proud jollity commanded the black knight to leave that quarrel for him, as only he was worthy to enter into it. But the black knight obeyed no such commandments, and they fell to such a bickering that the halting knight got a halting and lost his picture. When Basilius understood this, he told the halting knight he was now fitter to look to his own body than another’s picture, and so sent him away uncomforted therein, to learn of Asclepius that he was not fit for Venus.
But then the question arose, who should be the first against Phalantus: the black knight or the ill-appareled knight, who now had gotten the reputation of a sturdy lout, since he had so well defended himself. On the side of the black knight it was alleged that he had a picture, which the other lacked; on the side of the ill-appareled knight, that he had struck the shield first. But the conclusion was that the ill-appareled knight should have the precedence if he delivered the figure of his mistress to Phalantus, who asked him for it.
“Certainly,” said the ill-appareled knight, “her liveliest picture—if you could see it—is in my heart, and the best comparison I can make of her is of the sun and all the other heavenly beauties. But because all eyes cannot taste the divinity of her beauty, and some would be dazzled rather than taught by the light, if it were not clouded by some meaner thing, know then that I defend that same lady whose image Phebilus so feebly lost yesternight, and instead of another, if you overcome me you shall have me as your slave to carry that image in your mistress’s triumph.”
Phalantus easily agreed to the bargain, which already he had made his own. But when it came to the trial, the ill-appareled knight chose the greatest staves in all the store, and at first course gave Phalantus’ head such a remembrance that he almost lost his remembrance, while he himself received the encounter of Phalantus without any extraordinary motion. At the second course, he gave him such a counterbuff that, because Phalantus was so perfect a horseman as not to be driven from the saddle, the saddle with broken girths was driven from the horse. Phalantus remained angry and amazed because, having come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace befell him which he had never before known.
The judges gave the victory to the ill-appareled knight, and the trumpets witnessed their decision. Phalantus’ disgrace aggrieved him but he had no comfort from Artesia, who told him she never looked for other from him and bade him seek some other mistress. He excused himself and blamed fortune for the fault.
“Then let that be your ill fortune too,” said she, “that you have lost me.”
“Nay truly, madam,” said Phalantus. “It shall not be so: for I think the loss of such a mistress will prove a great gain” and so concluded—to the amusement of Basilius, to see the love of young folks, who came in masked with such great pomp and went out with so little constancy.
Phalantus, first professing his obligation to Basilius for courteously interrupting his solitary course for his sake, said he would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whither she desired to go. To himself he vowed that neither heart nor mouth-love should ever entangle him again, and with that resolution he left the company.
All were dismissed, including the black knight, who went away repining his luck that had kept him from winning the honor of defending the picture of Pamela. Only the ill-appareled knight was asked to stay, because Basilius meant to show him to Zelmane. But when he pulled off his helmet, he was discovered to be Zelmane herself, who that morning (as she told) while the others were busy, had stolen out to the prince’s stable, which was a mile off from the lodge, where she had gotten a horse (the stable-hands knowing that it was Basilius’ pleasure she should be obeyed). She had borrowed that homely armor for want of a better and had come upon the spur to redeem Philoclea’s picture which, she said, she could not bear should be in captivity while she herself was part of that little wilderness company, if the cunning she had learned in her country of noble Amazons could prevent it.
Under that pretext she would fain have given a secret passport to her affection, but this act painted at one instant redness in Philoclea’s face and paleness in Gynecia’s. From the others it brought forth only looks of admiration and speeches of commendation. They thought they honored themselves in honoring so accomplished a person as Zelmane, whom daily they sought to delight with some sports or other, for which purpose Basilius had servants in a house not far off, who though they came not uncalled, yet at call were ready.
bases and caparison] pleated skirts worn by a knight and the ornamental drape on a horse.
discomfited] defeated in battle.
slubber up matters of mean account] fail to respect common people.
Chapter 18
Musidorus Disguised
Musidorus sings and explains to Pyrocles how he lodged with the shepherd Menalcas. After falling in love with Pamela, he disguised himself as a shepherd to gain employment with Dametas, so to be near to her. Meanwhile to ensure secrecy he has sent Menalcas to Thessalia, where his servant Kalodoulus will detain him. (1593 ed. 34.26)
And so, many days were spent, and many ways used, while Zelmane was like one that stood in a tree waiting a good occasion to shoot, and Gynecia a blancher27 who kept the dearest deer from her.
The day came on which, according to an appointed course, the shepherds were to assemble and make their pastoral sports before Basilius. Afraid lest many eyes coming many ways might happen to spy Musidorus, Zelmane went out to warn him, but before she come to the arbor, she saw walking away from her a man dressed as a shepherd. He was in sight of the lodge, and it seemed he was allowed to be there. A long cloak he had on, but cast it under his right arm, wherein he held a sheep hook so finely wrought that it gave a bravery28 to poverty, and his raiments, though they were mean, yet they received handsomeness by the grace of the wearer, though he himself went at a kind of languishing pace. Sometimes he cast his eyes up to heaven as though his fancies strove to mount higher; sometimes he threw them down to the ground as if the earth could not bear the burden of his sorrows. At length, with a lamentable tune, he sang these few verses:29
Come shepherd’s weeds, become your master’s mind:
Yield outward show what inward change he tries.
Be not abashed that such a guest you find
whose strongest hope in your weak comfort lies.
Come shepherd’s weeds, attend my woeful cries:
Disuse yourselves from sweet Menalcas’ voice,
for other be those tunes which sorrow ties
from those clear notes which freely may rejoice.
Then pour out plaint, and in one word say this:
“Helpless!”—his plaint, who spoils himself of bliss.
And having ended, he struck himself on the breast, saying, “O miserable wretch, whither do thy destinies guide thee?”
The voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to overtake him. Having done so, she plainly perceived that it was her dear friend Musidorus. Marveling not a little, she demanded of him whether the goddess of
