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Chapter 2

Mopsa Wooed

Musidorus, dressed like a shepherd, tells Pyrocles how he found a way to address Pamela (who otherwise scorns his low estate) while avoiding the suspicions of Dametas, Miso, and Mopsa: He so praises Mopsa that Pamela knows he cannot be serious. (1593 ed. 52.32)

But as sick folks who, when they are alone, think company will relieve them, and yet having company find it noisome—changing willingly outward objects, when indeed the evil is inward—so poor Zelmane was no more weary of Basilius than she was of herself when Basilius was gone, and ever the more weary of herself, the more she turned her eyes to become her own judges.

Tired therewith, she longed to meet her friend Dorus so that upon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burden of sorrow. Therefore she went toward the other lodge, where among certain beech trees she found Dorus appareled in flannel, with a goat’s skin cast upon him and a garland of laurel mixed with cypress leaves on his head.

He was waiting on his master Dametas, who at that time was teaching him how to catch a wanton lamb with his sheep hook and how with the same to cast a little clod at any one that strayed out of company. And while Dorus was practicing, one might see Dametas holding his hands behind him under his girdle, nodding from the waist upwards and swearing he never knew anyone go more awkwardly to work. They might talk of book-learning what they would, but for his part he never saw more unhandy fellows than great clerks were.

But Zelmane’s coming saved Dorus from further chiding. She began to speak with him of the number of his master’s sheep and which province of Arcadia bore the finest wool, then drew him on to follow her in such country discourses till—being out of Dametas’ hearing—with such vehemence of passion, as though her heart would climb into her mouth to take her tongue’s office, she declared to him upon what briars the roses of her affections grew; how time seemed to forget her, bestowing not one hour of comfort upon her; and how she remained still in one plight of ill fortune, only so much worse, since continuance of evil does in itself increase evil.

“Alas, my Dorus,” said she, “You see how long and languishingly the weeks have passed over since we last spoke. And yet I am the same miserable I that I was, only stronger in longing and weaker in hoping.” Then fell she to so pitiful a declaration of the insupportableness of her desires that Dorus’ ears—unable to show what wounds that discourse gave them—sent his eyes to give testimony with tears to how much they suffered for her suffering.

At last passion, a most cumbersome guest to itself, made Zelmane the sooner shake it off and earnestly entreat Dorus that he also, with like freedom of discourse, would bestow a map of his little world upon her, so that she might see whether it was troubled with such uninhabitable climes of cold despairs and hot rages as hers was.

Walking under a few palm trees—which being loving in their own nature, seemed to give their shadow the more willingly because Dorus and Zelmane held discourse of love—Dorus thus entered into the description of his fortune:

“Alas,” said he, “dear cousin, it has pleased the high powers to throw us to such an estate that the only intercourse of our true friendship must be a bartering of miseries. For my part, I must confess indeed that from a huge darkness of sorrows, I am crept, I cannot say to a lightsomeness, but to a certain dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibility of comfort. But woe is me, I am so far from the mark of desires that I rather think it such a light as comes through a small hole to a dungeon to make a miserable captive better remember the light of which he is deprived. I am like a scholar who has only come to that degree of knowledge that makes him know himself utterly ignorant.

“But thus stands it with me. After I was exalted by your means to serve in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this to refresh me: that due to the service I had done in killing the bear, it pleased the princess (in whom indeed stateliness shines through courtesy) to let fall some gracious look upon me, sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to hear my songs. For my part, my heart would not suffer me to omit any occasion whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela see how much extraordinary devotion I bore to her service. And withal, I strove to appear more worthy in her sight, so that my small desert, joined to so great affection, might somewhat prevail in the wisest lady.

“But too well (alas) I found that she considered a shepherd’s service no more than as from a shepherd, and her acceptance limited to no further proportion than of a good servant. And when my countenance had once given notice that there lay affection under it, I saw straight majesty (sitting in the throne of beauty) draw forth such a sword of just disdain that I remained as a man thunder-stricken, not daring—no, not able—to behold that power.

“Now to make my state known seemed again impossible, by reason of the suspiciousness of Dametas, Miso, and my young mistress Mopsa. For Dametas (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinks there is no better way to show himself wise than by suspecting everything in his way. This suspicion Miso (for the hoggish shrewdness of her brain) and Mopsa (for a very unlikely envy she has stumbled upon against the princess’s unspeakable beauty) were very glad to execute. Finding my service by this means lightly regarded, my affection despised, and myself unknown, I remained no fuller of desire than I was void of counsel how to come to my desire.

“If these trees could speak, they might witness how many times I have stood here bewailing myself unto them. Many times I have leaned on yonder palm tree and admired the blessedness of it, that it could bear love without sense of pain. Many times when my master’s cattle came hither to chew their cud in this fresh place, I might see the young bull testify his love. But how? With proud looks and joyfulness.

“ ‘O wretched mankind,’ said I then to myself, ‘in whom wit, which should be the governor of his welfare, becomes the traitor to his blessedness! These beasts, like children to nature, inherit her blessings quietly. We, like bastards, are laid abroad, even as foundlings to be trained up by grief and sorrow. Their minds grudge not at their bodies’ comfort, nor are their senses prevented from enjoying their objects. We have the impediments of honor and the torments of conscience.’

“Truly in such cogitations have I sometimes so long stood that methought my feet began to grow into the ground with such a darkness and heaviness of mind that I might easily have been persuaded to have resigned over my very essence. But when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, love (which one time lays burdens, another time gives wings) pulled up my heart to remember that nothing is achieved before it is thoroughly attempted, and that lying still, one never goes forward—and that therefore it was time, now or never, to sharpen my invention, to pierce through the hardness of this enterprise, never ceasing to assemble all my conceits, one after the other, how to manifest both my mind and estate. At last I lighted and resolved on this way, which yet perchance you will think was a way rather to hide it.

“I began to counterfeit the extremest love toward Mopsa that might be. As for the love, so lively it was indeed within me (although to another subject) that little I needed to counterfeit any notable demonstrations of it. And so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in Mopsa’s foulness I beheld Pamela’s fairness. I looked on Mopsa but thought of Pamela, as if I saw my sunshine in a puddle of water. I cried out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed, to Mopsa the best fruits I could gather were brought, and to Mopsa it seemed still that my eye conveyed my tongue, so that Mopsa was my saying, Mopsa was my singing, Mopsa—who is only suitable to lay a foul complexion upon a filthy favor and set forth both in sluttishness—was the lode-star of my life, the blessing of my eyes, the overthrow of my desires and yet the recompense of my overthrow. She was the sweetness of my heart, even sweetening the death that her sweetness drew upon me.

“In sum, whatsoever I thought of Pamela, that I said about Mopsa. Thereby I got my master’s good will, who before spited me, fearing that I should win the princess’ favor from him. Moreover, my behavior made the princess the better content to allow me her presence. Whether indeed it was that a certain spark of noble indignation rose in her not to suffer such a baggage to win away anything of hers (however meanly she reputed of it), or whether (as I think) my words were so passionate and shot so quite contrary from the marks of Mopsa’s worthiness that she perceived well enough where they were directed, she was contented as a sport of wit to attend them, being so masked.

“Wherefore, one day I was determined to find some means to tell (as of a third person) the tale of my own love and estate. Finding Mopsa (like a cuckoo by a nightingale) alone with Pamela, I came unto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of cloudy fancies, took a harp and sang this song:

Since so mine eyes are subject to your sight

that in your sight they fixèd have my brain;

since so my heart is fillèd with that light,

that only light doth all my life maintain;

since in sweet you all goods so richly reign

that where you are, no wishèd good can want;

since so your living image lives in me

that in my self your self true love does plant,3

how can you him unworthy then decree,

in whose chief part your worths implanted be?