the

472

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

pleasure to desire death of thee : but assure thy self, both my
life and death, shall triumph with honour, laying shame upon
thy detestable tyranny.

And so, in efFe<Sl, conquering their doing with her suffering, 4
while Cecropia tried as many sorts of paines, as might rather
vexe them, then spoyle them (for that she would not do while
she were in any hope to winne either of them for her sonne)
Pamela remained almost as much content with triall in her selfe,
what vertue could doo, as grieved with the miserie wherein she
found her selfe plunged : only sometimes her thoughts softned
in her, when with open wings they flew to Musidorus. For
then she would thinke with her selfe, how grievously Musidorus
would take this her miserie; and she, that wept not for her
selfe, wept yet Musidorus-his teares, which he would weep for
her. For gentle Love did easlier yeeld to lamentation, then the
constancy of vertue would els admitte. Then would she re-
member the case wherein she had left her poore shepheard, and
she that wished death for her self, feared death for him ; and she
that condemned in her selfe the feeblenes of sorrow, yet thought
it great reason to be sory for his sorow : & she that long had
prayed for the vertuous joyning themselves together, now
thinking to die herself, hartely prayed, that long time their
fortunes might be seperated. Live long my Musidorus (would
she say) and let my name live in thy mouth ; in thy harte my
memorie. Live long, that thou mayst love long the chast love
of thy dead Pamela. Then would she wish to her selfe, that no
other woman might ever possesse his harte : and yet scarcely
the wish was made a wish, when her selfe would finde fault
with it, as being too unjust, that so excellent a man should be
banished from the comfort of life. Then would she fortifie her
resolution, with bethinking the worste, taking the counsell of
vertue, and comfort of love.

473

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 21.

^Cecropias indurate tyrannies. ^Her devise with the death of one
to threaten another. ^Philoclea threatned, persisteth. ^The
execution done in sight o/" Philoclea ^ Zelmane. 'Philocleas
sorrow for her sister.

1 O O these diamonds of the worlde whom Nature had made to
O be preciously set in the eyes of her creatures, to be the
chiefe workes of her workemanship, the chiefe ornaments of the
worlde, and Princesses of felicitie, by rebellious injury were
brought to the uttermost distres that an enemies hart could wish,
or a womans spite invent : Cecropia dayly. in one or other sorte
punishing the, still with her evill torments giving them feare of
worse, making the feare it selfe the sorriest torment of all ; that
in the end wearie of their bodies they should be content to
bestow them at her appointmet. But as in labour, the more
one doth exercise it, the more by the doing one is enhabled to
doo; strength growing upo the worke, so as what at first would
have seemed impossible, after growes easie : so these Princesses
second to none, and far from any second, only to be matched by
theselves, with the use of suffering their minds gat the habit of
sufFring so, as all feares & terrors were to them but summons
to a battaile, whereof they knew before had they would be
victorious, & which in the suffering was painfull, being suffered,
was a trophe to it self: whereby Cecropia found her self still
farder of: for where at first she might perchance have perswaded
them to have visited her sonne, and have given him some com-
forte in his sicknesse, drawing neere to the cofines of Deaths'
kingdome, now they protested, that they would never otherwise!
speake to him, then as to the enemy, of most unjust cruelty to-j
wards them, that any time or place could ever make them know,]

2 This made the poison swell in her cankred brest, perceiving]
that (as in water) the more she grasped the lesse she held: but
yet now having run so long the way of rigour, it was too late inj
reason, and too contrary to her passion, to returne to a course of
meekenesse. And therefore (taking counsell of one of her olde ■
associates who so far excelled in wicked nesse as that she had]
not onely lost all feeling of conscience, but had gotten a very;

474

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

glory in evill) in the ende they determined, that beating, and
other such sharp dealing did not so much pull downe a womans
harte, as it bred anger, and that nothing was more enemy to
yeelding, then anger; making their teder harts take on the
armour of obstinacy : (for thus did their wicked mindes blind
to the light of vertue, & owly eied in the night of wickednes
interpret of it) & that therfore that was no more to be tried.
And for feare of death (which no question would doo most with
them) they had bene so often threatened, as they began to be
familiarly acquainted with it, and learned to esteeme threatning
wordes to be but words. Therefore the last, but best way now
was, that the one seing indeede the others death, should perceive,
there was no dallying meant: and then there was no doubt,
that a womans soule would do much, rather then leave so
beautifuU a body.

This being concluded, Cecrop'ia went to Philoclea, and tolde 3
her, that now she was to come to the last parte of the play : for
her part, though she found her hard harted obstinacie such, that
neither the sweetnesse of loving meanes, nor the force of harde
meanes could prevaile with her, yet before she would passe to a
further degree of extremity ; she had sought to win her sister ;
in hope, that her sonne might be with time satisfied with the
love of so faire a Lady : but finding her also rather more then
lesse wilful, she was now minded that one of their deathes
should serve for an example to the other, that despising worthy »
folks was more hurtfuU to the despiser, then the despised : that
yet because her sonne especially affected her, & that in her owne
selfe she was more inclinable to pittie her, the she had deserved,
she would begin with her sister; who that afternoone should
have her head cut of before her face; if in the mean time one
of them, did not pull out their il-wrought stiches of unkindnes,
she bad her looke for no other, nor loger time the she told her.
There was no assault give to the sweet Philocleas mind, that
entered so far, as this : for where to all paines and daungers of
her selfe, foresight with (his Lieutenant Resolution) had made
ready defence; now with the love she bare her sister, she was
driven to a stay, before she determined : but long she staied not,
before this reason did shine unto her, that since in her selfe she
preferred death before such a base servitude, love did teach her
to wish the same to her sister. Therefore crossing her armes,

475

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

& looking sideward upon the groud, Do what you wil (said she)
with us: for my part, heaven shall melt before I be removed.
But if you will follow my counsell, for your owne sake (for as
for praiers for my sake I have felt how little they prevaile) let
my death first serve for example to win her, who perchaunce
is not so resolved against Amphialus^ and so shall you not onely
justly punish me (who indeede doo hate both you and your
Sonne) but, if that may moove you, you shall doo more vertuously
in preserving one most worthy of life, and killing an other most
desirous of death : lastly in winning her, in steed of a peevish
unhappie creature, that I am, you shall blesse your sonne with
the most excellent woman in all praise-worthy thinges, that the
worlde holdeth. But Cecropta, (who had already set downe to
her selfe what she would do) with bitter both termes, & coun-
tenaunce, told her, that she should not neede to woo death over-
egerly : for if her sister going before her did not teach her witt,
herselfe should quickly follow. For since they were not to be
gotten, there was no way for her sonnes quiet, but to know,
that they were past getting. And so since no intreating, nor
threatning might prevayle, she bad her prepare her eies for a
new play, which she should see within fewe houres in the hall of
that castle.
4 A place indeed overfit for so unfit a matter: for being so
stately made that the bottome of it being even with the grounde,
the roofe reached as hie as any part of the castle, at either ende it
had convenient lodgeings. In the one end was (one storie from
the ground) Philocleas abode, in the other of even height, Pamelas^
and Zelmanes in a chamber above her: but all so vaulted of strong,
and thickly built stone, as one could no way heare the other:
each of these chambers had a litle windowe to looke into the
hall, but because the sisters should not have so much comforte,
as to looke out to one another, there was (of the outsides) cur-
taynes drawne, which they could not reach with their hands, so
barring the reach of their sight. But when the houre came
that the Tragedie should beginne, the curtaynes were with-
drawen from before the windowes of Zelmane^ and of Philoclea :
a sufficient challenge to call their eyes to defende themselves in
such an incounter. And by and by came in at one ende of the
hall, with about a dozen armed souldiers a Ladie, led by a couple,
with her handes bounde before her : from above her eyes to her
476

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

lippes muffled with a faire kerchiefe, but from her mouth to the
shoulders all bare : and so was led on to a scaffold raised a good
deale from the floore, and all covered with crimsin velvet. But
neither Xelmane^ nor Philoclea needed to be tolde, who she was:
for the apparell she ware made them too well assured, that it
was the admirable Pamela. Whereunto the rare whitenesse of
her naked necke gave sufficient testimonie to their astonnished
senses. But the fayre Ladie being come to the scaffold, and
then made to kneele downe, and so lefte by her unkinde sup-
porters, as it seemed that she was about to speake somewhat
(whereunto Philoclea^ poore soule, earnestly listned, according to
her speach even minded to frame her minde, her harte never
till then almost wavering to save her sisters life) before the
unfortunate Ladie could pronounce three wordes, the execu-
tioner cutt of the ones speech, and the others attention, with
making his sworde doo his cruell office upon that beautifull
necke. Yet the pittilesse sworde had such pittie of so pretious
an objedl, that at first it did but hitte flat long. But little
availed that, since the Ladie falling downe astonnished withall,
the cruell villayne forced the sworde with another blowe to
divorce the faire marriage of the head and body.

And this was done so in an instant, that the very a£l did 5
overrun Ph'tlocleas sorrow (sorrow not being able so quickly to
thunderbolte her harte thorough her senses, but first onely
opprest her with a storme of amazement) but when her eies saw
that they did see, as condemning themselves to have seene it,
they became weary of their owne power of seing: & her soule
then drinking up woe with great draughts, she fel downe to
deadly trauces : but her waiting jaylors with cruell pitty brought
lothed life unto her ; which yet many times tooke his leave as
though he would indeed depart: but when he was staied by
force, he kept with him deadly Sorrow, which thus exercised
her mourning speech. Pamela my sister, my sister Pamela^ woe
is me for thee, I would I had died for thee. Pamela never more
shall I see thee : never more shall I enjoy thy sweet companie,
and wise counsell. Alas, thou arte gone to beautifie heaven,
and haste thou lefte me here, who have nothing good in me, but
that I did ever love thee, and ever will lament thee ? Let this
day be noted of all vertuous folkes for most unfortunate : let it
never be mentioned, but among curses; and cursed be they that

477

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

did this mischiefe, and most accursed be mine eyes that behelde
it. Sweete Pamela ; that head is striken of, where onely wise-
dome might be spoken withall ; that bodie is destroied, which
was the Hving booke of vertue. Deare Pamela^ how haste thou
lefte me to all wretchednesse, and miserie? Yet while thou
livedst, in thee I breathed, of thee I hoped. O Pamela^ how
much did I for thy excellencie honour thee, more then my
mother, and love thee more then my selfe ? Never more shall
I lie with thee : never more shall we bathe in the pleasant river
together : never more shall I see thee in thy shephearde apparell.
But thou arte gone, and where am I ? Pamela is dead ; and live
I ? My God, And with that she fell againe in a soune, so as it
was a great while before they could bring her to her selfe againe ;
but being come to her-selfe, Alas (said she) unkind women, since
you have given me so many deathes, torment me not now with
life : for Gods sake let me goe, and excuse your hands of more
blood. Let me follow my Pamela^ whom ever I sought to
follow. Alas Pamela^ they will not let me come to thee. But
if they keepe promise, I shall treade thine owne steppes after
thee. For to what am I borne (miserable soule) but to be most
unhappie in my selfe, and yet more unhappie in others? But 6
that a thousand more miseries had happened unto me, so thou
haddest not dyed: Pamela, my sister Pamela. And so, like
lamentable Philomela, complained she the horrible wrong done
to her sister, which if it stird not in the wickedly closed minds
of her tormentors, a pittie of her sorrow, yet bredde it a
wearinesse of her sorrow : so as onely leaving one to prevent any
harme she should doo her selfe, the rest went away, consulting
againe with Cecropia, how to make profite of this their late
bloodie a(5t.

478

ARCADIA. LIB.

CHAP. 22.

^ Cecrophs pollicie to use Zelmanes intercession. ^Zelmanes se/fe-
conJliSf, ^Her motion to Philoclea rather to dissemble then
dye. ^Philocleas resolution rather to dye then dissemble. ^ At
sight (T/'Philocleas head Zelmanes extasies^ ''desperate deseigneSy
^and comfort lesse complaints.

IN the ende, that woman that used most to keep company I
with Zelmane^ told Cecropia, that she founde by many
most sensible proofes in Zelmane, that there was never woman
so loved another, as she loved Philoclea: which was the cause
that she (further then the commandement of Cecropia) had
caused Zelmanes curtaines to be also drawne : because having the
same spedlacle that Philoclea had, she might stand in the greater
feare for her, whom she loved so wel : and that indeed she had
hit the needle in that devise : for never saw she creature so
astonished as Zelmane, exceedingly sory for Pamela, but ex-
ceedingly exceeding that exceedingnes in feare for Philoclea,
Therefore her advice was, she should cause Zelmane to come
and speake with Philoclea. For there being such vehemencie of
friendship between them, it was both likely to move Zelmane to
perswade, and Philoclea to be perswaded. Cecropia liked wel of
the counsell, and gave order to the same woman to go deale
therein with Zelmane, and to assure her with othe, that Cecropia
was determined Philoclea should passe the same way that Pamela
had done, without she did yeeld to satisfie the extremitie of her
sonnes affedlion : which the woman did, adding therunto many
(as she thought) good reasons to make Zelmane thinke Amphialus
a fit match for Philoclea.

But Zelmane (who had from time to time understood the 2
cruell dealing they had used to the sisters, & now had her own
eies wounded with the sight of ones death) was so confused with-
all (her courage still rebelling against her wit, desiring still with
force to doo impossible matters) that as her desire was stopped
with power, so her coceit was darkned with a mist of desire.
For blind Love, & invincible valure stil would cry out, that it
could not be, Philoclea should be in so miserable estate, and she
not relieve her : and so while she haled her wit to her courage,

479

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

she drew it from his owne limits. But now Philocleas death
(a word able to marshall al his thoughts in order) being come to
so short a point either with smal delay to be suffred, or by the
giving her selfe to another to be prevented, she was drive to
think, and to desire some leasure of thinking : which the woman
granted for that night unto her. A night that was not halfe so
blacke, as her mind ; not halfe so silent, as was fit for her musing
thoughts. At last, he that would faine have desperatly lost a
thousand lives for her sake, could not finde in his harte, that she
should loose any life for her owne sake; and he that despised
his owne death in respedl of honour, yet could well nye dispense
with honor it self in respedt of Philocleas death : for once the
thought could not enter into his harte, nor the breath issue out
of his mouth, which could consent to Philocleas death for any
bargaine. Then how to prevent the next degree to death
(which was her being possest by another) was the point of his
minds labour: and in that he found no other way, but that
Philoclea should pretend a yeelding unto Cecropias request ; & so
by speaking with Amphialus^ and making faire (but delaying)
promises, procure libertie for Zelmane-, who onely wisht but to
come by a sword, not doubting then to destroy them all, and
deliver Philoclea: so little did both the me, and their forces
seeme in her eyes, looking downe upon them from the hye
toppe of affedlions tower.
3 With that minde therefore (but first wel bound) she was
brought to Philoclea^ having alredy plotted out in her coceite,
how she would deale with her: & so came she with hart and
eyes, which did each sacrifice either to Love upon the aultar of
Sorrow: and there had she the pleasing displeasing sight of
Philoclea: Philoclea^ who alredie the extreame sense of sorrow
had brought to a dulnesse therin, her face not without tokens
that beautie had bene by many miseries cruelly battered, & yet
shewed it most the perfection of the beautie, which could re-
maine unoverthrowne by such enimies. But whe Zelmane was
set downe by her, & the wome gone away (because she might
be the better perswaded whe no body was by, that had heard
her say she would not be perswaded) then began first the eyes to
speake, and the harts to crie out : Sorrow a while would needes
speake his owne language without using their tongues to be his
interpreters. At last Zelmane brake silence, but spake with the

480

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

onely eloquence of amazement: for all her long methodized
oration was inherited onely by such kinde of speeches. Deare
Ladie, in extreame necessities we must not. But alas unfor-
tunate wretch that I am, that I live to see this day. And I
take heaven and earth to witnesse, that nothing : and with that
her brest swelled so with spite and griefe, that her breath had
not leasure to turne her selfe into words. But the sweet Phi-
loclea that had alredie dyed in Pamela^ and of the other side had the
heavines of her hart somthing quickned in the most beloved sight
of Zelmane^ ghessed somewhat at Zelmanes minde ; and therefore
spake unto her in this sort. My Pyrocles (said she) I know this
exceeding comfort of your presence, is not brought unto me for
any good- will that is owed unto me : but (as I suppose) to make
you perswade me to save my life with the ransome of mine
honour : although no bodie should be so unfit a pleader in that
cause, as your selfe, yet perchance you would have me live.
Your honour? God forbid (said Zelmane) that ever, for any
cause, I should yeeld to any touch of it. But a while to pretend
some affection, til time, or my libertie might worke somthing
for your service: this, if my astonished senses would give me
leave, I would faine have perswaded you.

To what purpose my Pyrocles ? (said Philoclea) of a miserable 4
time what gaine is there? hath Pamelaes example wrought no
more in me ? is a captive life so much worth ? ca ever it goe out
of these lips, that I love any other but Pyrocles? shal iriy tongue
be so false a traitor to my hart, as to say I love any other but
Pyrocles? And why should I do all this? to live? O Pamela^
sister Pamela^ why should I live ? onely for thy sake Pyrocles I
would live : but to thee I know too well I shal not live ; and if
not to thee, hath thy love so base allay, my Pyrocles^ as to wish
me to live ? for dissimulation, my Pyrocles^ my simplicitie is such,
that I have hardly bene able to keepe a straight way ; what shall
I doo in a crooked? But in this case there is no meane of dis-
simulation, not for the cunningest: present answere is required,
and present performance upon the answere. Art thou so terrible,
6 Death ? No my Pyrocles ; and for that I doo thanke thee, and
in my soule thanke thee; for I confesse the love of thee b
heerein my chiefest vertue. Trouble me not therefore, deare
Pyrocles^ nor double not my death by tormenting my resolution :
since I cannot live with thee, I wil dye for thee. Onely

s. A. HH 481

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

remember me deare Pyroc/es; and love the remembrance of
me: and if I may crave so much of thee, let me be thy last
love, for though I be not worthy of thee (who indeed art the
worthiest creature living) yet remember that my love was a
worthy love. But Pyrocles was so overcome with sorrow
(which wisdome & vertue made just in so excellent a Ladies
case, ful of so excellet kindnes) that words were ashamed to
come forth knowing how weake they were to expresse his mind,
& her merit : and therfore so stayed in a deadly silence, forsaken
of hope, & forsaking comfort: till the appointed gardians came
in, to see the fruits of Zelmanes labour : & then Zelmane warned
by their presence, fel againe to perswade, though scarcely her
selfe could tell what; but in sum, desirous of delayes. But
Philoclea sweetly continuing costant, & in the end punishing
her importunity with silence, Zelmane was faine to ende. Yet
craving an other times coference, she obtained it, & divers
others ; till at the last Cecropia found it was to no purpose, and
therfore determined to follow her owne way. Zelmane yet stil
desirous to win (by any meanes) respit, even wasted with sorrow,
& uncertaine, whether in worse case in her presece, or absence,
being able to do nothing for Philocleas succour, but by submitting
the greatest corage of the earth to fall at the feete of Cecropia^
and crave stay of their sentence till the uttermost was scene,
what her perswasions might doo.
5 Cecropia seemed much to be moved by her importunitie, so
as divers dayes were wonne of painefull life to the excellent
Philoclea : while Zelmane sufFred some hope to cherrish her
mind, especially trusting upon the helpe of Musidorus^ who
(she knew) would not be idle in this matter, till one morning
a noise awaked Zelmane^ from whose over-watchfull mind, the,
tired body had stolne a little sleep: and streight with the first!
opening of her eyes. Care taking the woonted place, she ranne!
to the window which looked into the hall (for that way the noise
guided her,) and there might she see (the curtaine being left open
ever since the last execution) seven or eight persons in a cluster!
upon the scaffold : who by & by retiring themselves, nothing]
was to be seene thereupon, but a bason of golde, pitifully/
enameled with bloud, and in the midst of it, the head of the!
most beautifull Philoclea. The horriblenes of the mischiefe^
was such, as Pyrocles could not at first beleeve his own senses,

482

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

but bent his woful eyes to discerne it better: where too well he
might see it was Philocleas selfe, having no veile, but beautie,
over the face, which still appeared to be alive: so did those eyes
shine, even as they were wont, and they were woont more then
any other : and sometimes as they moved, it might well make
the beholder think, that death therin had borowed their beutie,
and not they any way disgraced by death : so sweet and pearsing
a grace they caried with them.

It was not a pitie, it was not an amazement, it was not a 6
sorow which then laid holde on Pyroclesy but a wilde furie of
desperate agonie, so that he cried out, O tyraunt heaven, traytor
earth, blinde providence ; no justice, how is this done ? how is
this suffered? hath this world a government? If it have, let it
poure out all his mischiefes upon me, and see whether it have
power to make me more wretched then I am. Did she excel!
for this ? have I prayed for this ? abhominable hande that did it ;
detestable devil that commaunded it; cursed light that beheld
it: and if the light be cursed, what are then mine eyes that
have seene it ? And have I seen Philoclea dead, and doo I live ?
and have I lived, not to help her, but to talke of her ? and stande
I still talking? And with that (caried with the madnes of
anguish, not having a redier way to kill himselfe) he ranne as
hard as ever he could, with his head against the wall, with in-
tention to braine himself : but the haste to doo it, made the doing
the slower. For, as he came to give the blow, his foot tript, so
as it came not with the full force: yet forcible inough to strike
him downe, and withall, to deprive him of his sense, so that he
lay a while, comforted by the hurt, in that he felte not his
discomfort.

And when he came againe to himselfe, he heard, or he 7
thought he heard a voice, which cried, Revege, Revenge;
whether indeed it were his good Angell, which used that voice
to stay him from unnaturall murdering of him selfe ; or that his
wandering spirites lighted upon that conceite, and by their
weakenes (subject to apprehensions) supposed they heard it. But
that indeed, helped with Vertue, and her valiant servant Anger,
stopped him from present destroying him selfe: yeelding, in
reason and manhoode, first to destroy, man, woman, and childe,
that were any way of kinne to them that were accessarie to this
crueltie; then to raze the Castle, and to builde a sumptuous

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

monument for her sister, and a most sumptuous for her selfe;
and then, himselfe to die upon her tomb. This determining in
himselfe to do, and to seeke all meanes how (for that purpose)
to get out of prison : he was content a while to beare the thirst
of death : and yet went he againe to the windowe, to kisse the
beloved head with his eies, but there saw he nothing but the
scaffold, all covered over with skarlet, and nothing but solitarie
silence, to mourn this mischiefe. But then, Sorrow having
disperste it selfe from his harte, in all his noble partes, it pro-
claimed his authoritie, in cries, and teares, and with a more
gentle dolefulnes, could poure out his inward evill.
8 Alas (said he) and is that head taken away too, so soone from
mine eyes ? What, mine eyes, perhappes they envie the excel-
lencie of your sorrow ? Indeede, there is nothing now left to
become the eyes of all makind, but teares : and wo be to me, if
any exceede me in wofulnes. I do conjure you all, my senses,
to accept no object, but of Sorow : be ashamed, nay, abhor to
thinke of comfort. Unhappie eyes, you have scene too much,
that ever the light should be welcome to you : unhappie eares,
you shall never heare the musicke of Musicke in her voice :
unhappie harte, that hast lived to feel these pangues. Thou
hast done thy worst. World, & cursed be thou, and cursed art
thou, since to thine owne selfe thou hast done the worst thou
couldest doo. Exiled Beautie, let onely now thy beautie be
blubbered faces. Widowed Musick, let now thy tunes be
rorings, and lanientations. Orphane Vertue, get thee winges,
and flie after her into heaven j here is no dwelling place for thee.
Why lived I, alas? Alas why loved I? to die wretched, and to
be the example of the heavens hate ? And hate, & spare not,
for your worst blow is striken. Sweet Philoclea^ thou art gone,
and hast caried with thee my love; & hast thy love in me, &
I wretched ma do live ; I live, to die cotinually, till thy revenge
do give me leave to dy : & then dy I will, my Philoclea^ my hart
willinglie makes this promise to it selfe. Surely he did not
looke upon thee, that gave the cruell blow: for no eye coulde
have abidden to see such beautie overthrowen by such mischiefe.
Alas, why should they divide such a head from such a bodie? no
other bodye is worthy of that head ; no other head is woorthie
of that body : O yet, if I had taken my last leave, if I might
have taken a holie kisse from that dying mouth. Where art

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ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

thou Hope which promisest never to leave a ma while he liveth ?
Tell me, what canst thow hope for ? nay tel me, what is there
which I would willingly hope after ? Wishing power (which is
accounted infinite) what now is left to wish for ? She is gone,
and gone with her all my hope, all my wishing. Love, be
ashamed to be called Love: cruell Hate, unspeakable Hate is
victorious over thee. Who is there now left, that can justifie
thy tyrannie, and give reason to thy passion ? O cruell divorce
of the sweetest mariage that ever was in Nature: Philoclea is
dead, and dead is with her all goodnesse, all sweetnesse, all ex-
cellencie. Philoclea is dead, and yet Life is not ashamed to
cotinue upon the earth. Philoclea is dead: O deadly word;
which containeth in it selfe the uttermost of all misfortunes.
But happie worde when thou shalt be said of me, and long it
shall not be, before it be said.

CHAP. 23.

^A Ladies kinde comforts to Pyrocles comfortlesse unkindnesse. ^His
hardly knowing her, ^Her unmasking of Cecrophsfruitlesse
sophistrie. * Their medley of solace and sorowe,

THen stopping his woordes with sighes, drowning his sighes i
in teares, & drying againe his teares in rage, he would
sitte a while in a wandring muse, which represented nothing
but vexations unto him: then throwing himselfe somtimes
upon the floore, and sometimes upon the bedde: then up
againe, till walking was wearisome, and rest loathsome : and
so neither suffering foode, nor sleepe to helpe his afflicted nature,
all that day and night he did nothing, but weepe Philoclea^ sigh
Philoclea^ and crie out Philoclea : till as it happened (at that time
upon his bed) towarde the dawning of the day, he heard one
stirre in his chamber, by the motion of garmets ; and he with an
angry voice asked. Who was there? A poore Gentlewoman
(answered the partie) that wish long life unto you. And I
scone death to you (said he) for the horrible curse you have
given me. Certainely (said she) an unkinde answere, and far

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unworthy the excellencie of your mind ; but not unsutable to
the rest of your behaviour. For most parte of this night I have
hearde you (being let into your chamber, you never perceiving
it, so was your minde estraunged from your senses) and have
hearde nothing of Zelmaney in Zelmane, nothing but weake
waylings, fitter for some nurse of a village, then so famous
a creature as you are. O God (cried out Pyrocles) that thou
wert a man that usest these wordes unto me. I tell thee I am
sory : I tell thee I will be sory in despite of thee, and all them
that would have me joyfull. And yet (replied she) perchauncfc
Philoclea is not dead, whom you so much bemone. I would we
were both dead of that condition, said Pyrocles, See the folly of
your passion (said she) as though you should be neerer to her,
you being dead, and she alive ; then she being dead, & you alive :
& if she be dead, was she not borne to die? what then do you
crie out for ? not for her, who must have died one time or other ;
but for some fewe yeares: so as it is time, & this world that
seeme so lovely things, and not Philoclea unto you. O noble
Sisters (cried Pyrocles) now you be gone (who were the onely
exalters of all womankind) what is left in that sex, but babling,
and businesse? And truly (said she) I will yet a little longer
trouble you. Nay, I pray you doo (said Pyrocles) for I wishe for
nothing in my shorte life, but mischiefes, and combers : and I
am content you shall be one of them. In truth (said she) you
would thinke yOur selfe a greatly priviledged person, if since the
strongest buildings, and lastingest monarchies are subje6l to end,
onely your Philoclea (because she is yours) should be exempted.
But indeede you bemone your selfe, who have lost a friende :
you cannot her, who hath in one a6l both preserved her honour,
and lefte the miseries of this worlde. O womans philosophie,
childish follie (said Pyrocles) as though if I do bemone my selfe,
I have not reason to doo so, having lost more then any Monarchic,
nay then my life can be woorth unto me. Alas (said she) com-
forte your selfe. Nature did not forget her skill, when she had
made them : you shall find many their superiours, and perchaunce
such, as (when your eyes shall looke abroad) your selfe will like
better.
2 But that speech put all good maners out of the conceit of
Pyrocles ; in so much, that leaping out of his bed, he ran to have
striken her : but comming neere her (the morning then winning

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ARCADIA. LIB. ^.

the field of darkenesse) he saw, or he thought he sawe,indeede,the
very face of PhilocUa ; the same sweetenesse, the same grace, the
same beautie : with which carried into a divine astonishment, he
fell downe at her feete. Most blessed Angell (said he) well
haste thou done to take that shape, since thou wouldest submit
thy selfe to mortall sense ; for. a more Angelicall forme could
not have bene created for thee. Alas, even by that excellent
beautie, so beloved of me, let it be lawfuU for me to aske of thee,
what is the cause, that she, that heavenly creature, whose forme
you have taken, should by the heavens be destined to so unripe
an ende? Why should unjustice so prevaile? Why was she
scene to the world, so soone to be ravished from us ? Why was
she not suffered to live, to teach the world perfection ? Doo not
deceive thy selfe (answered she) I am no Angell; I am Phtloclea^
the same Fhilocka^ so truely loving you, so truly beloved of
you. If it be so (said he) that you are indeede the soule
of Philocleay you have done well to keepe your owne figure :
for no heaven could have given you a better. Then alas, why
have you taken the paines to leave your blisfull seat to come to
this place most wretched, to me, who am wretchednes it selfe,
& not rather obtain for me, that I might come where you are,
there eternally to behold, & eternally to love your beauties ? you
know (I know) that I desire nothing but death, which I only
stay, to be justly revenged of your unjust murtherers. Deare
Pyrocles (said she) I am thy Philoclea^ and as yet living: not
murdred, as you supposed, and therefore to be comforted. And
with that gave him her hand. But the sweet touch of that
hande, seemed to his astraied powers so heavenly a thing, that
it rather for a while confirmed him in his former beliefe : till
she, with vehement protestations (and desire that it might be
so, helping to perswade that it was so) brought him to yeeld ;
yet doubtfully to yeelde to this height of al comfort, that
Philoclea lived : which witnessing with the teares of joy, Alas
(said he) how shall I beleeve mine eies any more? or doo you yet
but appeare thus unto me, to stay me from some desperate end ?
For alas I sawe the excellent Pamela beheaded: I saw your
head (the head indeede, and chiefe parte of all natures workes)
standing in a dishe of golde, too meane a shrine (God wote) for
such a relike. How can this be, my onely deare, and you live ?
or if this be not so, how can I beleeve mine owne senses ? and

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if I can not beleeve the, whjr should I now beleeve these blessed
tidings they bring me ?
3 The truth is (said she) my Pyrocles, that nether I (as you
finde) nor yet my deare sister is dead : although the mischievously
suttle Cecropia used slightes to make either of us thinke so of
other. For, having in vaine attempted the fardest of her wicked
eloquence, to make eyther of us yeeld to her sonne, and seeing
that neither it, accompanied with great flatteries, and riche
presents, could get any grounde of us, nor yet the violent way
she fell into of crueltie, tormenting our bodies, could prevayle
with us; at last, she made either of us thinke the other dead,
and so hoped to have wrested our mindes to the forgetting of
vertue : and first she gave to mine eyes the miserable spedtacle
of my sisters (as I thought) death : but indeede not my sister : it
was onely Artesia, she who so cunningly brought us to this
misery. Truly I am sory for the poore Gentlewoman, though
justly she be punished for her double falshood: but Artesia
muffled so, as you could not easily discerne her; and in my
sisters apparell (which they had taken from her under colour of
giving her other) did they execute : And when I (for thy sake
especially deare Pyrocles) could by no force, nor feare be won,
they assayed the like with my sister, by bringing me downe
under the scaflFolde, and (making me thrust my head up through
a hole they had made therin) they did put about my poore necke
a dishe of gold, whereout they had beaten the bottome, so as
having set bloud in it, you sawe how I played the parte of death
(God knowes even willing to have done it in earnest) and so had
they set me, that I reached but on tiptoes to the grounde, so as
scarcely I could breathe, much lesse speake : And truely if they
had kepte me there any whit longer, they had strangled me, in
steed of beheading me: but then they tooke me away, and
seeking to see their issue of this practise, they found my noble
sister (for the deare love she vouchsafeth to beare me) so grieved
withall, that she willed them to doo their uttermost crueltie
unto her : for she vowed, never to receive sustenaunce of them,
that had bene the causers of my murther : and finding both of
us, even given over, not like to live many houres longer, and my
sister Pamela^ rather worse then my selfe, (the strength of her
harte worse bearing those indignities) the good woman Cecropia
(with the same pittie as folkes keepe foule, when they are not

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ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

fette inough for their eating) made us know her deceipt, & let us
come one to another; with what joye you can well imagine,
who I know feele the like; saving that we only thought our
selves reserved to miseries, and therefore fitter for condoling,
then congratulating. For my parte, I am fully perswaded, it is
but with a little respite, to have a more feeling sense of the tor-
mentes she prepares for us. True it is, that one of my guardians
would have me to beleeve, that this proceedes of my gentle
cousin Amphialus: who having hearde some inckling that we
were evill entreated, had called his mother to his bedside, from
whence he never rose since his last combat, and besought, &
charged her upon all the love she bare him, to use us with all
kindnesse: vowing, with all the imprecations he could imagine,
that if ever he understood for his sake, that I received further
hurt then the want of my libertie, he woulde not live an houre
longer. And the good woman sware to me that he would kill
his mother, if he knewe how I had bene dealte with ; but that
Cecropia keepes him from understanding thinges how they passe,
onely having heard a whispering, and my selfe named, he had
(of aboundaunce, forsooth, of honorable love) given this charge
for us. Whereupon this enlargement of mine was growne :
for my parte I know too well their cunning (who leave no
mony unofFered that may buy mine honour) to beleeve any
worde they say, but (my deare Pyrocles) even looke for the
worste, and prepare my selfe for the same. Yet I must con-
fesse, I was content to robbe from death, and borrowe of my
misery the sweet comfort of seeing my sweet sister, and moste
sweete comforte of thee my Pyrocles. And so having leave, I
came stealing into your chamber : where (O Lord) what a joy
it was unto me, to heare you solemnise the funerals of the poore
Philoclea? That I my selfe might live to heare my death
bewailed ? and by whom ? by my deere Pyrocles. That I saw
death was not strong enough to divide thy love from me ? O my
Pyrocles, I am too well paide for my paines I have suffred : joy-
full is my woe for so noble a cause ; and welcome be all miseries,
since to thee I am so welcome. Alas how I pittied to heare
thy pittie of me ; and yet a great while I could not finde in my
hart to interrupt thee, but often had even pleasure to weepe
with thee : and so kindly came forth thy lamentations, that they
inforced me to lament to, as if indeed I had beene a looker on,

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to see poore Philoclea dye. Til at last I spake with you, to tr
whether I could remove thee fro sorrow, till I had almost
procured my selfe a beating.
4 And with that she pretily smiled, which, mingled with hcrl
teares, one could not tell whether it were a mourning pleasure,
or a delightful sorrow: but like whe a few Aprill drops arc'
scattered by a gentle Zephyrus among fine coloured flowers.
But Pyrocles^ who had felt (with so smal distace of time) in
himself the overthrow both of hope and despaire, knew not to
what key he should tune his mind, either of joy, or sorrow.
But finding perfite reason in neither, sufFred himselfe to be caried
by the tide of his imagination, & his imaginations to be raised
even by the sway, which hearing or seing, might give unto the :
he saw her alive, he was glad to see her alive : he saw her weep,
he was sory to see her weep : he heard her cofortable speeches,
nothing more gladsome : he hard her prognosticating her own
destru6li6, nothing more dolefull. But when he had a little
taken breath from the panting motion of such contrarietie in
passions, he fell to consider with her of her present estate, both
comforting her, that certainely the worst of this storme was
past, since alreadie they had done the worst, which mans wit
could imagine : and that if they had determined to have killed
her, they would have now done it : and also earnestly counselling
her, and inhabling his counsels with vehement prayers, that she
would so far second the hopes of Amphialusy as that she might
but procure him liberty ; promising then as much to her, as the
liberalitie of loving corage durst promise to himselfe.

CHAP. 24.

^Amphialus excuseth, ^The Princesses accuse. 'Cecropia seeking
their death ^findeth her owne. "Amphialus-/>/j death-pangei
and selfe-killing. ^The wofull knowledge of it,

I 13 Ut who would lively describe the manner of these speeches,
Jt) should paint out the lightsome coulours of afFedion, shaded
with the deepest shadowes of sorrow, finding them betweene
hope and feare, a kind of sweetenes in teares : til Philoclea con-
tent to receave a kisse, and but a kisse of Pyrocles^ sealed up with

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ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

moving lippes, and closed them up in comfort: and her-selfe
(for the passage was left betweene them open) went to her
sister: with whom she had stayed but a while, fortifying one
another (while Philoclea tempered Pamelas just disdaine, and
Pamela ennobled Philocleas sweete humblenesse) when Amphialus
came unto them : who never since he had heard Philoclea named,
coulde bee quiet in himselfe, although none of them about him
(fearing more his mothers violence the his power) would discover
what had passed : and many messages he sent to know her estate,
which brought answere backe, according as it pleased Cecropia
to indite them, till his hart full of unfortunate affliction, more
and more misgiving him, having impatiently borne the delay of
the nights unfitnesse, this morning he gat up, and though full
of wounds (which not without daunger could suffer such exercise)
he apparelled himselfe, and with a countenance, that shewed
strength in nothing but in griefe, he came where the sisters
were; and weakely kneeling downe, he besought them to
pardon him, if they had not bene used in that castle according
to their worthines, and his duetie; beginning to excuse small
matters, poore Gentleman, not knowing in what sort they had
bene handled.

But Pamelaes hye hart (having conceived mortall hate for 2
the injurie offred to her and her sister) coulde scarcely abide his
sight, much lesse heare out his excuses; but interrupted him
with these words. Traitor (said she) to thine owne blood, and
false to the profession of so much love as thou hast vowed, doo
not defile our eares with thy excuses ; but pursue on thy crueltie,
that thou and thy godly mother have used towards us : for my
part, assure thy self, and so do I answere for my sister (whose
mind I know) I do not more desire mine owne safetie then thy
destruction. Amazed with this speech, he turned his eye, ful
of humble sorrowflilnesse, to Philoclea. And is this (most ex-
cellent Ladie) your doome of me also? She, sweete Ladie, sate
weeping: for as her most noble kinsman she had ever favoured
him, & loved his love, though she could not be in love with his
person; and now partly unkindnes of his wrong, partly pittie
of his case, made her sweete minde yeelde some teares, before
she could answere ; and her answere was no other, but that she
had the same cause as her sister had. He replyed no further, but
delivering from his hart two or three (untaught) sighes, rose, and

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with most low reverence went out of their chamber : and streight
by threatning torture, learned of one of the women, in what
terrible manner those Princesses had bene used. But when he
heard it, crying out, O God ; and then not able to say any more
(for his speech went backe to rebounde woe upon his hart) he
needed no judge to goe upon him: for no man could ever
thinke any otherworthy of greater punishmet, the he thought
himselfe.

3 Ful therefore of the horriblest despaire, which a most guiltie
conscience could breed, with wild lookes promising some terrible
issue, understanding his mother was on the toppe of the leades,
he caught one of his servants swords from him, and none of
them daring to stay him, he went up, carried by furie, in steede
of strength; where she was at that time, musing how to goe
thorough with this matter, and resolving to make much of her
Neeces in shew, and secreatly to impoison them ; thinking since
they were not to be wonne, her sonnes love woulde no otherwise
be mitigated.

4 But when she sawe him come in with a sworde drawne,
and a looke more terrible then the sworde, she streight was
stricke with the guiltines of her own conscience: yet the wel
known humblenes of her son somwhat animated her, till he,
comming nearer her, and crying to her. Thou damnable creature,
onely fit to bring forth such a monster of unhappines as I am ;
she fearing he would have stricken her (though indeed he meant
it not, but onely intended to kill himselfe in her presence) went
backe so far, til ere she were aware, she overthrew her selfe
from over the Leades, to receave her deathes kisse at the ground :
and yet was she not so happie as presently to dye, but that she
had time with hellish agonie to see her sonnes mischiefe (whom
she loved so well) before her end ; when she confest (with most
desperate, but not repeting mind) the purpose she had to im-
poison the princesses, & would then have had them murthred.
But everie bodie seing, and glad to see her end, had left obedience
to her tyranny.

5 And (if it could be) her ruine increased woe in the noble
hart of Amphialusy who when he saw her fal, had his owne rage
stayed a little with the soddennes of her destruction. And was
I not enough miserable before (said he) but that before my end
I must be the death of my mother ? who how wicked so ever,

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ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

yet I would she had receaved her punishmet by some other. O
Amphialus^ wretched Amphialus ; thou hast lived to be the death
of thy most deere copanion & friend Philoxenus^ and of his
father, thy most carefull fosterfather. Thou hast lived to kill a
Ladie with thine owne handes, and so excellent, and vertuous a
Lady, as the faire Parthenia was: thou hast lived to see thy
faithfuU Ismenus slaine in succouring thee, and thou not able to
defende him : thou hast lived to shew thy selfe such a coward,
as that one unknowne Knight could overcome thee in thy
Ladies presence: thou hast lived to beare armes against thy
rightfull Prince, thine owne unckle: Thou hast lived to be
accounted, and justly accounted, a traitor, by the most excellent
persons, that this world holdeth: Thou hast lived to bee the
death of her, that gave thee life. But ah wretched Amphialus^
thou hast lived for thy sake, and by thy authoritie, to have
Philoclea tormented: O heavens, in Amphialus castle, where
Amphialus commaunded; tormented, tormented? torment of
my soule, Philoclea tormented : and thou hast had such comfort
in thy life, as to live all this while. Perchance this hande (used
onely to mischievous adles) thinkes it were too good a deede to
kill me; or else filthy hande, onely woorthy to kill women,
thou art afraide to strike a man. Feare not cowardly hand, for
thou shalt kill but a cowardly traitor: and doo it gladlie; for
thou shalt kill him, whome Philoclea hateth. With that,
furiously he tare open his doublet, and setting the pommel!
of the sworde to the grounde, and the point to his brest, hee
fell upon it. But the sworde more mercifull then hee to him-
selfe, with the slipping of the pommell, the point swarved, and
razed him but upon the side : yet with the fall, his other wounds
opened so, as hee bledde in such extremitie, that Charons boate
might verie well be carried in that flood : which yet he sought
to hasten by this meanes. As he opened his dublet, and fell,
there fell out Philocleas knives, which Cecropia at the first had
taken from her, and delivered to her sonne; and he had ever
worne them next his hart, as the only relique he had of his
Saint: now seeing them by him, (his sword being so, as
weakenes could not well draw it out from his doublette) he
tooke the knives, and pulling one of them out, and many times
kissing it, and then, first with the passions of kindnes, and
unkindnes, melting in teares, O deare knives, you are come in

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a good time, to revenge the wrong I have done you all this
while, in keeping you from her blessed side, and wearing you
without your mistresse leave. Alas, be witnes with me, yet
before I die, (and well you may, for you have layn next my hart)
that by my consent, your excellent mistresse should have had as
much honour, as this poore place could have brought foorth, for
so high an excellencie ; and now I am condemned to die by her
mouth. Alas, other, far other hope would my desire often
have given me : but other event it hath pleased her to lay upon
me. Ah Philoclea (with that his teares gushed out, as though
they would strive to overflow his bloud) I would yet thou
knewest how I love thee. Unworthie I am, unhappie I am,
false I am; but to thee, alas, I am not false. But what a
traitor am I, any way to excuse him, whom she condemneth?
Since there is nothing left me, wherein I may do her service,
but in punishing him, who hath so offended her. Deare knife,
then doo your noble mistresses commaundement. With that,
he stabbed himselfe into divers places of his breast, and throte,
untill those wounds (with the old, freshly bleeding) brought him
to the senselesse gate of Death.
6 By which time, his servants having (with feare of his furie)
abstained a while from comming unto him, one of them (pre-
ferring duetifuU afFedtion before fearfull duetie) came in, and
there found him swimming in his owne bloud, there giving a
pittiful spedlacle, where the conquest was the conquerors over-
throw, and self-ruine the onely triumph of a battaile, fought
betweene him, and himselfe. The time full of danger, the
person full of worthines, the maner full of horror, did greatlie
astonish all the beholders ; so as by and by, all the town was full
of it, and then of all ages came running up to see the beloved
body; every body thinking, their safetie bledde in his woundes^j
and their honor died in his destrudlion.

494

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.
CHAP. 25.

* Anaxius-^/j rages for the death^^ Queen Helens comming for the
cure of Amphialus. ^Her complaints over him, ^Her pas-
port and safeconduSfy to carrie him to her Chirurgion, ^The
peoples soroWy ^set downe in a song,

BUt when it came, (and quickly it came) to the eares of his I
proude friende Anaxius^ (who by that time was growe well
of his woud, but never had come abroad, disdayning to abase
himselfe to the companie of any other but of Amphialus) he was
exceedingly vexed, either with kindnes, or (if a proud hart be
not capable therof ) with disdaine, that he, who had the honor
to be called the frend of Anaxius, should come to such an
unexpected ruine. Therfore, then comming abroad, with a face
red in anger, and engrained in pride, with liddes raysed up, and
eyes levelling from toppe to the toe of them that met him,
treading, as though he thought to make the earth shake under
him, with his hande upon his sword ; short speeches, and dis-
dainfull answeres, giving streight order to his two brothers, to
goe take the oath of obedience, in his name, of all the souldiers,
and Citizens in the towne: and withall, to sweare them to
revenge the death of Amphialus, upon Basilius. He himself
went to see him, calling for all the surgeons & physicions
there; spending some time in vewing the body, and threatning
them all to be hanged, if they did not heale him. But they
(taking view of his woundes, and falling down at Anaxius feete)
assured him, that they were mortall, & no possible meanes to
keep him above two dayes alive : and he stood partly in doubt,
to kil, or save them, betweene his own furie, and their
humblenes. But vowing, with his owne hands to kill the
two sisters, as causers of his friends death : when his brothers
came to him, & told him they had done his commaundement,
in having receaved the oath of allegeance, with no great diffi-
cultie: the most part terrified by their valure, & force of their
servants, & many that had bene forward adlors in the rebellion,
willing to do any thing, rather then come under the subjection
of Basilius againe ; and such fewe as durst gainesay, being cut of
by present slaughter.

But withall (as the chiefe matter of their comming to him) 2

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

they told Anaxius^ that the faire Queen Helen was come, with
an honorable retinue, to the towne : hublie desiring leave to see
Amphialusy who she had sought in many places of the world ; &
lastly, being returned into her owne countrie, she heard together
of the late siege and of his combat with the strange Knight, who
had dangerously hurt him. Wherupon, full of loving care
(which she was content even to publish to the world, how
ungratefully soever he dealt with her) she had gotten leave of
Banlimy to come by his frontiers, to cary away Amphialm with
her, to the excellentest surgeon then knowen, whom she had in
her Countrey, but so olde, as not able to travaile : but had given
her soveraigne annointments, to preserve his body withal, till he
might be brought unto him: and that Basilius had graunted
leave: either naturall kindnes prevailing over all the offences
done, or rather glad to make any passage, which might leade
him out of his countrie, and from his daughters. This discourse
Lycurgus understanding of Helene^ delivered to his brother, with
her vehement desire to see the body, and take her last farewell
of him. AnaxiuSy though he were fallen out with all woman-
kind (in respe6l of the hate he bare the sisters, whom he accounted
murtherers of Amphialus) yet at his brothers request, graunted
her leave. And she (poore Lady) with grievous expectation,
and languishing desire, caried her faint legs to the place where
he lay, ether not breathing, or in all appearance breathing but
death.
3 In which pittious plight when she saw him, though Sorow
had set before her minde the pittifullest conceit thereof that it
could paint, yet the present sight went beyonde all former
apprehensions: so that beginning to kneele by the bodie, her
sight ranne from her service, rather then abide such a sight;
and she fell in a soune upon him, as if she could not choose but
die of his wounds. But when her breath (aweary to be closed
up in woe) broke the prison of her faire lippes, and brought
memorie (with his servaunt senses) to his naturall office, she yet
made the breath convey these dolefull wordes with it. Alas (said
she) Amphtalusy what strange diseases be these, that having sought
thee so long, I should be now sorie to finde thee? that these
eyes should looke upon Amphialusy and be grieved withall ? that
I should have thee in my power without glory, and embrace
thee without comfort ? How often have I blest the means that

496

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

might bring me neer thee? Now, woe worth the cause that
brings me so neer thee. Often, alas, often hast thou disdained
my teares : but now, my deare Amphialus^ receive them : these
eies can serve for nothing else, but weepe for thee; since thou
wouldest never vouchsafe them thy comforte, yet disdaine not
them thy sorrowe. I would they had bene more deare unto
thee; for then hadst thou lived. Woe is me that thy noble
harte could love who hated thee, and hate who loved thee.
Alas, why should not my faith to thee cover my other defedts,
who only sought to make my Crowne thy foote-stoole, my selfe
thy servaunt ? that was all my ambition ; and alas thou disdainedst
it to serve them, by whom thy incomparable selfe were disdained.
Yet (6 Philoclea) wheresoever you are, pardon me, if I speake in
the bitternes of my soule, excellent may you be in all other
things (and excellent sure you are since he loved you) your want
of pittie, where the fault onely was infinitenesse of desert, cannot
be excused. I would, O God, I would that you had graunted
his deserved suite of marrying you, and that I had bene your
serving-maide, to have made my estate the foile of your felicitie, so
he had lived. How many weary steps have I trodden after thee,
while my onely complaint was, that thou werte unkinde ? Alas
I would now thou werte, to be unkind. Alas why wouldest
thou not comaund my service, in persuading Philoclea to love
thee? who could, or (if every one could) who would have re-
counted thy perfedlions so well, as I? who with sucii kindly
passions could have stirred pittie for thee as I ? who should have
delivered not onely the wordes but the teares I had of thee ? and
so shouldest thou have exercised thy disdaine in me, and yet used
my service for thee.

With that the body moving somewhat, and giving a grone 4
full of deaths musicke, she fell upon his face, & kist him, and
with all cried out. O miserable I, that have onely favour by
miserie : and then, would she have returned to a fresh careere
of complaints, when an aged and wise Gentleman came to her,
and besought her, to remember what was fit for her greatnesse,
wisdome, & honour : and with al, that it was fitter to shew her
love, in carying the body to her excellent Surgeon, first applying
such excellent medicines as she had received of him for that
purpose, rather then onely shew her selfe a woman-lover in
fruitles lametations. She was streight warned with the obedi-

S. A. II 497

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

ence of an overthrowen mind, and therefore leaving some
surgeons of her owne to dresse the body, went her selfe to
Anaxius^ & humbling her selfe to him, as lowe as his owne
pride could wish, besought him, that since the surgeons there
had utterly given him over, that he would let her carrie him
away in her litter with her, since the worst he could have should
be to die, and to die in her armes that loved him above al things;
& where he should have such monuments erefted over him,
as were fit for her love, & his worthines : beseeching him withall,
since she was in a country of enemies (where she trusted
more to Anaxius valour, then Basilius promise) that he would
convey them safely out of those territories. Her reasons
something moved him, but nothing thoroughly perswaded him,
but the last request of his helpe : which he streight promised,
warrating all securitie, as long as that sword had his master
alive. She as happy therein as unhappines could be (having
received as small cofort of her owne surgeons as of the others)
caused yet the body to be easily conveyed into the litter : all the
people then beginning to roare and crie, as though never till
then they had lost their Lorde. And if the terrour of Anaxius
had not kept them under, they would have mutinied, rather then
suffered his bodie to be caried away.

5 But Anaxius him selfe riding before the litter, with the
choyce men of that place, they were afFraid even to crie, though
they were readie to crie for feare : but (because that they might
doo) every bodie forced (even with harming themselves) to doo
honour to him : some throwing themselves upon the grounde ;
some tearing their clothes, and casting duste upon their heades,
and some even wounding themselves, and sprinkling their owne
bloud in the aire. Among the rest, one accounted good in that
kinde, and made the better by the true feeling of sorrowe, roared]
out a song of Lamentation, which (as well as might be) was]
gathered up in this forme.

6 O/w^ that to death is gone the shepheard hie,
v3 JVhom most the silly shepheards pipe did pryse,

Tour dolefull tunes sweete Muses now applie.

And you 6 trees {if any life there lies

In trees) now through your porous barkes receave
The straunge resounde of these my causefull cries :

498

RCADIA. LIB. 3.

And let my breath upon your braunches leave^
My breath distinguish d into wordes of woe^
That so I may signes of my sorrowe leave.

But if among yourselves some one tree growe.
That aptest is to figure miserie^
Let it embassage beare your grieves to showe.

The weeping Myrrhe I thinke will not denie
Her helpe to this, this justest cause of plaint.
Tour dolefull tunes sweet Muses now applie.

And thou poore Earthy whom fortune doth attaint
In Natures name to suffer such a harme^
As for to loose thy gemme^ and such a SainSf^

Upon thy face let coaly Ravens swarme :
Let all the Sea thy teares accounted be :
Thy bowels with all killing mettals arme.

Let golde now rust^ let Diamonds waste in thee :

Let pearls be wan with woe their damme doth beare :
Thy selfe henceforth the light doo never see.

And you^ 0 flowers^ which sometimes Princes were^
Till these straunge altrings you did hap to trie.
Of Princes losse your selves for tokens reare.

Lilly in mourning blacke thy whitenes die :
O Hiacinthe let Ai be on thee still.
Tour dolefull tunes sweet Muses now applie. ^

0 Echo, all these woods with roaring fill,
And doo not onely marke the accents last.
But all, for all reach out my wailefull will :

One Echo to another Echo cast

Sounde of my griefes, and let it never ende.
Till that it hath all woods and waters past.

Nay to the heavens your just complaining sende.
And stay the Starrs inconstant constant race.
Till that they doo unto our dolours bende :

And aske the reason of that speciall grace.

That they, which have no lives, should live so long,
And vertuous soules so soone should loose their place?

Aske, if in great men good men doo so thronge.
That he for want of elbowe roome must die r*
Or if that they be skante, if this be wronge ?

112 499

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Did JVhedome this our wretched time espie
In one true chest to rob all Vertues treasure ?
Tour dolefull tunes sweete Muses now applie.

And if that any counsell you to measure

Tour dolefull tunes^ to them still playning say.
To well felte griefe^ plainte is the onely pleasure.

0 light of Sunney which is entitled day^

O well thou doost that thou no longer hidest ;
For mourning light her hlacke weedes may display.

O Phoebus with good cause thy face thou hidest^
Rather then have thy all-beholding eye
Fould with this sight^ while thou thy chariot guidest.

And well {me thinks) becomes this vaultie skie
A stately tombe to cover him deceased.
Tour dolefull tunes sweet Muses now applie.

O Philomela with thy brest oppressed

By shame and griefe, helpe, helpe me to lament
Such cursed harmes as cannot be redressed.

Or if thy mourning notes be fully spent.
Then give a quiet eare unto my playning :
For I to teach the world complainte am bent.

Tou dimmy clowdes, which well employ your stayning
This cheerefull aire with your obscured cheere,
Witnesse your wofull teares with daily rayning.

And if 6 Sunne, thou ever didst appeare.,

In shape, which by mans eye might be perceived ;
Vertue is dead, now set thy triumph here.

Now set thy triumph in this world, bereaved

Of what was good, where now no good doth lie ;
And by thy pompe our losse will be conceaved.

O notes of mine your selves together tie :

With too much griefe me thinkes you are dissolved.
Tour dolefull tunes sweete Muses now applie.

Time ever old, and yonge is still revolved
Within it self, and never tasteth ende :
But mankind is for aye to nought resolved.

The filthy snake her aged coate can mende.

And getting youth againe, in youth doth flourish :
But unto Man, age ever death doth sende.

500

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

The very trees with grafting we can cherish^
So that we can long time produce their time :
But Man which helpeth them^ helplesse must perish.

Thus^ thus the mindes, which over all doo clime^
When they by yeares experience get best graces^
Must finish then by deaths detested crime.

We last short while, and build long lasting places :
Ah let us all against foule Nature crie :
We Natures workes doo helpe, she us defaces.

For how can Nature unto this reply ?

That she her child, I say, her best child kiheth f
Tour dolefull tunes sweete Muses now apply.

Alas, me thinkes, my weakned voice but spilleth.
The vehement course of this just lamentation :
Me thinkes, my sound no place with sorrow filleth.

I know not I, but once in detestation

I have my selfe, and all what life containeth.
Since Death on Vertues fort hath made invasion.

One word of woe another after traineth :
Ne doo I care how rude be my invention.
So it be seene what sorrow in me raigneth.

O Elements, by whose {men say) contention.
Our bodies be in living power maintained.
Was this mans death the fruite of your dissention ?

O Phisickes power, which [some say) hath restrained
Approch of death, alas thou helpest meagerly.
When once one is for Atropos distrained.

Great be Physitions brags, but aid is beggerly.
When rooted moisture failes, or groweth drie.
They leave off al, and say, death comes too eager lie.

They are but words therefore that men do buy.
Of any since God AEsculapius ceased.
Tour dolefull tunes sweete Muses now applie.

Justice, justice is now [alas) oppressed :

Bountifulnes hath made his last conclusion:
Goodnes for best attire in dust is dressed.

Shepheards bewaile your uttermost confusion ;
And see by this picture to you presented.
Death is our home, life is but a delusion.

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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

For see alas, who is from you absented?
Absented P nay I say for ever banished
From such as were to dye for him contented ?

Out of our sight in turne of hand is vanished
Shepherd of shepherds, whose well setled order
Private with welth, publike with quiet garnished.

While he did live, farre, farre was all disorder ;
Example more prevailing then direction,
Far was homestrife, and far was foe from border.

His life a law, his looke a full correction :
As in his health we healthfull were preserved.
So in his sicknesse grew our sure infeSfion.

His death our death. But ah-, my Muse hath swarved.
From such deepe plaint as should such woes descrie.
Which he of us for ever hath deserved.

The stile of heavie hart can never fie

So high, as should make such a paine notorious :
Cease Muse therfore : thy dart o Death applie ;

And farewell Prince, whom goodnesse hath made glorious.

CHAP. 26.

"^The publike grief e amplified. ^Anaxius death-threatning to the
Princesses. ^ Their resolutenes in it. *His returne, and stop.
"Zelmanes brave challenge unto him '^scorned by him. "'His
love to Pamela scorned by her. ^His brothers brave loves have
as meane successe.

I ^ I ^He general consort of al such numbers mourning, per-
X fourmed so the naturall times of sorrow ; that even to
them (if any such were) that felt not the losse, yet others grief
taught them griefe ; having before their compassionate sense so
passionate a spectacle, of a young man, of great beautie, beautified
with great honour, honored by great valure, made of inestimable
valure, by the noble using of it, to lye there languishing, under
the arrest of death, and a death, where the manner could be no
comfort to the discomfortablenes of the matter. But when the
bodie was carried thorough the gate, and the people (saving such

502

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

as were appointed) not sufFred to goe further, then was such an
universal crie, as if they had all had but one life, and all receaved
but one blow.

Which so moved Anaxius to consider the losse of his friend, 2
that (his minde apter to revenge, then tendernesse) he presently
giving order to his brother to keepe the prisoners safe, and
unvisited, till his retourne from coveying Helen, he sent a
messenger to the sisters, to tel them this curteous message : that
at his retourne, with his owne hands, he would cut off their
heads, and send them for tokens to their father.

This message was brought unto the sisters, as they sate at 3
that time together with Zelmane, conferring how to carrie them-
selves, having heard of the death of Amphialus. And as no,,
expeftation of death is so painfull, as where the resolution is,,
hindred by the intermixing of hopes, so did this new alarum,
though not remove, yet move somwhat the costancy of their
minds, which were so unconstantly dealt with. But within a
while, the excellent Pamela had brought her minde againe to his
old acquaintance : and then, as carefuU for her sister (whom most
deerely she loved) Sister (said she) you see how many adts our
Tragedy hath : Fortune is not yet a wearie of vexing us : but
what? A shippe is not counted strong for byding one storme?
It is but the same trumpet of death, which now perhaps gives
the last sounde: and let us make that profite of our former
miseries, that in them we learned to dye willingly. Truely
said Philoclea, deare sister, I was so beaten with the evils of life,
that though I had not vertue enough to despise the sweetnesse
of it, yet my weaknesse bredde that strength, to be wearie of the
paines of it : onely I must confesse, that little hope, which by
these late accidents was awaked in me, was at the first angrie
withall. But even in the darkenesse of that horrour, I see a
light of comfort appeare ; and how can I treade amisse, that see
Pamelas steppes? I would onely (O that my wish might take
place) that my schoole-Mistres might live, to see me say my
lesson truely. Were that a life, my Philocleal said Pamela.
No, no, (said she) let it come, and put on his worst face : for at
the worst it is but a bug-beare. Joy is it to me to see you so
well resolved ; and since the world will not have us, let it lose
us. Onely (with that she stayed a little, and sight) onely my
Philoclea, (then she bowed downe, and whispered in her eare)

503

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

onely Musidorus, my shepheard, comes betweene me and death,
and makes me thinke I should not dye, because I know he would
not I should dye. With that Philoclea sighed also, saying no
more, but looking upon Zelmane : who was walking up & downe
the chamber, having heard this message from Jnaxiusy and
having in times past heard of his nature, thought him like
enough to performe it, which winded her againe into the
former maze of perplexitie. Yet debating with her selfe of the
manner how to prevent it, she continued her musing humour,
little saying, or indeed, little finding in her hart to say, in a
case of such extremitie, where peremptorily death was threatned:
and so stayed they; having yet that comfort, that they might
tarrie togither. Pamela nobly, Philoclea sweetly, and Zelmane
sadly, and desperately none of them entertaining sleepe, which
they thought should shortly begin, never to awake.

4 But Anaxius came home, having safely conducted Helen:
and safely he might wel do it : For though many of Basilius
Knights would have attempted something upon Anaxius^ by
that meanes to deliver the Ladies, yet Philanax^ having received
his masters commadement, & knowing his word was give,
would not cosent unto it. And the black-Knight (who by
the was able to carie abroad his wouds) did not know therof;
but was bringing forces, by force to deliver his Lady. So as
Anaxius^ interpreting it rather feare, then faith, and making
even chance an argument of his vertue, returned : and as soone
as he was returned, with a felon hart calling his brothers up
with him, he went into the chamber, where they were all three
togither; with full intention to kill the sisters with his owne
hands, and send their heads for tokens to their father: Though
his brothers (who were otherwise inclined) disswaded him : but
his reverence stayed their perswasions. But when he was come
into the chamber, with the very words of cholerike threatning
climing up his throate, his eies first lighted upon Pamela \ who
hearing he was comming, and looking for death, thought she
would keepe her owne majestie in welcomming it; but the
beames thereof so strake his eyes, with such a counterbufFe
unto his pride, that if his anger could not so quickly love, nor
his pride so easily honor, yet both were forced to finde a
worthinesse.

5 Which while it bred a pause in him, Zelmane (who had

504

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

ready in her mind both what and how to say) stept out unto
him, & with a resolute stayednes (void either of anger, kindnes,
disdaine, or humblenesse) spake in this sort. Anaxius (said she)
if Fame have not bene overpartiall to thee, thou art a man of
exceeding valour. Therefore I doo call thee even before that
vertue, and will make it the judge betweene us. And now I
doo affirme, that to the eternall blot of all the faire adtes that
thou hast done, thou doest weakly, in seeking without daunger
to revenge his death, whose life with daunger thou mightst
perhaps have preserved : thou doost cowardly, in going about
by the death of these excellent Ladies, to prevent the just
punishmet, that hereafter they by the powers, which they
better then their father, or any other could make, might lay
upon thee ; and doost most basely, in once presenting thy selfe
as an executioner; a vile office upon men, and in a just cause:
beyond the degree of any vile worde, in so unjust a cause, and
upon Ladies, and such Ladies. And therefore, as a hangman,
I say, thou art unworthy to be counted a Knight, or to be
admitted into the companie of Knights. Neither for what, I
say, will I alleadge other reasons, of wisdome, or justice, to
proove my speech, because I know thou doost disdaine to be
tied to their rules: but even in thine owne vertue (whereof
thou so much gloriest) I will make my triall: and therefore
defie thee, by the death of one of us two, to prove, or disprove
these reproaches. Choose thee what armes thou likest, I onely
demaund, that these Ladies (whom I defend) may in liberty see
the combat.

When Zelmane began her speech, the excellency of her 6
beautie, and grace, made him a little content to heare.
Besides that, a new lesson he had read in Pamela^ had already
taught him some regard. But when she entered into braverie
of speech, he thought at first, a mad, and railing humor possest
her ; till, finding the speeches hold well together, and at length
come to flatte challenge of combat; he stood leaning back with
his bodie and head, sometimes with bent browes looking upon
the one side of her, sometimes of the other, beyonde marvell
marvailing, that he, who had never heard such speeches from
any Knight, should be thus rebuffed by a woman; and that
marvell made him heare out her speech: which ended, he
turned his head to his brother Zoilus^ and said nothing, but

505

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

onely lifting up his eyes, smiled. But Zelmane finding his
minde, Anaxius (said she) perchaunce thou disdaynest to
answere me, because, as a woman, thou thinkest me not fitte
to be fought withall. But I tell thee, that I have bene trayned
up in martial matters, with so good successe, that I have many
times overcome better Knightes then thy selfe: and am well
knowen to be equall in feates of armes, to the famous PyrocleSy
who slewe thy valiaunt Uncle, the Giant Euardes. The re-
membraunce of his Uncles death something netled him, so as
he answered thus.

Indeed (saide he) any woman may be as valiaunt as that
coward, and traytorly boy, who slewe my Uncle trayterouslie,
and after ranne from me in the plaine field. Five thousand
such could not have overcome Euardes^ but by falshood. But
I sought him all over Asia^ following him still from one of his
cony-holes to another: till, comming into this Countrie, I
heard of my friendes being besieged, and so came to blowe
away the wretches that troubled him. But wheresoever the
miserable boy flie, heaven, nor hell, shall keep his harte from
being torne by these handes. Thou lyest in thy throate (said
Zelmane) that boye, where ever he went, did so noble a6tes, as
thy harte (as proude as it is) dares not thinke of, much lesse
perfourme. But to please thee the better with my presence, I
tell thee, no creature can be neerer of kinne to him, then my
selfe: and so well we love, that he woulde not be sorrier
for his owne death, then for mine: I being begotten by his
father, of an Amazon Ladie. And therefore, thou canst not
devise to revenge thy selfe more upon him, then by killing me :
which, if thou darest doo manfullie, doo it ; otherwise, if thou
harme these incomparable Ladies, or my selfe, without daring
to fight with me, I protest before these Knightes, and before
heaven, and earth, (that will reveale thy shame) that thou art
the beggerliest dastardly villaine, that dishonoureth the earth
with his steppes: and if thou lettest me over-live them, so will
I blaze thee. But all this could not move Anaxius, but that he
onely said, Evill should it become the terror of the world, to
fight, much lesse to skolde with thee.
7 But (said he) for the death of these same (pointing to the
Princesses) of my grace, I give them life. And withall, going
to Pamela, and ofFring to take her by the chin, And as for you,

506

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

Minion (said he) yeeld but gently to my will, and you shall not
only live, but live so happely, He would have said further, whe
Pamela^ displeased both with words, matter, and maner, putting
him away with her faire hand, Proud beast (said she) yet thou
plaiest worse thy Comedy, then thy Tragedy. For my part,
assure thy selfe, since my destiny is such, that at ech moment
my life & death stand in equall balance, I had rather have thee,
& think thee far fitter to be my hangman, then my husband.
Pride & anger, would faine have cruelly reveged so bitter an 8
answer, but alredy Cupid had begun to make it his sport, to
pull his plumes : so that, unused to a way of courtesie, and put
out of his byas of pride, he hastily went away, grumbling to
himselfe, betwene threatning & wishing; leaving his brothers
with the : the elder of whom, Lycurgus^ liked Philoclea^ &c Zoi/us
would nedes love Zelmane ; or at lest, entertain themselves with
making the beleve so. Lycurgus more braggard, & nere his
brothers humor, bega, with setting foorth their bloud, their
deedes, how many they had despised, of most excellent wome ;
how much they were boud to them, that would seek that of
them. In summe, in all his speeches, more like the bestower,
then the desirer of felicitie. Whom it was an excellent pastime
(to those that would delight in the play of vertue) to see, with
what a wittie ignorance she would not understand : and how,
acknowledging his perfections, she would make, that one of his
perfedlions, not to be injurious to Ladies. But when he knew
not how to replie, then would he fall to touching and toying,
still vewing his graces in no glasse but self-liking. To which,
Philocleas shamefastnes, and humblenes, were as strong resisters,
as choller, and disdaine. For though she yeelded not, he
thought she was to be overcome: and that thought a while
stayed him from further violence. But Zelmane had eye to his
behaviour, and set in her memorie, upon the score of Revenge,
while she her selfe was no lesse attempted by Zoilus ; who lesse
full of bragges, was forwardest in offering (indeed) dishonourable
violence.

507

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 27.

^ Zelmanes perswasions to temporize^ and referre them to Basilius.
^ Anaxius-/>/5 embassage to treate the manage. ^Basilius
recourse to a newe Oracle^ * and his negative thereon. ^ The
flattering relation of his Mercuric. ^ The brothers course to
resist force without, and use force within.

I T) Ut when after their fruitlesse labours they had gone away,
J3 called by their brother, (who began to be perplexed
betweene new conceaved desires, and disdaine, to be disdained)
Ze/mane (who with most assured quietnesse of judgement looked
into their present estate) earnestly perswaded the two sisters,
that to avoide the mischiefes of prowde outrage, they would
onely so farre sute their behaviour to their estates, as they
might winne time; which as it could not bring them to worse
case then they were, so it might bring forth inexpedled relief.
And why (said Pamela) shal we any longer flatter adversity?
Why should we delight to make our selves any longer balls to
injurious Fortune, since our owne kinne are content traitorously
to abuse us? Certainely, in mishap it may be some comforte
to us, that we are lighted in these fellowes handes, who yet will
keepe us from having cause of being miserable by our friends
meanes. Nothing grieves me more, then that you, noble
Ladie Zeimane (to whome the worlde might have made us
able to doo honour) shoulde receave onely hurte by the con-
tagion of our miserie. As for me, and my sister, undoubtedly
it becomes our birth to thinke of dying nobly, while we have
done, or suffered nothing, which might make our soule ashamed

„ at the parture from these bodies. Hope is the fawning traitour

„ of the minde, while under colour of friendship, it robbes it of
his chiefe force of resolution. Vertuous and faire Ladie (said
Ze/mane) what you say is true j and that truth may well make
up a part in the harmonie of your noble thoughts. But yet the
time (which ought alwaies to be one) is not tuned for it; while
that may bring foorth any good, doo not barre your selfe thereof:

„ for then would be the time to die nobly, when you ca not live
nobly. Then so earnestly she persuaded with them both, to
referre themselves to their fathers consent (in obtayning whereof
508

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

they knewe some while would be spent) and by that meanes to
temper the mindes of their prowde woers; that in the ende
Pamela yeelded to her, because she spake reason ; and Philoclea
yeelded to her reason, because she spake it.

And so when they were againe sollicited in that little 2
pleasing petition, Pamela forced her selfe to make answere to
Anaxius^ that if her father gave his consent she would make
her selfe believe, that such was the heavenly determination,
since she had no meanes to avoide it. Anaxius (who was the
most franke promiser to him selfe of successe) nothing doubted
of Bastlius consent, but rather assured him selfe, he would be
his oratour in that matter: And therefore he chose out an
officious servaunt (whome he esteemed very wise, because he
never found him but just of his opinion) and willed him to be
his embassadour to Basi/ius, and to make him knowe, that if he
meant to have his daughter both safe and happie, and desired
him selfe to have such a sonne in lawe, as would not onely
protect him in his quiet course, but (if he listed to accept it)
would give him the monarchy of the worlde, that then he
should receave Anaxius^ who never before knewe what it was
to pray any thing. That if he did not, he would make him
know, that the power of Anaxius was in every thing beyonde
his will, and yet his will not to be resisted by any other power.
His servaunt with smiling and caste-up looke, desired God to
make his memorie able to containe the treasure of that wise
speach : and therefore besought him to repeate it againe, that by
the oftener hearing it, his mind might be the better acquainted
with the divinenesse therof, and that being gratiously granted,
he then doubted not by carying with him in his conceit, the
grace wherewith Anaxius spake it, to persuade rocky minds to
their owne harme : so little doubted he to win Basilius to that,
which he thought would make him thinke the heavens opened,
when he harde but the proifer thereof. Anaxius gravely allowed
the probabilitie of his conjedture, and therefore sent him away,
promising him he should have the bringing up of his second
Sonne by Pamela.

The messenger with speede perfourmed his Lords com- 3
maundement to Basilius, who by nature quiet, and by super-
stition made doubtfull, was lothe to take any matter of armes
in hand, wherin already he had found so slowe successe ; though

509

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

Philanax vehemently urged him therunto, making him see that
his retiring back did encourage injuries. But Basilius betwixt
the feare of Anaxius might, the passio of his love, & jealousie of
his estate, was so perplexed, that not able to determine, he took
the comon course of me, to flie only the to devotio, whe the)
want resolutio: so detaining the messeger with delaies, he
deferred the directing of his course to the cousell of Apollo^
which because himself at that time could not well go to require,
he entrusted the matter to his best trusted Philanax : who (as
one in whom obedience was a sufficient reason unto him)
wente with diligence to Delphos^ where being entred into the
secrete place of the temple, and having performed the sacrifices
usuall, the spirite that possest the pro[p]hesying woman, with a
sacred fury, attended not his demaund, but as if it would argue
him of incredulitie, tolde him, not in darke wonted speeches,
but plainely to be understood, what he came for, and that he
should returne to Basilius^ and will him to denie his daughters
to Anaxtus and his brothers, for that they were reserved for
such as were better beloved of the gods. That he should not
doubte, for they should returne unto him safely and speedily.
And that he should keepe on his solitary course, till bothe
Philanax and Basilius fully agreed in the understanding of the
„ former prophecie: withall, commdMndiXng Philanax from thence
forward to give tribute, but not oblation, to humane wisedome.
4 Philanax then finding that reason cannot shewe it self more
„ reasonable, then to leave reasoning in things above reason,
returnes to his Lorde, and like one that preferred truth before
the maintaining of an opinion, hidde nothing from him, nor
from thence foorth durste any more disswade him, from that
which he founde by the celestiall providence directed ; but he
him selfe looking to repayre the government as much as in so
broken an estate by civill dissention he might, and fortifyin|
with notable arte, bothe the lodges, so as they were almc
made unaprochable, he lefte Basilius to bemone the absence
his daughters, and to bewayle the imprisonment of ZelmanA
yet wholy given holily to obey the Oracle, he gave a resolut
negative unto the messenger of AnaxiuSy who all this while hi
waited for it, yet in good termes desiring him to shewe hil
selfe, in respedt of his birth and profession, so Princely
Knight, as without forcing him to seeke the way of forc<

510

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

to deliver in noble sorte those Ladies unto him, and so should
the injurie have bene in Amphialus^ and the benefite in him.

The messenger went backe with this answere, yet having 5
ever used to sugre any thing which his Maister was to receave,
he tolde him, that when Basilius first understood his desires, he
did overreach so farre all his most hopefuU expectations, that he
thought it were too great a boldnesse to harken to such a man,
in whome the heavens had such interest, without asking the
Gods counsell, and therefore had sent his principall counsailour
to Delphosy who although he kepte the matter never so secrete,
yet his diligence, inspired by Anaxius his priviledge over all
worldly thinges, had founde out the secrete, which was, that
he should not presume to marrie his daughters, to one who
already was enrolled among the demie-Gods, and yet much
lesse he should dare the attempting to take them out of his
hands.

Anaxius, who till then had made Fortune his creator, and 6
Force his God, nowe beganne to finde an other wisedome to be
above, that judged so rightly of him : and where in this time of
his servauntes wayting for Basilius resolution, he and his brothers
had courted their Ladies, as whome they vouchsafed to have for
their wives, he resolved now to dally no longer in delayes, but
to make violence his Oratour, since he had found persuasions
had gotten nothing but answeres. Which intention he opened
to his brothers, who having all this while wanted nothing to
take that way, but his authoritie, gave spurres to his running,
and, unworthy men, neither feeling vertue in themselves, nor
tendring it in others, they were headlong to make that evill
consorte of love and force, when Anaxius had worde, that from
the Tower there were descried some companies of armed men,
marching towardes the townej wherefore he gave presente
order to his servauntes, and souldiers, to goe to the gates and
walles, leaving none within but himselfe, and his brothers: his
thoughts then so full of their intended pray, that Mars-\ds
lowdest trumpet could scarcely have awaked him.

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

CHAP. 28.

^Zoilus the messenger^ "^ and first offerer of force ^ ^ is forced to flic ^
and die. '^Lycurgus pointed to kill^ ^ is fought withal^
^foiledy "^ & killed. ^ Anaxius the Revenger with Pyrocles
the Punisher brave, and bravely combatted.

1 13 Ut while he was directing what he would have done, his
J3 yongest brother Zoilus, glad that he had the commission,
went in the name oi Anaxius, to tel the sisters, that since he had
answere from their father, that he and his brother Licurgus,
should have them in what sort it pleased them, that they would
now graunt them no longer time, but presently to determine,
whether they thought it more honorable comfort to be com-
pelled, or perswaded. Pamela made him answere, that in a
matter whereon the whole state of her life depended, and
wherin she had ever answered, she would not lead, but follow
her parents pleasure; she thought it reason she should, either
by letter, or particular messeger understad somthing from
theselves, & not have her beleef bound to the report of their
partiall servants, & therefore, as to their words, she & her
sister, had ever a simple & true resolution, so against their
unjust force, God, they hoped, would either arme their lives,
or take away their lives.

2 Wei Ladies (said he) I wil leave my brothers, who by & by
wil come unto you, to be their own embassadors, for my parte,
I must now do my self service. And with that turning up his
mustachoes, and marching as if he would begin a paven, he
went toward Zelmane. But Zelmane (having had all this while
of the messengers being with Basilius, much to do to keepe
those excellent Ladies from seeking by the pasport of death, to
escape those base dangers whereunto they found themselves
subje6l) still hoping that Musidorus would finde some meanes
to deliver themj and therefore had often both by her owne
example, & comfortable reasons, perswaded the to overpasse
many insolent indignities of their proud suters, who thought
it was a sufficient favour not to doo the uttermost injurie, now
come againe to the streight she most feared for them, either ofj
death or dishonor, if heroicall courage would have let her, she

512

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

had beene beyonde herselfe amazed : but that yet held up her
wit, to attend the uttermost occasion, which eve then brought
his hairie forehead unto her : for Zoilus smacking his h'ppes, as
for the Prologue of a kisse, and something advancing himselfe.
Darling (said he) let thy hart be full of joy, and let thy faire
eies be of counsel with it, for this day thou shalt have Zoilus,
who many have loged for; but none shall have him, but
Zelmane. And oh, how much glory I have to think what
a race will be betwene us. The world, by the heavens, the
world will be too litle for them : And with that, he would have
put his arme about her necke, but she, withdrawing her selfe
from him. My Lord (said she) much good may your thoughts
do you, but that I may not dissemble with you, my nativitie
being cast by one that never failed in any of his prognostica-
tions, I have bene assured, that I should never be apt to beare
children. But since you wil honor me with so hie favor, I
must onely desire that I may performe a vow which I made
among my coiitriwomen, the famous Amazons, that I would
never marrie none, but such one as was able to withstand me
in Armes : therfore, before I make mine own desire serviceable
to yours, you must vouchsafe to lend me armor and weapons,
that at least, with a blow or two of the sword, I may not finde
my selfe perjured to my selfe. But Zoilus (but laughing with a
hartie lowdnes) went by force to embrace her; making no
other answere, but since she had a minde to trie his Knight-
hood, she should quickly know what a man of armes he was :
and so, without reverence to the Ladies, began to struggle
with her.

But in Zelmane then Disdaine became wisdome, & Anger 3
gave occasion. For abiding no longer aboad in the matter, she
that had not put off, though she had disguised, Pyrocles, being
farre fuller of strong nimblenes, tript up his feete, so that he
fel down at hers. And withall (meaning to pursue what she
had begun) puld out his sword, which he ware about him: but
before she could strike him withall, he gat up, and ranne to a
faire chamber, where he had left his two brethre, preparing
themselves to come downe to their mistresses. But she followed
at his heeles, & eve as he came to throw himself into their arms
for succor, she hit him with his own sword, such a blow upo
the wast, that she almost cut him a suder: once, she sundred

S. A. KK * 513

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

his soule fro his body, seding it to Proserpina^ an angry God-
desse against ravishers.

4 But JnaxiuSy seing before his eyes the miserable end of his
brother, fuller of despite the wrath, & yet fuller of wrath
then sorow, looking with a wofull eye upon his brother
LycurguSy Brother, said he, chastice this vile creature, while I
go down, Sc take order lest further mischief arise : & so went
down to the Ladies, whom he visited, doubting there had bene
some further practise the yet he conceived. But finding the
only strong in pacience, he went & lockt a great Iron gate, by
which onely any body might mounte to that part of the Castle,
rather to conceale the shame of his brother, slaine by a woman,
then for doubt of any other anoyance, and the went up to
receave some comfort of the execution, he was sure his brother
had done of Ze/mane.

5 But Ze/mane no sooner saw those brothers, of whom Reaso
assured her she was to expe6t revege, but that she lept to a

„ target, as one that well knew the first marke of valure to be
defence. And the accepting the oportunitie of Anaxius going
away, she waited not the pleasure of Lycurgus^ but without any
words (which she ever thought vaine, whe resolutio tooke the
place of perswasion) gave her owne hart the contentment to be
the assailer. Lycurgus^ who was in the dispositio of his nature
hazardouse, & by the luckie passing through many dangers,
growne confident in himselfe, went toward her, rather as to
spoile, then to fight, so farre from feare, that his assurednesse
disdained to hope. But whe her sword made demonstrations
above al flattery of argumets, & that he found she prest so upon
him, as shewed that her courage sprang not from blind despair,
but was garded both with cunning & strength: self-love the
first in him divided it selfe fro vain-glory, & made him find
that the world of worthines had not his whole globe coprised
in his brest, but that it was necessary to have strong resistace
against so strong assailing. And so between the, for a few
blowes. Mars himself might have bin delighted to looke on.
But Zelmane, who knew that in her case, slownesse of vidory
was little better the ruine, with the bellowes of hate, blew the
fire of courage, and he striking a maine blow at her head, she
warded it with the shield, but so warded, that the shield was
cut in two pieces, while it protected her, & withall she ran in

514

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

to him, and thrusting at his brest, which he put by with his
target, as he was lifting up his sword to strike again, she let fall
the piece of her shield, and with her left hand catching his
sword of the inside of the pomel, with nimble & strong sleight,
she had gotte his sword out of his hand before his sence could
covey to his imaginatio, what was to be doubted. And having 6
now two swords against one shield, meaning not foolishly to be
ungratefull to good fortune, while he was no more amazed
with his being unweapned, then with the suddainnes therof,
she gave him such a woud upo his head, in despite of the
shields over-weak resistace, that withal he fel to the groud,
astonished with the paine, & agast with feare. But seing
Zelmane ready to coclude her victory in his death, bowing up
his head to her, with a countenance that had forgotten al
pride. Enough excellent Lady, said he, the honor is yours:
Wherof you shall want the best witnes, if you kil me. As
you have take fro men the glory of mahood, returne so now
againe to your owne sex, for mercy. I wil redeeme my life of
you with no smal services, for I will undertake to make my
brother obey all your commadements. Grant life I beseech

ou, for your own honor, and for the persons sake that you

ove best.

Zehnane represt a while her great hart, either disdaining to 7
be cruell, or pitiful, & therfore not cruell : & now the image of
humane condition, bega to be an Orator unto her of compassio,
whe she saw, as he lifted up his armes with a suppliats grace,
about one of the, unhappily, tied a garter with a Jewel, which
(give to Pyrocles by his aunt of Thessalia^ & greatly esteemed by
him) he had preseted to Philoclea^ & with inward rage promising
extream hatred, had seene Lycurgus with a proud force, & not
with out some hurt unto her, pull away fro Philoclea^ because at
entreatie she would not give it him. But the sight of that was
like a cyphar, signifying all the injuries which Philocka had of
him suffred, & that remebrance feeding upo wrath, trod down
al coceits of mercy. And therfore saying no more, but, No
villaine, dye : It is Philoclea that seds thee this toke for thy love.
With that she made her sword drink the blood of his hart,
though he wresting his body, & with a coutenace prepared to
excuse, wold fain have delaied the receiving of deaths em-
bassadors.

KK2 515

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES

j> But neither that staled Zelmanes hand, nor yet Anaxius crie
unto her, who having made fast the Iron gate, even then came
to the top of the staires, when, contrarie to all his imaginations,
he saw his brother lie at Zelmanes mercie. Therefore crying,
promising, and threatning to her to hold her hand: the last
grone of his brother was the onely answere he could get to
his unrespe6ted eloquence. But then Pittie would faine have
drawne teares, which Furie in their spring dried; and Anger
would faine have spoken, but that Disdaine sealed up his lippes ;
but in his hart he blasphemed heaven, that it could have such a
power over him ; no lesse ashamed of the vidtorie he should have
of her, then of his brothers overthrow: and no more spited, that
it was yet unrevenged, then that the revenge should be no
greater, then a womans destru6tion. Therefore with no speach,
but such a groning crie, as often is the language of sorowfuU
anger, he came running at Zelmane^ use of fighting then serving
in steed of patient cosideration what to doo. Guided where-
with, though he did not with knowledge, yet did he according
to knowledge, pressing upon Zelmane in such a wel defended
manner, that in all the combats that ever she had fought, she
had never more need of quicke senses, & ready vertue. For
being one of the greatest men of stature then living, as he did
fully answere that stature in greatnesse of might, so did he
exceed both in greatnes of courage, which with a coutenace
formed by the nature both of his mind & body, to an almost
horrible fiercenes, was able to have carried feare to any mind,
that was not privie to it selfe of a true & costant worthines.
But Pyrocles^ whose soule might well be separated fro his body,
but never alienated fro the remembring what was comely, if
at the first he did a little apprehend the dangerousnes of his
adversarie, whom once before he had something tried, & now
perfedtly saw, as the very pidture of forcible furie : yet was that
apprehension quickly stayed in him, rather strengthning, then
weakning his vertue by that wrestling; like wine, growing the
stroger by being moved. So that they both, prepared in harts,
and able in hands, did honor solitarines there with such a com-
bat, as might have demaunded, as a right of fortune, whole
armies of beholders. But no beholders needed there, where
manhood blew the trumpet, & satisfadtion did whette, as much
as glorie. There was strength against nimblenes; rage, against

516

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

resolution, fury, against vertue; confidence, against courage;
pride, against noblenesse : love, in both, breeding mutual hatred,
& desire of reveging the injurie of his brothers slaughter, to
Anaxius^ being like Philocleas captivity to Pyrocles. Who had
seen the one, would have thought nothing could have resisted;
who had marked the other, would have marveiled that the other
had so long resisted. But like two contrarie tides, either of
which are able to carry worldes of shippes, and men upon them,
with such swiftnes, as nothing seemes able to withstand them :
yet meeting one another, with mingling their watrie forces, and
strugling together, it is long to say whether streame gets the
vidlorie : So betweene these, if Pallas had bene there, she could
scarcely have tolde, whether she had nurced better in the feates
of armes. The Irish greyhound, against the English mastifFe ;
the sword-fish, against the whale ; the Rhinoceros, against the
elephat, might be models, & but models of this cobat. Anaxius
was better armed defensively : for (beside a strong caske bravely
covered, wherwith he coverd his head) he had a huge shield, such
perchance, as Achilles shewed to the pale walles of Troy, where-
withall that body was covered. But Pyrocles, utterly unarmed for
defence, to offend had the advantage : for, in either hand he had
a sword, & with both hands nimbly performed that office. And
according as they were diversly furnished, so did they differ in the
manner of fighting. For Anaxius most by warding, and Pyrocles
oftnest by avoyding, resisted the adversaries assault. Both hastie
to end, yet both often staying for advantage. Time, distance, &
motio custom made them so perfedl in, that as if they had bene
felow Counsellers, and not enemies, each knewe the others
minde, and knew how to prevent it. So as their stregth fayled
them sooner then their skill, and yet their breath fayled them
sooner then their strength. And breathles indeed they grew,
before either could complaine of any losse of bloud.

517

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES
CHAP. 29.

^The Combattants first breathings ^reencounter^ and

1 O O consenting by the mediation of necessitie, to a breathing
>^ time of truce, being withdrawen a little one from the
other; A naxius stood leaning upon his sworde, with his grym
eye, so setled upon Zelmane^ as is wont to be the look of an
earnest thought. Which Zelmane marking, &, according to
the Pyroclean nature, fuller of gay braverie in the midst, then in
the beginning of dager ; What is it (said she) Jnaxlus, that thou
so deeply musest on? Dooth thy brothers exaple make thee
thinke of thy fault past, or of thy coming punishmet? I think
(said he) what spiteful God it should be, who, envying my
glory, hath brought me to such a waywarde case, that neither
thy death can be a revenge, nor thy overthrow a viftorie.
Thou doost well indeede (saide Zelmane) to impute thy case to
the heavenly providence, which will have thy pride find it selfe
(even in that whereof thou art most proud) punished by the
weake sex, which thou most contemnest.

2 But then, having sufficiently rested themselves, they renewed
againe their combatte, farre more terribly then before: like
nimble vaulters, who at the first and second leape, doo but
stirre, and (as it were) awake the fierie and aerie partes, which
after in the other leapes, they doo with more excellencie exercise.
For in this pausing, ech had brought to his thoughts the maner or
the others fighting, and the advantages, which by that, and by the
qualitie of their weapons, they might work themselves; and so
againe repeated the lesson they had said before, more perfectly,
by the using of it. Anaxtus oftner used blowes, his huge force
(as it were) more delighting therein, and the large protection of
his shield, animating him unto it. Pyrocles, of a more fine, and
deliver strength, watching his time when to give fitte thrustes;
as, with the quick obeying of his bodie, to his eyes quicke com-
maundement, he shunned any harme Anaxtus could do to him:
so would he soon have made an end of Anaxtus, if he had not^
foud him a ma of wonderful, & almost matchlesse excellecy inj
matters of armes. Pyrocles used divers faynings, to bring Anaxtus]
on, into some inconvenience. But Anaxtus keeping a soundj

518

ARCADIA. LIB. 3.

maner of fighting, never offered, but seeing faire cause, & then
followed it with wel-governed violence. Thus spent they a
great time, striving to doo, and with striving to doo, wearying
themselves, more then with the very doing. Anaxius finding
Zelmane so neere unto him, that with little motion he might
reach her, knitting all his strength together, at that time mainly
foyned at her face. But Zelmane strongly putting it by with
her right hande sword, comming in with her left foote, and
hande, woulde have given him a sharpe visitation to his right
side, but that he was faine to leape away. Whereat ashamed,
(as having never done so much before in his life)

519

A LIST OF MISPRINTS IN THE QUARTO, WHICH
HAVE BEEN CORRECTED.

51-

Reversed t in then

57.

sufficient 29. perceived

58.

soohest

73.

Gentleman

78.

13-

applie {correction supplied by ccUchword\

79.

24.

ininjury

go.

34-

the the before Princesse

96.

35.

Bafilius

lOO.

wenr

lOI.

13-

peatle

114.

Masidorus

116.

10.

shephadrs 19. constancic

118.

16.

Menelcas

120.

38.

from hec

122.

21.

youug

127.

conclude

134-

others

141.

24.

the

153.

10.

ot like

X54.

39-

nothing

167.

II.

lirtle

183.

16.

woule

186.

24.

Enarchus

215.

33-

turned parenthesis before delighted

220.

Tbe

229.

19.

she

233.

22.

the cries

238.

26.

turned u in though

269.

afterwarwardes

285.

27.

LElius

318.

33-

judgement

322.

16.

minlegd

336.

16.

But

360.

33-

of of them

386.

18.

of of that

40I.

19.

forcibie

436.

turned n in perchance

444.

Q misprints 3 for 8

448.

30.

themselves

452.

17-

serve

520

A LIST OF MISPRINTS

471. 20. hunanitie

485. 16. Ql misprints \1 for 11

487. 6. a a more 40. beleeeve

489. 25. same

505. 9. wfth

507. 25. injurions

509. 8. rhat

511. 13. presume

A LIST OF MISPRINTS IN THE QUARTO, WHICH
SHOULD HAVE BEEN CORRECTED.

26. 28. Aniphalus

41. 23. as( well

47. 10. of of 27. preferree

59. 24. Aviphilus

95. 27. Artexias [j-^^«/d^ ^<? Artesias]

233. 32. accnoplished [should perhaps have been printed ZiCZOTCi^Yis)!^^^

239. 2. Fenus

344. 20. Dorus {should be Pas]

471- 33- comma after " Cecropias^^

521

NOTES

In the following references to the text the lines are numbered from the top of
the page, including titles, but not, of course, the headline. The page numbers
are in heavier type.

The folio editions are as follows :

(E) The I Countesse | of Pembrokes | Arcadia. | Written by Sir | Philip
Sidney | Knight. I Now the fourth time | published, with some new | Addi-
tions. I London | Imprinted by H. L. for Simon | Waterson 1613. {Some copies
have "Imprinted by H. L. for Mathew Lownes "]

[7^ he same edition as F with a new title-page. 1

522

NOTES

\The same edition as G wit/i a new title-page.']

In the following notes each of these folios is referred to by the capital
letter prefixed to it in the above list. Q= 1590.

3. 26. D having many fancies 29. LM this chief

4. 3. F — M if much good 10. A — M in a 12 — 13. M and

most heartily 14. C ornament of 17. This notice, as well as the

division into chapters ^ and the summaries preceding them ^ are omitted in all the
folio editions.

523

NOTES

After the epistle^ To My Deare Ladie and Sister, etc., the folios^ with the
exception of E, insert the following preface :

To the Reader.

TI/E disfigured face, gentle Reader, wherewith this worke not long since
appeared to the common view, moved that noble Lady, to whose Honour
[H — M insert '■^ it wai'"] consecrated, to whose protection it was committed, to
take in hand the wiping away those spottes wherewith the beauties therof were
unworthely blemished. But as often in [DF — M omit " z« "] repairing a
ruinous house, the mending of some olde part occasioneth the making of some ne7v :
so here her honourable labour begonne in correcting the faults, ended in supplying
the defectes ; by the view of what was ill cbne guided to the consideration of what
was not dotie. Which part with what advise entred into, with what snccesse
[DF — M accesse'\ it hath [F— M had\ beene passed through, most by her doing,
all by her directing, if they may be entreated not to define, which are unfurnisht
of nieanes to discerne, the rest {it is hoped) will favourably censure. But this
they shall, for theyr better satisfaction, understand, that though they finde not
here what might be expected, they may finde neverthelesse as much ols was in-
tended, the conclusion, not the perfection of Arcadia : and that no further then
the Authours own writings, or knoxven determinations could direct. Whereof
who sees not the reason, must consider there may be reason which hee sees not.
Albeit I dare afp,rme hee either sees, or from wiser judgements then his owne
may heare, that Sir Philip Sidneies writings can no more be perfected without
Sir Philip Sidney, then Apelles pictures without Apelles. There are that
thinke the contrary: and no wonder. Never was Arcadia free from the comber
of such Cattell. To us, say they, the pastures are not pleasaunt : and as for the
flawers, such as we light on we take no delight in, but the greater part groove
not within our recuh. Poore soulesi xohat talke they of flowers? They are
Roses, not flowers, must doe them good, which if they finde not here, they shall
doe well to go [F — M omit '■'■ go''^'\ feed elswhere : Any place will better like
them : For without Arcadia nothing growes in more plenty, then Lettuce sutable
to their Lippes, If it be true that likenes is a great cause of likings and that
contraries, inferre contrary consequences : then is it true, that the wortheles
Reader can never worthely esteeme of so worthy e a writing : and as true, that
the noble, the wise, the vertuous, the curteous, as many as have had any
cuquaintaunce with true learning and knowledge, will with all love and deare-
nesse entertaitie it, as well for affinity with themselves, as being child to such a
father. Whom albeit it do not exactly and in every lineament represent ; yet
considering the fathers untimely death prevented the timely birth of the childe, it
may happily seeme a thanke-woorthy labour, that the defects being so few, so small,
and in no principall part, yet the greatest unlikenes is rather in defect then in
deformity. But howsoever it is, it is now by [KLM omit '■^ by "] more then one
interest The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia : done, as it was, for her : as it
is, by her. Neither shall these pains be the last (if no unexpected accident cut
off her determination) which the everlasting love of her excellent brother, will
make her consecrate to his memory.

H. S.

[After the above KLM insert thirteen leaves containing The Life and Death
of Sir Philip Sidney and many epigrams and epitaphs."]

524

NOTES

5. 26. FGH shore

6. 3. ABDEF graze G — M grace 27. A — M to us E cherries
31. HI others 35. I minde how 38. L sweetness fairness

7. 2. BD — M the sight 32. A— M then by

8. I. A other HI of the 3. G — M others A we two

19. M of a goodly 24. A — M water come 36 — 37. A — M Pyrodes
destruction ? therewithal! hee offered wilfully to cast himselfe againe

9. 13. A omits any 18. DF — M precious food 26. A men

10. 8. KLM do condemn 11. A — M of the water 13. KLM
her mate 20. BD — GK — M man 30. A — M such superstition
36. A — M corde

11. 3. H — M paines 5. C discribed 14. M to fight
15. A — M nothing wherewith to 16. F — I not to KLM nought to

20. HI omits well 30. GKLM fisherman 34. LM so full

12. 4 — II. C find the, now sir 16 — 17. A — M confines there
dwelleth 19. HI stirs FGK come 27. AC is sweet
31. A — M omit but in that respect,

13. 3. D Loconia 5. A sorowfiil-mind B — M print two words
12. BD— GK — M misfortune 17. E the length 30. F — M the
refreshing 33. ACF— M disposition 39. G voice musick H— M
voice-musick

15. 6 — 7. KLM /rz«/ provision is... of magnificence m //a/eVj- 19. C
countenance 20 — 21. E aswell care of them that did serve, as to be
served. 35. A — M was thus

16. 2. M he had had 6. A — M that they were 12. HI
respectively 13. C sight 20. KLM Laconian Pirats 29. G — M
Missenia

17. 14. M delighted in. The 21. A — M a thicket, and behinde
35. A — M follie, meane while

18. 9. C ane other 10. DG — M were only 22. KLM be-
stowed nothing on 23. H — M skil on the

ig. 2. D which extraordinary 5. C treasures 28. A did

serve 29. G — M as the zealous

20. 21. I proceedings 37. C lodgings

21. 6. AC daughter of 21. A — M The verses 24. KLM
When virtues HI beautie HI ?nay them know 25. BD — M
then C them

22. 4. BD — M smoothed 6. BDFG on time 11. D in-
tempered 17. G — M omit his before bluntnesse 23. I she
33. F — M with grosse

23. II. yi prints throughout *^ Clitiphon'' 12—13. E omits
preparing... celebrated 26. G — M his countrey 32. C ane
33. LM fancied

24. 5 — 26. 14. KLM print this letter in Italics, with the exception of
wisdom. ..to follow [24. 12 — 13] and hee cannot. ..is good [26. 3] which
lines are in Roman type.

24. 14. C to leade 16. A weakenes 19. KLM omitnoi

21. A — M kindes of soothsayings 22. F — M omit to 26. G — M
stretched 31. LM your obedience 38. BD — M example

NOTES

25. 5. I be not to be -28. After then C repeats straightning...
unpleasant, then 29. BD — M whether a 33. I measures
34. ABD — M to each mans C to catch mans 36. ABD — M then
had

26. 2. M ill ground 15. I But the contents 25. A — M
having left 29. BD — M envying the 35. I keeps

27. 13. B — M as to your 23 — 24. G — M discourse 37. C
omits (sale they) 39. KLM are given

28. 8. KLM /ri«/ ease, the Nurse of Poetrie m //a/ijVj 17 — 18.
A — M have they 18. B — M prise 36. E forbid, that where

29. 3 — 4. BD — M but being 12. E were throughly 28. A —
M omit and attend

30. I. E this 3 — 4. Instead of before... marriage, E has not
long since 15. HI that, as if 37. BD — H or worse I — M
alike or worse

31. 35. C Chlitophon

32. 14. C affection 31. A had guilded

33. 24. C ane 36. A — M in the meane while

34. 13. HI omitXki^ 22. KLM omit \\ity 28. H — M power

35. 3. HI mjifr^ him <7/?^r assured 12. BD celeration 19.
BD— M example 27. F — M it is

36. 5. KLM from whom 13. BD — M nowtothinke 18. HI
to take 27. F — M it is

37. I. I his succour 5. LM inroades 8. GH where

38. 34. G — M braver

39. 3. ABC incamping 14. G or the cause 22. A — M
made them 32. BDF — L his generall 37. HI omit\.o\i&

40. 13. BDF — I wascaptaine 25. M against the 33. F — M
omit ever 40. E raunsome

41. 2. E the Captaine 13. GH grates 20. AC gave

27. BD — M example 33. BDFGKL master

42. I. AC gave HI giveth 15. FG left wind 26. HI
omit as M prints at

43. 2. KLM objections ABDF — M lightning 3. I beginne
10. LM omit that 16. D misdoubted 19. E forgot

44. 6. KLM valor 29. K Palladium

45. 5. L here is here 6. LM now begotten 7. F — M
who alreadie 8 — 9. HI his onely benefite 31. GHI all readie

46. 7. I & cure 14. A — M had they not 23. A — M omit
out 27. E Now I have

47. 3. BDF — L names of priviledges 4. A — M the Spartane
6. KLM /r/«/ fellowes a«fl? servaunts ?■« //a/«Vj 7 — 8. BD — M con-
tention 10. KLM print forgetialnes in Italics 16. HI omit
the 21. I omits thsit 24. DF — M then lose E thou to lose

28. KLM omit yet 29. C omits a.ny 31. A — M setting
32. HI bad them

526

NOTES

48. From p. 48 to p. ^g I. 14 C prints '* Parthenea " 5- F KcUan-
d^/; There 10. BD — M on his face 13. KLM the sight
13 — 14. F — I continuances 24. KLM (7wzV then 29. GHI
desire 32. M his company 35. G the saw 39. A — M
that this

49. 4. A — M omit in after came 6. KLM change 7. I
telling him ix. A — M disfigured 32. C ane 33. C ane

38. F — M no parenthesis before ^x%\. F — M doing FGHKLM
parenthesis before doing 40. A — M am I bound

50. I. F — M much bound 12. I beene to love 16. C
receive such disgrace, (said she) 28. A — F lonely 30. F — M sent
to her a 32. A — M saw he had perfourmed 39. E dearest
40. G — M guest

51. 10. A btahbadoed C btahbandoned instead of both abadoned
II. KLM taking 17. BD omit io 24. A — I Messena
KLM Messina

52. 8. F — M returned 9. AELM omit the 14. A — M
omit it after by 24. C other-waies 35. C the vaile

53. 2. BC with in few D — M within few 3. A — M so
much the 9. A — M also 12. AC and they by 24. FG
desiring 32. G — M their marriage 34. DF — M decking

39. A — M though

54. 5. C bare she was if the voward failed, yet that woulde conquer
Daiphantus marking I bare she was, if 6. AC '^to Jupiter
DFGHKLM saith he I quoth he 33. FGKLM whereof he

55. 4. KL its self of its own M it self of its own 20. KLM
leav off at her secreter 23. M come 39. BD — M points
KLM without any

56. 7. M love hath 10. M through I have ever though weak-
ness 27. KLM thought KLM omit m 28. I as thinke
29. C of the these

57. 24. G deepe sight 27. HI Pyrocles his countenance
KLM Pyrocles 's countenance C attentation 36. HI burden
38. HI praise

58. 7. F — M which had 20. L known 27. A — M either
se many

59. 2. I lifted 10. C spake 20. A— M left sealed in a
letter 31. C journey ever 35. I your selfe

60. 12. G graving 19—20. A — M trust to the 24. KLM
advertisement 38. A — M at a bay

61. 2. CKL into II. C for that he met 19. A— M
candles begin 23. I Tyrocles 26—31. KLM print this letter
in Italics 28. I than you me 29. A— M in the respect
34. HI banished out of 38. BD— M thy selfe fro me

62. 6. DFG objectio 26. G for is charge 27. G — M
would not other 40. D Daipantus

63. 16. HI of her 17. DF— M Phineus 19. BD— M
tongues 20. L enquire 21. HI she was 23. E uncer-
taine 29. F— M pulled 38. A— IL Clitoi>hon

NOTES

64. 3. C unto me 4. A — DF — M and cause of double E and
cause of his doubt 20. CF— IL black-a-more boye K black-a-Moor-
boy M Block-a-Moor Boy 24. C about a dosen 30. LM
overpast 36. KLM in the

65. I. E omits but 6. GHI his coflict 16. HI cSnot
F accomplished 18. KLM into tears 37. LM omit selfe

66. 24. CE possessor of G — M possessed of 31. F — M
estate 33. KLM heart

67. 25. BD — M besought for 29. F — M unto you 31. A — M
monuments 34. ILM wert 37. M Then you must

68. 2. BDF— M their true 5. KLM omit ^ 8. KLM of
an KLM parenthesis after ^'' Argos^^ 10. HI parenthesis after
" Basilius " FG parenthesis after " Timotheus " 11. F — I no

parenthesis before hcivt-Qne 12. CEKLM parenthesis after hospxtsWiy

1 8. B — M no parenthesis after ^'^ Timotheus ^^ 21. C omits so

27. C to bespoken off 28. A — M conquests 36. LM stretcht

38. BD— M mine

69. 7. KLM omit a 16. KLM waited on 18. KLM
this letter KLM shall 20. KLM my 38. BD— M not
yet A — M to discover so much 40. KLM affections

70. 18. A will knew 20. LM omit I feare 33. KLM
with thus

71. I. ABCE injury 3. BD— I thine 7. BD— M withall
so to 13. AC and unhappye 20. DF — M stage of 26. F
meeding 38. ABCE omit the before thickest

72. 10. KLM caus, if at 37. LM of this

73. 36. B— M rose

74. 2. E he had 24. A — F monuments engraved G — M
monuments engraven 25. A — M durably 30. AC louelinesse
34. A — M were possible 38. A — M a freshe searche

75. I. A — M which resembling 6. A flat-tryng DF — I
makes 6 — 7. KLM /r/«/ that discreet... journies t« //a/tVx 20. C
for paterne a 21. A — M the more 29. A — M part BD — M
omit so 34. DF — M wore 35. A — M under her 36. BD — M
fastening on 39. LM an Hercules 40. A — M but set with
distafife in his hand

76. 27. KLM Since that

Tj. 2. FGKLM which was HI cause 28. D she are

33 — 34. KLM print io sz.y...-womzx\\%h. in Italics 37 — 38. KLM

print your behaviour... unto it in Italics 40. A — M imperfections

A — M to soften

78. 3. KLM print this line in Italics A — M either excellentlie

10. A — M all of them generallie 11. A — M owiV right 12. After
hasta.rde KLM print Love in Italics 13 — 14. KLM /rm/engendred...

idelness in Italics 18. G — M yeelding 23. E this much

31. A — F these kinde of loves G — M these kinds of loves 35. A — M
womanize 36. B a distaffe spinner D a distaffe a spiner F — M a
distaffe, a spinner

528

NOTES

79. 12. LM of his own 14. KLM had been 15. DF — M
this I must 23. A — M omit to 28. FGKLM doe well
29. A— M disposition 34 — 35. KLM /r?«/ Kite...Hauk m //"a/iVj
36. F — M who is so 39. A — M to them

80. 2 — 4. KLM /;-?«nike's mee... dunghill m /ifa/?Vj 7. KLM
it were excusable 11. A — FM your now handling G — L your now-
handling 12. BD — M to confirme my former 15. E omits \}s\&\.
18. KLM content to 24. KLM manner and form 25. HI am a
good 26. C witnesses KLM my own 28. E omits for 29.
BD — M mine own 37. A — M a weake braine 38. A — M the best

81. 3. F made readie 11. C omits and 15. A — M that
possesseth 16. C omits 'Lord. 18. E me sharp-witted 21. E
omits aW 21 — 22. KLM /rm/ each... knowledges m //a//Vj 27. E
excellent, said Musidorus, I would 28. KLM print Enjoying in Italics
A — M deepe sigh 31. G — M speake

82. 8. G omits in 18. HI not establisht 19. A — M
impatient 20. A — M this last 21. AC soule for thinking
BDF — M soule. For thinking E soule : For thinking 23. C hew
of HI shewes of 26. A— DF — M the triumph 35. A — M
omit a A — M is there any 36. BD — M am a slave A — M
omit to {last word in line)

83. 2. A — M was unable 4 — 5. A — M i^weV as if... burthen
9. C if he had 10. KLM omit a 15. HI the more to melt
21. KLM upon the other HI well point out 36. A — M with
the two 38. AC at his

84. I. A — M are farre fitter 13. HI no nothing 18 — 19.
KLM /ri«^ between friends... tedious m //a/eVj 23. C if I by chance
24. K Queen of Amazons LM Queen of Amazon 36. A — M
whom so well

85. 16. BD — M print Arch.\ieci\iiXQ in Roman type 21. A — M those
wishes 24. A — M part 27. A — M the sounde of 35. A — M
call to 37. A — M omit needs

86. 3 — 4. KLM print a \\Qari...\oi\i%ora in Italics 5 — 6. KLM
^rm/ nothing... friend m //'a/?V.f 7 — 8. KLM print less... -wiW in Italics

14. F — M from my 16. A — L taken 18. A — M unmarked

by any, to BD — M escape 21. KLM Philanax's letter

33. A — M me to be found 34. DF — M mine own 39. AC

cope

87. 3. EHI pantofle 9. F — M unto me 10. KLM not
to name 13. KLM omit any 17. A — M as if he would have
had a 37. E omits backe

88. 14 — 15. KLM /r?«/ They are... thoughts ?'« //'flt//Vj 19. HI
mine own 20. A — M pleasure 23. A — M omit a
25 — 26. KLM /rm/ open... themselves m //a//Vi' 28. KLM print
generall goodness in Italics 29 — 30. KLM print everie one... them-
selves in Italics 40. A — M hath alreadie brought

89. 7. G— M omitxt 16. A— M tastofthat E— M he had
17. H well tell 18. KLM should use 24. E forth his
35. BD — M omAt all 30. C omits a 34. A — M omit a
C omits of 38. I more sumptuous 39. A — M to shew how

S. A. LL 529

NOTES

90. I. BD — M rose up 2. A — M vale 3. HI have
seene read 7. A — M the life of beauty 8. A — M the Queene
of 13. A— M able to have caught 20. A — M miracle with
her selfe 26. A — M more freely 31. I stepped 35. A — M
Princesse 39. ABD — M princesses

91. 4. A — M much mistaken 6. A — M to whom 15. A — M
so to do 16 — 17. KLM print great., prais-worthie in Italics
31—32. A — M cleere, an other more 39. BD— M print Comet
in Roman type

92. 8. A — M where, in a 10. A branches The C bran-ches :
The EH— M branches, the 14. DFGKLM sensible 30. BD— M
stole 36. A — M liddes

93. 14. LM being a familiar 16. A — M private 38. AC
showers

94. 1. A — M are even miserable 9. A — M such vehement suits
24. C unfortuate 27. A — M And therewith 34. L counsels
38. KLM print ?i nohXt... cdi%t in Italics 39. E vexeth me so much

95. 4. B— M comma at end of line 13. HI close till that

15. F — M bewray him 16. G omits a.

96. 6. DF — M not ceremonies 7. A — M before 15. KLM
upon the roots of flourishing 17. HI Pamelia 23. E brought
him HI a silly 26. A — M caused all 28 — 29. KLM
/r?«/ opinion... dangerous m //a/zVj 30. E of a more 32. G — M
conquest

97. 4. FHI Philantus 5. KLM the better 7. HI to
that II. E tents 15. HI Philantus 18. A — M report
of his good justing 19. KLM print The fair man of arms in Italics

30. LM matter 33. A — M winning cherefulnes 39. G
Arthesia

98. 3. KLM at their first 7. A — M leave upon 9. G
Arthesia 10. BDF — M thinketh 14. BD— M worthinesses
19. A — M omit and A — M had taught 20. A — M both heaven
23. ABD — HKLM good a disciple she C good (a Disciple shee...her,)
39 — 40. A — G must say truly courteous HI must say truely, courteous
KLM must say, truly courteous

99. 6—7. I Philantus 15. C nor affection 17. BD— M
on the other 18 — 19. KLM print a foolish... think's in Italics

19. K witness LM foolish-witness 21. A — M of his profession
BD — M services 27. CLM that hath 29. F— M praising

31. G out of her

100. 2. A — M he must 14. G Arthesia's 15. G Arthesia

16. KLM preheminencie 19. A — M pictures C Lades

20. G Arthesia's 27. KLM omit is

101. II. G — M omit ^^ it^^ after *' gave^' 13. F — M purple
19. I every place 19 — 20. KLM turn'd 28. G Arthesia
31. E assemblies

loi. 35 — loa. I. KLM print \i]dng\%...hez.nX.y in Italics

102. I. KLM print whatsoever... beautifull in Italics 4. G
Arthesia 5. DF — M as a true 8. A — M her most delightfull

21. E omits a 22. E her part 30. A — M a made

NOTES

32. A — M idlenes, and with 33. A — M disswaded 34. A— M

overrunne 39. A — M obeyed to that 40. A — M markte

103. 5. A — M possessioners A — M nor absolute 11. A — M
but intercurled 12. A — M pearle 13. A — M fast and loose
14. A — M richnes 17. A — M the the conterfaiting 23. A — M
in pleasure 24. HI not with admiration 34. HI have sate
36. HI Ensigne-bearer 37. A — M the humblenes 38. A — M
beautie

104. 5. E omits a. 13. HI eyes 16. F — M which he
17. A — M of that coupled 17—18. A— M their mouthes 20. E
attentive unto it 38. G Arthesia

105. 2. F — M some other harts 7. G Arthesias 19. EILM
gentlewoman 24. AC all ready

106. 4. I remedilesse 12. G Arthesia^ s 13. EM reckoned
16. G— M Thelamon G— K Polexena LM Pdexena AC
Eurileon BD — M Eurilion 29. A — M pretie a grace 38. E
it is not 40. LM matcht

107. 13. KLM their companion's 17. A — M beginning
id. F— M worthinesse 34. BDF— M was for a 36. BD— M
scape

108. 13. K Philantus 22. HI could not 30. KLM
Ermelin 37. HI who had 38. F— M the triall

109. II. Hltfwz/by 20. E sith 25. KLM ill apparelled
31. DF — M omit his 38. A — I two adversaries KLM but
two adversaries 40. A — M himselfe came to FG stickler

no. 9. A — M but even in 20. A abickering 23. F — M

he sent him 35. A— M all the other heavenly

111. 3. F — M readily he 16. AC ill by apparelled 17. A— M
cofort of 25. HI with some great 33. K keep him 39. HIM
out of the Princes

112. 12. E otnits or 22. A — M come, on which 24. KLM
before 35. A — M sometimes cast up 36. HI strove

113. I. A — M burthen 4. C has no division into stanzas
5. A— M [a«ar England's Helicon] r>^a«^^ 6. D Nor he 12. England's
Helicon //am/j 13. LM is plaint 19. M these Woods
24 — 25. LM /r/W all is... experience my/a/«Vj 36. A— M in the Pulpit

114. 5. M compassion on me 6. HI pardoning of them
14. A — M secret flames 17. M light unto thee 20. HI so
throughly 29. F — M sight of a 39. HI names had the
40. A — M of the Goddesse

115. 6. F — M of mind 7. F — M me such a thraldome
8. E I think, I had spoken 18. HI not to the 23. F— M
^>w?V again 25 — 26. KLM print lAiVQ...iyxdini in Italics

116. 3. F— M everie evening 9. A— M persecutors 17. E
hisrayment KLM omit th^ 31. DF— M omit th.\is 32. F— K
note of interrogation instead of semicolon after Shepheard 34 — 36. KLM
print highest... miserable in Italics

117. 3—4. KLM /r/«/ the most... capacitie m //a/iVj 5. F — M
greater 6. A — M wit to discerne 9—10. G — M owzVandhis

LL2 53^

NOTES

senses... reward him 17-

30. A — M well provided
F— M his tale
19. E maner

-18. KLM print though . . .honorable in Italics

118.

manners
omit so

119. 8
after such

LM
A— M

brother to the
that sued to be

18.
29.

A— M
KLM

BD — M print Theatre in Roman type A — M omit a

E sorts 12. A — M <7weV tree to tree 13. A — M

insert tree to tree after from 17. A — M inquiring diverse questions

20. E sport for the 27. E sith 39. LM like a

120. 3 — 4. A — M composition 7. DF — M 07nit upon

17. A — M was presented to 18, E omits the before twise
34. A — M she neither 37. DF — M omit to 39. A — D
presenting

121. r. A — M his 12. DF — M grace and pity 19. BD — M
Chirurgerie 21. A — M ever with the contempt of cowardes
24. A — M omit great 28. E was returning 33. A — M her witt

122. 4. A — M Hoodie strife 7. A — M eie 15. HI meanes

18. BD — M a horrible fowie 22. LM otnit I 25. BD — M
on my 26. A — M this yong shepheard with a wonderfull courage having
29. A — M already neare 35. E omits up 37. G — M blessing

123. I. KL not instead of nor 8. A — M easily discipher
23. HI on himselfe ILM fully

A— DF— M omit\y% 35. KLM

construction

12. A — M given him a 20. M
HI first was curious 40. BD — M

20. A — M head and breast

25. A — M great while 33.

not instead of nor 40. A — M

124. 4. A — M the very face
others 26. HI meanes 37.
desired A — M the Pastorals

125. 7. KLM omitoi 11.
18. F — M those words 20.

126. I. G— M Eclogue

G — M beast 16. E cause then

A — M mistrusting greatly Cecropia
4 — 6. A — M And because many of the
shepheardes were but newlie come, hee did in a gentle manner chastise their
negligence with making 7 — 8. A — M omit later come 16. KLM

according 18. KLM c>/«iV chiefe 20. M bawl 22 — 23. A

answere. as the one halfe saying. C answer : as the one halfe saying.
D answere as the one halfe ; saying : BEFG answer as the one halfe,
saying: HI answere: as the one halfe, saying: KLM answer at the
one half, saying; 24. England's Helicon ^oj '* Wf /(W^, £/f." <^«/

omits II. 25, 27, 29, 31, 33 25. HI other

30. G despairefull 34. H And in who

127. I. F — M Then joyning all their
//. I and 2 5. F — M song 7. A — M
of^^Lalus^'' 10. A — M troubled mind 13.
Dorus 14. A — M Thyrsis 24. G
H 7nost deep deep silent 25. D — M true-love
after '■Hrue love loves'''' DF — M put a comma after *
" loves " A — M have " his " instead of^^ those "
with others 26. A — M Thyrsis

128. 4. A— M Thyrsis 5. A— E omit '
sweet 18. FG tittle 25. E worlds

26. FGK deckeyour LM deck you BDE

28. A— M Thyrsis

29. A — M in a quire

England's Helicon omits
have " Thyrsis'" instead

A — M Thyrsis and

most, deep deep silent

BE comma

'^ true-love'''' and ovii:

G — M his lov:

is" 7. KLM

BD— M shall yeeld
wish your comparison

532

NOTES

129. 5. FGI — M from the 6. HI love with lovers hurt is
A — I hopefayling BD — M lifes pleasure 13. A — M

Thyrsis 16. M if so mean 18. M seeds 22. A — M

she did beare

130. 6. E charmes 7. A — M case KLM Muse my, my
sorrow 9. BD — M one point 11. A — M canfoile 15. A — M
thrall 16. A — M Thyrsis 27. L we well the 31 — 32. DE
have no space between I. 31 and I. 32 32. E omits Dorus
34. DFGKLM Here plaints

131. I. G — M lamenting 2. C wares 6. KLM dolor
10. A — M Thyrsis A — M thus my 12. A — M which too
much sawe. 13. Instead of this line A — I have the following:

If shee still hate loves lawe,
KLM:

If shee did hate love's law,
14. CF— M earthly A— M doth melt 15. CF— M earthly

17. KLM heart fire 19. A— M Thus doth 20. A— M Thyrsis

A — M Thus doth 21 — 22. Instead of these lines A — M have the

following:

That I growe like the beaste,

Which beares the bytt a weaker force doth guide,

23. Instead of this line A — I have the following :

Yet patient must abide.
KLM :

Yet patience must abide.

24 — 26. Instead of these lines A — M. have the folloiving:

Such weight it hath which once is full possest.
Dorus. Such weight it hath which once is full possest
That I become a vision.

27. Instead of this line A — I have the following:

Which hath in others head his only being
KLM:

Which hath in others held his only being,

28. Instead of this line A — M have the following:

And lives in fancie seing.

29. Instead of this line A — I have the following :

0 wretched state of man in selfe division I
KL :

O wretched state of man in self-divisions !

30 — 32. Instead of these lines A — M have the following:
Thyrsis. O wretched state of man in selfe division
O well thou sales t ! a feeling declaration
Thy toong hath made of Cupids deepe incision.

33. A — M But now hoarse voyce, doth 35. A— M singing thou hast

got the

132. I. A — M singing thou hast got the 2. A — M have ^^ Good
Thyrsis mine,^^ instead of ' ' New friend of mine y " 3. A — FH — M

533

NOTES

My hart doth G My hearth doth 4. A — M hadst facilitie 5. E

thy goddesse 8 — 9. This Eclogue... commendations. This sentence

is not in the folio editions 10 — 19. Cf. Appendix p. 565 //. 4, 32, 37

132. 19 — 140. 30. this %ox\g<i....vaine annoy. In all the folio editions
this passage is to be found in the third Eclogues

132. 20. A — M had ever subjected 23. A — D the cotdhe
33. G — M eye D chipping notes

133. 9. LM shepherds 14. E — M our wits 21 — 22. E
has no space between /. 21 and /. 22 24. E — M because T loved
27. F — M recounted be 29. LM omit '•'' was^^ 35. DE into
hem

134. 2. I where n^ order is 6. BDE beast 28. LM with
you love 30. LM cloathed 33. I .?<?«§•

135. 4. HI ^^r eyes f aire 30. M <?w?Vj " «^/ "

136. 7. C omits '■^ he^"* 8. E — M murther 13. M common
ao. E — M way 21. C When fall on they 23. HKLM be US' d
30. A — M glorie M swelly in 35- C _y^« strengths

137. I. E — M will I sing 4. FG domewards 11. L
what shee 17. C omits he 17 — 19. KLM /?•?»/ this is... them-
selvs /« Italics 20. KLM melancholy 32. D pray you

138. 20. <" bulling KLM /'w/m^ G— M have '' or'' instead
if " ana'' 19. C/. Appendix /. 565 /. 48 21. D farj

139. 4. KLM their servants 9. D live alone 11. F — M
this life 13. L good good haps 25. P'GKLM The father
a8. HI 7>5^ common-wealth 39. F — M ya«//

140. 5. HI content 7. E — M these are your 11. D
wonders 31. C/. Appendix/. 565 /. 29 32 — 33. easilie... his person.
/« a// the folio editions this sentence occurs in the third Eclogues

140. 33—141. 2. But ^a;j///«.y to... performed in. This passage is not
in the folio editions, but cf. Appendix /. 564 /. 30

141. 2 — 143. 9. this doble Sestinc-.i-^w^ a/ ^^«/«^, In all the folio
editions this passage is to be found in the second Eclogues

141. 8. A — M give 20. M affliction

142. 19. BD— I all those 29. A — M / hate my selfe
30. KLM my ears 31. HI maintaine

143- 3- C whose reproche 4. KLM mourning 8. A — M

transfer YAzSxys, to I. () 10 — 13. Zelmane ?<Qing... Phi loc leas tarts. Cf

Appendix /. 566 /. i 13 — 14. laying fast... Hope. C/". Appendix /. 563

/. 23 24. G — M becomes KLM monument HI our

praise 28. DF — M but as death 31. LM humane lives

144. 5. G— M omWdoo" 6. BD— M doth hap. 7. KLM
deceived 9 — 14. What exclaiming... unto it. Cf. Appendix/. 564 /. i
14—16. Yea, he fel...body. Cf Appendix p. 566 /. 7 16—18. But the...
time waste. C/! Appendix/. 564/. 16 18 — 20. and therefore... one side.
This sentence does not occur in the folio editions 20 — 23. and considering. . .
death. Cf. Appendix/. 564 //. 17, 22

145. 8. F— M pastorall times 10. F — M of the 13. A— M
angry 18. LM whose deserts 22. ABCE — M terrors 24. I
his vice 29. A — M to be witnesse

534

NOTES

146. 5. A — M omit or 7. C and on essentiall 8. KLM
have novf instead of rciosi 11. KLM omit were 17. K omits
\\. before '\% at end of line 31. KLM desire A — M no inverted
commas in margin 31 — 32. KLM /r?«/ in shame there... of shame m
Italics 37. A — M no inverted commas in margin LM print 2^
lamentable... mind in Italics 38. E drew thitherwards, in hope
39. A — M paced

147. 7. C has no division into stanzas G your labour
9. BDF — M you did so smd 12. KL sights 27. C much
thou art 28. H — M thou wast 32. I omits like.
34 — 36. A — M tfwzV and the more I... hoping.

148. 3. A — M spoke E omits a 8. LM to miserie
ir. A— M morning early of 13. F — M looked 25. I has
my instead of vcie

149. 8. C his complaining 10. C has no division into stanzas
II. KLM transpose ^^ soule^' and '^ shape'' 17. A — M doo homage
unto 27. A — M gotten some leasure 28. M he did her
35. A — M able to discerne

150. 3. F most lonely 12. D intents 29. LM omit up
35. HI minde, as will with the humblest 36. HI omit to before re-
ceive 37. HI speakeofany

151. 9. G — M want of what 10. I my behalfe 34. H — M
Tired therewith

152. 2. H — M Flannell 6. A — M and how with the same
8. A — M Zfametas holding KLM hands 12. A — M un-
featie 25. LM languishing 26. BD — M omitus BD— M yet
I am 38. DF — M in her owne

153. 2. M power 7. C desire

154. 2. A — M voyd of counsell 6. A — M that it could
15. A — M grudge not at their C bodes 16. C enjoyning

18. HI I have 22. E burdens 24 — 25. LM ^rm^ nothing
is... attempted m //a/zVj 25 — 26. LM /rm/ Lying still... forward m
Italics 28. BD — M one after another

155. I. I eyes 9. KLM to Mopsa 12. A — M Princesse
the better 14. BDFG baggage not to winne 23. LM omit in
25. C has no division into stanzas 34. D worthies 37. BD — M
mine eye

156. I. A — M setling 3. A — M fortune must be the measure

19. A— M omit of 20. L as in his soul devoted M as in his
Soul is devoted 22. KLM hands 25. A — M wrieng her waste
31. L omits in before Fortune 40. FG vertues shines KLM
virtues shine

157. 6. D mortall would 20. KL most confess 24. H — M
Lover 26. C tender 27. E omits a 30. BD — M pro-
duced thus 33. M she should 40. M my eye

158. 4. G— M engraven 15. KLM and that my 20. C
judgement 28. F— M inclosed 30 — 31. KLM /nW that as
well... onset in Italics

159. 2. I discern my desires F— M omit I 3. F — M
honourable Ladie 4. F— M doted you 8. B— M omit commas

535

NOTES

in margin 19, I matters of HI tragedie 16. I lost

duties 27. E omits his before friends

160. 7. A — M occasions 11. HI widdowhood LM widowed
15. DFH — M much must I say G much I say 16. E make me

33. HI omit a 34. D say was

161. 7. A — I omit his KLM Musidorus's infortunes HI misfor-
tunes 8. A — M infirmities 10. F — M omit the 15. F — M
beautie had 26. BDF— M cause 27. BDF— I at last EKLM
at least

162. 2. A — M are too monstrous 5. HI his tale
mine owne 21. A — M your being here 24.
38. HI omit as 37. E omits his mariage

163. 5. A — M was thus to 18. E omits (said he)
their Prince 30. I Historiographers 31.

34. KLM insert is before to shew 38. E has :

On barren sweetes they feeding sterve :

164. 2. Engfland's Helicon desires 9. A — M
10. I sp..J._ V 23. KLM yi/(?«a/raj's brother 23 — 24.
Oi'nere I know 28. A — M o/«zV highe

165. 13. G — M just as we 28. A — M willspurre
omit a

II. BD— M
A — M either

27. A— M
I Astrologe

her noble hart
C brother ;

A— M

35.

KLM of a

166. 9. G — M omit his LM omit in 13.
rebound 34. A — M though but in

167. I. A — M imbracing 11. HI ofhimselfe

167. 40— x68. I. F— M flie out quite another

168. II. A — M wine-press 15. H prints part in Italics
16. HILM burden 32. F— M she to lie

169. 9. LM the sweet 14. A — M whose tender i6. C
force chosing 17. F — M to a point 24. DE lovely place
1%. D we made LM of a most

170. I. F— M her selfe to that 8. E— M omit hy 29. KLM
ere she was A — M the badge 35. BD — M hath an

171. 12. E — M Waking did 24. A — M descended 33.
BD— M lockes

172. 7. A — M banished 17. ILM omit as 20. C has
no division into stanzas

173. 16. LM she had present 17. DF— M retraction 19. C
has no division into stanzas BD — M a stedfast 21. KLM defile
my fancies FHI no comma after ** defaste^^ 22. A — M shames

174. 16. M extremity 17. H hath oppressed

7. F — M most excellent 19. A — M she ravingly have

8. A — M sorow 13. M Law of the 24. LM and
35. KLM whether did you 36. M Pastorals sports

11. A — M pretend 16—17. A — M constancy 28. C
33. KLM whatever hee

12. 1 omits hnt 13. BD — M slow of beliefe 36. A — M
40. F — M omit is

175-

176.
their

177.
omits so

178.
dancer

NOTES

179. 8. A — M change did 34. E all but one 39. A— M
fine cleenes

180. 4. LM strength of mine 5. A — M confesse, that as

181. I. E shall 8. C shill shine 11. A— M and too
late 16 — 17. A — M you, the onely honour 22. A — M soever
he be 30. I omits since 38. KLM delivered how

182. 20. E my sister 34. F — M their walking

183. 3. A — M omit But 4. A encreased, But cae C en-
creased But came ( There is a dot after encreased which looks like a
broken comma) BDF — M increased, but came 6. C condition
8—9. A— FI time a day GHKLM time aday 13. DF— M of
the agony

184. 4. ABD — M for victories C as victories 38. A — ILM
latter

185. 7. E not want 21. M now I wear 24. A — M to the
age

186. I. E — M taxation 3. G — M place of the 4. A— M
as the abiding 10. E — M they shining 14. I were fault-
finding F — M & so given to 17. E — M omit Si 40. A — M
insert and his lawes before as it were A — M his axioms

187. 10. A — M omit can E— M omit if 20. A — M delight
in their 26. AC by an accasion BD — I by an occasion KLM
by occasion 32. A — M was come 34. A — M betweene their

188. 5. KLM folks 33. I omits his 39. E — M requiring
A— M of life

189. 9. A— M time so set KLM omit of 14. A — M of
Musidorus 23. D cruell heart F — M ill 31. D uttermost
heart

X90. II. KLM an habit 15. A — M nothing I so much

38. I yeares of war

191. 10. LM bound in his 12. A— M till now being both sent
for by Euarchus, & finding Pyrocles able

192. 28. M others 30. LM where the

193. 2. KLM thunder 5. A — M floting kingdomes 6. L
natural 7. A — M the desolation A— HKLM far-being I
far being 10. ¥—M. omit z. 12. A — M striken 16, I
accused D on point 19. A — M omit not 24. H — M dales
cleerenesse EM so blindly

194. I. A — M roaring voices 3. KLM passion 6. I for
his 9. KLM in the huge 17. KLM Musidorus' smiaxkciQ
25. G — M of a great 32. A — M they mente to

195. 9. A— M Navie they lately had, they had left but one little peece
5. A— M exceeding 33. F— M on him, and

196. 14. BDE print Phrigia in Roman type 16. LM wicked
say, ever 36. BDE print Thessalia in Roman type 37. A — K
unsuccesse LM success

197* 3* A — M no humour 3 — 4. LM /)r/»^ there is no... service-
able in Italics 4. M whom impudent 5. A— M those of desparate

537

NOTES

ambition 7. F — M as a servitude 11. KLM stirred up a

16. E — M their faces 21. L determining 27. A — M he
thought A — M take him away A — M from being 28. F — M
things prepared 34. I destroyed vertue 39. BD print Pontus
in Roman type E — M have ^^ Bithynia" instead of *^ Pontus"

198. 8. A— M he ever profest 18. F— M the Tyrant
21. A — M the worke 28. I that notable 30. E — M of the
conquerour 31. A — M welcome praie 31 — 32. A — M omit
that wisht...worste of all :

199. I. KLM causeth 25. HIM murder 32. D this
case 34. KLM Pamela smiling

200. I. A — M making it a KLM omit in 3. KLM they
slew 34. M Art or some 35. F — M by some chaunce
37. E — M with a loud

201. 5. A — M wiser 11. G— M grow to a 22 — 23. I
to deliver them 27. BD — M fostered up in

202. I. I hand 5. I for of good 6. KLM incline
14. I the magnificence 17. A — M and instead 0/ or 18. I
avenge 24. KLM bearing up E — M land o( BitAinia
27. G — M of the countrey 28 — 29. A — M revengefulnes
30. A — M inconstant in his

203. 9. M burden 25. A — M insert death of the after late
BD — H print Phrigia in Roman type 38. A — M bubble blowne up

204. I. A — M foresaw their 12. ABCE— M enclining

17. A — KM to their dead carcasses L to their death carcasses 22. KL
mariage to to the 33. M on the top

205. 6. E — M worthy 21. A — M pleased 33. A— M
hands : and so they were

206. I. E — M omit evQX A — M make one occasion 5. G — M
valour

207. 4, A — M which a certaine A— M omit it 14. A — M
there instead of these 17. E — M griefe, and my

208. ir. HI have had mee 14. KLM ingrafted 23. C
yeares instead of esLies 30. A — M prove some ominous 36. A — M
such a one 39. I no farther 40. F omits a before bastarde

209. 3. A— M or to doo 5, ABD be used E — M she
used 9. A — M remembraunce, of naughtinessedelightes 10. A — M
his trappes 27. EFGKLM my sea 29. KLM omit my
34. KLM murtherers 38. A— M felt a pitty 39. A— M
unslaine duety

210. 6. F— M reckoning 7. A— M of doing himselfe
II. A— M well deserving 25. HI filiall pitie 28. BD— M
agonie 29. BD — M so you shal 32. CKLM to take
38. CF— KM his brother

211. 2. CF— M but of two 7. A— M assayled 29. BD — M
it in others 31. A — M omit their 32. G — M valour

212. i8. G — M once united by 28. E— I this access of
KLM his access of 29. HI bale no longer A— M vitall spirites
32. F — M omit for 35. A — M omit men

538

NOTES

213. I. A — M tumingnes A of of sleights C off of sleightes
3. M grow of good 7. M denyal will but 8. M make the
the fault 10. D alive into hands 26. M Minister 28. A — M
had more come 30. KLM omit his 32. L Plexirtos 34. C
leave 35. G — M enjoy some benefite

214. I. BD — I print Yjycia. and Axmtm3i in Roman type 4. BD — I
print Armenia in Roman type 10. E — HKLM Euardus I Evardus
12. A — M omit tvfo 13. M commendation 14. A — M omit
yong 16. BD — I print Lycia in Roman type

215. 6. E — M I kneeled 7. A — D hardy earnestnes E — M
my graces E — M said I 16. M power 22. M farther
30. E — M as I 31. E — M my selfe

216. 4. G — M stole II. KLM and speaking 12. M
River side 13. M in Greece M the praise 22. A — M
still would slippe 31. D thought it was 32. A as on bodie
C as no one bodie

217. 8. C omits it 25. M of a shrugging. 27. C omits so

218. 3. C make warres 8. E — K plaid then 12. KLM
omit he 16. C countenance 30. M whereunto 32. E — M
perfection 33. M tongues may

219. 2. KLM angels 5. HIM two heavenly 30. M to
kiss

220. 6. D wantons nests 16. F — M Indians 25. D doth
untie 29. BD — L their glad M there glad 37 — 38. E — M
omit commas in margin 40. A — M Hir thighes

221. 2. E — M her stately 3. G — M cliff es 28. A — M
hate-spott F — M Emerlin 38. Warn Snow

222. 12. E — M dwell therein I'j. HI perfection 27. KLM
rayment 29. M of instead of upon 30. M bearing it away
G — M But when Zelmane 36. F — M in her selfe shee had

223. 6. KLM of themselvs 12. E — M sith ^ 13. M my
self to part 22. C his two 24 E — M sith 29. G — M
bastinado 33. KL bearing \catchword, mj/^fl(/<7/'harkening] M hearing
\catchword\ 36. D kill courtesie

224. 26. M omits yet 29. BD — M print Macedon in Roman type

225. I. I prints Axcsidiaxi in Roman type 11. E solitarie paces
16. D left the smart 28. M h?iiQ to Zelmane

226. 16. BD — M omit the 20. M omits and 26. D omits
had 27. KLM he was forced 31. D at the first 34. F
omits if

227. 2. F— M omit ''long'' 11. CDF— M spirites 16. C
life is helpe 21. F — M Which cries 32. HI judgements
35. F — M mournefull

228. 12. M then dip so 17. A — M have:

( Though in despaire) for Love so forceth me ;
18. A — L shall Erona M shall Erona's 25. KLM dost move

26. A — M causefull 35. KLM omit '' that'' 36. A — M

beate us on to blisse

539

NOTES

229. 2. A — M Ofwindes 7. BD enflavie 14. HI the
spoyles 17. C What my nd 21. LM heavens 32. A — M
flames 36. E — M omit commas in margin 37. M his face

39. HI onely lace

230. I. LM touch A — M we did 2. A — M that hand
M spent 6. M he spent \2. D must prone ao. A — M
these childish 23. C la?nentation 31. BD — M knew
32. A — M From any Joy 33. KLM /» mortall 35. M
Which swelling 36. M A^//> 37. B — M painfulnesse
39. A — M this ougly

231. 15. A — M outward A — M that most 30. M farther
32. A — M this Dialogue

232. 2. M omits a 3. A — M omit unto him after fully
17. A — M Lydia 21. A — M Lydia 23. M <7w//j that
24. G — M it could be no 26. M all them statues 28. ACF — M
Lydians BDE Lydians 35. C omits oi after Vvcig BD — I
print Armenia in Roman type

233. 3. KLM by perswasions KLM by threatnings 9. A — M
omit by before knife 14. M to to the holy 19. F — M no man
CKLM nor child 35. M praise her self 36. C tow
39. BD — I print Lycians in Roman type

234. 3. M on both 6. I Evardes M Euardus 22. E— M
were of fa rre greater 23. M Pyrcules H Evardes M Euardus

24. BD — I print Bithinia and Hircania in Roman type 28. M
Pyrcules H Evardes 29. M these Princes

235. I. M 07nits as 5. A— M her to preserve 6. CG — K
united 14. A — M shalbe still gnawing 23. M omits in

25. A — M partie

236. 3. A — M fruits of denying A — M omit As 6. M
Amphilus's F— L further M farther 8. KLM for his
death ir. A — M conditions 15. KLM omit yQlio 17. LM
know 19. M constancy 24. E — M or weapon HI or by
30. M lamentation 31. LM unto the world 32. F — M by
all meanes 35. M reward 38. LM omitzW

237. 8. C your years

238. 3. A-— M full in your A— M tattlings 6. KLM
omit it after have 9. F — M omit a before seven 13. M in my
neck 17. HI o\d ittstead of v/o\d 18. HI o\di instead of vfdiA
19. M omits diS 34. C a long lace M omits oi before 9. maxi
37. M skirked

239. 2. HI of faire 3. BD — M parenthesis after priest, not
before GKLM put the concluding paj-enthesis after Yi-aA EF no
concluding pa7-enthesis 5. D we said BD — M ballads 19. M
deceit 21. AC blinde young, with BD — G blind, young with
HI KLM blind, young, with 26. M arrows too 35. l\ of
such 37. M did breed 38. Instead of this line K — lA have the

following:

To lye, to steale, to pry, and to accuse,

540

NOTES

240. 1. A— M feete 11. F— M omW stiV H be deckt
I hedeckt 17. Instead of this line A — L have the following :

But for that Love is worst which rules the eyes,
M has :

But for thai Love is worst that rules the eyes,
18. A— M Thereon 19. M nV^/V Cupid 25. A— M The

Ladies 28. M should 30. M with the beautifying her 35. D
Would be

241. 4. C prehemencie 8. BDEFH— L that did ever M
omits ^vdi 12. M o?nits oi 19. KL /nW And so... rejoice m
Roman type M prints'v!xyi.^y...\€\oyc^ in Roman type HIM they
stole 25. F — M blessing, never to aske him 31. KLM such
instead of as 32. M Skrich-owl 40. M to the second

242. 4. F — M of that bargaine 8. M the instead of this

26. BD his King 30. KLM beeing at first married

243. 3. KLM omit in before himselfe E — M omit a after and
14. A— M onely outside 16. M the point 27. M one to
the other 34. E — M make them 38. M Father into a

244. 3. A — M attempt 11. M omits s. before less M
omits of before three 12. M behaved himself 16. M omits all
24. A — M so greedily 25. ^//^r mourning A — M /«5-^^-/ garments
32. M fall to dispair 38. BD— GKLM omit I before repeat

245. 7. A thinking on other B — M thinking on no other 8.
BD — M at first E— M measures 12. M victorious over
the 17. EFGKLM besides vi'as HI besides that she was 25. A
harm form 31. F — M print Sycophants in Italics

246. 12. I putting off objection 15. F — M many like
16 — 17. KLM prifit Amhi{ion..Mngimg in Italics 17 — 18. KLM
print ever urgeth... successes in Italics

247. 12. BD — M affection 24. A — M made hideous

27. A — M hill where upon his 36. HI strove, strove to be M
starve, starve to be 37. GHKLM boiled I boeled

248. 6. C who though they 14. M omits he 18. BD — M
brought thus to 19. F — M the same 27. LM omit him after
give 29. M farther 34. M bring him to a 35. BD she
should

249. 5. HI out of every 7. BD husbands mother 11. E — M
to put to her 17. A— M with a sword 20. F— M naked, yet
standing 40. HI engraven

250. 3. A — M did even 5. F — M in his Court 10. HI
tortures 14. F — M omit it 18. G — M hatred on 31. M
his Sons councel 35. A — M whose cause 36. F — M omit that
M omits it

251. 4. M in valor 20. I sometimes use 23. M is
sacrificed

252. I. AC were not only 6. KLM ofthedivels 15. F
the could be 17. G— M sleep in their 20. M comforts
21. M omits up 23. DM chasted 26. G — M changling?
happy, be they KLM that bee not 27. M omits thy D to

NOTES

this respect 28. HI a great part 31. M comly argument

32. KLM the head D with so wicked E — M only desire

253. 3, A kept form 5. C omits more before his 9. KLM
mishap 10. B — M blesse 15. DM too ill matched 19. LM
over to the 20. HI of good old 31. LM is the work
37. F — M from beyond F — M trees 38. I she hand fully

254. 5. HI (said she) 20. HI asswaging 21. I my
heart 24. G — M bent to 27. KLM no instead 0/ to affer yield
29. BD he should

255. II. D words with Desire 15. BD over-burthened
23. I to disdain 24. I name of Father 33. M farther 36. M
import

256. 8. F — M omit so 30. E — L streame

257. 2. M duty 9. C has no division into stanzas M wine
eyes 11. M face even wherein 15. KLM thought 16. E — M
breath 17. F — M sound of this 18. C he doth 20. A — M
grief e 28. M feet 30. A — M whose delight 32. M
omits a F — M lighting E — M omit of before beauty

258. 20. F — I consisted 27. A — M passe by the KLM
respect 32. KLM hath com 36. M otnits all

259. II. A — M me into a 27. BD let it be E— M let it not
be 33. M decree 37. C how he should

260. 7. BD surfet joy 28. F— M should I doe

261. 2. E — M to be loved 10. H Evarchus M had
almost 1 5 — 18. E — M mouthes did, they passed the promise of mariage :
which faine Pyrocles would have sealed with the chiefe armes of his desire ; but
/%z'/£7r/(irfl! commanded the contrary. 33. BD — M myeares M so
sweetly be fed 38. M farther

262. 5. A — M that entertain ement 9. A — M might 13. E — M
sith 14. A — M give it the hearing 22. F hold his 23. KLM
omit so 25. G pottomelesse

263. 6. A — M deeds 8. BD — M print Giants in Roman type
13. BDE chosen Tiridates 22. A — M challenge unto me
27. KLM omit had 28. D had instead of hath 29. E — M
borne universally the 34. M and would needs go alone 38. D
then any thing in 39. G — M what ever before K I had do
40. G what ever theres, or

264. 3. ILM such a mist K a such mist 5. A — M heaven
G — M requite to him 8. GKLM stayed 10. HI strove
16. LM I after knew 19. G sore feeling 22. A — M adveture,
which (though 33. DLM making my E — M eares
39 — 40. BD — M transpose they and continually

265. 10. G — M to get away 20. A — M ran all away 29. D
she should A — M the sharpe remembrance 34 — 35. C Gentlemen

266. 3. M omits is 8. HI words full of 9. KLM such
an one 11. A — M the delight A to thers 13. KLM such
an one 23. KLM gave way 30. HIM whathehad 31. KLM
was the Prince 35. LM we would not 37. C transposes use andhxs

NOTES

267. 6. ABD — H in end 9. AC by her owne

CTuits a. before triumph 21. KLM to him 25.

occasion 34. A — M joyne in fellowshipp

20. M

greatest

268. 18. M
in de/are my selfe

269.

in ende

270.

astonied
omi^ to

271. 3.

sight to me
omt^s as

33-

29.

whatsoever
37. ABC

with that trifling
M till he were

rad upon me
A — M omii it

23. BD
villanie

lowlinesse

27. I omiis

17.
30.

A— M
E— M

injures

omz^ but
say true

29.

22.
32.

272. 3
13—14. KLM

273. 16

mischances
finde want HI

274. 2. M
omt'i a
30. HI

275.

hand

M beholden to

the instead 0/ that
33. HI railed

A— E

F— M
E— M

12. M
36. I

II. M transposes with and only
.unpunished in Italics

19. D omits of 23. A — M

32.

A— GKLM should

as it were
print amongst.

A — M omit a

28. M she had deserved
should finde wants

had so lately 3. A — M omit rather 4. F — M

12. A — M for what I had 23. A — M talke of nothing

grieved 33. F — M with that he had

5. BD— M omit tyed 10. EFGKL of a 11. M her

18. KLM to the Captain A — M Garrison neere by FG

which thought 24. ABD — HK omit in 27 — 28. KLM print

a churle's courtesie,..falshood in Italics 28. A — L rarely M

seldome 29. F — M maners 32. C omits I 36. A — M

And so we

276. 6. M omits I had 9. A — M omit commas in margin
G — M guiltines 11. E — M omit yet 17. A — M he found
23. M to farther 27. BD — M transposes heioxe and 1 39.
of the worthy

277. 1 7. A — M alas poore

278. I. I for Anaxius 2. A learne thing A
out 4. I with the 1 1 . A — M raines of affection
to march 19. M transposes neither and gmdedi 35 — 36.
omit inverted commas in margin

279. 2. A — M with his reproch 4. M decree 6.
abused 12. M to stay 16. E — M her, as now 17.
yet a while she M omits so 18. A— D tempted

A— M

gone no

18. M

A— M

omit that

KLM

wandring

33-

of that

280. 6.

E-

-M

before in

E-

-M

armes

f7-

in a captivity

express

35-

to the

not to be 2

A — M one request

M as

A— M

38. A — M because instead

22.

8. E — M hyxt instead of hovf

state 7. A — M we had had

omit parenthesis after " Galatia "
omits a 18. C restraint to so

C parenthesis

. A — M our

23. BD— M

25. A — M insert hsid defore saved 29. M would

him to send 38. A — M pleasures were directed

543

NOTES

281. 8. AC hath a spot 13. E— M his Queene 18. A— M
most noble Plangus 72. E — M omit not 40. M their being

282. I. M farther 5. I alas more the 10. HI follow
this 15. KLM print •w\i'aX in Italics 16. KLM print -why in
Italics 25. KLM omit fit before time

283. I. A — M did instead of indeede A — M proclaime
2. A — M that people 7. A — M omit dirvd. 21. H drawne :
could shee I drawne, could shee 24. A — M countries about
her were 26. G — M the threatned 34. A — M omit by 38. C
transposes I and have

284. ir. LM as that time 19. KLM servant 20. LM
Andronama 24. M farther A — M sonne, nor ever to 27. F— M
insert ^Vi before ^yo. LM Wee are 31. LM run a Tilt
32. KLM stranger

285. 3. C neere the moone 7. FG wood 9. F — M of
that time 10. HI Ladies departure A — M among whom
12—13. M PHILISIDIS 19. HI omit%o 22. A— DF— ILM
a crosse 26. KLM transpose I and hz-ve 27. QA LElius
C L. Elius 30. M omits the 31. M omits but 34. KLM
omit close

286. 10. G — M wildernesse 13. M omit in 30. A — M
farre into 34." A — M the partie 35. C otherwaies 39. A — M
night on the

287. I . LM fit time A — M the deliverie 4. M commanded
7. M farther 21. G — M omit a. 25. HI not fearing M
esteemed a few words 26. A — M many unjust 27. M both we
30. E — M now had we the 32. M their assailers

288. 8. I omits the 9. A — M her fault 10. KLM had
com 15. A — M would have 19. KLM omit the 22. M
omits I after wherein 23. M not only A — D praiers C are
from 35. KLM omit a 36. A — M goe on in his 37. KLM
omit how

289. II. M sand 24. KLM omit a.nd 30. A — M a
wethercocke

290. 12. M impudent 24. CD kindnesse 25. A — M
of his cruell handling Z)?flS? 26. KLM it would 27. F— L for
him

291. 14. A — M her into my 17. M particulars 23 — 24. KLM
print there is...becaus hee love's in Italics 28. M apprentice, no bond-
slave 34. A — M mervailed 36. M transposes I and then
37. A — M a childish inexperience 38. A — M more cleere unto

292. I. A— M But in such sort 5. M our selves into either
lo. F — M called /;w/<?a^^towarde 17. M do give 22. A — M
the most martiall D omits a 23. A — M bewondred E — M
rare beautie 27. C the time 40. FGHKLM into a stray
I into a strange

293. 3. E — L would he 4. M not he suffer 9. M omits it
1 7. A — M vertue to rule it 24, KLM that gracious

544

NOTES

294. 10. C thought not 14. A — M even instead of ever
15. KLM each other, from delivering 18. FGH omit2& 11. E — M
each promised 35. D no more then those 28. A — M those
two worthie 30. M in their pitiful 34. M than dying in him-
self 37. M having believing

295. 3. M transposes us and to A — M care of him 12. M
we learned 13. A — M story 25. E — M omit but 27. A — M
the case M farther M transposes I and did

296. I. C and the excellencie 5. M school than Love
7. A — M Otanes 8. M of six 16. D — M print Gia.nis in
Roman type 20. A — M with all speede 26. M went to seek
Tydeus 31, M we enquiring 32. M farther 39. M fell
presently 40. HIM swounings KL swoundings

297. 6. A — M harbingers 11. A — M transpose it and is
12. A — M gives me 22. A — M the modestie LM are amazed
25. BD — M transpose V4^ and iox^yNx'Cci 31. A — M shortly would
oppresse 33. A — M with that word she wept 38. A — M thinke
that I was

298. 2. G doe, because 8. A — M your well placed
II. A — M manner 12. A — M omit I 14. KLM enfeebled
24. I justly received 28. A — M come once into 32. F — M
that I may do 33. A — M transpose Ti\Q.y and yet 37. M when
you were 40. M petions

299. 3. M her of her lightness 6. M and instead of that
II. A— M was of her selfe 26. A— M Otanes BD— M print
Gisints in Roman type 27. M that instead of as 28 — 29. A — M
so far engaged 39. A — M auncient Lord 40. C good Castle

300. 2. M Plexirtua 8. C that one child-birth 10. A — M
cunning to winne 15. M by Trebisond 18. C forget
19. A — M private 20. M giving himself 21. M their thought
28. F — M to a death 33. K omits a before Tygre 37. A — L
his beast 39. M there instead of they A — M had in that G — M
monstrous strength

301. 4. F — M to perish 7. BD — M omit inverted commas in
margin 7 — 8. KLM /rz«i? the journey... ways m //a/^Vj ii. A — M
not to trouble 24. D h^ bene 25. M great friends
30. A — M Otanes 38. A— ^R Otanes

302. 30. CDG — M renowned 32. CDG — M renowned
36. KLM of the comparison

303. I. M judges to speak 6. A — M longer from Erona
7. A — M who had made 9. KLM who, seemed a 10. KLM
omit parenthesis 24. KLM omit so M our selves unto 31. K
hath been LM have been 33. A — M And so having

304. II. G — M while I live 17. I — M upon an old 19. F — M
into my mind 25. AC commas in margin 30. A — M shore, so
that they sawe 31. HI insert he after Then 32. GHI came
to the captain 33. HI it would seeme G — M disswaded

305. 7. LM knew in time i6. G — M of the swords 19. L — M
drave us two 21. LM print \ess ev\!i\..,. a. ix\erA in Italics 29. A — M
evill auditours 30. A — M but by being last alive 33. M were

S. A. MM 545

NOTES

reduced M omits when 34. M weary, weary of those 35. M

was fast tied 39. KLM otnit a before fire

306. 6. LM print Si coxavaon... v/SiX in Italics 7. G — M all we
are E — M by some man 13. M till truly 17. M as it
might 22. LM to abide it 25. M omits owne 28. CF — M
to abide 40. KLM such manner

307. II. A — M knew 17. I tell your meeting : for 24. A — M
desired him that 31. H — M transpose so and he

308. 2. KLM and spake 22. A — M And so went 24. KLM
so much molested 28. E — M with such anguish

309. 3. M had been an 11. KLM smiling 34. A — M
fault 37. D though wise

310. 2. M omits and 7. E — M other ofjealousie 8. E — I
transpose "■ finde'''' and "■ r^ 9. M strength u. I Love makes
A wakes the the jealous 15. HI doe doleful 16. I my prayers
prostrate 19. M jewel small

311. 10. KLM cx\&^ save 21. F — M trembling 23. F — M
omit a after such 24. E — M omit such HI o?nit an 25. A
omits for 38. A — M made him runne among

312. I. KLM him for ever 5. FGKLM they verie killing
6. KLM by conquering 10. G — M he had 12. E — M and
his eyes 21. G — M being suter to 23. M he stoopedd

30. A — M upon the side

313. 5. A — M that he should 9. A — M skirmish 14. A — M
stood stock still 24. E — M more outragious 26. M mixt
38. A — M hindering the succour 32. F — M transpose oxiely and the

34. M opening

314. 3. KLM go up to 4. M guess of that A — M the
court gate 9. G — M daring approch 12. KLM his kindness

31. M to their 32. M crueltys 33. K omits the before
principal 38. E — M I am sent

315. 18. G — M looked to M he would never 22. F— M
the farmers 24. A — M al the Gentleme 30. HI mislikings

35. LM the riches 39. LM to dividing

316. 6. LM willing 7. E— ^ omit the 13. M pretence
23. A — M this zealous rage M bent to these 24. A — M there
he instead of Sire 26. C new feared C Here he nether 30. F
It 1 is then G It is I then 31. M omits it 34. C a strangers

37. HI on me 38. M farther 39. LM omit it

317. 5. M omits or KLM omit not 12. KLM to make
13. E — M meannesse 16 — 17. M andetermined 19. A — M
with much labour 26. A — GKLM example a lesson to you HI
example a lesson unto you 31. LM omit with

318. 7. I transposes yon and now 19. A — M such an admirable

38. KLM bent again such 40. M did guide

319. 2. A — M fault on his 20. BDEF shamefastnesse, in
nature, GH shamefastnesse in nature, I shamefac'tnesse in nature :
KLM shamefastness in nature ; 30. M in the peoples

546

NOTES

320. 4. M he had a prologue 5. M omits a 9. HI happy
men 12. C your good Prince BD — HKLM or good Bastlius
ao. A — M never stay 23. HI most upon the 27. KLM
scambling 31. M as the blow 39. M None were

321. I. EF taught then 8. M to heart 11. A— M feeding
wildly 13. A — M in the chase 19. M hereafter 20. A — M
sharp marks 23. BD know this frenzie 32. E — M ushers of
his 34. E — M miles 35. I — M omit a 37. M dancing
38. I boughs

322. 8. G nigh 25. KLM omita.de/oregTea.tness 28. A — M
God wott thought 31. E — M dislike 34. M if your arms

323. 4. BD live or go 18. A — M glorious name of liberty
25. HI omit man FGLM speake to other 31. M funeral
40. KLM omit to l/e/ore your health

324. 5. M thither 13. KLM murthering 18. D what
he did A — M reached not to the E — M hundreth 28. M
farther 37. C then instead 0/ them M in readiness

325. 13. A — M omit commas in margin 15. A — M undiscreete

18. GHKLM safety wrought 21. G — M omit \}ae before xavC^e
23. M Cittern 25. A omits of after spite 27. C has no
division into stanzas L to hel M to hell 30. A — M be
bob'd 33. A — L others 34. AC omit ^* brave^* 38. I
Who have

326. 4. A — M of the cave 5. KLM was it is his 7. A — L
fall 8. A — M omit inverted commas in margin 21. BD — M
come with an 30. A — M this solitarie 39. FGKLM hold in
(in my conceit) one H hold (in my conceit) in one

327. 2. M transposes not and good 9. ABC And uncouth
II. C they beer 13. BD— M In thine 15. GHI shalt

19. F— M unto me 23. A — M chaunceable 24. F — M the
authority

328. 8. HI in that seat 13 — 14. A — M keeping them (while
he lived) unmaried 21. M earthy 22. M do ever shine 23. A— M
spoile 24. A — M omit inverted commas in margin A — M snakish
sinne 25. BD Latonus 27. A — M omit inverted commas in
margin 28. I While brittle C painting 30. M the
knowledge 31. M fruite 34. A — M otnit inverted commas in
margin 35. LM priviledg 39. KLM in the best

329. 7. M farther 13. E — M omit a. 19. C Blangus
38. M omits more

330- 3« C bad so pulled 12. LM transpose*^ Py roc les" and already
13. LM those too 14, E — M insert like before good 30. A — M

bounds 36. L other

331. 2. F — M measure to their false musick 3. F — M wisest

and worthiest 4. E — M omit a before royall 5. H — M found

our unblushing 6. A — M insert though before unjustly 8. C not

in it self 15. A — M messages 18. A — M shee purposed

26. A — M yong- mastered 29. F — M concluding parenthesis instead

of comma after groMiid. 30. M flatters 32. M farther 35. A — M
would be 40. I can excuse

MM 2 547

NOTES

33a. I. HI way for her 11. BD — M murther ag. M

in the two 31. M then taken 3a. A — M begging of life

40. F — M guiltinesse

333. 7. I Princesse 3. A — M women both more 16. B — E
which he had not 30. BD he should yeeld 32. M love of her

38. A — M could give

334- 4. M an year 17. C be the aucthoritie 33. A — M

this practise 37. KLM will to escape 39. F — M should lay

335. 9. A — M from her malice 14. A — M at the humble
16. F — M hated 18. BD — M />rmt Pyramis in Roman type
33. LM of a far

336. 3. F — M by oath E — M omit that i7. A — M any
conditions 74. E — M omit not

337. 9. M a.nd instead 0/ thaX 19. C Noble-men 21. C
of the time 24. B would not do 40. C omits & brother
BD — M recovering of his

33B. I. C omits before 6. H Evarchus 11. KLM

murdered 21. I accomodated him 22. H Evarchus 27. C

omits well 32. H Evarchus 35. M farther 36. A — M
saw allready ready for

339. 4. KLM a skirmish 13. A — M the Reasonable
14. BD— M Reason. Thou 16. BD— M Passion, No 17. BD— M
R. Can 18. BD— M P. If 27. KLM doth ensure 31. A— M
side 34. A — M dimme 37. C your strength 38. C
your weaknes KLM weakned

340. 2. C Reason 3. KLM abode 10. E — M Who to
be weake BD — M do faine 13. A — M Passions yeeld at

21. A— M R. Then let 22. A— M P. Which A— M Passions
kill 32. HI entred speech

341. 6. I vertues 7. A — D mettals 9. E — M soone
change 22. C sheepe 24. M my slavery 32. M be gets

342. 3. A — M his booke BD lover 4. C waild 16. D
thy name 28. KLM no parenthesis after ^* say ^' E — M m^
mischiefs 29. K has a comma after ** refection^'' LM a parenthesis
31. BD fam'd

343* 3' I l^^f^ l^ou mine KLM ear 4. LM do breed

5. L omits ^* a'^ 7. A — M others woe 8. KLM omit*'so*^

23. A — M omit commas in margin 25. A — M omit commas in margin
26. BD — M it is zeale A — M omit commas in margin 27. HI

hates 34. A — L blow M blows A — M no asterisk in margin

344. 12 — 19. the more... requited. This passage is not in the folio
editions

344. 20—348. 27. This dialogue is not in the folio editions

348. 28 — 349. 2. Some speech... persons. This passage is not in the
folio editions, but cf. Appendix/. 564 //. 11, 12, 30

349. 2—3. 5"^<? Appendix /. 564 /. 40 6. ABD — M delight am tyr' d
12. M darkness in my sight 13. A — M Dwell in my ruines, feede
with A — M no comma at end of line 21. A — M conquerd harte

22. KLM no other 37. BD — M of sight a

548

NOTES

350. 3. KLM root 8. HK Klaius instead of Strephon 9. B
But cause 13. M from anchors Hope 23. M the years is
24. A — M no comma at end of line 25. BDG — M Hatefully growne
BDEF sprang G— M sprung 37. A— M Thus, Thus alas, I
had fny

351. I. A — M Thus, Thus alas, I had my 16. I transposes
*' I'' and '' now" ACM shall fall 17. ABDEF souk have hent
CO — M soule have bent 20. KL earthy ai. L earthy
23. A — E heavens sell 27. A — M desastres to me 28. KLM
thou from, 0 mee! 30. M and to dedest 31. M and to detest
32. A — M But now I and end {O K.\a.i\xs) now and end 33. A — M
hatefull musiqtie

35^' 35 — 352- I- So wel... own troubles. C^ Appendix ^ 564 /. 45

352. I — 5. And... unto them. This passage is not in the folio editions
6 — II. Which he in parte to satisfie... uttered. Cf Appendix /. 565 /. 40

12. A — M have'.

Philisides. Echo.

1 4. A— M what barrs me KLM who is that 16. A — M
Oh! I A — M I have mett 17. A — M aproche : then tell me
19. A — M for a grief e 25. A — M Oh! what 27. A — M
which for to enjoy 29. K will no give F — M give me leave
30. A — M thy phy sick 31. KLM say they again A — M thy
advise for tK ev' Us 32. A — M of his harme 35. A — L that
leanes M that learns BD — I to fancie KLM to fantasie
37. KLM made on mee these torments on mee to 38. A — GKLM go
die ? Yea

353. I. KLM from them from mee fat s 3. KLM can that art
bee A — HKLM have ^^ that" instead of '■^ which^'' I omits '■^ which"
KLM by speech 5. HI these words KLM transpose ^'' more"
and '■^ me" C to blisse 7. A — M omit ^^ bad'^ A — M but hoio
8. FGHM what I doe gaine KL what I do again KLM since
under her 10. Instead of this line A — M have the following:

Silly rewarde ! yet among women hath she of vertu the most. Most.

13. LM desire bliss A — M the course. Curse. 14. I Curs' d by

15. A — M be not heard? 16. A — M omit this line 17. A — M
What makes them be unkind f KLM speak forth ha^ st 18. A — M
Whence can pride come BD beautie he thence 22. AC is their

23. Instead of this line A — E have the following:

Tell yet againe me the names of these faire formed to do ev'lls. Dev'lls.
F— I:

Tell yet againe me the names of those faire formed to do evills ? Devills.
KLM:

Tell yet again met the names of those fair formed to doe evills ? Devills.

24. AC Dev'lls ? if in hell such dev'lls do a bide, to the hells I BD Devils?
if in hell such devils do abide, to the hells I E Devils ? if in hell such devil
do abide, to the hells I F — L if in hell such devill doe abide, to the hells I
M if hell such devil do abide, to the hells I 25. A — M omit "After this
well placed Echo," but cf. Appendix/. 565 /. 48 25—35. the other... private
desires, i'^'^ Appendix/. 566/. 19 36. A — E second Eclogues F — I second
Eclogues

549

NOTES

354. II. A — M from looking out 15. KLM omit 21. 19. A — M
beames to thawe awaye 15. A — M omit commas in margin

i8. I — M unexpected 34. M omits that after but

355' 5 — 6. KLM <?wzV his cheere... Hope encouraging (<fjcar/'/>' o»^ /m«
i« F — I) 8. C omits awa.y 15. A — M first up to heaven

16. D mazed KLM omit the lo. KLM omit for 25. I — M
omit so 26. BD — M <;»/?/ It was not an amazement 33. F — M into
lamentation 38. M other but Pamela 39. M despising it,

greedily

356. 7. A — M that image 18. KLM thought good to 19. M
omits to after and 21 — 22. A — M never pen did more quakingly
24. LM omit the before Muses BD — M print Muses in Roman type

34. M omits he M omits 8l before heing A — M ended, was diverse

35. D til this reason

357. 13. A — M not now to grow 22. C craftie wretch

14. KLM last moment 28. I omits ^^ of ^^ 34. KLM cannot
bee hope 37. KLM tears of man

358. I. E — M that do I not conceive 3. ACE — M that do I not
conceive C mouse clime 7. A — M an inly relenting 11. D
love he reserved 12. A — M he thence must A — M only he liv'd
13. F — M the triumphes 14. A— M must I be A — M such
monument ao. A — M Plannets tend 26. KLM omit ^^ me"
after ^^ had" 32. KLM veil 37. D hand- nayls

359- 3- A — M doo so excessive 5. A — M O not HKLM

had afforded 6. C leane D omits '■* a" 7. A — M Love

be so 8. KL boy should bee a M Boy, should he a 11. A — M

such faith be abolisht 13. KLM not yet thus refresh 19. KLM

I worthy then such 21. F — M omit ^^ tnore" 22. BD — M /

well should find

360. 14. G flame of fewel LM flame or farewell 22. KLM
transpose in and of 34. A — M beautiful! might have bene 36. LM
full of graceful 38. F — M omit and

361. 7. G — M to them L who excellencies 14. BD— M
stirred up 17. KLM omit sind 25. F — M omit yet

362. 8. BD — M burthened 10. G — M deliver to them
II. GHKLM smelling grapes 12. KLM childe with Bacchus

15. M cold wine 20. F — M on Zelmane 23. HI transpose
in vaine a«<f crying 25. D omits \}^e before 'vci]\xxy 26. I — M
omit a. before iowre 28. BD — M omit ihzX after i\me 30, A — M
omit of after mile 38. C Princesse

363. 35. C all speaches 36. A— M this country 37, A— M
but younger

364. 2. IKL obtaining 6. KLM of a subjection 8. KLM
of the Ladies 14. M seems 16. G — M my delight 23. I — M
omit on after troden 26. M have need to 28. L stop 29. M
nor instead of or 38. A — M omit commas in margin

365. 2. BDE itwerefaine 5. A — M two daughters 17. A — M
then an ordinary 18 — 19. A — M omit commas in margin KLM
print in all miseries... folks in Italics, all excepted, which is in Roman type

NOTES

33. I fine-wittie 34. A — M these goodly 38. KLM omit

you 39. A — M omit commas in margin

366. 9. E — M transpose Qxt and evQV 11. M may once by
13. A — L under these base M under those base 15. A — M
happie my policy hath brought matters 38. GHKL lovelinesse
38 — 39. A — M omit commas in margin

367. 9. IKLM was not dainty 13. I into instead of unto
16. I tuftes 17. M black lustre 31. KLM murder

368. 2. G— M hapned 22. I motion of her 24. M
transposes her and hear 28. M thy instead of the ai end of line
32. H — M degree of death 33. AC omit am

370. 10— II. A — M degenerate to such a deadly palenesse 24.
A — M assuring him 40. I omits a little

371. 5. LM So that calling 7. I letters to those 9. KLM
motion 10. E ox instead of oi 20. E — M he was then 22. I
humours do blow 27. E — M transpose \\\<\^ and '\xAqg.^q.

372. 21. E — M as it were 26. A — M omit commas in margin
KLM print r\QVf...rQmQdiiQS. in Italics I required I omits th^xe.
28. I states 32. I states A — M he should be assailed

373. 14. A— M bent both his 17. LM rockly 19. LM
if not not impossible 35. D peaceably 36. A— M would serve
37. E — M yeares 40. A — M wittt^ instead of vi'xWs

374. 13. M allotteth 23. BD— M things 40. C standerds
F— M himselfe to talke

375. I. A — M to do some thing 3. A — E hand 5. KLM
about where 31. A — M more beautifull 32. F — M transpose
is and it 35- C when hee

376. 5. A— M Sheseingher 6. A — M ofadesirer 12. F — M
Philoclea to XGCtivQ 21. A— M teares, they hoong upon 23. C
bedewed 24. KLM Art of carefulness 25. I to an neglected
28. C omits no

377. 10. M my eyes 14. G — M misconstrue 18. KLM
say unto you 21. M female inquisitive of 23. BD — HKLM to
burthen 25. HI omit the bejore very

378. 8. A — M reason & wit 12. M or instead of noi 13. LM
emit oi before Yj^q. 20. E omits it 27. A — M with neemesse
36. F — M far re it is

379. 13. A — M with an unspeakable 15. F omits the before
sweet 19. I omits like 23. A — M must come 27. A — M
offend for sullennes 29. F is but a burdenous 33. I omits to
iefore draw 39. A — M is for ever

380. 7. M lose of his former 10. M comfort 21. M
make a just 35. A — M was resolved 37. D reasonably
38. F & constraints must

381. 7. M or those 8. B eloquent with passions through
9. E— M omit no 12. EF being besirers G— M being desirers
18. F Musicke C especiall 31. C as of authoritie
34. ABD— M colon instead of full stop after knots C /rzW^ knots, but in
E — M but she in hart 35. A — D full stop instead of comma after one

NOTES

382. 3. CF— M exprobate 4. M estate : but even 6. B

right better servitude 7. KLM carried away 9. M Amphialus

effectually L lauguishing M languishing 14. E — M omit

beautie 17. A — M Therefore 21. A — M of subtile 24. K

intend 34. A — M even w^here she stood

382. 35 — 383. 22. O all-seeing Light... vertuous Musidorus. KLM
print this prayer in Italics M prints And pausing a while (383. 20)
said she (383. 21) Musidorus (383. 22) in Roman type

383. I. A — M hande 4. A — M unexcuseable 11. LM
that I and thy creature 12. M omits so 13. E — M confidently
on 17* I ifsoseeme 21. KLM becomes of mee 30. D
they hap begun

384. 9. A — M fortune, which shoulde not onely have 14. LM
matcht 22. A — M at lest 36. LM rise

385. 20. HI amated mind 23. H burthen 25. KLM
omit as 27. K of this unassailed 37. A — M scarcely
40. A — M he would hide

386. 4. M omits the after more 18. A — M the country

24. I farther 25. E — M but to view 37. BD — M not knowing

387. 4. F — M rekning 6. HI into his 13. A — M
vampalt 24. I whether the pity A — M revenge against the
other 26. ABD and his hinde to his 34. BDE weapon 36. D
flew in peeces

388. 5. FGHKLM and the grones 11. M accident 13. I
burdens 25. A — M common reason A— GI — M burden
30. CG — M valoure 31. A — M transpose hatred and choller

33. F — M hand 35. A — M exercises

389. 8. A — M in the never 16. KLM went to battel
18. A — M mistrusting those verie guards lest they 24. KLM only
his face for 27. KLM upon his enemy 35. A — M away from
himselfe 37. F — M omit when

390. 2. BD escaping valiant hand ABD by base 10. A — M
But thus with G — M valour 15. E — M thrust just into 19. M
side of the 22. HI Philanax\ KLM Philanax 25. A— HKLM
Deaths 28. F — M see their I murderers 29 — 30. E — I
Philanax sword KLM Philanax'^ sword 31. E — M squire

34. E — I omit\i\% KLM Amphialus's G — M valour 35. E — M
to a most shamefull

391. I — 2. E — M asking advise of no other thought 6. A under
the the hande 10. M towards to him ri. BD — M meaning
to take 15. F — M espied 23. ABC bewaile and untimely

25. E — M falling feete 33. LM the caus of 36. A — M
where being 39. E — I Philanax men KLM Philanax's men

392. 5. KLM black as darkness 7. LM made him know
13. F — M ofter 17. A — M his sword 26. A — M omit commas
in margin 35. I scarcely 36. BD — HKLM armour

393- 5* E — M house 22. F — M right let backeward 30.

KLM Fortune and Valor 35. I cryed unto him

NOTES

394. I. C retreitie 3. KLM ofthesluce 6. F — M re-
turned himselfe 10. A — M gotten a horse 16. D as I could
18. BD subject 19. KLM insert yet after not 30. KLM
seen in the 31. B accord the pretty

395. 6. KLM of her death 9. KLM brains boy I 11. I
thought 12. I pompe C bast desire 14. BD defile the
muddy E — M defile with muddie 18. A — M transpose ^^ doth''' and
** downeward'^ 20. HI omit '■^ how''^ 22. M lid 24. E — M
fifnit this line 32. M Somothea

396. 2. BD — 1 do stow 6. M care 12. D falcone
13. KLM a fair Chariot 26. C glaring shoe 30. M brought
for a mouse 35. KLM As thus I 36. KLM The writing

Nymph

397. 5. E — M humble eyes HI 0 eye E — HKLM Summe
of sight 8. KLM I in who?n all my 14. C I admire 21. C
estate 24. I off-springs spoiTd A — M priests 31. CD
breed 32. D feed 36. LM weakingwork 38. M heavens

398. 24. G — M otherwise 36. E — M all that I

399. 12. M gift 17. C made far to be 19. I Cupids

20. A — G unwarn' d to take H — M tinarm^ d to take 22. E — M
omit mark of ellipsis 24. ABD — L but as a pleasant CM but as
pleasant 37. A — M worthy, then they to be loved

400. 1. F — M to the knowledge 8. F — M receive judgement
22. M and instead of 2LS 24. D ofthebloud 28. K word
30. A — EG — M what a maze A — DI of a mazemet 39. KLM
insert the before knowledg A — M by instead of with KL
Amphialus's his

401. I. M of the Town 16. BE catchword is s&ene but should
be curtesie 25. A — M not visitinge the Princesses 27. A — M
by force to be reskued 30. A — M their songs 33. A — M owne
resolutions 38. A — M humours to prepare 39. . F — M omit
used

402. 8. A — M rugged race 15. A — M sorow that then owed

21. A — M thitherward 26. A — M hands 28. A wherofthe

29. A — E therby 31. F — M unawares 34. M omits an

403. 3. A — M as if it had 6. KLM transpose one and might
10. A — M sorrowe to dresse 13. M omits to 16. E — M
therewith 17. LM fully 28. F — M outward glosse 30. M
omits is 31. M farther 38. F — M is beyond KLM is
a great

404. 12. KLM which is not most notable AC lawe A colon
after \a.v/e 13. A — M become la wes themselves 15. A — EKLM
Feare or Love F — I Feare of Love 18. A — M her onely lippes

30. A — M speake 32. KLM the whole battels 40. G — M
never to suffer

405. 7. KLM honouring it 15. I then she 21. E— M
that would not be 26. G oi oi Autumn 27. I prints '■'■ april
of your age " in Italics 34. A— M hidden 38. KLM imperfection

406. 14. KLM omit that 39. A — M chafe at the

553

NOTES

407. 5. A — M when instead o/hMt 13. HI miserable foolish
34. A — M might have not 35. A — M so if chaunceable 35 — 36.
A — M omti as now being, the not being 38. KLM omii if

408. 3. KLM changeable effects 14. ABD his goodly F— M
omt/ a. de/ore ea.Tlh 15. BD — M height of the ring E — M or
instead o/nor 18 — 19. A — M {7wjVor...of these 20 — 21. A — M
cwz'/ and eternitie...inconstancie 28. F — M absolutly 30. C un-
expresseable F — K unexpressible 31. E — M omit a after without
3^ — 33- I unpossible 33. KLM unless that you will

409. 2. BD name of the sea 4. A — M superscribed 10. H — M
regard any 17. M of the contrarieties 20. I up to so high

22. A — M of a base 25. KL yiel'd M yield 27. KLM
directed to an end of preservation 35. A — M this beastly absurditie

410. I. A — M omit so 2. KLM print Books... defects in /ta/ics
4. KLM need 21. M be known F — M if there were

23. F — M if his knowledge 30. M dissembling thoughts 38 — 39.
A — M ougly shamefulnes

411. 9. F — M so fowle 12. A — M amazement of a M self-
excusing 33. LM both by any more

412. 14. C sailles 16. BD— M of the place 19. E — M
then to 20. M equital 21. I ofuits side 27. A — M who
refrained 32. C obeience A — M and so had 33. A — M
knowledges

413. 4. M both safe by 7. KLM consider he was A — M
and instead o/hut 15. M matter E— M dislike 21. ABE — M
will armed KLM comma before dirrcied 22. A — yi omit wiW 23. M
be prisoner 33. A — M omit much 37. I Philantus

414. 7. A — M from any 10. G — M valour 10 — 11. KLM
print txMe...o{\ioxiO\ in Italics 21. KLM reprehension 22. M
effect the glory 28. LM them a charge 31. A — M whence
she might 32. KLM And so soon as

415. 2. KLM and goodly ro. H ofatawnie 11. BD — M
figures 20. A — M facing the castle 25. KLM an hors
26. A — E freckned F — M freckled M stain 29. KLM when
he came

416. I. E yet hunts it 5. A— M any thing to say to him
12. A — M Sunne in a cleare day shines 13. BD — M pawing upon
the M farther foot 15. G — M trumpets A — M sounding
AKD — HK together, Together they ILM together, together they 17.
E — M into the rest 19. M omits a before pleasant 24. F— M
breath of the other 25. E — M ^w:V but 36. A — M omit the
before one D prints on instead of one F — M till they being
E — M come to the 40. M guided his blow

417. 3. KLM customed 5. A — M such force 7. M
farther 9. E — I Amphialus horse KLM Amphialus's hors 13. M
farther E — I Fhalantus horse KLM Pha lantus' s hors 17. I
burthening 18. A — M omit & 19. A — M insert and before
seeing 23. M farther 24. M omits yet 25. F — I bring
to me the 32. A — M boiling into his 35. KLM print great
spending... remnants in Italics

554

NOTES

418. t. A — M disdaining 14. DG — M renowned

419. 9. LM sh.ee instead 0/ he 16. K transposes to and hee
28. KLM slave of weakness

420. 7. G — M his quarrel 19. BD — M encreased their
21. A — M omit semi-colon after \iie A — GKLM semi-colon instead
of comma after one HI colon 22. A — M ever bred 32. F — M
lothsomnesse 35. A — M grew pale 37. ABC rocked a sleepe
D — M rocked asleepe

421. 4 — 5. A — M imported 10. A — M But by that time
12. LM adventurers

422. 3. A — M Where understanding 10 — 22. M prints this
passage in Italics, Amphialus excepted, which is in Roman type 13 — 14. A
and and make 14. A — M to heaven 15. F — M omit the before
wings G — M valor 18. E — M omit as 23. F — L print
this line in Italics KLM To his A — M transpose (\Mic\ie\y and he
14 — 34. M prints this passage in Italics, Argalus excepted, which is in Roman
type 24. D -wore instead of more 36. A — M was al guilded
D gmAed instead of gmided 37. HI womens 38. F — M and
so spred 39. M out in the

423. 6. M worn in the Just, in time that 8. A — M In his shield
II. KLM of fierie BD backe list 21. M farther 22. A— M
the staves HIM unshaken 24. A — M Argalus horse 28. I
with striking 30. A — M maisters

424. I. A — I Amphialus disarmed KLM Amphialus 's disarmed
i. KLM force of Amphialus 5. I — M extend A — M blow
16. HI and mortall 17. A — M had over striken 25. AC
arispe instead of snise 29. AC dissending BD descending 30. I
each on his 31. F — M garnished in bloud 32. HI rose with

425. 8. A — M of his best blood 11. KLM so instead of as after
not 21. AC semi-colon after sohhes 27. A — M as ever your
harte 29. MI might 33. D unwelcome to me 34. A — M
Is that

426. I. D effect 2 — 3. M friendship of the codquerer 7. M
if he had him 12. M to rest himself 26. F — M fallen? how
wert 30. LM omit m 31. A— M thou lead me

427. I. A— M omit second my deare 26. CE — HKLM her
woman 27. A — M into the boat 28. A — M she would not
depart KLM com on the other 31. A— D these warlike E — M
their warlike 34. LM all was easful

428. 3. E — I Amphialus fame KLM Amphialus 's fame EF
such was was his 4. M till did but 13. M forth to him 20. I
others

429. I. BDEF merily G— M merrily 6. BD— M print
throughout '■^ Dametas^'' 10. K that every went 21. A — M
every body helping on 25. A — M omit and 29. A — M panting
33. A — M omit not after " Amphialus " 36. A — M him, that by
next morning

430. 10. LM omit to 14. HI from divers horses A — M
eoulour nor fashion 19. A — M with a great number of armes

555

NOTES

16. A— M dog, and there is 30. A — M caused in a border about to

33. E — M impatience 34. F in the land 35. I waited on

him

431. 16. A — D Damatas-xs friend 18. G — M the Letter

22. KLM omit '■'■ as" 26. A — M with all my 29. E— M
paines 30. HI omit^'-r^ C omits *^ such" 31. B The
terrible words 32. A — D DamatasAs, courage E — I Dametas
courage KL Dameta 's courage M Dametas 's courage 33. E
thundrings 36. ABD — M this answere

432. I. C i7//«Vj (having... horsebacke) E — M into the 5—8. C
omits (the Gentlemen. . .scituated) and puts a semi-colon after little 5. F — M
Gentleman 8. ABD — M for being 11. K inconveniencies
15. C ^»z?Vj (contrarie... vices) 17. C <7w?Vj (if he were overcome)
and puts a semi-colon after use 27. C omits (chosen for the purpose)
and puis a comma after ]yxdgQS 31. A — M Damaias \iorse 33. BC
jogd blacke with 34. C omits that

433. 6. C whenwewas 19. M withal began to strike 20. A — M
started back a good way 25. E — M omit oi 26. A — L could
leade him 28. M followed him with 39. KLM used to the
flail

434. 13. F — M to rise 19. BD sleepish A — M quietnes
iwj/^a^^countenaunce 30. F — M upon his

435. 2. A — M to his practize 11. F — M forced himselfe

14. F framed no smiling 20. C free scope 22. BD — M
himselfe unto 26 — 27. A — EG — M sorisoi the Amphialians F sorts of
the Amphilians 28. E — M discontent 32. A — M to his lure
33. A — M of the six

436. 5. M that one of them 6. KLM omit had 7. M
than an ordinary 16. BD — M condemned C hie hatred Pamela
31. M got 32, A — M a seate 33. D comfort A — M
discomforts

437. 10. D praise 16. D then creation 36 — 37. I trans-
poses wearied and wounded

438. 5. A — M afterwardes to a promised gratefulnes towards 15. L
destroying of her M destruction of her 20. C farther 28.
A — DF — M thy wretched wiles E they wretched wiles 31. I spake
somewhat with

43^- 39 — 439* i- ^^ /r?«/ who do... inferiors z« //a//Vj

439. 5. M according to Merits 7. A — M bare to Ismenus

15. A — D was occasio of the E — M was by occasio of the 16. HI
Evardes 17. HI exceeding strong 19. F — M of parts worthy

23. M farthest-fetcht 28. HI inflexible 32. C side-gate

440. 15. F — M murthered I transposes he and did 18. A — M
omit commas in margin 35. I transposes once and had

441. 9. F — M insert any before company 30. E walles, which
was a 35. D all possessed mindes

44a. I. B — M omit division into stanzas A — M to see my wrongs

for 4. A — M his center keepeth 8. A — M night of evils 9. E

5S6

NOTES

Alas alonly F — M Alas alonely 21. ABCE — M helpes 22. I

kerslam 24. A — M she makes of rne no treasure 25. I seeming

weary 36. CD sayled out with

443. 7. KLM he was 9. A — M were excused by the 29.
E — M omit and ABCEF omit with 33. C three adventures
37. I lighted GHKLM beames of their 38. G— M valour
40. D examples

444. I. KLM of this fight 12. A — M following over-earnestly
15 — 16. A — M omit commas in margin KLM /rz«/ courage... man-
hood in Italics

445- 5- AM omit commas in margin KLM /W«/ unwelcom...

injury in Italics M taisprints unwtleome 9. M not only for the

anlookedforness 13. A — M them a servant of 20. D omits

alreadie 22. A — M whereon the one KLM was ready dead

26. M send a Damosel 28. F — M have done KLM as glad

as any 32. M entertained 37. B then enemie

446. 13. I befriended enemy F — M omit iht after yf'ith 14.
F — M running of him 17. A — M as of having 19. A — M omit
commas in margin BD — M victorie with advantage 27. A — M
whe in the 29. A — M omit parenthesis 37. B betrayed the hart
39. A— L & in the fall

447. 22. H looking upon 33. A — M loath to departe

448. 4. CKLM bands united 12. D up her eyes and
13. BD which lift the 20. CKLM beauty from the 21. C
when that infallible 23. BD — M ^wiV it a/?(?r perceiving 24. A — M
passion 26. A — M falling upon the earth & crying 31. E — M
being m5/.?a^ ^ they having bene 34. C could handes 37. A — M
tell such rare

449. I . BD was as subject to 4. A — M omit foorth A — M
who was come into 11. A — M needes lende his 14. E — M of
a faithfuU 15. BD making of the marble E — M making of two marble
16. M ^a«7?«j caused himself A — M add the following epitaph :

The Epitaph.
IS being was in her alone:
And he not being, she was none. [M gone'\
They JoCd one Joy, one griefe they griev'd^
One love they lav d, one life they liv'd.
The hand was one, one was the sword
That did his death, hir death afford.
As all the rest, so now the stone
That tombes the two, is justly one.

Argalus & Parthenia.
C omits division into stanzas

450. 5. G — M full of their 23. D all his mishaps 28. A — M
So as all that 29. D — M and in the 30. BD the delight began
to restore to each boy his

451. 18. A — M could no loger patch up 21. G maried the yong
27. M but by denyal 30. E — M then they should look 36 — 37.
A — M omit commas in margin KLM /rm/ lust may... servant t» //a/;Vj
37. HI indeed, is a servant

557

NOTES

452. 4. E — M omitii 9. KLM //-/«/ No is no... mouth m //a/rVy
10. B — M omit commas in margin C speaking of a woma 10 — 11.
KLM /rm/ a lover's... liked m //a/?Vj 17, F — M example ao. D
gotten an habite 33. M on both sides 30. C Jubiter I the
manerly- wooing 35, BD — M who wold never like

453. 4. ABCEG — M over-superstitiously DF over-superstiously
5. C same Ladies 9. E — M who prayeth 9 — 10. LM print
yf\io...ohey&A in Italics 28. M a Gentlewoman of

454- 3- G if thou liked not 5. M such an answer 6. I

transposes ih.ovL and \\a.&t 9. A — M inward affliction 31. D yet

also A — M daintely joyned 37 — 38. A — M by an excellent

painter excellently painted, with

455. I. E — M omit -wxih. M prints \\&% in Italics 4. A — M
forced favour 9. ABD — M formed into C formed in to 15. KLM
Qatoblepas 18. M beasts 1%. A — M this combat 35. BD — M
upon the quarrell 39. F — M that I confesse

456. 8. KLM neither staying 16. M omits set 17. A — M
omit nowe HI most curteous 20. D not tire 22. A — M
fetching still new spirit 23. A — M keeping their sight that way as a
matter of 28. E — M motion of the Sunne 30. F — M omit his
31. E — M that instead o/hoih

457. 2. BD — M assuring trust 4. F — M their horses 6. KLM
advantages 17. A — M stayning their blacke couler, as if 18 — 19.
M so along a space 29. HI as well as his 30. F — M came
to himselfe 34. E — M his sword 39. A — M omit he was

458. 9. M was upon on his 26. CD but a morsel 29. A — M
brought to fresh feeding 31. F — M of this manner of fight

459. II. A — M strake him so mightie 16. M force give place
18. ABCE — M also was driven D was driven also A — M the
Sterne of cunning 23—24. M when only I 24. E— M fought
causelesse 31. F — M into this place 37. M ashamed E
my soule 40. D with thy owne

460. 26. C tale ship 26 — 27. KLM print make \iuto... com-
iparison in Italics 34. M blow 35. M one of these

461. I. FGI the latter 2. A— M hope 3. F— M brake
out into these 38. I seemed after-drops KLM of a storm

462. 8. BD — M burthen LM (or instead of foe 23. C
silver sprangles 27. A — M began a most fierce 35. LM most
to deliver 36. E — HKLM most of all that I almost all that
39. F — M omit the be/ore one

463. 10. HI omit them 13 — 14. M conveying him 19. B
that hast BD— M battered the most 26. M would not have so

464. 10. ABCEF Amphialus-\% D Amphilalus-'xs E— M to
a diligent 11. C no sailes 14. A — M and he gave 16. H — M
one to another 17. BD — GK Chirurgians HLM Chirurgions I
Chirurgious 19. I— M waiting on it 27. GHKLM or instead
of nor

465. 8. BD— GK Chirurgians HILM Chirurgions 12. D
only to him 19. A — M because she would be the 31. HI in
a womanly

SS8

NOTES

466. 4. A — M among a people 7. D out of her nose 14.
E — T Amphialus succession KLM Amphialus' s succession 25. A — M
heard from his beloved M departed from 39. A — M omit
commas in margin

467. 1. LM and therefore is 3. A — M omit commas in margin
F — M it pleaseth 3 — 4. KLM /Jr^w/ in extremities... of life /« //a/eVj
II. FGHKLM in amaze 28. F — M great, so to forethinke
33 — 34. KLM /r««/ promiss...threatning w //a/?Vj 33 — 37. A — M
omit commas in margin

468. I. E — I Amphialus ambition KLM Amphialus 's ambition
9 — 10. CDF — M omit commas in margin 11 — 13. ABE commas in
margin 23. A — M are but feare-babes -27 — 31. CDF — M omit
commas in margin 28. A — E of a people

469. I — 2. A — F Philanaxis haxids 11. A — M But she by this
meanes 21. KLM perswasions 27. D sweete holinesse

470. 19. D omits same 22. E — M noise of

471. 7. KLM wall 29. G — M full stop instead of comma after
that F — M omit and 30. E — M for a certaine G — M labour
33. A — M omit comma after " Cecropias''^ 38. A — M So that with
silence 39. G — M hammered on by G — M abode her pitilesse

472. 13. F — M working 18. E — M would die F — M
then to bee false 27. K though the clouds affliction 28. M self
instead of €i& 32. KLM shee used to her 39. F — M but thou canst

473. 4. I her doing with their suffering 7. KLM she was in

11. D when in open 14. A — I Musidorus X.e.zxt% KLM Musidorus's
tears

474. 7. A — M set in the eyes of men, to be 13. A — M sorest
torment 22. I wherin they knew E — M they should be
25. BD — M further off 29. F — M to their enemie

475. 6. I owle-eyed 7. F — M interprete it 11. KLM
but the best way 14. E — M do so much 22. E — M bee in
time 23. K of so a fair Lady 25. B — M omit commas in
margin 37. KLM driven to stay

476. I. D aside ward 10. E — I of peevish 14. G — M
both with bitter termes 28. KLM also vaulted 32. ABCE— M
looke one to another D looke one to an other 34. E — K But then
the houre 35. BD — GKLM beginne, and curtaynes HI begin, and
the curtains

477. I. KLM mouth to her 12. A — M even minding to
18. I at the first 30. I life into her 31. D when it was
36. E — M gone to a beautified heaven 37. ABD — M hast left me
C hath left me 38. D ever did lament

478. I. KLM most cursed 10. DKLM shepeheards apparell

12. A — M O my God 20. M what I am born 21. D happie
in my selfe 22. A — M had chanced unto me 24. E — M insert a
3^r^ lamentable 25. KLM if stir 'd

479. 9. KLM more sensible 10. G Philiclea 20. A — M
was most likely both to move 25. D extremities 29. D that
instead of the after understood

559

NOTES

480. 7. G — L nor halfe 27. I — M how she should deale
33. A — M ofthatbeautie 35. CM the woman 39. D to be
their

481. 5. M omits that after with 7. E — M no leasure A — M
turne it selfe into 9. D of the heart

482. 7. E — M omit %o 17. KLM omit wzs 10. E — M
uncertainty 32. A — M taking his woonted

483. 3. BD — M over her face 6. ABD — M borowed her beautie
C hoxxo^- {end of line) \iQxht3L\x\.\Q 9. D omits d,n before zmt^zem^nX.
21. F — M cariedbythe 22. F nor having 31. A — M Revenge,
Revenge unto him 35. KLM omit it 37. E — M destroying
of himself 39. K omits to after accessarie

484. 5. D omits he 9. ABCE — M into all his D into his
10. F — M teares, nor with a 18. C Unpappie 21. AC un-
happie hast, that haste 23. D to thy owne 28. I omits I after
loved 31. A — M hast leift thy love in me 32. KLM they revenge
35. M look on thee when he gave the

485. 3. E — M that I would willingly 5. D with her is al my
hope 7. D can justice 12. KLM upon earth 13. BD
all my misfortunes C mis-fortune 28. M till I as it 30.
A — M omit he 33. E — M death unto you

486. 6. KLM wayling 9. KLM in the despite of 12.
BD — M dead on that condition 26. A — M building 31. E — M
though I do bemone 32. F — M reason so to doe 34. F — M
omit had 38. AC But that the speech

487. 8. D aske for thee 9. M whose from 26. A — M
therefore bee comforted 33. A — M with teares of joy 37. BD
chiefe part indeed of all

488. I. E— M omitxio^ 6. BD— M farthest 10. A— L
into of cruelly tormenting our M into of cruelty termenting our 14.
A — M indeede it was not my sister 27 — 28. M so they had set
31. I but when they 35. B neither to receive

489. 2. LM with that joy 6—7. KLM torment 7. F
that of one of my 8. IM proceeds from 13. KLM omit the
before imprecations D imprecation 14. M farther 15. D
want of libertie 20. D of a abundance 25. CF — M prepare
thy selfe for the 35. C well-come be all my miseries 36. D
I pittie 37. D finde in mine

490. 10. M frame his mind 18. E — L contrarieties M con-
traries 19. KLM \i\i.\. instead of \io\}a. 23. A — M now they
would have done it 25. M we might 32. BD — M who could
lively 33. KLM should lively paint the lightsom 34. A — I
finding then betweene 36. A — M his instead of with after sealed up

49X. I. BDEF moning lips 3. E — M otnithzA 9. E — M

messengers 10. A — F brought answeres 11. M to in indite

A— M unfortunate affection 15. M with the countenance 22. D

mortall hatred 26. M to the possession 27. K their crueltie

28. C ungodly 31. LM with his speech 34. D omits most

560

NOTES

492. 7. LM of great punishment 11. A — M was upon the top
15. K with his matter 33. BD— GKLM murdered 39. KLM
transpose enough and miserable

493. 3. HI Philoxinus 7. KLM Ismenius o. KLM
my instead of Xhy 10, D i\\t instead of i)\y 32. M by that means
D his double

494. I. E — M omit z. before gooA 9. M given me by other
event 24. A — M omit there before giving 32. D in their
destruction

495. 14. A — M omit np 15. I eyes levelled A— M from
top to toe 32 — 33. M difficulties 33. G — M valour

496. 24. A — M breathing nothing but 28. E — M all the former
34 — 35. KLM transpose yet and made 36. A — M strange disasters

497. 2. D transposes hast and thou 4. A — M but to weepe
9. LM thy faith to 12. BD— M wert disdained 25. E— M
perfection

498. «3. A commas in margin

498. 30 — 502. 19. Among the x^%\....hath made glorious. In all the
folio editions this passage is to be found in the fourth Eclogues C omits

divisioti into stanzas

498* 35* A — M Who most the silly 38. C bark

499. I. A — M braunches cleave 14. M all the Sun 15. M
The bowels KLM will ail 19. IM Princes weare ao. M
Tell these 21. I foretokens 25. M these words 30. KLM
all words 32. C stars in constant constant

500. 6. A — M omit commas in margin C Too well 8. G
that tbou no 9. E — M mourning night 19. I be full spent
24. E daily raving 25. ACE 6 Sinne 27. AC set the triumph

30. ACD by the pompe 34. M it still 35. LM its self

501. 14. F— M his Just 17. F— M all that life 39. A— M
omit commas in margin

502. 4. M of her sight C oj our fight 12. BD grow our
14. F — M For such deepe 26. A — M consort of whose mourning
27. A — M naturall tunes of 29. F — M having before both their

31. G — M valour 32. A — M value

503. 6. M brothers 13 — 14. A — M omit commas in margin
19 — 20. E — M whom she most dearely 22. E-^M by byding
24. I lost sound 33. ABCE Pamela steppes 38. D would not
have

504. 6. BD — M in time past 11. M extremit 14. E — M
have no comma after sadly and put a semi'Colon after desperately 22. A — D
them was E — M then was 23. A — M bringing force 26. BD
his brother 28. F— M with still intention 37. E— M upon
his pride

505. I. F — M 2\x&2Ay instead of x^dAy 4. G — M Fame\iZ.\h
not 21 — 23. BD <7z«jV be tied... thou so much

506. 6. A — M overcome braver Knightes 8. HI Evardes
1 4. H — M Evardes 37. A — M much worse to skolde

S. A. NN 561

NOTES

507. 6. E — M omit2ii ir. C courtesie, end put 16. DG — M
more bragged 31. D had eyes 32. BD— M set it in her
memorie

508. 15. F — M unexpected 18. Between ** Fortune^' and since
A — M imert since our owne parents are content to be tyraunts over us
a8 — 29. B — M omit commas in margin 35. B — M omit commas
in margin A — M then will bee the time

509. 7. I gave consent 25. KLM the measure of that
40. KLM he hath found

510. 6. A — M therefore detaining 8. M to enquire 10. KLM
was sufficient 13. BD — M prophecying 15. KL incrudelity
23. B — M omit commas in margin 24, KLM oblations 26.
B — M omit commas in margin 29. KLM durst any one 33. C
with noble arte

511. 2. F — M hy Amp hialus 5. G — M his desires, it 11.
A — F Anaxius priviledge GKL Anaxiu's priviledge HIM Anaxius*s
priviledge 13. F — M daughter 26. BD — M take that away
F — M runnings 27. F — M worthy men 28. E — M they
went headlong 30. C were described

512. 18. BD — M have their beleefe 19. A — M servant
26. D omits if 27. C having hard all this 29. D these
excellent 36. D either for

513. 19. D such a one 23. E — M omit but 32. KLM
stronger nimbleness 37. D mistresse

514. I. M Proserpine 18. B — M omit commas in margin
E — M valour 26. A — M insert a before spoile E — M insert a
before fight 32. AC this whole globe 35. C looke one

515. 4. I on the inside 25. E — M insert the before humane
26. FGHKLM as if hee lifted

516. 7. LM But when Pity 10. KLM omit a after such
17—18. E— M therewith 18. KLM yet hee did 20. KLM
and that in all the 29. BD — M remembring of what 40. KLM
omit as before glorie

517. 3. F — L semi-colon after revenging E — M injuries C
slauchter i8 — 19. I perchance such 20. A — M that great body
23. KLM so they did differ

518. 3. A — M So that consenting 20. BD — M more terrible
36. D sayings

519. 6. E — HKLM manly 9. A — M omit him 11. M
as never having don so much

562

APPENDIX

The Eclogues being distributed in a different manner in all the folios, x
append here an outline of the Eclogues as printed in 1593, giving the prose para-
graphs which were then introduced. Such poems as appeared in 1593 for the
first time will be printed in vol. ii.

THE FIRST ECLOGES.

Basilius, because Zelmane so would have it etc, [see p. 126. 1. i — p. 132.
1. 7 incl.].

Dorus did so well in answering Thyrsis, that every one desired to heare
him sing something alone. Seing therfore a Lute lying under the Princesse
Pamelas feete glad to have such an errand to approch her, he came, but came
with a dismaied grace, all his bloud stirred betwixt feare and desire. And
playing upon it with such sweetenes, as every bodie wondered to see such skill
in a shepeheard, he sang unto it with a sorrowing voice these Elegiake verses :

Dorus. — Fortzme, Nature, Love, long have contended about me,
Which etc. \see vol. ll.].

Dorus when he had soong this, having had all the while a free beholding ot
the faire Pamela (who could well have spared such honor, and defended the
assault he gave unto hir face with bringing a faire staine of shamefastnes unto
it) let fall his armes, and remained so fastened in his thoughts, as if Pamela had
graffed him there to growe in continuall imagination. But Zelmane espying it,
and fearing he should too much forget himselfe, she came to him, and tooke
out of his hand the Lute, and laying fast hold of Philocleas face with her eyes,
she soong these Sapphikes speaking as it were to hir owne hope.
If mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande.
Or mine etc. [see p. 143. 1. 15 — p. 144. 1. 8 incl.^

Great was the pleasure of Basilius, and greater would have bene Gynacias,
but that she found too well it was intended to her daughter, As for Philoclea
she was swetely ravished withall. When Dorus desiring in a secret maner to
speake of their cases, as perchance the parties intended might take some light
of it, making lowe reverence to Zelmane^ began this provoking song in
hexameter verse unto her. Whereunto she soone finding whither his words
were directed (in like tune and verse) answered as foloweth :

Dorus. Zelmane.
Dorus. Lady reservd by the heavens to do pcuiors company honnor,
Joyning etc. [see vol. 1 1.].

563

APPENDIX

What exclaming praises Basilius gave to this Ecloge any man may ghesse,
that knowes love is better then a paire of spectacles to make every thing seeme
greater which is sene through it : and then is never tongue tied where fitt
commendation (whereof womankinde is so likerouse) is offered unto it. But
before any other came in to supplie the place, Zelmane having heard some of
the shepheards by chaunce name Strephon and Klaius, supposing thereby they
had bene present, was desirous both to heare them for the fame of their
frindly love, and to know them, for their kindenesse towardes her best loved
frinde. Much grieved was Basilius, that any desire of his mistresse should
bee unsatisfied, and therefore to represent them unto hir (aswell as in their
absence it might be) he commaunded on Lamon, who had at large sett down
their country pastimes and first love to Urania to sing the whole discourse
which he did in this manner.

A Shepheards tale no height of stile desires
To raise etc. {see vol. Ii.].

As Lamon would have proceded, Basilius knowing, by the wasting of the
torches that the night also was farre wasted, and withall remembring Zelmanes
hurt, asked hir whither she thought it not better to reserve the complaint
of Klaius till an other day. Which she, perceiving the song had alreadie
worne out much time, and not knowing when Lamon would ende, being even
now stepping over to a new matter, though much delighted with what was
spoken, willingly agreed unto. And so of all sides they went to recommend
themselves to the elder brother of death.

The end of the first Booke.

THE SECOND ECLOGUES.

The rude tumult of the Enispians gave occasion etc. [see p. 339. 1. 1 —
p. 344. 1- 9 i^^-l

When they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants, especiallie of
Zelmane, who never forgat to give due comendatios to her friend Dorus,
Basilius called for Latnon to end his discourse of Strephon & Klaius, wher-
with the other day he marked Zelmane to have bene exceedingly delighted.
But him sicknes had staied from that assemblie. which gave occasion to Histor
and Damon two yonge shepheards, taking upo them the two frendly rivalles
names, to present Basilius with some other of their complaints Ecloge-wise,
and first with this double Sestine.

Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon. Yee Goteheard Gods, that love the grass ie mountaines,
Ye Nymphes etc. [see p. 141. 1. 4 — p. 143. 1. 9 incl.].

But, as though all this had bene but the taking of a taste of their wailings,
Strephon againe begS this Dizaine, which was answered unto him in that kind
of verse which is called the crowne.

Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon. I Joy in grief e, and doo detest all joyes :

Despise delight etc. [see p. 349. 1. 5 — p. 351. 1. 34 incL\

So well were these wailefull complaints accorded to the passions of all the
princely hearers, while every one made what he heard of another the ballance
of his owne fortune, that they stood a long while striken in a sad and silent

564

APPENDIX

consideration of them. Which the olde Geron no more marking then con-
demning in them, desirous to set foorth what counsailes the wisedome of age
had layde up in store against such fancies (as he thought) follies of youth (yet
so as it might not apeare that his wordes respected them) bending himselfe to
a young shepheard named Philisides, (who neither had daunced nor song with
them, and had all this time layne upon the ground at the foote of a Cypresse
tree, leaning upon his elbowe with so deepe a melancoly that his sences caried to
his minde no delight from any of their objects) he strake him upon the shoulder,
with a right old mans grace, that will seeme livelier then his age will afford
him, And thus began unto him his Ecloge.

Geron. Philisides.
Geron. Up, up Philisides, let sorrowes goe,
Who yelds etc. [see vol. ii.].

Geron was even out of countenance, finding the words he thought were so
wise, winne so little reputation at this young mans hands ; and therefore some-
times looking upon an old acquaintance of his called Mastix, one of the
repiningest fellows in the world, and that beheld no body but with a minde of
mislike (saying still the world was amisse, but how it should be amended, he
knew not) sometimes casting his eyes to the ground, even ashamed to see his
gray haires despised, at last he spied his two dogges, whereof the elder was
called Melampus, and the younger Lctlaps (in deede the Jewells he ever had with
him) one brawling with another ; which occasion he tooke to restore himselfe
to his countenance, and rating Melampus, he began to speake to his doggs, as
if in them a man should finde more obedience then in unbridled young men.

Geron. Mastix.
Geron. Do7vne, downe Melampus; what? your fellow bite?
I set you etc. [see vol. II.].

And away with his doggs streight he went as if he would be sure to have
the laste worde : all the assemblie laughing at the lustines of the olde fellowe
who departed muttering to himselfe he had sene more in his dales then twentie
of them. But Basilhis, who never before had heard Philisides (though having
seldome failed to be at these metings) desired him hee wouHe begin some
Ecloge with some other of the shepheardes according to the accustomed guise.
Philisides though very unwilling, at the Kings comaundmet offred to sing with
Thyrsis. But he directly refused him, seing, he should within few dayes be
maried to the faire Kala ; and since he had gotten his desire he would sing no
more. Then the king willed Philisides to declare the discourse of his owne
fortunes unknowen to them as being a stranger in that countrie but hee praied
the King to pardon him, the time being farre to joyfuU to suffer the rehearsall
of his miseries. But to satisfie Basilius someway, hee began an Eclogue be-
twixt himselfe and the Echo, framing his voice so in those desert places as what
wordes he would have the Echo replie unto, those he woulde sing higher then
the rest ; and so, kindelie framed a disputation betwixt himselfe and it, which
with these hexameters in the following order he uttered.

Philisides. Echo.

Faire Rocks, goodly rivers^ sweet woodSy when shall I see pecue ? Peace,
Peace? etc. [see p. 352. 1. 12 — p. 353. 1. 24 incl.].

Philisides was commended for the placing of his Echo, but little did he
regarde their praises, who had sett the foundation of his honour there, wher
hee was most despisde : and therefore retorning againe to the traine of h

NN 3 565

APPENDIX

desolate pensivenes, Zelmanes seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her
long restrayned conceates did now burst out of prison : she thus desiring her
voice should be accorded to nothing, but to Philocleas eares, threw downe the
burden of her minde in Anacreous kinde of verses.

My muse what aiPs this ardour

To blase etc. [see vol. ii.].
Basilius when shee had fully ended her song, fell prostrate upon the ground,
and thanked the Gods they had preserved his life so longe, as to heare the very
musicke they themselves used, in an earthly body. And then with like grace
to Zelmane never left intreating her till she had (taking a Lyra Basilius helde
for her) song these Fhaleuciakes

Reason, tell me thy mind, if here be reason

In this strange etc, [see vol. II.].
Dorus had long he thought kept silence from saying, somwhat which might
tend to the glorie of her in whom all glory to his seeming was included, but
nowe hee brake it, singing these verses called Asclepiadikes.

0 sweet woods the delight of solitarines!

0 how much etc. [see vol. ii.].
The other Shepeheards were offring themselves to have continued the
sportes, but the night had so quietlie spent the most parte of herselfe among
them that the king for that time licesed the. And so bringing Zelmane to her
lodging, who would much rather have done the same for Phtloclea, of all sides
they went to counterfett a sleepe in their bedd, for a trewe one there agonies
could not aforde them. Yet there they Lay (so might they be moste solitarie
for the foode of their thoughts) til it was neere noone the next day, after which
Basilius was to continue his Appollo devotions, and the other to meditate upon
their private desires.

The end of the second Eclogues.

The follotuing variations have been noted between the text printed above
from A and the other folios :

563. 17. KLM had sung thus 18. M transposes well and h3ive
29. E maner so to

564. 4. E mankind is so LM liquorish 39. LM state of
their wailings 47. F — M a good while KLM in sad & silent

565. 10. LM this Eclogue 33. C to the customed guise
48. KLM the place of his 49. HI omit sett after had LM
foundations

566. I. C Zelmane 2. KLM long constrained conceits
4. BD— M Anacreons 8. KLM as hear the x6. KLM
Asclepiades 21. KLM licensed them to depart 23. I beds
DF their agonies a6. I to mediate aS. F— I print Eclogues
in Roman type KLM have ^* Book''' instead of ^* Eclogues^'

566

ALPHABETICAL TABLE OF THE
PERSONAGES IN ARCADIA

[ The following Table does not contain the Personages
introduced in the Eclogues. '\

Aeschylus, Bk. iii, Ch. 7

Agenor, brother of Philanax, Bk. ill, Ch. 7, 8

Amiclas, King of Lacedaemon, Bk. I, Ch. 5, 7, 8

Amphialus, nephew of Basilius, Bk. i, Ch. 10, 11, 15, Bk. ii, Ch. 11, 15,

18, 37, Bk. Ill, Ch. 2 — 9, II — 18, 23, 24, 25
Anaxius, nephew of Euardes, Bk. ii, Ch. 18, 19, 24, Bk. iii, Ch. 15, 19,

25—29
Andromana, Queen of Iberia, Bk. I, Ch. 16, Bk. ii, Ch. 15, 20, 21
Antiphilus, Bk. ii, Ch. 13, 14, 23, 24, 29
Arcadia, King of, see Basilius
Argalus, Bk. I, Ch. 5—8, 16, Bk. ill, Ch. 12, 16
Argos, King of, Bk. ill, Ch. 4
Armenia, King of, see Tiridates
Armenia, Queen of, see Artaxia

Artaxia, Queen of Armenia, Bk. I, Ch. 16, Bk. ii, Ch. 13, 15, 19, 23, 29
Artesia, Bk. i, Ch. 15 — 17, Bk. in, Ch. 2, 14, 21, 23

Baccha, Bk. i, Ch. 16, Bk. 11, Ch. 22
Barzanes, King of Hyrcania, Bk. ii, Ch. lo, 13

Basilius, King of Arcadia, Bk. i, Ch. 3, 4, 13 — 17, 19, Bk. ii, Ch. i, 4, 11,
12, 15, 16, 25 — 28, Bk. Ill, Ch. 2, 4, 8, 9, II — 13, 15, 16, 18 — 20, 25, 27
Bithynia, King of, Bk. 11, Ch. 22, 23

Cecropia, mother of Amphialus, Bk. i, Ch. 11, 15, 19, Bk. ii, Ch. 27, 28,

Bk. Ill, Ch. 2 — 6, 9 — 12, 14, 17 — 24
Chremes, father of Dido, Bk. ii, Ch. 19
Claius, Bk. i, Ch. i, 2

Clinias, Bk. ii, Ch. 26—28, Bk. Ill, Ch. 2, 4, 7, 11, 13, 14
Clitophon, son of Kalander, Bk. I, Ch. 4 — 6, 8, 10, 11, 17
Codrus, Bk. Ill, Ch. 8
Corinth, Queen of, see Helen
Crete, King of, Bk. ii, Ch. 6
Ctesiphon, Bk. ill, Ch. 8

567

TABLE OF PERSONAGES

Daiphantus, see Pyrocles

Daiphantus, see Zelmane, daughter of Plexirtus

Dametas, Bk. I, Ch. 3, 4, 13, 19, Bk. II, Ch. 2—5, 25, 28, Bk. iii, Ch. 13

Demagoras, Bk. I, Ch. 5

Dido, Bk. II, Ch. 18, 19

Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, father of Musidorus, Bk. 11, Ch. 6

Dorus, see Musidorus

Drialus, Bk. in, Ch. 7

Elis, Princess of, Bk. i, Ch. 16

Elpine, Bk. I. Ch. 17

Erona, Queen of Lycia, Bk. I, Ch. 16, Bk. ii, Ch. 10, 12, 13, 18, 29

Euarchus, King of Macedonia, father of Pyrocles, Bk. ii, Ch. 3, 6, 7, 9, 29

Euardes, King of Bithynia, Bk. il, Ch. ro, 13, 18

Eurileon, nephew of Amiclas, Bk. I, Ch. 5, 7, 8

Eurimelon, Bk. I, Ch. 17

Galatia, King of, see Leonatus

Giants, the two, and their sons, Bk. II, Ch. 9, 23

Gynecia, wife of Basilius, Bk. i, Ch. 3, 13—15, 17—19. Bk. ii, Ch. i, 4, 16,
25, Bk. Ill, Ch. 2, 9, 16, 19

Helen, Queen of Corinth, Bk. i, Ch. 7, ro, ir, 16, 17, Bk. ii, Ch. 21, Bk. iii,

Ch. 25, 26
Helots, the, Bk. i, Ch. 2, 5—7
Hippolitus, Bk. in, Ch. 8

Iberia, King of, Bk. ii, Ch. 15, 19, 20

Iberia, Queen of, see Andromana

Ismenus, brother of Artesia, Bk. I, Ch. n, 15, Bk. ill, Ch. 8

Kalander, Bk. i, Ch. 2—10, Bk. in, Ch. 19
Knight, the Black, see Musidorus
Knight, the Forsaken, see Musidorus
Knight, the Green, Bk. in, Ch. 15, 18
Knight, the Ill-apparelled, see Pyrocles
Knight, the White, Bk. in, Ch. 15, 18

Laced aemon. King of, see Amiclas

Lacemon, Bk. I, Ch. 16

Lalus, Bk. I, Ch. 17

Lelius, Bk. ii, Ch. 21

Leon, Bk. i, Ch. 17

Leonatus, King of Galatia, brother of Plexirtus, Bk. ii, Ch. 10, 22—24

Leontius, Bk. in, Ch. 7

Leucippe, Bk. I, Ch. i6, Bk. 11, Ch. 22

Leucippus & Nelsus, Bk. ii, Ch. 7, 9

Lycia, Queen of, see Erona

Lycurgus, brother of Anaxius, Bk. in, Ch. 15, t8 — 20, 25—28

Lydia, King of, Bk. il, Ch. 6

Macedonia, King of, see Euarchus
Megalus, Bk. in, Ch. 8
Memnon, Bk. in, Ch. 7

568

TABLE OF PERSONAGES

Menalcas, Bk. I, Ch. i8, 19

Milo, Bk. Ill, Ch. 8

Miso, wife of Dametas, Bk. I, Ch. 3, Bk. ii, Ch. 2, 5, 6, 11, 14—16, 24, 25,

Bk. Ill, Ch. 2, 9
Mopsa, daughter of Dametas, Bk. I, Ch. 3, Bk. ii, Ch. 2, 5, 6, 11, 14, 25,

Bk. Ill, Ch. I, 2
Musidorus, Prince of Thessaha, sometimes called Palladius, Dorus, the Black

Knight, the Forsaken Knight, Bk. i, Ch. r— 6, 8 — 12, [4, 15, 17 — 19,

Bk. II, Ch. 2, 3, 5— II, 13, 18—27, 29, Bk. Ill, Ch. i, 8, 15, 18, 26

Nelsus, see Leucippus
Nestor, Bk. i, Ch. 17
Nisus, Bk. Ill, Ch. 7

Otaves, brother of Barzanes, Bk. ii, Ch. 23

Palemon, Bk. iii, Ch. 8

Palladius, son of Andromana, Bk. II, Ch. 15, 20, 21

Palladius, see Musidorus

Pamela, daughter of Basilius, Bk. I, Ch. 3, 13, 15, 17—19, Bk. ii, Ch. 2, 3,

5,6, II, 12, 14, 25, 28, Bk. Ill, Ch. I, 2, 6, 9, 10, II, 14,119—21,23, 24,

26—28
Pamphilus, Bk. ii, Ch. 18, 19, 22
Pannonia, King of, Bk. II, Ch. 6
Paphlagonia, King of, Bk. ii, Ch. 10
Parthenia, Bk. i, Ch. 5, 7, 8, 16, Bk. ill, Ch. 12, 16
Phalantus, brother of Helen, Queen of Corinth, Bk. I, Ch. 15 — 17, Bk. Ill,

Ch. II
Phebilus, Bk. I, Ch. 17, Bk. ill, Ch. 7
Philanax, Bk. i, Ch. 4, Bk. 11, Ch. 28, Bk. in, Ch. 2, 4, 8, 9, 13, 15, 16, 18,

19, 26, 27
Philisides, Bk. 11, Ch. 21
Philoclea, daughter of Basilius, Bk. I, Ch. 3, 13 — 14, 17, 19, Bk. II, Ch. 4, 5,

II, 12, 14, 16, 17, 21, 24 — 26, 28, Bk. Ill, Ch. 2, 3, 5, 6; 9, II, 12, 14,

19 — 24, 26 — 28
Philoxenus, Bk. I, Ch. 11
Phrygia, King of, Bk. II, Ch. 7, 8
Phrygia, the new King of, Bk. II, Ch. 8, 23

Plangus, son of the King of Iberia, Bk. II, Ch. 10, 12, 13, 15, 29
Plexirtus, brother of Leonatus, Bk. ii, Ch. 10, 22—24, 29
Plistonax, Bk. ill, Ch. 8
Policrates, Bk. iii, Ch. 7
Polixena, Bk. i, Ch. 17
Polycetes, Bk. i, Ch. 17
Pontus, King of, Bk. ii, Ch. 9

Pontus, the new King of, Bk. II, Ch. 9, 10, 22—24

Pyrocles, Prince of Macedonia, sometimes called Daiphantus, Zelmane, the Ill-
apparelled Knight, Bk. I, Ch. i, 5—10, 12—19, ^k. ii, Ch. 1—4, 6—29,

Bk. Ill, Ch. 2, 14, 19 — 24, 26 — 29

Sarpedon, Bk. iii, Ch. 8
Strephon, Bk. i, Ch. i, 2
Strophilus, Bk. iii, Ch. 8

569

TABLE OF PERSONAGES

Telamon, Bk. i, Ch. 17

Telenor, see Tydeus

Thessalia, Prince of, see Dorilaus and Musidorus

Thrace, King of, Bk. ii, Ch. 6

Timotheus, father of Philoxenus, Bk. i, Ch. 11

Tiridates, King of Armenia, Bk. II, Ch. 10, 13, 15

Tressennius, Bk. iii, Ch. 15

Tydeus & Telenor, Bk. ii, Ch. 10, 22, 23

Urania, Bk. I, Ch. i, 2, 16, 17

Zelmane, see Pyrocles

Zelmane, Plexirtus' daughter, sometimes called Daiphantus, Bk. i, Ch. 16,

Bk. II, Ch. 20 — 23
Zoana, Bk. I, Ch. 17
Zoilus, brother of Anaxius, Bk. Iii, Ch. 15, 18 — 20, 25 — 28

570

INDEX OF FIRST LINES OF POEMS

A hateful! cure with hate to heale 325

Alas how long this pilgrimage doth last 227

And are you there old Pas? in troth I ever thought 344

Apollo great, whose beames the greater world do light 328

As I my little flocke on Ister banke 132

Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorowes signifie 127
Come shepheards weedes, become your masters minde 113

Dorus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion 340

Faire rocks, goodly rivers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace? Peace 352

His being was in her alone 557

I Joye in griefe, and doo detest all joyes 349
If mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande 143
In faith, good Ilistor, long is your delay 137
In vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende 147

Let not old age disgrace my high desire 149
Loved I am, and yet complaine of Love 253

Me thought some staves he mist : if so, not much amisse 285
My sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serve 163
My words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde 173

Now thanked be the great God Pan 122

Now was our heav'nly vaulte deprived of the light 394

Over these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes 257

Poore Painters oft with silly Poets joyne 239

Since so mine eyes are subject to your sight 155
Since that to death is gone the shepheard hie 498

The Fire to see my woes for anger burneth 442
Thou Rebell vile, come, to thy master yelde 339
Thy elder care shall from thy carefull face 327
Transformd in shew, but more transformd in minde 76

Unto a caitife wretch, whom long affliction holdeth 357

We love, and have our loves rewarded 126

What length of verse can serve brave Mopsas good to show 2 1

What toong can her perfections tell 218

Wyth two strange fires of equall heate possest 310

You Gote-heard Gods, that love the grassie mountaines 141
You living powres enclosed in stately shrine 172

7*5

6003

CORRIGENDA

'30- 35- -^^^ inverted commas in the margin

231. 10. Add full stop after 'R^'&iWns

257* 4* fo^ yo" selves read your selves

262. 35. for *' Evardes'^ read *^ Euardes'*

325. 13. T'ii^ war/^ of quotation should be in the margin

334- 5* f<^ towar[ds] read towar[d]s

CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.

PR 2342 .A5 1912 SMC
Sidney , Phil ip.
The Countesse of Pembroke!
Arcadia 47089426

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