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 honorably courteous and valiant without doing harm, considerately pleasant in conversation, and an excellent courtier without unfaithfulness. Phalantus, having found his sister’s melancholy (the result of her love for Amphialus) irremediable, 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 both daring and skilled.
But as it was rather choice than nature that led him to matters of arms, as soon as the spur of honor ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delights. He was beloved in all companies for his lovely qualities and his winning cheerfulness. To the prince and court of Laconia, no one was more agreeable than Phalantus. Not greatly given to struggle with his own disposition, he followed the gentle current of it, having a fortune sufficient to content him, and he content with a sufficient fortune.
“In that court,” continued Basilius, “he saw and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose beauty he now defends. He became her servant and called himself—and perchance thought himself—her lover. But certainly 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, they 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. She thought she did wrong to her beauty if she were not proud of it. She called her disdain of him chastity, and she placed her honor in setting little by his honoring her. She determined never to marry except a man whom she thought worthy of her—and that was one in whom all worthiness was harbored. Not only nature but the upbringing she received from my sister-in-law Cecropia confirmed her in this notion.
“Cecropia in her widowhood had taken this young Artesia into her charge because Artesia’s father had been a dear friend of Cecropia’s dead husband. She taught Artesia to think that there is no wisdom except to include both heaven and earth in oneself, and that one should rather take on the appearance of love, courtesy, gratefulness, friendship and all other virtues than take such virtues into oneself.
“And so good a good disciple she found in Artesia that, liking the fruits of her own planting, she was content for Artesia to marry to her son, my nephew Amphialus, if he had consented. But I think her desire has lost some of its heat, since she has learned that such a queen as Helen offers so great a price as a kingdom to buy Amphialus’ favor. For if I am not deceived in my good sister Cecropia, she thinks no face so beautiful as one which looks under a crown.
“But Artesia indeed liked well my nephew Amphialus,” continued Basilius, “for I can never deem that ‘love’ which in haughty hearts proceeds of a desire only to please and, as it were, peacock themselves. She had shown vehemence of desire that way, I think because all her desires are vehement, so much that she placed her only brother, a fine youth called Ismenus, as Amphialus’ squire. She herself had been content to wait upon my sister Cecropia, hoping she might see the uttermost what she may work in Amphialus, who, being of a melancholy (though I must say,
