The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia

by Philip Sidney

“So Gynecia herself bringing me to my lodging, anon after I was invited and brought down to sup with them in the garden, a place not fairer in natural ornaments than artificial inventions, where, in a banqueting-house, among certain pleasant trees, whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings about of vine branches, the table was set near to an excellent water-works; for, by the casting of the water in most cunning manner, it makes, with the shining of the sun upon it, a perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye than to the mind, so sensibly to see the proof of the heavenly Iris. There were birds also made so finely that they did not only deceive the sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs, which the watery instruments made their gorge deliver. The table at which we sat was round, which being fast to the floor whereon we sat, and that divided 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 turn round by means of water which ran under and carried it about as a mill. But alas! what pleasure did it to me to make divers times the full circle round about, since Philoclea, being also set, was carried still in equal distance from me, and that only my eyes did overtake her? which, when the table was stayed, and we began to feed, drank much more eagerly of her beauty than my mouth did of any other liquor. And so was my common sense deceived, being chiefly bent to her, that as I drank the wine, and withal stole a look on her, meseemed I tasted her deliciousness. But alas! the one thirst was much more inflamed than the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would lay themselves open to receive all the darts she did throw; sometimes close up with admiration, as if with a contrary fancy, they would preserve the riches of that sight they had gotten, or cast my lids as curtains over the image of beauty her presence had painted in them. True it is, that my reason, now grown a servant to passion, did yet often tell his master that he should more moderately use his delight. But he, that of a rebel was become a prince, disdained almost to allow him the place of a counsellor; so that my senses’ delights being too strong for any other resolution, I did even loose the reins unto them, hoping that, going for a woman, my looks would pass either unmarked or unsuspected.

“Now thus I had, as methought, well played my first act, assuring myself that under that disguisement I should find opportunity to reveal myself to the owner of my heart. But who would think it possible, though I feel it true, that in almost eight weeks’ space I have lived here, having no more company but her parents, and I being a familiar, as being a woman, and watchful, as being a lover, yet could never find opportunity to have one minute’s leisure of private conference: the cause whereof is as strange as the effects are to me miserable. And (alas!) this it is.

“At the first sight that Basilius had of me, I think Cupid having headed his arrows with my misfortune, he was stricken, taking me to be such as I profess, with great affection towards me, which since is grown to such a doting love that till I was fain to get this place sometimes to retire unto freely, I was even choked with his tediousness. You never saw four score years dance up and down more lively in a young lover; now, as fine in his apparel, as if he would make me in love with a cloak, and verse for verse with the sharpest-witted lover in Arcadia. Do you not think that is a sallet of wormwood; while mine eyes feed upon the Ambrosia of Philoclea’s 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 think, love and mischief having made a wager which should have most power in me, have set Gynecia also on such a fire toward me, as will never, I fear, be quenched but with my destruction. For, she being a woman of excellent wit and of strong working thoughts, whether she suspected me by my over-vehement shows of affection to Philoclea (which love forced me unwisely to utter, while hope of my mask foolishly encouraged me) or that she hath taken some other mark of me, that I am not a woman; or what devil it is hath revealed it unto her, I know not: but so it is, that all her countenances, words, and gestures are even miserable portraitures of a desperate affection. Whereby a man may learn that these avoidings of company do but make the passions more violent when they meet with fit subjects. Truly it were a notable dumb show of Cupid’s kingdom, to see my eyes, languishing with over-vehement longing, direct themselves to Philoclea; and Basilius, as busy about me as a bee, and indeed as cumbersome, making such vehement suits to me, who neither could if I would, nor would if I could, help him, while the terrible wit of Gynecia, carried with the beer of violent love, runs through us all. And so jealous is she of my love to her daughter that I could never yet begin to open my mouth to the unevitable Philoclea but that her unwished presence gave my tale a conclusion before it had a beginning. And surely, if I be not deceived, I see such shows of liking, and, if I be acquainted with passions, of almost a passionate liking in the heavenly Philoclea towards me, that I may hope her ears would not abhor my discourse. And for good Basilius, he thought it best to have lodged us together, but that the eternal hatefulness of my destiny made Gynecia’s jealousy stop that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I confess that one way her love doth me pleasure, for since it was my foolish fortune, or unfortunate folly, to be known by her, that keeps her from betraying me to Basilius. And thus, my Musidorus, you have my tragedy played unto you by myself, which I pray the gods may not indeed prove a tragedy.” And therewith he ended, making a full point of a hearty sigh.

Musidorus recommended to his best discourse, all which Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricateness that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze; yet perceiving his affection so grounded that striving against it did rather anger than heal the wound, and rather call his friendship in question than give place to any friendly counsel: “Well,” said he, “dear cousin! since it hath pleased the gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humour of love, yet happy it is, that your love is employed upon so rare a woman: for certainly a noble cause doth ease much a grievous case. But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I cannot see wherein I can be serviceable unto you.” “I desire no greater service of you,” answered Pyrocles, “than that you remain secretly in this country, and sometimes come to this place, either late in the night or early in the morning, where you shall have my key to enter, because as my fortune either amends or impairs, I may declare it unto you, and have your counsel and furtherance: and hereby I will of purpose lead her, that is the praise, and yet the stain of all womankind, that you may have so good a view, as to allow my judgment; and as I can get the most convenient time, I will come unto you; for, though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the lodge, it is hard at hand. But now,” said she, “it is time for me to leave you, and towards evening we will walk out of purpose hitherward, therefore keep yourself close till that time.” But Musidorus, bethinking himself that his horse might happen to betray him, thought it best to return for that day to a village not far off, and dispatching his horse in some sort, the next day early to come afoot thither, and so to keep that course afterward which Pyrocles very well liked of. “Now farewell, dear cousin,” said he, “from me, no more Pyrocles nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane: Zelmane is my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the only hope of my advancement.” And with that word going out, and seeing that the coast was clear, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus, who departed as full of care to help his friend as before he was to dissuade him.

Zelmane returned to the lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea, watched by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a horse desirous to run, and miserably spurred, but so short reined as he cannot stir forward. Zelmane sought occasion to speak with Philoclea; Basilius with Zelmane; and Gynecia hindered them all. If Philoclea happened to sigh, and sigh she did often, as if that sigh were to be waited on, Zelmane sighed also, whereto Basilius and Gynecia soon made up four parts of sorrow. Their affection increased their conversation, and their conversation increased their affection. The respect borne bred due ceremonies, but the affection shined so through them, that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonies. Zelmane’s eyes were (like children before sweetmeat) eager, but fearful of their ill-pleasing governors. Time, in one instant, seeming both short and long unto them: short, in the pleasingness of such presence; long, in the stay of their desires.

But Zelmane failed not to entice them all many times abroad because she was desirous her friend Musidorus, near whom of purpose she led them, might have full sight of them. Sometimes angling to a little river near hand, which, for the moisture it bestowed upon the roots of flourishing trees, was rewarded with their shadow. There would they sit down, and pretty wagers be made between Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile silly fishes, while Zelmane protested that the fit prey for them was hearts of princes. She also had an angle in her hand, but the taker was so taken that she had forgotten taking. Basilius in the meantime would be the cook himself of what was so caught, and Gynecia sit still, but with no still pensiveness. Now she brought them to see a seeled dove, who, the blinder she was, the higher she strove. Another time a kite, which having a gut cunningly pulled out of her, and so let fly, caused all the kites in that quarter, who, as oftentimes the world is deceived, thinking her prosperous when indeed she was wounded, made the poor kite find that opinion of riches may well be dangerous.

But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more gallant show; for one evening, as Basilius returned from having forced his thoughts to please themselves in such small conquest, there came a shepherd who brought him word that a gentleman desired leave to do a message from his lord unto him. Basilius granted, whereupon the gentleman came, and after the dutiful ceremonies observed in his master’s name, told him that he was sent from Phalantus of Corinth to crave licence that, as he had done in many other courts, so he might in his presence defy all Arcadian knights in the behalf of his mistress’s beauty who would besides herself in person be present to give evident proof what his lance should affirm. The conditions of his challenge were that the defendant should bring his mistress’s picture, which being set by the image of Artesia, so was the mistress of Phalantus named, who in six courses should have the better of the other in the judgment of Basilius, with him both the honours and the pictures should remain. Basilius (though he had retired himself into that solitary dwelling, with intention to avoid, rather than to accept any matters of drawing company, yet because he would entertain Zelmane that she might not think the time so gainful to him loss to her) granted him to pitch his tent for three days not far from the lodge, and to proclaim his challenge that what Arcadian knight, for none else but upon his peril was licensed to come, would defend what he honoured against Phalantus, should have the like freedom of access and return.

This obtained and published, Zelmane being desirous to learn what this Phalantus was, having never known him further than by report of his good jousting, in so much as he was commonly called, “The fair man of arms”; Basilius told her that he had had occasion by one very inward with him to know in part the discourse of his life, which was, that he was a bastard brother to the fair Helen queen of Corinth, and dearly esteemed of her for his exceeding good parts, being honourably courteous, and wronglessly valiant, considerately pleasant in conversation, and an excellent courtier without unfaithfulness, who, finding his sister’s unpersuadable melancholy, through the love of Amphialus, had for a time left her court, and gone into Laconia, where, in the war against the Helots, he had gotten the reputation of one that both durst and knew. But as it was rather choice than nature that led him to matters of arms, so as soon as the spur of honour ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delights, being beloved in all companies for his lovely qualities, and, as a man may term it, winning cheerfulness; whereby to the prince and court of Laconia, none was more agreeable than Phalantus: and he not given greatly to struggle with his own disposition, followed the gentle current of it, having a fortune sufficient to content, and he content with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he saw, and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose beauty he now defends, became her servant, said himself, and perchance thought himself her lover. “But certainly,” said Basilius, “many times it falls out that these young companions make themselves believe they love at their first liking of a likely beauty; loving, because they will love for want of other business, not because they feel indeed that divine power which makes the heart find a reason in passion, and so, God knows, as inconstantly leave upon the next chance that beauty casts before them. So therefore taking love upon him like a fashion, he courted this lady Artesia, who was as fit to pay him in his own money as might be: for she thinketh she did wrong to her beauty if she were not proud of it, called her disdain of him chastity, and placed her honour in little setting by his honouring her, determining never to marry but him whom she thought worthy of her, and that was one in whom all worthinesses were harboured. And to this conceit not only nature had bent her, but the bringing-up she received at by her sister-in-law Cecropia had confirmed her, who having in her widowhood taken this young Artesia into her charge, because her father had been a dear friend of her dear husband’s, had taught her to think that there is no wisdom but in including both heaven and earth in oneself; and that love, courtesy, gratefulness, friendship, and all other virtues are rather to be taken on than taken in oneself. And so good a disciple she found of her that, liking the fruits of her own planting, she was content if so her son could have liked of it, to have wished her in marriage to my nephew Amphialus. But I think that desire hath lost some of his heat since she hath known that such a queen as Helen is, doth offer so great a price as a kingdom, to buy his favour; for, if I be not deceived in my good sister Cecropia, she thinks no face so beautiful, as that which looks under a crown. But Artesia indeed liked well of my nephew Amphialus: For I can never deem that love, which in haughty hearts proceeds of a desire only to please, and, as it were, peacock themselves; but yet she hath showed vehemency of desire that way, I think because all her desires be vehement, insomuch that she hath both placed her only brother, a fine youth, called Ismenus, to be his ’squire, and herself is content to wait upon my sister till she may see the uttermost what she may work in Amphialus; who being of a melancholy (though, I must say, truly courteous and noble) mind, seems to love nothing less than love, and of late, having through some adventure, or inward miscontentment, withdrawn himself from anybody’s knowledge, where he is; Artesia the easier condescended to go to the court of Laconia, whither she was sent for by the king’s wife, to whom she is somewhat allied.

“And there, after the war of the Helots, this knight Phalantus, at least for tongue-delight, made himself her servant, and she, so little caring as not to show mislike thereof, was content only to be noted to have a notable servant. For truly one in my court, nearly acquainted with him, within these few days made me a pleasant description of their love, while he with cheerful looks would speak sorrowful words, using the phrase of his affection in so high a style, that Mercury would not have wooed Venus with more magnificent eloquence; but else, neither in behaviour, nor action, accusing in himself any great trouble in mind whether he sped or no. And she, on the other side, well finding how little it was, and not caring for more, yet taught him that often it falleth out but a foolish witness to speak more than one thinks.

“For she made earnest benefit of his jest, forcing him in respect of his profession to her such services as were both cumbersome and costly unto him, while he still thought he went beyond her because his heart did not commit the idolatry. So that lastly, she, I think, having mind to make the fame of her beauty an orator for her to Amphialus (persuading herself, perhaps, that it might fall out in him as it doth in some that have delightful meat before them, and have no stomach to it, before other folks praise it) she took the advantage one day, upon Phalantus’s unconscionable praising of her, and certain cast-away vows how much he would do for her sake, to arrest his word as soon as it was out of his mouth, and by the virtue thereof to charge him to go with her thro’ all the courts of Greece, and with the challenge now made to give her beauty the principality over all other. Phalantus was entrapped, and saw round about him, but could not get out. Exceedingly perplexed he was, as he confessed to him that told me the tale, not for doubt he had of himself (for indeed he had little cause, being accounted, with his lance especially, whereupon the challenge is to be tried as perfect as any that Greece knoweth) but because he feared to offend his sister Helen, and withal, as he said, he could not so much believe his love but that he must think in his heart, whatsoever his mouth affirmed, that both she, my daughters, and the fair Parthenia (wife to a most noble gentleman, my wife’s near kinsman) might far better put in their claim for that prerogative. But his promise had bound him prentice, and therefore it was now better with willingness to purchase thanks than with a discontented doing to have the pain and not the reward; and therefore went on as his faith, rather than love, did lead him. And now hath he already passed the courts of Laconia, Elis, Argos, and Corinth: And, as many times it happens that a good pleader makes a bad cause to prevail, so hath his lance brought captives to the triumph of Artesia’s beauty, such, as though Artesia be among the fairest, yet in that company were to have the pre-eminence: For in those courts many knights that had been in other far countries defended such as they had seen and liked in their travel: But their defence had been such that they had forfeited the pictures of their ladies to give a forced false testimony to Artesia’s excellency. And now, lastly, is he come hither, where he hath leave to try his fortune. But I assure you, if I thought it not in due and true consideration an injurious service and churlish courtesy to put the danger of so noble a title in the deciding of such a dangerless combat, I would make young master Phalantus know that your eyes can sharpen a blunt lance, and that age, which my gray hairs, only gotten by the loving care of others, makes seem more than it is, hath not diminished in me the power to protect an undeniable verity.” With that he bustled up himself, as though his heart would fain have walked abroad. Zelmane with an inward smiling gave him outward thanks, desiring him to reserve his force for worthier causes.