Читать книгу Arcadia - Sir Philip Sidney - Страница 30
ОглавлениеChapter 14
Basilius and Gynecia Fall for Zelmane
Pyrocles describes the waterworks at Basilius’ lodge, then how old Basilius sought Zelmane’s favors. His pursuit of Philoclea is further complicated when Gynecia realizes “Zelmane” is a man and falls in love with him. Pyrocles promises to bring the family to his arbor so Musidorus can observe them. (1593 ed. 28.20)
“Gynecia herself brought me to my lodging,” continued Pyrocles. “Anon I was invited and brought down to sup with them in the garden, a place equally fair in natural ornaments and artificial inventions. There in a banqueting house among certain pleasant trees whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings about of vine branches, the table was set near an excellent waterwork. It cast water in a most cunning manner, and by the shining of the sun on it made a perfect rainbow. It was not more pleasant to the eye than to the mind, so visibly to see a proof of the heavenly Iris.18
“There were birds, also made so finely that they not only deceived the sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs, which the watery instruments did make their throats deliver. The round table was fastened to the floor on which we sat, but then was divided from the surrounding buildings by a device that Basilius at first turned to make me sport. Then the table and we about the table turned round by means of water that ran under and carried it about like a mill.
“But alas, what pleasure did it to me, to make many times the full circle round about, since Philoclea, also seated, was carried still in equal distance from me? Only my eyes could overtake her, and when the table was stayed and we began to feed, they drank much more eagerly of her beauty than my mouth did of any other liquor. And so was my common sense deceived (being chiefly bent to her) that, as I drank wine and withal stole a look on her, me seemed I tasted her deliciousness. But alas, the one thirst was much more inflamed than the other quenched.
“Sometimes my eyes would lay themselves open to receive all the darts Philoclea did throw; sometimes they would close up with admiration, as if with a contrary fancy they would preserve the riches of that sight, or cast my lids as curtains over the image of beauty her presence had painted in them. True it is that my reason, now grown a servant to passion, often told its master that it should use its delight more moderately. But passion, that of a rebel had become a prince, disdained almost to allow reason the place of a counselor, so that my senses’ delights were too strong for any other resolution. I did even loose the reins unto them, hoping that, since they thought I was a woman, my looking would pass either unmarked or unsuspected.
“Now thus I had well played (as methought) my first act, assuring myself that under my disguise I should find opportunity to reveal myself to Philoclea, the owner of my heart. But who would think it possible (though I feel it true) that in almost eight weeks’ space I have lived here, having no more company than her parents—and I being familiar as being a woman and watchful as being a lover—yet could I never find opportunity to have one minute’s leisure for private conference. The cause of this is as strange as the effects are to me miserable. And (alas) this it is:
“At the first sight that Basilius had of me (I think Cupid had headed his arrows with my misfortune), he took me to be such as I profess and was stricken with great affection towards me. This affection has since grown into such a doting love that (till I was fain to get this place sometimes to retire unto freely) I was even choked with his tediousness.
“You never saw a young lover dance up and down more lively than this man of four score years. He appeared in fine apparel, as if he would make me in love with a cloak. And he could go verse for verse with the sharpest-witted lover in Arcadia. Do you not think that this is a salad of wormwood, while my eyes feed upon the ambrosia of Philoclea’s beauty?
“But this is not all. No, this is not the worst! For he, (good man) was easy enough to deal with. But (as I think), love and mischief, having made a wager which should have most power in me, set Gynecia also on such a fire toward me as will never (I fear) be quenched but with my destruction. For she is a woman of excellent wit, and of strong-working thoughts. I know not whether she suspected me by my overly vehement shows of affection to Philoclea (which love 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.”
