The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia

by Philip Sidney

Basilius returned into the lodge, thus by himself construing the oracle: that in that, he said, his elder care should by princely mean be stolen away from him, and yet not lost, it was now performed, since Zelmane had, as it were, robbed from him the care of his first begotten child, yet was it not lost, since in his heart the ground of it remained. That his younger should with nature’s bliss embrace the love of Zelmane, because he had so commanded her for his sake to do, yet should it be with as much hate of nature, for being so hateful an opposite to the jealousy he thought her mother had of him. The sitting in that seat he deemed by her already performed. But that which most comforted him was his interpretation of the adultery, which he thought he should commit with Zelmane, whom afterwards he should have to his wife. The point of his daughter’s marriage, because it threatened his death withal, he determined to prevent with keeping them while he lived, unmarried. But having, as he thought, gotten thus much understanding of the oracle, he determined for three days after to perform certain rites to Apollo: and even then began with his wife and daughters to sing this hymn, and by them yearly used.

Apollo great, whose beams the greater world do light,

And in our little world do clear our inward sight,

Which ever shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade,

Whose lights do ever live, but in our darkness fade;

Thou god, whose youth was decked with spoil of Python’s skin

(So humble knowledge can throw down the snakish sin)

Latona’s son, whose birth in pain and travail long

Doth teach, to learn the good what travails do belong:

In travail of our life, a short but tedious space,

While brittle hour glass runs, guide thou our panting pace:

Give us foresightful minds: give us minds to obey

What foresight tells; our thoughts upon thy knowledge stay.

Let so our fruits grow up that nature be maintain’d:

But so our hearts keep down, with vice they be not stain’d.

Let this assured hold our judgments overtake,

That nothing wins the heaven, but what doth earth forsake.

As soon as he had ended his devotion (all the privileged shepherds being now come) knowing well enough he might lay all his care upon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the taste of this past tumult with some rural pastimes. For which, while the shepherds prepared themselves in the best manner, Basilius took his daughter Philoclea aside, and with such haste, as if his ears hunted for words, 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 resolution, as to hear him whenever he would speak; and further than that she said, as Zelmane had not granted, so she neither did nor ever would desire. Basilius kissed her with more than fatherly thanks, and straight, like a hard-kept ward new come to his lands, would fain have used the benefit of that grant, in laying his sickness before his only physician. But Zelmane, that had not yet fully determined with herself how to bear herself toward him, made him in few words understand, that the time, in respect of the company, was unfit for such a parley; and therefore to keep his brains the busier, letting him understand what she had learned of his daughters, touching Erona’s distress, whom in her travel she had known and been greatly beholden to, she desired him to finish the rest, for so far as Plangus had told him; because, she said, and she said truly, she was full of care for that lady, whose desert, only except an over-base choice, was nothing agreeable to misfortune. Basilius glad that she would command him anything, but more glad that in executing the unfitness of that time, she argued an intention to grant a fitter, obeyed her in this manner.

“Madame,” said he, “it is very true that since years enabled me to judge what is or is not to be pitied, I never saw anything that more moved me to justify a vehement compassion on myself than the estate of that prince, whom strong against all his own afflictions, which yet were great as I perceive you have heard, yet true and noble love had so pulled down, as to lie under sorrow for another. Insomuch as I could not temper my long idle pen in that subject, which I perceive you have seen. But then to leave that unrepeated, which I find my daughters have told you, it may please you to understand, since it pleaseth you to demand, that Antiphilus being crowned, and so left by the famous princes Musidorus and Pyrocles (led thence by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in those provinces of Greece, making a dishonourable inquiry after that excellent prince Pyrocles, already perished) Antiphilus I say, being crowned and delivered from the presence of those two, whose virtues, while they were present, like good schoolmasters, suppressed his vanities, he had not strength of mind enough in him to make long delay of discovering what manner of man he was. But straight like one carried up to so high a place that he loseth the discerning of the ground over which he is, so was his mind lifted so far beyond the level of his own discourse, that remembering only that himself was in the high seat of a king, he could not perceive that he was a king of reasonable creatures who would quickly scorn follies, and repine at injuries. But imagining no so true property of sovereignty as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoever pleased his fancy, he quickly made his kingdom a tennis-court, where his subjects should be the balls, not in truth cruelly, but licentiously abusing them, presuming so far upon himself, that what he did was liked of everybody: nay, that his disgraces were favours, and all because he was a king. For in nature not able to conceive the bounds of great matters, suddenly borne into an unknown ocean of absolute power, he was swayed withal, he knew not how, as every wind of passion puffed him. Whereto nothing helped him better than that poisonous sugar of flattery, which some used, out of the innate baseness of their heart, straight like dogs fawning upon the greatest; others secretly hating him, and disdaining his great rising so suddenly, so undeservedly, finding his humour, bent their exalting him only to his overthrow, like the bird that carries the shell-fish high, to break him the easier with his fall. But his mind, being an apt matter to receive what form their amplifying speeches would lay upon it, danced so pretty a measure to their false music, that he thought himself the wisest and worthiest and best beloved that ever gave honour to royal title. And being but obscurely born, he had found out unblushing pedigrees that made him not only of the blood royal, but true heir, though unjustly dispossessed by Erona’s ancestors. And like the foolish bird, that when it so hides the head that it sees not itself, thinks nobody else sees it, so did he imagine that nobody knew his baseness, while he himself turned his eyes from it.

“Then vainness, a meagre friend to gratefulness, brought him so to despise Erona, as of whom he had received no benefit, that within half a year’s marriage he began to pretend barrenness, and making first an unlawful law of having more wives than one, he still keeping Erona under-hand, by messages sought Artaxia; who no less hating him than loving as unlucky a choice, the naughty king Plexirtus, yet to bring to pass what she purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, till already his imagination had crowned him king of Armenia, and had made that but the foundation of more and more monarchies, as if fortune had only gotten eyes to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of most part of all the princes of Asia, being to do honour to the never sufficiently praised Pyrocles and Musidorus, he would be one; not to acknowledge his obligation, which was as great as any of the others, but looking to have been young-mastered among those great estates as he was among his abusing underlings. But so many valorous princes, indeed far nearer to disdain him than otherwise, he was quickly, as standing upon no true ground, inwardly out of countenance with himself, till his seldom comfortless flatterers, persuading him it was envy and fear of his expected greatness, made him haste away from that company, and without further delay, appointed the meeting with Artaxia, so incredibly blinded with the over-bright shining of his royalty that he could think such a queen would be content to be joined-patent with another to have such an husband. Poor Erona to all this obeyed, either vehemency of affection making her stoop to so over-base a servitude, or astonished with an unlooked-for fortune, dull to any behoveful resolution, or, as many times it falls out even in great hearts when they can accuse none but themselves, desperately bent to maintain it. For so went she on in that way of her love, that, poor lady, to be beyond all other examples of ill-set affection, she was brought to write to Artaxia, that she was content, for the public good to be a second wife, and yield the first place to her; nay to extol him, and even woo Artaxia for him.

“But Artaxia, mortally hating them both for her brother’s sake, was content to hide her hate till she had time to show it: and pretending that all her grudge was against the two paragons of virtue, Musidorus and Pyrocles, even met them half way in excusing her brother’s murder, as not being principal actors; and of the other side, driven to what they did by the ever-pardonable necessity; and so well handled the matter, as though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himself all that she would have him think. And so a solemn interview was appointed; but, as the poets say, Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured coat. For Artaxia laying men secretly, and easily they might be secret, since Antiphilus thought she over-ran him in love, when he came even ready to embrace her, showing rather a countenance of accepting than offering, they came forth, and, having much advantage both in number, valour, and fore-preparation, put all his company to the sword, but such as could fly away. As for Antiphilus, she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, hastening back towards her brother’s tomb, upon which she meant to sacrifice them; making the love of her brother stand between her and all other motions of grace from which by nature she was alienated.

“But great diversity in those two quickly discovered itself for the bearing of that affliction: for Antiphilus, who had no greatness but outward, that taken away, was ready to fall faster than calamity could thrust him; with fruitless begging of life, where reason might well assure him his death was resolved, and weak bemoaning his fortune, to give his enemies a most pleasing music, with many promises and protestations, to as little purpose as from a little mind. But Erona, sad indeed, yet like one rather used, than new fallen to sadness, as who had the joys of her heart already broken seemed rather to welcome than to shun that end of misery; speaking little, but what she spoke was for Antiphilus, remembering his guiltiness, being at that time prisoner to Tiridates, when the valiant princess slew him: to the disgrace of men, showing that there are women both more wise to judge what is to be expected, and more constant to bear it when it is happened.

“But her wit endeared by her youth, her affliction by her birth, and her sadness by her beauty, made this noble prince Plangus, who, never almost from his cousin Artaxia, was now present at Erona’s taking, to perceive the shape of loveliness more perfectly in woe than in joyfulness, as in a picture which receive greater life by the darkness of shadows than by more glittering colours, and seeing to like, and liking to love, and loving straight to feel the most incident effects of love, to serve and preserve. So borne by the hasty tide of short leisure, he did hastily deliver together his affection, and affectionate care. But she, as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mentioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attend, desired him if he loved her, to show it, in finding some way to save Antiphilus. For her, she found the world but a wearisome stage unto her, where she played a part against her will: and therefore besought him not to cast his love in so unfruitful a place, as could not love itself: but for a testimony of constancy, and a suitableness to his word, to do so much comfort to her mind, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saved. He told me how much he argued against her tendering him who had so ungratefully betrayed her and foolishly cast away himself. But perceiving she did not only bend her very good wits to speak for him against herself, but when such a cause could be allied to no reason, yet love would needs make itself a cause, and bar her rather from hearing, than yield that she should yield to such arguments: he likewise, in whom the power of love, as they say of spirits, was subject to the love in her, with grief consented, and though backwardly, was diligent to labour the help of Antiphilus, a man whom he not only hated as a traitor to Erona, but envied as a possessor of Erona; yet love swore his heart, in spite of his heart, should make him become a servant to his rival. And so did he, seeking all the means of persuading Artaxia, which the authority of so near and so virtuous a kinsman could give unto him. But she, to whom the eloquence of hatred had given revenge the face of delight, rejected all such motions: but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chief city, where she kept them, with intention at the birthday of Tiridates, which was very near, to execute Antiphilus, and at the day of his death, which was about half a year after, to use the same rigour towards Erona. Plangus much grieved, because much loving, attempted the humours of the Lycians, to see whether they would come in with forces to succour their princess. But there the next inheritor to the crown, with the true play that is used in the game of kingdoms, had no sooner his mistress in captivity, but he had usurped her place, and making her odious to her people, because of the unfit election she had made, and so left no hope there: but, which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, persuading the justicing her, because that unjustice might give his title the name of justice. Wanting that way, Plangus practised with some dear friends of his, to save Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was much nearer than Erona’s, and that he well found she had twisted her life upon the same thread with his, he determined first to get him out of prison; and to that end having prepared all matters, as well as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tiridates’s old servants to have well-marking eyes, he conferred with Antiphilus, as, by the authority he had, he found means to do, and agreed with him of the time and manner how he should, by the death of some of his jailors, escape. But all being well ordered, and Plangus willingly putting himself into the greatest danger, Antiphilus, who like a bladder, swelled ready to break, while it was full of the wind of prosperity, that being out, was so abjected, as apt to be trod on by everybody, when it came to the point, that with some hazard he might be in apparent likelihood to avoid the uttermost harm, his heart fainted, and, weak fool, neither hoping nor fearing as he should, got a conceit, that with betraying this practice, he might obtain pardon: and therefore even a little before Plangus should have come unto him, opened the whole practice to him that had the charge, with unpitied tears idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxia’s commandment than against her will escape; yet begging life upon any the hardest and wretchedest conditions that she would lay upon him. His keeper provided accordingly, so that when Plangus came, he was like himself to have been entrapped; but that finding, with a lucky insight, that it was discovered, he retired; and, calling his friends 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 only preserved him against the malice of his father, but ever used him much liker his birth than his fortune, sent forces to apprehend him. But he among the martial men had gotten so great love that he could not only keep himself from her malice, but work in their minds a compassion of Erona’s adversity.

“But for the succour of Antiphilus he could get nobody to join with him, the contempt of him having not been able to qualify the hatred, so that Artaxia might easily upon him perform her will, which was (at the humble suit of all the women of that city) to deliver him to their censure, who mortally hated him for having made a law of polygamy, after many tortures, forced him to throw himself from a high pyramid which was built over Tiridates’s tomb, and so to end his false-hearted life, which had planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be unkind.

“But Plangus well perceiving that Artaxia stayed only for the appointed day that the fair Erona’s body, consumed to ashes, should make a notorious testimony how deeply her brother’s death was engraven in her breast, he assembled good numbers of friends, whom his virtue, though a stranger, had tied unto him by force, to give her liberty. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom anger gave more courage than her sex did fear, used her regal authority, the most she could, to suppress that sedition, and have her will, which, she thought, is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who indeed, as all men witness, is one of the best captains, both for policy and valour, that are trained in the school of Mars, in a conflict overthrew Artaxia’s power, though of far greater number; and there took prisoner a base son of her brother’s whom she dearly affected, and then sent her word, that he should run the same race of fortune, whatsoever it was, that Erona did; and happy was that threatening for her, for else Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respect of those tumults.