The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia

by Philip Sidney

“And she, whose husband about that time died, forgetting the absent Plangus, or at least not hoping of him to obtain so aspiring a purpose, left no art unused, which might keep the line from breaking, whereat the fish was already taken, not drawing him violently, but letting him play himself upon the hook which he had so greedily swallowed. For, accompanying her mourning garments with a doleful countenance, yet neither forgetting handsomeness in her mourning garments, nor sweetness in her doleful countenance, her words were ever seasoned with sighs, and any favour she showed, bathed in tears, that affection might see cause of pity, and pity might persuade cause of affection. And being grown skilful in his humours, she was no less skilful in applying his humours; never suffering his fear to fall to despair, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance: she was content he should think that she loved him; and a certain stolen look should sometimes, as though it were against her will, betray it: but if thereupon he grew bold, he straight was encountered with a mask of virtue. And that which seemeth most impossible unto me, for as near as I can repeat it, as Plangus told it, she could not only sigh when she would, as all can do, and weep when she would, as, they say, some can do; but, being most impudent in her heart, she could when she would, teach her cheeks blushing, and make shamefacedness the cloak of shamelessness. In sum, to leave out many particularities, which he recited, she did not only use so the spur that his desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on even in such a career as she would have it; that within a while the king, seeing with no other eyes but such as she gave him, and thinking on no other thoughts but such as she taught him; having at first liberal measures of favours, then shortened of them, when most his desire was inflamed, he saw no other way but marriage to satisfy his longing, and her mind, as he thought, loving, but chastely loving: so that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious over the rebels, he found his father not only married, but already a father of a son and a daughter by this woman. Which though Plangus, as he had every way just cause, was grieved at; yet did his grief never bring forth either contemning of her or repining at his father. But she, who besides that was grown a mother, and a step-mother, did read in his eyes her own fault, and made his conscience her guiltiness, thought still that his presence carried her condemnation; so much the more, as that she, unchastely attempting his wonted fancies, found, for the reverence of his father’s bed, a bitter refusal, which breeding rather spite than shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not only, as hating him, thirst for a revenge, but, as fearing harm from him, endeavoured to do harm unto him. Therefore did she try 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 cunning how to undermine it. And therefore, shunning the ordinary trade of hireling Sycophants, she made her praises of him to be accusations; and her advancing him to be his ruin. For first, with words, nearer admiration than liking, she would extol his excellencies, the goodliness of his shape, the power of his wit, the valiantness of his courage, the fortunateness of his successes, so as the father might find in her a singular love towards him: nay she shunned not to kindle some few sparks of jealousy in him: thus having gotten an opinion in his father that she was far from meaning mischief to the son, then fell she to praise him with no less vehemency of affection, but with much more cunning of malice. For then she sets forth the liberty of his mind, the high flying of his thoughts, the fitness in him to bear rule, the singular love the subjects bear him, that it was doubtful whether his wit were greater in winning their favours, or his courage in employing their favours; that he was not born to live a subject life, each action of his bearing in it majesty; such a kingly entertainment, such a kingly magnificence, such a kingly heart for enterprises; especially remembering those virtues, which in a successor are no more honoured by the subjects than suspected of the princes. Then would she, by putting off objections, bring in objections to her husband’s head, already infected with suspicion. ‘Nay,’ would she say, ‘I dare take it upon my death, that he is no such son, as many like might have been, who loved greatness so well as to build their greatness upon their father’s ruin. Indeed ambition, like love, can abide no lingering, and ever urgeth on his own successes; hating nothing, but what may stop them. But the gods forbid, we should ever once dream of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content that you and the world should know what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurt, the more admirable is his praise, that he will not hurt.’ Then ever remembering to strengthen the suspicion of his estate with private jealousy of her love, doing him excessive honour when he was in presence, and repeating his pretty speeches and graces in his absence, besides, causing him to be employed in all such dangerous matters, as either he should perish in them, or, if he prevailed, they should increase his glory, which she made a weapon to wound him; until she found that suspicion began already to speak for itself, and that her husband’s ears were grown hungry of rumours, and his eyes prying into every accident.

“Then took she help to her of a servant near about her husband, whom she knew to be of a hasty ambition, and such a one, who, wanting true sufficiency to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischief. Him she useth to deal more plainly in alleging causes of jealousy, making him know the fittest times when her husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with divers ways, nourished one humour, like musicians, that singing divers parts, make one music. He sometimes with fearful countenance would desire the king to look to himself, for that all the court and city were full of whisperings and expectation of some sudden change, upon what ground himself knew not. Another time he would counsel the king to make much of his son, and hold his favour, for that it was too late now to keep him under. Now seeming to fear himself, because, he said, Plangus loved none of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him directly, making a sorrowful countenance, and an humble gesture bear false witness for his true meaning, that he found not only soldiery, but people weary of his government, and all their affection bent upon Plangus; both he and the queen concurring in strange dreams, and each thing else, that in a mind already perplexed might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus’s actions began to be translated into the language of suspicion. Which though Plangus found, yet could he not avoid, even contraries being driven to draw one yoke of argument. If he were magnificent, he spent much with an aspiring intent, if he spared, he heaped much with an aspiring intent; if he spoke courteously, he angled the people’s hearts; if he were silent, he mused upon some dangerous plot. In sum, if he could have turned himself to as many forms as Proteus, every form should have been made hideous.

“But so it fell out, that a mere trifle gave them occasion of further proceeding. The king one morning, going to a vineyard that lay along the hill whereupon his castle stood: he saw a vine-labourer, that finding a bough broken, took a branch of the same bough 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 son bind the father.’ This word, finding the king already superstitious through suspicion, amazed him straight, as a presage of his own fortune, so that, returning and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate; she made such gainsaying answers as while they strove, strove to be overcome. But even while the doubts most boiled, she thus nourished them.

“She under-hand dealt with the principal men of that country, that at the great parliament, which was then to be held, they should in the name of all the estates persuade the king, being now stepped deeply into old age, to make Plangus his associate in government with him, assuring them that not only she would join with them, but that the father himself would take it kindly, charging them not to acquaint Plangus withal, for that perhaps it might be harmful unto him, if the king should find that he were a party. They (who thought they might do it, not only willingly, because they loved him; and truly, because such indeed was the mind of the people; but safely, because she who ruled the king, was agreed thereto) accomplished her counsel; she indeed keeping promise of vehement persuading the same: which the more she and they did, the more she knew her husband would fear, and hate the cause of his fear. Plangus found this, and humbly protested against such desire or will to accept. But the more he protested, the more his father thought he dissembled, accounting his integrity to be but a cunning face of falsehood: and therefore delaying the desire of his subjects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands upon his son, which his wife brought thus to pass.

“She caused the same minister of hers to go unto Plangus, and, enabling his words with great show of faith, and endearing them with desire of secrecy, to tell him, that he found his ruin conspired by his stepmother, with certain of the noblemen of that country, the king himself giving his consent, and that few days should pass before the putting it in practice; withal discovering the very truth indeed, with what cunning his step-mother had proceeded. This agreeing with Plangus his own opinion, made him give the better credit; yet not so far, as to fly out of his country, according to the naughty fellow’s persuasion, but to attend, and to see further. Whereupon the fellow, by the direction of his mistress, told him one day, that the same night, about one of the clock, the king had appointed to have his wife, and those noblemen together to deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus, and therefore offered him, that if himself would agree, he would bring him into a place where he should hear all that passed and so have the more reason both to himself and to the world, to seek his safety. The poor Plangus, being subject to that only disadvantage of honest hearts, credulity, was persuaded by him; and arming himself, because of his late going, was closely conveyed into the place appointed. In the meantime, his step-mother, making all her gestures cunningly counterfeit a miserable affliction, she lay almost grovelling on the floor of her chamber, not suffering anybody to comfort her, until they calling for her husband, and he held off with long enquiry, at length she told him, even almost crying out of every word, that she was weary of her life, since she was brought to that plunge, either to conceal her husband’s murder, or accuse her son, who had ever been more dear than a son unto her. Then with many interruptions and exclamations she told him, that her son Plangus, soliciting her in the old affection between them, had besought her to put to her helping hand to the death of the king, assuring her that, though all the laws in the world were against it, he would marry her when he were king.

“She had not fully said thus much, with many pitiful digressions, when in comes the same fellow that brought Plangus: and running himself out of breath, fell at the king’s feet, beseeching him to save himself, for that there was a man with a sword drawn in the next room. The king affrighted, went out, and called his guard, who entering the place, found indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, yet standing suspiciously enough to one already suspicious. The king, thinking he had put up his sword because of the noise, never took leisure to hear 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 eyes and ears of his friends and followers, but that there was a little army of them who came, and by force delivered him; although numbers on the other side, abused with the fine framing of their report, took arms for the king. But Plangus, though he might have used the force of his friends to revenge his wrong, and get the crown, yet the natural love of his father, and hate to make their suspicion seem just, caused him rather to choose a voluntary exile than to make his father’s death the purchase of his life: and therefore went he to Tiridates, whose mother was his father’s sister, living in his court eleven or twelve years, ever hoping by his intercession, and his own desert, to recover his father’s grace. At the end of which time, the war of Erona happened, which my sister, with the cause thereof, discoursed unto you.

“But his father had so deeply engraven the suspicion in his heart that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearful guiltiness than of an humble faithfulness, and therefore continued his hate with such vehemency that he did even hate his nephew Tiridates, and afterwards his niece Artaxia, because in his court he received countenance, leaving no means unattempted of destroying his son; among other, employing that wicked servant of his, who undertook to empoison him. But his cunning disguised him not so well but that the watchful servants of Plangus did discover him, whereupon the wretch was taken, and, before his well-deserved execution, by tortures forced to confess the particularities of this, which in general I have told you.

“Which confession authentically set down, though Tiridates with solemn embassage sent to the king, wrought no effect. For the king having put the reins of the government into his wife’s hand, never did so much as read it, but sent it straight by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred on Plangus, for the death of their servant. And now finding, that his absence, and their reports, had much diminished the wavering people’s affection towards Plangus, with advancing fit persons for faction, and granting great immunities to the commons, they prevailed so far as to cause the son of the second wife, called Palladius, to be proclaimed successor, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was driven to continue his serving Tiridates, as he did in the war against Erona, and brought home Artaxia, as my sister told you; when Erona by the treason of Antiphilus——”

But at that word she stopped. For Basilius, not able longer to abide their absence, came suddenly among them, and with smiling countenance, telling Zelmane he was afraid she had stolen away his daughters, invited them to follow the sun’s counsel in going then to their lodging, for indeed the sun was ready to set. They yielded, Zelmane meaning some other time to understand the story of Antiphilus’s treason, and Erona’s danger, whose cause she greatly tendered. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but as spitefully as her rotten voice could utter, she set forth the sauciness of Amphialus. But Basilius only attended what Zelmane’s opinion was, who though she hated Amphialus, yet the nobility of her courage prevailed over it, and she desired he might be pardoned that youthful error, considering the reputation he had to be one of the best knights in the world; so as hereafter he governed himself, as one remembering his fault. Basilius giving the infinite terms of praises to Zelmane’s both valour in conquering, and pitifulness in pardoning, commanded no more words to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure.