then Basilius told Pamela (not so much because she should know it as because he would tell it) the wonderful act Zelmane had performed, which Gynecia likewise spoke of, both in such extremity of praising as it was easy to see that the construction of their speech might best be made by the grammar rules of affection. Basilius told with what a gallant grace she ran with the lion’s head in her hand, like another Pallas with the spoils of Gorgon. Gynecia swore she saw the very face of the young Hercules killing the Nemean lion. And all with a grateful assent confirmed the same praises.
Only poor Dorus, equally deserving yet not coming from equal estate, should have been left forgotten had not Zelmane, again with great admiration, begun to speak of him, asking whether it were the fashion in Arcadia that shepherds should perform such valorous enterprises.
Basilius (having the quick sense of a lover) took this to mean that his mistress was giving him a secret reprehension that he had not showed more gratefulness to Dorus. Therefore, as nimbly as he could, he inquired of his estate, adding promise of great rewards, among which he offered to Dorus that if he would exercise his courage in soldiery, he would commit some charge of soldiers to him under his lieutenant Philanax.
But Dorus (whose ambition climbed by another stair) first answered touching his estate, that he was brother to the shepherd Menalcas, who among others was wont to resort to the prince’s presence. He then excused himself from going to soldiery by the unaptness he found in himself that way. And he told Basilius that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serve Dametas. Therefore, for due obedience on the matter, he would think his service greatly rewarded if he might obtain by that means to live in the sight of his prince, and yet practice his own chosen vocation.
Basilius liked Dorus’ goodly shape and handsome manner, and he charged Dametas to receive him like a son into his house, saying that Dorus’ valor and Dametas’ truth would be good bulwarks against such mischief as, he did not hesitate to say, were threatened against his daughter Pamela.
Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that had been said, accepted Dorus. He also told Basilius that some of the shepherds had come, asking in what place he would see their sports.
Basilius was first curious to know whether it were not more requisite for Zelmane’s hurt to rest than sit up at those pastimes. Zelmane felt no wound but one and earnestly desired to have the pastorals. Therefore Basilius commanded it should be at the gate of the lodge where the throne of the prince was, and according to the ancient manner, he made Zelmane (who thought herself between burning and drowning) sit between him and his wife. The two young ladies sat on either side of the throne. And so they prepared their eyes and ears to be delighted by the shepherds.
But before all those were assembled to begin their sports, there came a fellow who was out of breath or seemed so for haste. With humble hastiness, he told Basilius that his mistress, Lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mischance of her beasts ranging in such dangerous sort. It happened out of the folly of their keeper, who thought himself able to rule them and had taken them abroad and so was deceived. She was ready to deliver him if Basilius would punish him for it.
Basilius made no other answer but that his mistress, if she had any more such beasts, should cause them to be killed. He then told his wife and Zelmane of it, so that they should not fear that those woods harbored such beasts, where the like had never been seen.
But Gynecia took a further conception of it, greatly mistrusting Cecropia because she had heard much of the devilish wickedness of her heart and that in particular Cecropia did her best to bring up her son Amphialus to aspire to the crown, since he was the brother’s son and next male heir to Basilius. Gynecia therefore saw no reason not to conjecture that what happened proceeded rather of some mischievous practice than of misfortune. Yet she only uttered her doubt to her daughters, thinking, since the worst was past, she would wait for a further occasion, lest overmuch haste might seem to derive from the ordinary dislike between sisters-in-law. Nonetheless they marveled that Basilius looked no further into it. The good man thought so much of his late conceived commonwealth that all other matters were but digressions to him.
But the shepherds were ready, and the ladies, handling themselves well, called their senses to attend their pastimes.
choleric look of Phoebus] the angry gaze of the sun.
“This was set as a round for six voices by Thomas Ravenscroft, Pammelia (1609), No. 95” (Ringler 385).
The First Eclogues
Undercover Lovers
The opening “brawl” (a dance in groups) announces the theme of unrequited love. Disguised as a shepherd and an Amazon, Musidorus and Pyrocles use indirection and various verse forms (elegiac, sapphic, and hexameter) to signal their true identities, but Pamela remains aloof, Philoclea uncomprehending. The eclogues end with Lamon’s low-style song in ottava rima stanzas, suitable for comic contrast while also suggesting a cosmic dimension when Claius pursues the heavenly beauty of Urania. (1593 ed. 38v)
Basilius, because Zelmane so would have it, used the artificial day of torches to light up the theatricals. Many shepherds having just arrived, he gently chastised their negligence by making them torchbearers. The others he allowed all freedom of speech and behavior, according to their accustomed method.
While the performers prepared themselves, Dametas, who much disdained all his old companions since his late increase in authority, brought his servant Dorus to make their acquaintance and join their play, while he himself stood over them like a director, nodding, gaping, winking, stamping, showing how he liked or misliked all these things that he did not understand.
First the shepherds leaped and gamboled to the tune of the pipes (which they held in their mouths even as they danced), making a right picture of their god Pan and his companions the satyrs. Then they cast away their pipes and hand in hand, in what seemed to be a brawl, danced to the cadence of their own voices singing some short couplets, the one half beginning, the other half answering. One half would say,
We love and have our loves rewarded.
and the other half would answer,
We love and are no whit regarded.
Then the first, again,
We find most sweet affection’s snare.
In the same tune, the choir would send it back,
Oh sweet but sour, despairing care!
A third time likewise,
Who can despair, whom hope does bear?
and the answer,
But who can hope, who feels despair?
Then joining all their voices, and dancing a faster measure, they would conclude with some such words:
As without breath no pipe doth move,
no music pleases32 without love.
Having thus varied both their song and dances in diverse sorts of inventions, in their last sport one of them would provoke another into expressing his secret passion. Thyrsis (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) had marked in Dorus’ dancing not only good grace and handsome behavior, but the extreme tokens of a troubled mind. Therefore with his pipe and then with his voice he challenged Dorus, and was by him answered thus: 33
pleases] Sidney wrote “kindly,” meaning, no music affects us naturally or pleasantly without love.
“The song contest was a standard fixture of the classical pastoral … but Sidney here plays the game in accordance with far more difficult rules, which he appears to have learned from the second eclogue of Sannazaro’s Arcadia and perhaps from the third song in the sixth book of Montemayor’s Diana [although] the content and phrasing are his own (Ringler 385).
Thyrsis