In this manner they recovered the lodge, and gave the rebels a face of wood of the outside. But they then, though no more furious, yet more outrageous when they saw no resister, went about with pickaxe to the wall, and fire to the gate, to get themselves entrance. Then did the two ladies mix fear with love, especially Philoclea, who ever caught hold of Zelmane, so, by the folly of love, hindering the succour which she desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, nor time to deliberate (the number of those villains still increasing, and their madness still increasing with their number) thought it the only means, to go beyond their expectation with an unused boldness, and with danger to avoid danger, and therefore opened again the gates; and Dorus and Basilius standing ready for her defence, she issued again among them. The blows she had dealt before, though all in general were hasty, made each of them in particular take breath, before they brought them suddenly over-near her, so that she had time to get up to the judgment-seat of the prince, which, according to the guess of that country, was before the court gate. There she paused a while, making sign with her hand unto them, and withal, 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 country sort, and was caught in a little affection towards Zelmane, hoping by his kindness to have some good of her, desired them if they were honest men, to hear the woman speak. “Fie fellows, fie,” said he, “what will all the maids in our town say if so many tall men shall be afraid to hear a fair wench? I swear unto you, by no little ones, I had rather give my team of oxen than we should show ourselves so uncivil wights. Besides, I tell you true, I have heard it of old men counted wisdom, to hear much, and say little.” His sententious speech so prevailed, that the most part began to listen. Then she, with such efficacy of gracefulness, and such a quiet magnanimity represented in her face in this uttermost peril, that the more the barbarous people looked, the more it fixed their looks upon her, in this sort began unto them.

“It is no small comfort unto me,” said she, “having to speak something unto you for your own behoofs, to find that I have to deal with such a people, who show indeed in themselves the right nature of valour: which as it leaves no violence unattempted, while the choler is nourished with resistance, so when the subject of their wrath doth of itself unlooked-for offer itself into their hands, it makes them at least take a pause before they determine cruelties. Now then first, before I come to the principal matter, have I to say unto you; that your prince Basilius himself in person is within this lodge, and was one of the three, whom a few of you went about to fight withal:” and (this she said, not doubting but they knew it well enough, but because she would have them imagine that the prince might think that they did not know it) “by him I am sent unto you, as from a prince to his well-approved subjects, nay as from a father to beloved children, to know what it is that hath bred just quarrel among you, or who they be that have any way wronged you; what it is with which you are displeased, or of which you are desirous? This he requires, and indeed, for he knows your faithfulness, he commands you presently to set down and choose among yourselves, someone, who may relate your griefs or demands unto him.”

This, being more than they hoped for from their prince, assuaged well their fury, and many of them consented, especially the young farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the demands that he might have Zelmane for his wife, but when they began to talk of their griefs, never bees made such a confused humming: the town dwellers demanding putting down of imposts; the country fellows laying out of commons: some would have the prince keep his court in one place, some in another: all cried out to have new counsellors; but when they should think of any new, they liked them as well as any other that they could remember, especially they would have the treasure so looked unto, as that he should never need to take any more subsidies. At length they fell to direct contrarieties. For the artisans they would have corn and wine set at a lower price, and bound to be kept so still: the ploughmen, vine-labourers, and the farmers would none of that. The countrymen demanded that every man might be free in the chief towns; that could not the burgesses like of. The peasants would have all the gentlemen destroyed, the citizens, especially such as cooks, barbers, and those other that lived most on gentlemen, would but have them reformed. And of each side were like divisions, one neighbourhood beginning to find fault with another; but no confusion was greater than of particular men’s likings and dislikings: one dispraising such a one, whom another praised, and demanding such a one to be punished, whom the other would have exalted. No less ado was there about choosing him, who should be their spokesman. The finer sort of burgesses, as merchants, prentices, and cloth-workers, because of their riches, disdaining the baser occupations; and they because of their number, as much disdaining them; all they scorning the countrymen’s ignorance, and the countrymen suspecting as much their cunning: so that Zelmane (finding that their united rage was now grown, not only to dividing, but to a crossing of one another, and that the mislike grown among themselves did well allay the heat against her) made tokens again unto them, as though she took great care of their well-doing, and were afraid of their falling out, that she would speak unto them. They now grow jealous one of another, the stay having engendered division, and division having manifested their weakness, were willing enough to hear, the most part striving to show themselves willinger than their fellows: which Zelmane, by the acquaintance she had had with such kind of humours soon perceiving, with an angerless bravery, and an unabashed mildness, in this manner spoke unto them.

“An unused thing it is, and I think not heretofore seen, O Arcadians, that a woman should give public counsel to men, a stranger to the country people, and that lastly in such a presence by a private person, the regal throne should be possessed. But the strangeness of your action makes that used for virtue, which your violent necessity imposeth. For certainly a woman may well speak to such men, who have forgotten all man-like government; a stranger may with reason instruct such subjects that neglect due points of subjection; and is it marvel this place is entered into by another, since your own prince, after thirty years’ government, dare not show his face unto faithful people? hear therefore, O Arcadians, and be ashamed; against whom hath this zealous rage been stirred? whither have been bent those manful weapons of yours? in this quiet harmless lodge there be harboured no Argians, your ancient enemies; nor Laconians, your now feared neighbours. Here be neither 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, princess, and their children, but myself. Is it I then, O Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed? am I the mark of your vehement quarrel? if it be so, that innocency shall not be stopped for fury; if it be so, that the law of hospitality, so long and holily observed among you, may not defend a stranger fled to your arms for succour: if in fine, it be so, that so many valiant men’s courages can be inflamed to the mischief of one silly woman; I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to your wrath. Exercise on me your indignation, so it go no further; I am content to pay the great favours I have received among you, with my life not ill-deserving: I present here unto you, O Arcadians, if that may satisfy you; rather than you, called over the world the wise and quiet Arcadians, should be so vain, as to attempt that alone, which all the rest of your country will abhor; than you shall show yourselves so ungrateful as to forget the fruit of so many years peaceable government; or so unnatural, as not to have with the holy name of your natural prince, any fury overmastered. For such a hellish madness, I know, did never enter into your hearts as to attempt anything against his person; which no successor, though never so hateful, will ever leave, for his own sake, unrevenged. Neither can your wonted valour be turned to such a baseness, as instead of a prince, delivered unto you by so many royal ancestors, to take the tyrannous yoke of your fellow subject, in whom the innate means will bring forth ravenous covetousness and the newness of his estate suspectful cruelty. Imagine, what could your enemies more wish unto you than to see your own estate with your own hands undermined? O what would your forefathers say if they lived at this time, and saw their offspring defacing such an excellent principality, which they with much labour and blood so wisely have established? do you think them fools, that saw you should not enjoy your vines, your cattle, no not your wives and children without government? and that there could be no government without a magistrate, and no magistrate without obedience, and no obedience where everyone upon his own private passion may interpret the doings of the rulers? let your wits make your present example a lesson to you. What sweetness, in good faith, find you in your present condition; what choice of choice find you, if you had lost Basilius? under whose ensign would you go, if your enemies should invade you? if you cannot agree upon one to speak for you, how will you agree upon one to fight for you? but with this fear of I cannot tell what one is troubled, and with that past wrong another is grieved. And I pray you did the sun ever bring you a fruitful harvest but that it was more hot than pleasant? have any of you children that be not sometimes cumbersome? have any of you fathers that be not sometimes wearish? what, shall we curse the sun, hate our children, or disobey our fathers—but what need I use those words, since I see in your countenances, now virtuously settled, nothing else but love and duty to him, by whom for your only sakes, the government is embraced. For all that is done, he doth not only pardon you, but thank you; judging the action by the minds, and not the minds by the action. Your griefs, and desires whatsoever, and whensoever you list, he will consider of, and to his consideration it is reason you should refer them. So then, to conclude; the uncertainty of his estate made you take arms; now you see him well; with the same love lay them down. 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 confess, over vehement affection, the only continuance might prove a wickedness. But it is not so, I see very well, you began with zeal, and will end with reverence.”

The action Zelmane used, being beautified by nature and apparelled with skill, her gestures being such, that, as her words did paint out her mind, so they served as a shadow to make the picture more lively and sensible, with the sweet clearness of her voice, rising and falling kindly as the nature of the word and efficacy of the matter required, altogether in such an admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felt, whose beauty did pierce through the thick dullness of their senses, gave such a way unto her speech through the rugged wilderness of their imaginations, who, besides they were stricken in admiration of her, as of more than a human creature, where cooled with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leisure that instead of roaring cries there was now heard nothing but a confused muttering, whether her saying were to be followed: betwixt fear to pursue, and loathness to leave, most of them could have been content it had never been begun, but how to end it, each afraid of his companion, they knew not, finding it far easier to tie, than to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no evil way in such mutinies, to give the mutinous some occasion of such service as they might think, in their own judgment, would countervail their trespass, withal to take the more assured possession of their minds, which she feared might begin to waver.

“Loyal Arcadians,” said she, “now do I offer unto you the manifesting of your duties: all those that have taken arms for the prince’s safety, let them turn their backs to the gate, with their weapons bent again such as would hurt his sacred person.” “O weak trust of the many-headed multitude, whom inconstancy only doth guide to well-doing, who can set confidence there where company takes away shame, and each may lay the fault on his fellow?” So said a crafty fellow among them, named Clinias, to himself, when he saw the word no sooner out of Zelmane’s mouth, but there were some shouts of joy, with, “God save Basilius,” and divers of them with much jollity grown to be his guard that but little before meant to be his murderers.

This Clinias in his youth had been a scholar so far as to learn rather words than manners, and of words rather plenty than order; and often had used to be an actor in tragedies, where he had learned, besides a slidingness of language, acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to bear the figure of them: long used to the eyes and ears of men, and to reckon no fault but shamefac’dness in nature; a most notable coward, and yet more strangely than rarely venturous in privy practices.

This fellow was become of near trust to Cecropia, Amphialus’s mother, so that he was privy to all the mischievous devices wherewith she went about to ruin Basilius and his children, for the advancing of her son, and though his education had made him full of tongue, yet his love to be doing, taught him in any evil to be secret, and had by his mistress been used ever since the strange retiring of Basilius, to whisper rumours in the people’s ears: and this time, finding great aptness in the multitude, was one of the chief that set them in the uproar, though quite without the consent of Amphialus, who would not for all the kingdoms of the world so have adventured the life of Philoclea. But now perceiving the flood of their fury begun to ebb, he thought in policy to take the first of the tide, so that no man cried louder than he upon Basilius. And some of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his commandment to lift him up, and then as if he had a prologue to utter, he began with nice gravity to demand audience. But few attending what he said, with vehement gesture, as if he would tear the stars from the skies he fell to crying out so loud that not only Zelmane, but Basilius might hear him. “O unhappy men, more mad than the giants that would have plucked Jupiter out of heaven, how long shall this rage continue? why do you not all throw down your weapons and submit yourselves to our good prince, our good Basilius, the Pelops of wisdom, and Minos of all good government? when will you begin to believe me, and other honest and faithful subjects, that have done all we could to stop your fury.”

The farmer that loved Zelmane could abide him no longer. For as the first he was willing to speak of conditions, hoping to have gotten great sovereignties, and among the rest Zelmane; so now perceiving, that the people, once anything down the hill from their fury, would never stay till they came to the bottom of absolute yielding, and so that he should be nearer fears of punishment than hopes of such advancement, he was one of them that stood most against the agreement: and to begin withal, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher, who had been one of the chiefest makebates, struck him a great wound upon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch fell down, crying for succour, and, scrambling through the legs of them that were about him, got to the throne, where Zelmane took him and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and quaking for fear of more.

But as soon as the blow was given, as if Aeolus had broke open the door to let all his winds out, no hand was idle, each one killing him that was next, for fear he should do as much to him. For being divided in minds, and not divided in companies, they that would yield to Basilius were intermingled with them that would not yield. Those men thinking their ruin stood upon it; those men to get favour of their prince, converted their ungracious motion into their own bowels, and by a true judgment grew their own punishers. None were sooner killed than those that had been leaders in the disobedience: who by being so, had taught them, that they did lead disobedience to the same leaders. And many times it fell out that they killed them that were of their own faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But then came down Zelmane; and Basilius with Dorus issued, and sometimes seeking to draw together those of their party, sometimes laying indifferently among them, made such havoc, among the rest Zelmane striking the farmer to the heart with her sword, 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 certain woods upon the frontiers, where feeding wildly, and drinking only water, they were disciplined for their drunken riots: many of them being slain in the chase, about a score only escaping. But when those late rebels, now soldiers, were returned from the chase, Basilius calling them together, partly for policy’s sake, but principally because Zelmane before had spoken it, which was to him more than a divine ordinance, he pronounced their general pardon, willing them to return to their houses, and hereafter be more circumspect in their proceedings, which they did most of them with sharp marks of their folly. But imagining Clinias to be one of the chief that had bred this good alteration, he gave him particular thanks, and withal willed him to make him know how this frenzy had entered into the people.