Arcadia. Sir Philip Sidney
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forced me unwisely to utter, while hope of my mask foolishly encouraged me), or she took some other mark of me that I am not a woman, or some devil revealed it to her. But so it is that all her countenances, words, and gestures are even miserable portraitures of a desperate affection whereby man may learn that this avoidance of company only makes the passions more violent when they meet with fit subjects.
“Truly it has been a notable dumb show of Cupid’s kingdom to see my eyes (languishing with over-vehement longing) direct themselves to Philoclea while Basilius is as busy about me as a bee and, indeed, as cumbersome, making vehement suits to me, who neither could help him if I would, nor would if I could.
“Meanwhile the terrible wit of Gynecia, carried on the bier of violent love, runs through us all. She is so jealous of my love to her daughter that every time I begin to open my mouth to the irresistible Philoclea, Gynecia’s unwished presence gives my tale a conclusion before it has a beginning.
“Surely if I am 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. Good Basilius thought it best to have lodged us together, but the eternal hatefulness of my destiny made Gynecia’s jealousy stop that and all my other blessings. Yet must I confess that one way her love does me pleasure. Since it was my foolish fortune, or unfortunate folly, to be known by her, her love for me 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 stop of a hearty sigh.
Musidorus recommended to his best discourse19 all that Pyrocles had told him, but he found such intricateness that he could see no way to lead Pyrocles out of the maze. He perceived that Pyrocles’ affection was so grounded that striving against it would rather anger than heal his wound and rather call his friendship in question than give place to any friendly counsel.
“Well, dear cousin, since it has pleased the gods to mingle your other excellence with this humor of love, yet happy it is that your love is employed unto so rare a woman, for certainly a noble cause much eases a grievous case. As it stands now, it vexes me that I cannot see how I can be serviceable to 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. You shall have my key to enter, because as my fortune either amends or impairs, I may declare it to you and have your counsel and furtherance. And hereby I will of purpose lead Gynecia, who is the praise and yet the stain of all womankind, that you may have so good a view as to allow my judgment. When I can get the most convenient time, I will come to you, for though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the lodge, it is near at hand. But now,” said she, 20 “it is time for me to leave you, and towards evening we will walk here. Therefore keep yourself hidden in that time.”
But Musidorus, bethinking himself that his horse might happen to betray them, thought it best to return, for that day, to a village not far off. He would make provision for his horse, and the next day early come there on foot, and so keep that course afterward.
Pyrocles liked very well his plans. “Now farewell, dear cousin,” he said, “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 going out with that word, 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.
she] From this point forward, the narrator often refers to the disguised Pyrocles as Zelmane or “she.”
Chapter 15
Phalantus’ Defense of Artesia’s Beauty
Pyrocles finds himself thwarted in his attempts to be alone with Philoclea. Basilius gives permission for Phalantus to joust in defense of the beauty of Artesia, the protégé of his sister-in-law Cecropia. (1593 ed. 29.18)
Zelmane returned to the lodge, where she was 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 that 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), Zelmane sighed also, as if Philoclea’s sigh were to be waited on—and then Basilius and Gynecia soon made up four parts of sorrow. Their affection increased their conversation, and their conversation increased their affection. The respect they bore for each other bred due ceremonies, but affection shined so through them that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmane’s eyes were eager, like children before candy, but fearful of their ill-pleading governors. Time in one instant seemed both short and long to them—short in the pleasure of such presence, long in the hindrance of their desires.
But Zelmane failed not to entice them all many times to walk abroad, because she wanted her friend Musidorus (near whom on purpose she led them) to have full sight of them. Sometimes she angled them to a little river near at hand, which, for the moisture it bestowed upon the roots of the flourishing trees, was rewarded with their shadow. There would they sit down, and pretty wagers were made between Pamela and Philoclea, who could soonest beguile silly fishes, while Zelmane protested that the fit prey for them were hearts of princes. She also had an angle21 in her hand, but the taker was so taken that she forgot to take fish. Basilius, in the mean time, would himself be the cook of what was caught, and Gynecia sit still, but with no still pensiveness.
Sometimes Zelmane brought the others to see a seeled dove, who, the blinder she was, the higher she strove. Another time it was a kite, which having a gut cunningly pulled out of her, and so let fly, attracted all the other kites in that quarter, who (as oftentimes the world is deceived) thought her prosperous when indeed she was wounded, which 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 conquests, there came a shepherd who brought him word that a gentleman wished leave to deliver a message from his lord to him. Basilius granted, whereupon the gentleman came. And after dutiful ceremonies were observed in his master’s name, he told Basilius that he was sent from Phalantus of Corinth to crave license that, as he had done in many other courts, so he might, in Basilius’ presence, defy all Arcadian knights on behalf of the beauty of his mistress, who would, besides, be present in person herself, to give evident proof of what his lance should affirm. The conditions of his challenge were that the defendant should bring his mistress’s picture and set it by the image of Artesia, for so was the mistress of Phalantus named. Whoever in six courses should have the better of the other in the judgment of Basilius, with him both the honors and the pictures should remain.
Basilius had retired into that solitary dwelling to avoid, rather than accept, any matters that might draw company, yet because he would entertain Zelmane (that she might not think the time, so gainful to him, a loss to her) he granted Phalantus permission to pitch his tent for three days not far from the lodge and to proclaim his challenge. Whatever Arcadian knight (for no one else, but upon his peril, was licensed to come) would defend what he honored against Phalantus would have freedom of access and return.
This obtained and published, Zelmane was desirous to learn who this Phalantus was, having never known him other than by reports of his good jousting, in which he was commonly called “The Fair Man of Arms.”
Basilius told her that he had had occasion by one very close to him to know in part the discourse of Phalantus’ life, which was that he was bastard brother to the fair Helen, queen of Corinth, and dearly esteemed by her for his exceedingly good qualities. He was