But when it came to the trial, the ill-apparelled knight, choosing out the greatest staves in all the store, at the first course gave his head such a remembrance that he lost almost his remembrance, he himself receiving the encounter of Phalantus, without any extraordinary motion; and at the second, 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 remaining angry and amazed, because now being come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace befell him, which he had never before known. But the victory being by the judges given, and the trumpets witnessed to the ill-apparelled knight; Phalantus’ disgrace was ingrieved in lieu of comfort of Artesia, who telling him she never looked for other, bade him seek some other mistress. He excusing himself, and turning over the fault to fortune, “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 sport of Basilius, to see young folks’ love, that came in masked with so great pomp, go out with so little constancy. But Phalantus first professing great service to Basilius for his courteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whither she desired to go, vowing in himself that neither heart nor mouth love should ever any more entangle him, and with that resolution he left the company. Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black knight went away repining at his luck that had kept him from winning the honour, as he knew he should have done to the picture of Pamela) the ill-apparelled knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to show him to Zelmane) pull’d off his helmet, and then was known himself to be Zelmane, who that morning, as she told, while the others were busy, had stolen out of the prince’s stable, which was a mile off from the lodge, had gotten a horse, they knowing it was Basilius’s pleasure she should be obeyed, and borrowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come upon the spur to redeem Philoclea’s picture, which, she said, she could not bear, being one of that little wilderness-company, should be in captivity, if the cunning she had learned in her country of the noble Amazons, could withstand it; and under that pretext fain she would have given a secret passport to her affection. But this act painted at one instant redness in Philoclea’s face, and paleness {87} in Gynecia’s, but brought forth no other countenances but of admiration, no speeches but of commendations: all those few, besides love, thinking they honoured themselves in honouring so accomplished a person as Zelmane, whom daily they fought with some or other sports to delight; for which purpose Basilius had,