The history of Polexander in five bookes / done into English by VVilliam Browne, Gent. ...

The second Part of POLEXANDER. (Book 2)

The first Booke.

THat blind and capricious power which hath chosen for the foundation of its Throne, the instability of the waters, was so cruell to our despairing Lovers, that from Baja∣zets Isle till he came within ken of the Coasts of Moroc∣co, would not oblige them with any apparance of a tem∣pest. Polexander, (vexed, with so fatall a gratification) made continuall prayers against the calme, and his life. And Zelmatida sending to Heaven a thousand pitifull supplications, besought it with teares, by a sudaine death to deliver him from the misfortune of not seeing Isatida. Whilst they thus vainly afflicted one another; their ship passed from the torrid Zone to the temperate, and leaving behinde them the fearefull plaines of the Ocean came neere the Coastes of Africa. The Marriners had already descryde the smoaking point of that Mountaine, (the highest in the world) which the Spaniards call Pico de Teyda; and Polexander was come out of his Cabin with the Indian Prince to shew him that wonder of the Isle of Teneriffe, and by consequence a part of his Dominions: When he saw shine among the waves, I know not what, that sometimes seemed to him glistering as gold, and otherwhile red as fire. This strange ob∣ject interrupted his sad meditations, and holding him fixed by his eyes, gave him such impatiencies and curiosities where withall a minde so abated as his, in all likelihood was not capable. After he had beene sometime in this contemplation; he that was on the scuttle, cryde out that he saw a ship on fire. At that noise Polexander turned away his eyes from the object, which he scarce any longer saw through his long earnest loo∣king on it, and by this diversion almost recovering his sight, tooke notice, that that which had so long amazed him, was the vessell which the Sentinell had discovered. Presently he commanded his Pilot to beare up to it; and when he was at a distance proportionable to his sight, he knew that the ship was not on fire, as the Sentinell ima∣gined, but that it bore sayles of the colour of fire, and glittered with gold in divers pla∣ces. This vessell said he to himselfe is too stately and rich for a ship of warre or merchan∣dize. The Princes of Morocco have none so brave. It cannot be Baj•…•…zets. O heaven! Shall I beleeve it (said he? Yes most assuredly tis the sacred ship of Alcidiana. He stop∣ped at that word, and musing a while on his imagination, doubt not (said he aloud) in striking Zelmatida on the arme, 'tis the very same. What? Said Zelmatida is that there? Our Heroë came to himselfe, and beseeching the Prince to pardon his transport: Ei∣ther all likelihood deceives me, or the vessell which you see is the same, which for the space of two yeeres, I have unprofitably sought after. Goe up to it then replide Zel∣matida. I intend it said Polexander. But wee must have a care that she doe not escape

us as she hath done divers times. And in finishing these words, he was come so neere her that he noted the Devices that were painted on the sailes. You might see shine a∣gaine that immortall Bird that seemed to have made her a Crowne with the very Beames of the Sun; and they read in some places some Arabian words which signified: I am sacred, for I am Alcidiana's. Wee need doubt no more, (cryde Polexander) to your armes my Companions; let every one prepare him to doe his best. But let none what ere he be, dare to shoote till I command him.

Whilst he yet spoake the proud vessell presented her right side, and gave him foure vallies of Cannon one after another. He ran the hazard to be taken off by a bullet, which striking along the ship, from the prowe to the poope, pierced two of the sayles, and carried away a peece of one of the Masts. For all that Polexander would not have his Artillery discharge; but commanding his Marriners to clap on all their sayles, thought that Lynceus being prepared for fight, had no desire as at other times to save himselfe by flight. Whilst he was thus reasoning with himselfe, those that were in the rich vessell offended that a little ship should dare to carry her sayles aloft before her, would have satisf•…•…ction, and to bring her to her duty discharged all her ordinance at her, which pier∣ced her in three places, and killed Polexander fifteene or twenty of his men, and two of Zelmatida's. This act of hostility should have obliged Polexander to repell force by force. Yet he did not. But aboording the proud ship without shooting, he called for Lynceus divers times and crying aloud to make himselfe understood: Wee come not up to you (said he) as enemies; wee know that you belong to the most potent and fairest Queene of the world, and that knowledge obligeth us to respect you as sacred persons. Give over then to war with us, since wee are as well as you the slaves and a∣dorers of Alcidiana; and if you doe not please to receive us into your ship, yet at least accept of us to serve you for direction or convoye: Scarce had Polexander finisht these words, but a man armed with armour of gold, who carried on his buckler the portraict of a Queene, presented himselfe on the side of the ship, and lifting up his sword; I would know (said he) adressing him to Polexander, who are those that dare take to them the glorious title of Alcidiana's slaves. The Prince insteed of answering stood as fastned on the buckler of the Knight with the golden armour, because he knew that 'twas Alcidi∣ana who was there pictured, and adoring that face which could not be seene without admiration: O thou Sun (cryde he) that only givest light to mine eyes, when shall I be permitted to burne my selfe in thy divine flames? He had not ended the last word, when the golden Knight stroake with his sword so weighty a blow on his head, that if it had not beene covered with a very good Casque, he had surely clove•…•… it in sunder. This blowe awakened him from his extasie, and forced him to take his weapon in his hand. Thy rashnesse is great (said he presently) to him that strooke him, but if thou be either subject or slave to Alcidiana, I beare her respect enough to endure this injury. I am sent by Alcidiana (replide insolently the golden Knight) to correct those bold fel∣lowes like thy selfe, which dare to vaunt themselves to be the slaves of Alcidiana. To me alone appertaines so illustrious a quallity, and if thou doe not throw thy selfe at my feet to aske me pardon for being so audacious; Know, the day is come wherein thou must pay for it with thy life. In ending these threats he stroake Polexander the second time, and by his language made him well know that he was mistaken. Our Heroë pro∣voked to see himselfe so far from his hopes, and besides transported with a just jealou∣sie, cast himselfe into his enemies ship, and made that proude one feele the weight of his arme so rudely, that with the first blowe he laid him for dead at his feete. Zelmatida that had beene a spectator of that action, could not sufficiently admire it; and standing in a posture ready to second his friend, in case he were assailed by the men of the van∣quished party, tooke off their resolution of undertaking it. Polexander the while his Ri∣vall recovered not from his swound, commanded some of his followers to helpe him, and before he left him, desired to know what he was. A venerable Moore (for his age) therewith spake thus: Knight (said he) you may well judge by the cost∣ly and pompous trayne, this man now stretched at your feet goes withall, that he should be of some eminent condition. Certainely, Africa, and I say more, Europe, have not any Soveraigne that can dispute with him for greatnesse. He is borne Prince of Moroc∣co,

of Fez, and many other Kingdomes. 'Tis the hardy Abdelmelec Son of the puissant Hely. I will not tell you that the beauty of a Queene, which none can see but in pain∣ting, hath brought him in love. You may know it well enough by the words he gave you, by this fatall portraict (with that he tooke up from the Deck Abdelmelech's buck∣ler) and by the Cyphers and Devices, which shine in every part of this ship. Father (said Polexander interrupting him) you may well make me understand many particula∣rities whereof I am ignorant; but since it may be that they will not be very pleasing to me, I shall be glad to know nothing of them. I therefore leave you at quiet, to the end you may be the more industrious in the succouring of Abdelmelec; and for feare that this Portraict may run the hazard to be wronged by the sword of some one that respects it not so much as my selfe; I intreat you to give it me; and to tell your Prince when he hath recollected his spirits, that I should have thought to have done an act of injustice if I had left so faire a thing in the power of a man that knew no beter how to preserve it. And in saying thus, he tooke the buckler which the old man held, and returning into his owne ship commanded his Pilot, to steere againe his course for the Island of Alcidiana. Zelmatida received him as a Conqueror, and highly praised his action. But our Heroë, blushing for an honour that cost him so little: I have done nothing (said he to that Prince) but taught the poore Abdelmelec, that his strength is not proportioned to his courage, or rather I have made the unfortunate Polexander to know that as often as he will promise himselfe any contentment, he shall take the pleasure to deceive himselfe. No, no, he must no more hope, since he hopes so vainely, nor, that, for whatsoever may be•…•…ide him, he reject the councell that despaire gives him. That's a resolution which I should long since have taken, said (sadly to him) Zelmatida. But whether I deceive my selfe, as you doe: or whether it be some unknowne power that workes me to this error; there is not a moment but I flatter my selfe with some new hope; and imagine spight of all reason and truth, that I shall one day see Izatida victorious over the grave, shine with the same allurements wherewithall mine eyes have been hereto∣fore so pleasingly dazeled. Whilst but to speake plainly these two-to-be-lamented Princes knew not whereon to resolve, their ship driven by an extreame fresh wind arrived at Polexanders Iland; where he was received by his Vice-roy and his sub∣jects with such joy and acclamations as cannot be expressed; and caused Zelmatida to be entertayned with so much pompe, that he could not have been more magni∣ficently received if he had made his entry into the stately Citty of Cusco. He was lodged in the Pallace that Periander had caused to be built, and served with all the abundance and delicates that are seen in the extraordinary feastings of the prime Kings of Europe. But if Zelmattida were insensible of all the greate entertainment he re∣ceived; Polexander was not lesse, of all the delights of his countrey and the affecti∣on of his people. They sig•…•…ed both continually after those things which themselves imagined impossible to be attayned. The one desired the life of his dead loue, and the other wished to arrive at a place Inacc•…•…ssible. The one would dye to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 rejoy∣ned to the beauty which he had lost; and the other would rather perish then t•…•… live farre from those faire eyes which had robbed him of his liberty. In a word they were both weary of every place they came in and principally of rest, and all plea∣sures; for they had scarce tasted the delights of the fortunate Islands but they were cloyde with them. From the first dayes of their landing, they talked of putting to sea againe, and attempt againe either to make themselves happy or to be lost for ever. One evening as they were talking of it, one came and advertis'd Polexander that there was a ship come into the Port, and that a lady of quallity therein sent to know whether he were returned. Tell her (sayd Polexander presently to him that brought the newes) what you know, and if she have neede of my Service I will waite on her any where that she shall please to command me. Scarce had he ended this complyment., but he was told that the Lady was in the Pallace. He therefore intreated Zelmattida to give him leave, to performe the honour of his lodging, and leaving him with his people went to meet the Lady: which he did on the greate staires clad and attended like a person of great qualitie. He did her all kinde of civilities, and asked her pardon for the paines she had taken. The Lady

having rendred him his Complyments, and signified her joy of meeting him, lift∣ed up a little the veyle that covered her, and feigning twas to set it higher, discoverd an eye more sparkling then that starre which carries the Name of the Mother of love, and a complexion so bright that even though it were not white, there leapt from it a certaine luster which on a suddaine dazel•…•…d the eyes of the most cleere∣sighted. Polexander noted all these beautyes, and renewing his Compliments, lead the Lady to one of the stateliest apportments of his Palace. There he off•…•…ed all that he could off•…•…r her, and besought her to make use of his service. I accept your offers (replyed that charming beauty) and receyve the testimonyes of your courtesye, with so much the more satisfaction since by them I am confirmed in the hatred which I have justly conceived against the most brutish and perfidious of Princes. I will relate you the history when your are pleased to heare it; for 'tis to the end to informe you that twice already I have saild from Africa, into this Iland.

Polexander, told her that he was very unfortunate to be absent as such times as she took the paines to come thither. But Madam (saide he) you have need of rest. With your permission I will go and give order to your affaires and leave you at liberty. When you are pleased to see me you need but send the meanest of your servants, and I shall not faile presently to waite on you. The Lady much satisfied with these courtesies and having been a long while with her women to right the disorders of her dressing, she commanded one of her eunuches to go to Polexander and aske him the houre when he would please to give her Audience. The Prince who was returned to Zel∣matida made his most particular excuses that he was so often constraynd to faile of what he ought him, and leaving him with Alcippus and Garruca, returned into the chamber of his new guest. Assoone as she saw him, she came to meete him, and made him very pleasing excuses, for the liberty she tooke with so greate a Prince, and presenting him her hand, lead him to the innerside of her bed, and set her downe on it, that she might so have her back turn'd to the light, and that her face naturally sweet, might receive new graces by that art. Polexander setting himselfe right against her, marked all her sweetnesses and allurements, and sate surpris'd rather then charm'd with that addresse wherewithall she govern'd her quick and languishing eyes: she presently began to speake, and cuting off all kinde of preparation: I am sayd she the daughter of Muley Hassen King of Thunis. I have a sister elder then my selfe, which is call'd Bencerida Ennoramita. Her adventures are not much more happy then nine; and if I would cast my disgraces on any other then their veritable Author, I could say that she is justly punished for giving me ill councell. Yet I will speake no more of it, but shallbe well satisfied to discharge all my choler against that traitour who feigned not to love me but onely to make me undergo all that might be eff•…•…cted by his cruelty. My Name is Perselida Amatonta Ennoramita, and that you might not believe I mistake my selfe in my discourse, you may please to know that the Name of Ennoramita is a Name that all the Princesses of my Race are obliged to carrie in remembrance of that famous Queen which delivered the kingdome of Tu∣ns from the tyranie of the Arabians. The Territories of the King my father are bounded on the west by those of Fez and Morocco.

I doubt not but you know that Hely who is King of those two Kingdoms hath two sonnes whereof the one is called Abdelmelec and the other Nephizus. But it may be you know not, that as the eldest is the most rash and proudest of men, so is the other the greatest traytour and the most abhominable Monster that hath ever dishonoured the quality of a Prince. At his returne from a voyage he made to Granada, he came to Tunis, and staying there for some designe he had upon Spayne (at least if we may be∣leeve an Impostor that never speakes truth) was neere two yeeres in feeding Muley Ha•…•…an with the hope of divers conquests. He was but seldome seen, he changed often his place of abiding; and when he was obliged to any Journy, he never went but under a strange Name and habit. During his long aboade the disloy all Man cast his eyes on me, and taking pleasure in the quicknesse of my wit and dexterity of my actions, became, ere he was aware, in love with an Infant. At first his affection

was but a diversion and a sport; because not being able to wish for any thing but what he continually enjoyed, (I would say) to see me and make me talke; he lived without desire or disquiet during the first two yeares of this extravagant affection, there happened strange revolutions in the kingdome of Granada. The kings of Castile set on them farre more power'fully then they had ever don, and after many seiges and battells, not onely wonne the capitall Citty but compelled the poore Boabdilez to abandon his Crowne and to crosse the sea to finde a miserable retreate. The exe∣crable Nephizus no sooner heard of this change, but he tooke leave of Muly and re∣turned to Fez, under pretence of off•…•…ing the Countrey of Hely to the unfortunate King of Granada. It was above eighteen monthes ere my father heard any thing from him, and I think he expected nought any longer when this miscreant returnd to Thunis, not as he came at other times, I meane in the quality of a Prince, but under the Name of a certaine Spanish Lord called Don Hernandez de Toledo. He discovered himselfe to Muly, and having invented to him a thousand dangers, which doubtles he never came neere, and as many designes yet more imaginary he intrea∣ted that he might be publiquely entertayned as Embassador from the king of Spain, and permit him to have a galley in the port, that both by day and night he might put to sea and quickly get to such places where he should be called by the necessity of his affaires, and the advise of his associates. The good Muly consented to all that Ne∣phizus desired of him; and the love he bore to his children being indeed a blinde love, he was overjoyed to be able to contribute any thing to the greatnesse of a Prince on whom he already looked as on the husband of one of his daughters: during Nephizus second aboade, his passion made a great progresse.

Hee had left mee a childe, and hee found mee so tall, so well made and so faire, as hee sayed that his love grew aswell as I; and gave over as I may say the be∣ing a child when he saw that I was no more so. He began to speake another language then he had used to me before. He intymated to me that I was the object and the end of all his desires; and by a thousand execrable oathes, would perswade me that to have the honour to be my slave, he intended to renounce the conquest of all Spayne. I was yong, and had a good opinion of my selfe. Imagine with your selfe whe∣ther it were hard to gaine me by flattery. I must needs confesse to you, I beleeved the traitor, and though I had no great minde to his person, I yet loved that grea∣nesse of courage, and that extraordinary ambition that appeard in all his discour∣ses. He was above six monthes in intertayning me with his affection; and did what he could to engage me farre in his extravagancies. But treating him oftentimes as he deserved, he became more discreet, and besought me to let him returne to Morocco, to get the King his fathers permission to ask me in marriage. I consen∣ted without much intreaty to his departure, and indur'd the length of it without any greate disquiet. At Morocco he stayd well neere a yeare on at Fez; and I have learnt from divers persons, how that Monster instead of serving the king his fa∣ther, and defending him from his enemies, conspired against his life, and threw amongst his subjects the seeds of rebellion and parricide. These attempts not prospering, he was forc'd to absent himselfe from Morocco and to fly into Spayn; where questionlesse after he had contrived some newe treason, and made himselfe known what he was, he return'd to Fez, and obtaining his too milde fathers par∣don was restord to his former authority. But some new plot begetting him a power∣full enemie he ran the hazard of his life, by an adventure which I could never come to know, neither from him nor any of his followers. O! how many innocents had been aveng'd, and how happily had the world been purg'd of so fearefull a Monster, if the too generous Knight that fought with Nephizus had been lesse pitifull and not so generous as he was. Surely he should not have been content to have pierc'd him or have made him beg his life; since he was bound for the generall good of the world to have shed even the last drop of blood of that traitour. About three moneths after, as if he had forgotten his shame, or perswaded himselfe that the report of his Combat had not passed the borders of Fez, he shewed himselfe at Tunis; no more under a strange habit and Name, but as the true sonne of Hely. His traine

was answerable to his condition, and his bravery made such a shew that the eyes of Muley and of Benetrida Ennoramita were equally dazeled. My sister was even ra∣vished to see the splendor of that Prince, and judging that he came not with so much pompe but for the dressing he had on me; even enrag'd with it, looked on me with an envious eye, and told me often that I was borne the happiest of all our race. For mine owne particular, I had other thoughts. I looked on Nephizus as on a man without honour and courage, and could not even indure his conversation. The first time he could speake to me in private he renewed to me the assurances of his Service, and perceiving that I harkned to him with a great deale of coldnesse and negligence. Ennoramita (sayd he to me) can I be so unfortunate as to finde an alteration in your humour? I replyed that I found so much in him that twas no wonder if he saw some in me. The Barbarian not conceiving what I would say: Let that Justice (sayd he) which never pardons the violaters of oathes, punish me with an eternall chastisement if I be not the same that I ever was for the faire Enno∣ramita, and if it be not with as much love and faith as ever, I beseech that Justice presently to avenge it on my life. 'Tis not now in your power (sayd I) to dispose of your life. 'Tis no more your owne. Tis that knights of whom you so poorely begd it. Polexander seeming desirous to speake, Perselida Amatonta was silent, and our Heroë began thus: I confesse Madam (sayde he) that I am very indiscreet to in∣terrupt you but the cause of my incivility is so just, that I could refrain no longer, nor de∣ny truth that testimony she exacts from me. The first time that you sayd Nephizus de∣manded his life from his enemy, I beleev'd you spoke of it with the same exaspera∣tion that is usuall to injured persons, and that you tie not your selfe precisely to make a true narration. But seeing by the continuance of your discourse, that you are in an error too prejudicious to the honor of a Prince of Fez; I cannot but for his vo•…•…ours sake, strive to put you out of it, and (setting apart that complaysancy which your resentments requires from me) assure you very affirmatively that in the Combate (which you meane) Nephizus was never so poore spirited as to aske his life from his enemy. I know how all the matter passed and know it most particularly. In a word Madam twas a Lady that sav'd the life of the Prince of Fez, in spight of the obstination of another who would have had him lose it. But that history is long, and you must give me leave to deferre it to another time. I shalbe very glad to un∣derstand a businesse I yet know, not replyed Perselida Amatonta, and to discover some new infidelity in my Affronter. But to continue those he did me, I say that my re∣proches cast so much shame and confusion in his countenance, that though from that time he conceived the dressing to be avenged of me; and to make me feele the anger I had kindled in his soule; for all that he cast himselfe at my feete, and besought me with teares in his eyes to tell him the Author of that calumny. I will make him (sayd he) confesse his lye, nay dye in your presence; and if you have not quickly pitty of those ills that your rigour inflicts on me, I will soone let you see by the losse of my life, that I have never been so base as to beg it. You will have all Africa to fight withall, if you intend to purge your selfe of that Scandall. 'Twere better for to bury that unfortunate Combat in a voluntary forgetfullnesse, and that you did imploy your courage, to make those belye themselves that accuse you to have attempted against the life of your father. This Second Onset was no lesse piercing to Nephizus then the first. He was utterly ouerthrown and though he strove to make his offences passe as some extravagances and the anger of Hely for the do∣ting of an old man; he could not for all that hide his disorder and perplexednesse from me, nor his anger for being so well knowen. He therefore lefte me assoone as he could, and without shew of choler or coldnesse continued to live with the King my father and me as if he had remembred nothing of what was pass'd. He would himselfe, the better to deceive those that had command to note his actions, make matches at Canes, and Just with the yong Knights of our Court. He intreated the leave of Muley Hassen, who much loving those kinde of youthfull sports, since from all times they have been used amongst the Moores, did not onely consent to it, but (being himselfe much delighted with them in his youth gave the Deseigne of

many Entrances and lent Nephizus the best horse of his great stable. This dissem∣bling Prince came to the Justs under a Name farre from his intentions and mine. He called himselfe the Knight of Perselida Amatonta and obtained from Muley, that I should bestow on the Knight that had done best, the Prize that I should thinke worthy his adresse. The sports of the Canes, and the fight with the Bulls lasted three dayes. The fourth the Justs began, and Nephizus after he had overthrowne eight or ten of the rea∣diest Knights of Tunis, grew so proud of his good fortune that he came oftentimes be∣fore my scaffold, to aske if I were not pleased with his dexterity.

Muly had sent me one of his gentlemen to know what hindred me from giving the Prize of the Justs to the Prince of Fez; when a Knight armed with an armour sowed with Crownes entred the Lists, and asked leave to tell me his thought before he put him∣selfe in case to fight with those of Nephizus party. This favour was granted him by the King, on condition, that if his good fortune gave him the best of the Maintainer, he should not have the Prize appointed for the Vanquisher, till he had made himself known. The Knight yeelded to that condition, and comming out of the Lists to my scaffold, made his horse goe with so much artand evennesse, that wee both (my sister and my selfe) confessed together, that Africa had never seene any thing like it. As soone as he was neere enough to me to be understood, he lifted up his bever, and low inclining, Ma∣dam said he to me, whoever is not of the Prince of Fez his opinion, shewes himselfe stupid, so far as to have no judgement, or so wicked as to dispute the most undoubtfull and best knowne of all truthes.

'Tis most certaine that the defeate of those Knights which have this day come into the field proceeded from nothing else but the power of your beauty, and I beleeve that 'tis only for the interest of your renowne, that fortune hath so constantly held on Nephizus party. But she will not give to your merit all that justice which it deserves, if (after she had condemned the blindenesse and pride of those Knights who have dared to compare to the wonders of your beauty the common one of their Mistresses) she had not destined some one to correct the rashnesse of the Prince of Fez.

'Tis she, Madam, that hath brought me hither to tell this audacious man, that 'tis not for him to ascribe to himselfe the title of your Knight, and that he became guilty of a crime not to be forgiven, when he tooke the boldnesse to hazard your renowne on the feeblenesse of his armes. Allowe then (if you please) of so just a resentment as is mine; and give way, that I shew this Assembly, that he only defends a just cause, who main∣taines that the bravest man of the world is unworthy to serve you. Thus said the un∣knowne Knight to me, and presently, either the power of flattery or mine inclination were so winning, that I felt my selfe in love without knowing who had kindled the flame.

I strove to suppresse this first and indiscreete motion; but in spight of all my indea∣vours, and all my reasonings my passion grew the stronger, and suffered me not to quell those troubles, and inward disorders which perplexed me. I put them off yet a little to answere the unknowne Knight, and to grant him leave to combate with Nephizus. After he had given me many thankes, he left me, and went to the place where he was to make it appeare that he was a man of his word.

The Prince of Fez who was on horsebacke, no sooner saw him at one end of the field, but he went to the other. Presently the trumpets invited them both to shew their valour. They came on with such an extraordinary swiftnesse, and a force so equall, they broke each of them two lances without any advantage on one another. At the third, my Knight put Nephizus out of his saddle, and upon a dispute that the cunning Prince set on foote to save his honour, the King my Father, and the Judges of the field put off the decision of the difference to the next day. Nephizus who in his conscience well knew he had the worst, would not hazard his reputation at Justing. He therefore demanded that they might be permitted to regaine by the sword what either had lost by the lance. The unknowne Knight joyned with him in that request, and the Judges, to content both, granted them the combate. I instantly retired with the King and Enno∣ramita, and as soone as possibly I could, I went and shut me into my closet. I was there about two houres musing on this strange adventure, and asking my selfe who this gene∣rous

Knight should be that had so sensibly obliged her. In this pleasing meditation was I when Nephizus came into my chamber; one of my slaves came and gave me notice of his comming, and I chid him for it so earnestly, that tooke from him for ever the de∣sire of b•…•…inging me the like newes. Nephizus without doubt heard me, for (said he) when he was come into my closet, I would have taken the boldnesse to disturbe you, if the King had not expresly commanded me. Impute then (if you please) my importunity to my obedience, and continue not to shew your neglect, if you have not an intention to deliver me over altogether vanquished to the mercy of mine enemy. I answered: He is too valiant to have need of a second, and if you would beleeve me, you should imploy a part of this night to finde some invention that might utterly break off the match that you have deferred. Those words made him almost desperate.

But the resolution he had taken to make me unfortunate, even to extremity, wrought him to dissemble is resentment. Our converse was not long, for the King sent for mee; I went to him with Nephizus, and all the supper time, I spoke almost of nothing but the civility and addresse of the unknowne Knight. I askt of every one his name, and find∣ing none that could tell me any thing of him: I owe much (said I, aloud) to the Kings providence, for by the law which he hath imposed on the vanquisher, I shall have the content to know this stranger. Nephizus could have so much mastry o're himself to con∣ceal his choler, nor to let go without an answer, a speech wherein he thought himself too much injured. He therefore spoke, and witnessed his anger by the tone of his voice. If the King (said he to me) had imposed on the vanquished the necessity which he hath on the va•…•…quisher, I doubt not but your curiosity had been satisfied. But the Conquerour alone being bound to make himselfe knowne, I much deceive my selfe, if the successe of to-morrows combate doe not much increase your longing. You are mistaken (said I eagerly to Nephizus) yet would say my admiration and not my longing. The King that saw well I had a minde to anger Nephizus, did something to hinder the continuing of our discourse. And I that knew what the goodnesse and indulgence of so affectionate a father required from my respect, presently changed countenance and voice; and said smilingly to Nephizus, that I had not that opinion of his enemy as I would have him be∣leeve; and that I had not undertaken him, but to humble him a little on a day wherein the publick voice had raised his valour even to the skies. As crafty as that Prince was, yet he was caught by this soothing; and according to the humour of those in love, was so much moved with that favour, though it was no otherwise then all apparent, that he forgot almost all his anger. The houre to retire being come, he led me to my chamber, and by the way made me so many protestations of service, that if I had not knowne him well, without doubt I had been so silly as to have beleeved him. As soone as he left me, I got to bed, and spent almost all the night in thinking on the good aspect, the active∣nesse and valour of the unknowne Knight. Scarce was it day but that I awakened my women, and made such a coyle among my servants, that it witnessed well the disorder of my minde. I handled all my Jewells, and not knowing at last whereon to resolve, commanded a maid whom I very much trusted, to give me what would best beseem me. When I was about to coife me, not any one of my women was either handsome or quicke enough. All that they put on was naught. My dressing was sometime too great, sometimes too flat, and I made my selfe to be new dressed so often that I was not ready when one of the Kings Gentlemen came and told me that the Combatants humbly be∣sought me to repaire to my Scaffold. I tooke not time to eat, but as one senselesse, ranne to the field, and was there exceedingly troubled till I saw the brave Knight. Nephizus inraged with anger, and may be with jealousie, came fiercely on his rivall, and was re∣ceived by him with an incredible vigour. At every course the Prince of Fez had some advantage; but at the last, he flew over his horses crupper, and lay so long time stretched on the sand, that they beleeved he would not make use of the permission that he had re∣quested. Yet he arose by the helpe of his overthrower, and being remounted on horse∣backe, insolently called his generous enemy to the combat: long time they fought and very suriously; and Nephizus questionlesse resolved rather to dye then to yeeld ground; and the other desirous to preserve the honour he had gotten, behaved him so cou∣ragiously, that at last the wilfulnesse of the Prince of F•…•…z being alone and disarmed, was compelled to yeeld him selfe.

As soone as the Judges had declared the Stranger to be the Victor, they brought him before me to receive the Prize which he had gotten. He besought me to give it him, with such a grace and submission that they made an end of losing me. Before I gave sa∣tisfaction to so just a request (said I) you ought (if you please) on your part to fullfill the Law imposed on you. 'Tis to favourable (said he) not to obey it. But Madam, it needed not that such an ordinance should impose a necessity of discovering my selfe. The honour you doe me to command it, is to me a Law so sweete and powerfull, that for what disadvantage soever it may be to me in making my selfe knowne; yet I shall not faile to give you that small proofe of the extraordinary zeale I have to your service. In ending these civilities he tooke off his helmet, and thinking truely that I knew him not: See heere (said he to me) Muley Hassen, who hath no other honour nor merrit, then to be sprung from the Royall House of Thunis.

I had heard my Father often speake of that yong Prince, and esteemed him as one of the most couragious and accomplished Knights of his time. But I being but an Infant when he left Africa to travell through Europe, I did not remember I had ever seene him. Though my love was gotten to such a height, beyonde which there are few others, yet I confesse to you, that it grew in such a manner in knowing whom I loved, that all the persecutions which I have suffered since, and all the time that hath passed since I saw my Lover have not beene able to lessen it.

As soone as I was out of that astonishment which the sight of Muley Hassen had been the cause of, I presented him a very great Diamond, with three Pearles in fashion of a peare which I had destined for him, and desirous to answere his faire speech by some o∣ther that might leave in him an opinion he was not unpleasing to me: Cousen (said I) 'tis not only as your kinsman that I rejoyce at your victory, but as a good Patryot; since Strangers that shall know how you have dealt with one of our most remarkeable neigh∣bours, will respect our Frontires, and have no will to invade a Countrey that may vaunt it selfe to have an invincible Defender.

Beleeve then that both in the one and the other title, I am extreamely glad of your honour, and keepe the Present I have made you, as an assurance, that hence forward I will interest my selfe in all things where you have any share. Muley out of his discre∣tion durst not answere me, but went to waite on the King, who had sent for him by one of his Squires. You may imagine whether he were well received. Truely he was in such sort, that if my poore brother had been returned from that dismall enterprize which cost him his life, he could not have beene better welcommed. The King who had given him his owne name, held him a long time in his armes, called him his second Son, and the stay of his age; and causing him to mount on one of his horses, brought him to the Pallace attended as in triumphe. He forgot not Nephizus in his ill fortune, but shewed him by that little time he was with him, and by the little displeasure in his countenance, that his affection was an affection of state, and that which he shewed to the yong Muly, was of blood and nature, that is, how the first was feigned, and the other true. Nephi∣zus had time to thinke on his revenge: For he kept his chamber neere a moneth. In this long solitude, having layd the plot of what he was to execute, he came after into the Court with so much jollity, as if he had borne away the Prize of the Justs, and came on to prattle with as much assiduity and passion, as if he had beene yet truely in love with me. But 'twas most vainely that he imployde all his craft, and forced countenan∣ces, for I was not now to be taught. I lived now only in Muley Hassen, and had no eares nor eyes but for him. I saw him every houre of the day, sometimes with the King, other∣whiles in my chamber, then in the gardens, afterwards in a hunting, and every where with so much satisfaction on one side and the other, as well of love as of respect, that I may say that five or six moneths that I passed thus, seemed to last nothing at all. But alas! Those things that please are not of longest continuance.

Nephizus that had an intent to revenge himselfe extraordinarily of me, thought he could not doe it but in getting the yong Muley from Court, and becomming the abso∣lute Master of my life. See how he went on: He dispatched to Morocco to oblige the King his Father to send his Embassadors to mine to treate of his marriage with me. In the meane while he negotiated so dextrously or rather so detestably with those that go∣verned

the will and estate of good Muley, that they made him jealous of my Lover, and made them resolve to ruine him. The weakenesse of my poore Father exceedingly ad∣vanced the plots of that traitour: For scarce had his Ministers represented to him that for the safety of his estate, and the conservation of his Authority, 'twas fit that the yong Prince were dismissed the Court, but that he consented to it as easily as if he had never knowne nor loved him. For my selfe that had far lesse passion for the State then for my Lover, no sooner heard the newes, but I tore my haire, scratched my face, blasphemed against heaven, and violating all that I owed to the best Father in the world, accused his Councell and himselfe of treason and tyranny. But understanding from whence my affliction had his beginning, I turned all my rage on the perfidious Nephizus, I told him such things, and spoake to him in such a manner as might well have put him from the desire of possessing me, if he had not had that desire of obtaining me for no other cause but to make me prodigiously miserable. Muley Hassen had received commandment to retire himselfe to the Towne of Mezila which confines with the deserts of Numidia, and to depart without seeing the King nor my sister nor my selfe. Yet he obeyed not the last of these commands. For the same night that he was to be gone, deceiving his spies and guarde, he came into my closet, where I staied for him with my deare Atalida. As soone as he came in he cast himselfe rather as dead then alive at my feete, and when I went to raise him I fell a side, and so on my bed in a swound. Atalida had much ádoe to make us come to our selves: At last by vertue of some Essences I came from my fainting, and seeing Muley stretched as dead, I lay downe by him, and did whatsoever my griefe and love advised me.

But what said I? No, no, I did nothing of what they ordained me to doe, since I dyed not with griefe for such a separation. When he had recoliected his spirits, he was ashamed to see himselfe as he was. He presently arose, and setling him on his knees, Madam said he, if those that banish me from the Court, had considered how far unwor∣thy I am of the honour I receive from your goodnesse, I should be the first that would approove their sentence, and receive with a benediction a thing which they had done with so much justice. But since neither the greatnesse of your merit, nor the defects in me, have not beene the motives of their condemnation, be pleased that I complaine of their vi•…•…lence, and that seperating the interest of my Lord the King from those of his e∣nemies, I say aloud, that to deale with me as I am dealt withall, is to abuse the regall power. O how those jealous and ambitious Officers had obliged me, if in putting me from the troubles of the State they had not banished me from you. Tis the losse of the sight of yourfaire eyes, and not my credit that I lament. I shall see you no more Enno∣ramita, and in the dreadfull Deserts whereto I am exiled, the feare to be blotted out of your memory, as a fearefull Monster will continually war with me. Let that feare cease with your teares I replyde weeping, what ever becomes of Ennoramita she will be al∣waies yours. O how advantagious are my disgraces (said he presently) and how happy doe my misfortunes make me, since by their meanes I have obtained that which I hoped not to have gotten by the services of all my life. Yes Muley (said I) in interrupting him, Ennoramita is thine, and beleeve for certaine that she will never be any others. Wee parted, after reciprocall protestations of constancy and fidelity; and whilst my deare Muley got to the Deserts of Numidia, the Embassadours of Morocco hastened their Journey and arrived at Thunis. They had divers Audiences of the King and his Mini∣sters & after the Declaratiō that Heley & Abdelmelec had sent by which Nephizus was put in possession of the Kingdome of Fez: I was sacrificed to the rage of that Monster, and to the establishment of the greatnesse of the elder Sister. I neglected nothing to de∣liver me from the miseries prepared for me. I would have killed my self, but 'twas not ni my power. I tryed to have fled away, but I was hindred; I fell sick, even to the losse of my sences, but time tooke me from the one and the other malady.

At last my Sister, that never forsooke me, representing me, that which duty, birth, virtu•…•…, and fitnesse required from me, I indured to be drawne to Fez. Muley truely pos∣test my minde and heart. Yet I assure you I lived with my husband as an honest woman should, and unwilling to doe any thing unworthy my spirit, I gave to Nephizus the en∣ci•…•…e disposition of my body. I looked on him as a Tyrant, but as a Tyrant who by a just ti∣tle

had gotten to be the absolute Master both of my life & death. I obeyed him therefore punctually, and did that out of duty which I could not out of love. After I was at home with him he askd me most unworthily & every day gave me so unreasonable commands that I beleeve he did it not but of purpose to make me disobey him & so by consequence to have cause to abuse me. But I was so ready and obedient, that he was put to his wits to finde a pretext to make me feele his fury. I spoke not to any one of the Knights of his Court. I was invironed with a circle of black slaves that watched after my shortest treadings. I went not out of my chamber, and had no diversion but the remembrance of my deare Muley.

Sometimes my hangman would come where I was with a sole designe to afflict me, and then he entertained with slave, infamous, prostitute, and seeing me melt into teares, I knew (would he say) that one day I should bring downe that pride which hath so of∣ten abused me, and avenge my selfe at pleasure of thy impudence and scorne. Weepe wretch, weepe, not out of anger to see thy selfe subjected to my command, but rather out of griefe for rendring thy selfe unworthy of my love. One day when he had extra∣ordinarily abused me, what then (said I, enough resolutely) obliged thee to charge thy selfe with me? The longing I had to be avenged on thine insolence, replide he, I desi∣red to raigne absolutely over thee, that so by a long punishment I might chastice thy disdaines and scoffs. Never hope to regaine that which thou hast so brutishly disdained. The time is past wherein I was so weake as to suffer my self to be caught by thy so little beauty. I am thy deadly enemy; expect no other usage from me, but that which ha∣tred and vengeance shall advise me to. Kill me then (said I) and to glut thy fury fully, exercise thy fire and sword, doe thy worst of cruelty on this miserable body. No, answe∣red the hangman, I will have thee live that thou maiest dye often, and that thou maiest doe a long pennance for thine offences. An excesse of choler transporting me at these last threatnings: O Muley Hassen where art thou now? Cride I. Why seest thou not that which she endures whom thou lovest so much? You must thinke, that on the sud∣daine the cruell Nephizus conceived not that I spoake of my Lover; for he answered me coldly, that Muley Hassen was too farre off to heare me, and that if I hoped for none other helpe but from him, I might well prepare my selfe for a long time of patience. This horrible converse being thus ended he left me, and was three dayes before I saw him againe.

But he returned on the fourth, after infallibly he had mused on the name of Muley Hasten, and entring my chamber with his wonted brutality: Well, tost one, (said he) you cannot suppresse your ancient laciviousnesse. 'Twas your Gallant you called on the other day, and not thy Father, I know it, and know more (he lied falsly in saying so) that thou subornest my slaves to carry newes of thee to that infamous Exile, and that thy servants secretly intertaine the intelligences which thou had'st in thy Fathers Court. I will quickly breake this execrable commerce, and make an exemplary punishment on thy impudent Confidents. As soone as he had ended these reproaches he left me, and five or six dayes after sent me word by an old blackmoore woman which he had ap∣pointed for my Governesse, that I should prepare me to leave the City of Fez. I doubt not but you (as I heare) have travelled through Africa, know very well how pleasant the Territory of Fez is, as well for the Rivers of Buragrag, Juraven, and of Suba, which water it on three sides, as for a great number of Cities, Burgs, and Villages. Towards the South the Champiō stretcheth even to the foot of Mount Atlas & the ancient Kigns of Fez have built for the pleasure of solitude and hunting many Pallaces at the entry of those high mountaines. 'Twas in one of those prisons that my Tyrant resolved to make me end my dayes. He brought me thither himselfe, and colouring this dismall Journey with a very serious pretext, that he went to drive back some Ara•…•…ians that were descen∣ded from the Mountaines, and forraged the plaine countrey, he departed with two thousand horse. I lived in that house as I did at F•…•…z; that is, reduced to see none but my slaves, and to be often persecuted by mine enemy. He made me encure so much that he himselfe grew weary of my suffrings, and I know no•…•… upon what consideration staying his usuall cruelties, •…•…e asked me one day, if I were not weary of torturing him? You would say, my Lord (I answered) to see my selfe tormented. No (said he) I doe

not 〈◊〉〈◊〉. I aske thee, if thou canst at last resolve to live as thou oughtest. I re∣plyde, that I would never be guilty of any thing that should cast a blemish or shame on so m•…•…ny gr•…•…at Princes as those from whom I was descended. I will live as a vertuous wi•…•… should 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and though I am unwo•…•…ly used by him that should protect me, I will no•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 violat•…•… that faith whi•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hassen by fo•…•…ce made me give you. By force (cryde Nephizus) A•…•… proud one I see well thou will never alter, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 whether by force or voluntarily tis no matter: Thou art yet myne, and being so, canst not without a crime give thy •…•…lfe to another.

I had not •…•…een long in my new Prison, when Abdelmelec sent his brother word tha•…•… h•…•… wa•…•… a•…•… •…•…ez. Without doubt Hely had heard somewhat of the disorders of our marri∣a•…•…e, and to apply some remedy had commanded his eldest Son to make that Journey. Nephizus leaving me under safe custody went to meete Abdelmelec, and would never 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 to see me. That Prince h•…•…ving no inte•…•… to anger Nephizus, because he fea∣red him, and knowing by experience, that •…•…ealousie hath no respect of persons, made shew to approove of the manner of his brothers liuing. But getting by little and little in∣to him, he did so well represent to him the wrong he did himselfe in treating me so ill, that I was left at liberty on my faith, and delivered from a troope of villaines who in∣steede of giving testimony of my life, increased by their r•…•…ports the hatred and jealousie of Nephizus. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 would not make use of all the priviledges I had. I first began to walke th•…•…gh our 〈◊〉〈◊〉 retreates, and sometimes visited the Dervises and Marabous which had retired 〈◊〉〈◊〉 into the Cavernes of the Mountaine A•…•…as; bu•…•… it was never b•…•… 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 company of my women, and of seaven or eight Eunuques which Nephizus had 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Some dayes after tha•…•… Abdelmelec had left his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, I went to visit the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Des•…•…t, and being perswaded by my deare A•…•…lida, I went farre into the 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉 with a Dervis which had the reputation of a great Prophet. His 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was digged in and hollowed in a great R•…•…ck, that looked downe a fearefull 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and to come to it you must passe by an ascending way so straite that a man could not goe up 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ideling. In spight of this incomm•…•…. I came to the Caverne, and •…•…nding the Entry very darke, I thought on Nephizus phrensies; and for feare of wake∣•…•…ing them againe, bid my women call ou•…•… the Dervis, for I would not enter into a place w•…•…ere I could not see a jot. The boldest of my Eunuq•…•… went in, and brought 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉 the holy man was taken with an exceeding griefe that he had in one of his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a•…•…d that h•…•… humbly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 m•…•… to pardon him, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he could not come forth to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…me.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 Madam (said he) •…•…is not so darke wit•…•…in th•…•… Cave as your Majesty imagines▪ It 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉 t•…•… severall places, and in the little Cave where the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…es, there is a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ich gives light enough to see one another. Lets go in th•…•… 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 •…•…o my wo∣men: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 do•…•… not any o•…•… you goe f•…•…m me. I went therefore so far as into a second chamber 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Dervis lay on Ma•…•… o•…•… Date∣tree, and by the •…•…ullen light of his lampe I perceived him▪ but in such a manner that I could not possi•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 marke the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 nor colour of his face. When I was neere his bed, he told me I was welcome, and I shewing the esteeme I had of his vertue and my sorrow for his ill: I should f•…•…are (said I) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…e troublesome to you, if I kn•…•…w not by a thousand experiences that such as you, are declared enemies to the world, and all pleasure, to give your selves solely to the con∣templation of things celestiall, and the practise of vertues, and never m•…•…re contented then when you are 〈◊〉〈◊〉 some occasions to •…•…xercise either your pa•…•…ience, learning, or cha•…•…ity. Y•…•…u may finde in me cause sufficient to put all those per•…•…ctions in practise. I am very ignorant in our mysteries, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yet more unfortunate. The Dervis begin∣ning to speake with the tone of a voice so weake and trembling, that I thoug•…•…t him to 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 •…•…ick: The esteeme (said he) which you deigne to make of me, is a proofe of your goodnesse; a•…•…d though 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 ingenuously that I dese•…•…ve it not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ye•…•… I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that it is an 〈◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊〉 be well in the opinion o•…•… so wi•…•…e an•…•… so generous a Princesse. But that which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this good fortune the mo•…•…e deare to me▪ is that by a happy contin•…•…▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 oblige•…•… you to shew some compassion on my griefe▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (said 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 so great 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 heaven i•…•… self put a hand to the recove•…•…▪ 〈◊〉〈◊〉 w•…•…l quickly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 incurable. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (if you 〈◊〉〈◊〉) Madam, that being 〈◊〉〈◊〉

and day to con•…•…est with such sensible griefes, I can neither dispose of mine owne spirits, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yet be in case to instruct and comfort. I have neede my selfe that some charitable friend, should not only free me from many doubts, and withdraw me from many errors, which my malady begets in my minde, but that he should likewise raise my courage by his consolations, and give me the strength to resist the violence of my afflictions. It I carry away nothing else (I replyde) by your communication; yet at least I shall take with me this satisfaction; that it is not my sexe alone that shewes so much weakenesse; since that a man who by the greatnesse of his soule could dispose himselfe of all his af∣fections, and of himselfe; could not yet uncloathe him wholy of all humanity, no•…•… lose the sense of paine in losing that of pleasure. It seemes well Madam (answered he) that I have not the honour to be well knowne to you. I am quite otherwise then your cha∣rity imagineth. I am a feeble weake man, a man so tide to himselfe and to his affections, that to preserve them more pretiously, and to imploy his dayes and nights in so faire and delightfull an occupation, hath banished him from the world, and chasen a retreate, in the horrour of these Mountaines. But Madam I should never have done, if I tooke the boldnesse to tell you the story of my infirmities. I have intimated but too much already; and you shall be exceedingly good, if after the confession that I have made, you will deigne to take the paines one day to revisit so deplorable a creature. That which you have now told me, (I answered) makes me desire to know more; but it shall be for a∣nother day. In the meane time get your health, if you can, or at least have the courage to suffer constantly, and if you neede a very rare example to make you to make you re∣solve it: study the life of Ennoramita, and you shall finde that though she be a woman, she is able couragiously to support fa•…•… greater afflictions then yours, and to expect with∣out despaire, those remedies that time will afford her. I will strive to follow so generous councell, (replyde the Dervis) but time must quickly bring me that succour it intends me, if it prepare for me any other then death. My heart begins to faile me with my hope: and if the eternall wisdome which watcheth eternally for the good of his creatu•…•…es, had not by a miracle vouchsafed to signifie to me this day that my life is yet deare to him: I protest to you Madam, that I would not have preserved it any longer.

The more I heard this Hermet talke, the more my curiosity increased: I thought that all his words were so many mysteries, and that he concealed from me the knowledge of something that might be very availeable and pleasing to me. Yet I tooke my leave o•…•… him, and promised in going away, that he should quickly here from me, or I would come to see him my selfe. Let it be as soone as may be Madam▪ (said he sighing) •…•…or if your presence renew not againe within few dayes, the miracle that hath beene done since you entred into this Caverne, assuredly you shall not finde me living. I returned th•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Pallace of the Desert (for so they called my Prison) and meeting there with Nep•…•…∣zus, (in a humour, as I may say good; If I compare it with that which was ordi•…•…y with him) related to him the adventure of my walke. He had presently a desire to v•…•…∣sit the desolate Hermit, and appointing it for next day; intimated, that he desired to goe thither with me. The time being come, wee got to horsbacke, and in lesse 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 houres came to the narrow passage by which only you could clime to the Dervis his Caverne. He was in the same ca•…•…e that I left him and though Nephizus had given him notice of his comming, yet was he constrained (if he would see him) to goe to his bed∣side. He spoake to him with words obliging enough for a Soveraigne▪ and repr•…•…nting the extreame desire some had given, to g•…•…t to the knowledge of him; asked 〈◊〉〈◊〉, what had forced him to make so rigourous a retirement. The anger of heaven (〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Dervis) and my despaire, and the Authors of it. But are you no•…•… (〈◊〉〈◊〉 Nephi∣zus) the same in these Mountaines, that you were in the world? Fee•…•… 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 your afflictions as you have felt them heeretofore? A•…•…e you more absolutely Master of yo•…•… passions? Or doe you beleeve that since you have turned your back to for•…•…▪ gives over to pursue you? My Lord (answered the Dervis) I con•…•…e I am in this De•…•…rt 〈◊〉〈◊〉 same I was in the City. My griefes are as sha•…•…pe as ever. My passions 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 me as they were wont. But I must confesse to you, that since I •…•…gan to leave 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ing of •…•…une, she hath given over to be so averse 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉. In the wo•…•…ld 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 pleasure to aff•…•…ct me, but since I inha•…•… among 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ro•…•…▪ she seemes to have an in∣tent

to favour me. I understand what you would say replyde Nephizus: That fortune since she can take nothing from you, leaves you somewhat at quiet, and gives over wor∣king, since she findes no more subject whereon to exercise her action. There is some∣thing true (answered the Dervis) in your interpretation, but the favours I receive from fortune (if to accord with the ordinary manner of speech wee must call that fortune which is a pure effect of the providence which governes in heaven) are more sensible then you can imagine them. She doth only oblige me in ceasing to afflict me; but she obligeth me effectively, and gives me at least the sight of those felicities which I have heeretofore enjoyed. That is (said Nephizus) because you now not being distracted a∣mong these obscure and solitary places, your imagination so strongly represents you the happinesse which you enjoy no more, that it seemes you enjoy them yet. I have farre more then that (said the Dervis) for I recover in this Cave, and really enjoy the good which I lost in the world. Heereupon I began to speake, and desiring to engage the Hermit to relate his Story: You must (Father said I) if you please, take the paines to expresse your self more plainly, if you desire to give me the satisfaction of understanding you. I would say, that passing from these generall propositions to circumstances more particular; you would let me know, of what nature was the happinesse you have lost, and of what kinde that is which you have recovered in your solitude. I will obey you (Madam) said the Dervis, though by an expresse commandment from the spirit who conducted me into this Desart, if it be forbidden me to publish the secrets of my solitary retreat. Know then that I am the Son of a Shepheard, who in times past had great and numerous flocks, and many strong inclosed pastures in the large Plaines of Numidia. The care he had of his beloved sheepe was the cause of his death, for being too wilfull in the pursuite of some wilde beastes that would devoure them, he himselfe became a prey to those savage Monsters. I was left an Orphant by that dismall accident, and my tender yeares being not proportionable to the paines that it behooved me to take for the preservation of my flock; I left them to the mercy of their enemies, and went wan∣dring and desolate through places and Countryes to me altogether unknowne. This mi∣serable and wandring life having brought me to such an extremity, that I wished for death a hundred times in a day. Our great Prophet all shining with as many rayes as he had when he was carried up into heaven, appeared to me on the sea strand, and ta∣king me up from where I was fallen, take heart (said he) and be not weary of living▪ The superiour power is mooved with thy disfavours, and see, his comforts come show∣ring downe to sweeten the bitternesse of thy life. When he had said thus, he vanished, and presently I saw glistring through a thicke cloud, an Angell more bright then the light it selfe.

He deigned to be the companion and guide of my Journeys, and within a few dayes bounding them, by a gift he gave me of an infinite more value then all the goods I had lost, promised me too that I should enjoy it till my death.

Alas! I dare say, and yet hope I blaspheme not, that truth, is no where but in Hea∣ven; and that even an Angell is not alwaies to be beleeved, if he be not in that un∣changeable abode. I held me most certainely assured of the eternity of my happinesse, when my Angell sad and heavy, came and pitifully told me, that a spirit sent from above, for the chasticement of my offences, was to constraine him to forsake me. Ah! My An∣gell cryde I, doe not leave me! And if I have deserved to be punished, let me yet in my torments have the consolation to behold thee! I have long resisted this black Angell (replyde mine Angell of light) but there is power given him to overcome me, and to torment thee.

With this my Angell gave a great shrieke, and by force was compelled to leave me to the mercy of the most, to be feared by Demons, that the eternall justice makes use of, for the punishing of mankinde. I lost (with my good Angell) all the happinesse and delight that his company gave me, and have lived ever since so miserable and tor∣mented, that to free me from my persecutor I intended to have killed my selfe. A stron∣ger arme then mine staied that blow, and the voice of my absent Angell, whispring me sometimes in my eare, said, come into the Desart, com into the Desart; 'tis there where thou shalt recover what thou hast lost. I beleeved his promises, and streight forsaking

the world, retyrde me into these Mountaines. The Dervis here stopping, and I know not what new curiosity obliging me to speake: But (said I) since you have been in these Desarts, hath not your Angell performed that which he promised you? He hath not only (replied the Hermit) rendred me the greatest part of the goods I lost; but in an apparition, said thus himselfe: Hope, and live. The expiation of thy offences is al∣most accomplished. I shall shortly have the freedome to be with thee. I am now here but in feare, since for my too much loving thee, I have gone beyond that which is com∣manded me from above. That faire Angell flew away as soone as he had in this manner comforted me.

But in that little time he was with me, he gave me that contentment, that to finish where I begun, I can assure you, that at this instant, I am reestablished in the true pos∣session of that good which I lost in the world. Nephizus taking this Dervis for a foole, and that his melancholy and austerity made him take these visions for realities, would needes see how farre his extravagancies would extend; and therefore (said he) but if it be so, as you assure us, how is it possible that in one same time when you suffered so ma∣ny afflictions, that at every moment they brought you to the graves brincke, and yet in the meane while (as you say) you enjoyed such happinesse, that you even dare to com∣pare them with those which our great Prophet prepares for us in Paradise? You might well have resolved the question your selfe, (said the Dervis) if you had looked on me, not by what I seeme, but by that which I am.

You beleeve I differ not from other men, and 'tis that deceives you. But I am com∣posed of two different Personages. I have one Nature which is proper to me, and ano∣ther which is accidentall. Ther's a strange substance inseperably knit to mine. In a word, another my selfe lives in me, in the same manner as I live in my selfe, and as it happens sometimes, that nature thrusts into the world, bodies, which are so lincked the one to the other, that they cannot be seperated but by their common dissolution, and yet are agitated in one and the same time with divers passions: So you see in me a strange concourse, or to speake as I ought, a miraculous medley of a man, and an Angell; of a man extreamely afflicted, and of another happy. When I speake to you of the infinite pleasures that I enjoy in this solitary life, I talke to you in the person of that most happy •…•…rt of my selfe; and when I complaine of my suffrings, I speake to you in the name of •…•…e person afflicted. In full, and not to hold you longer in this unpleasing discourse; I r•…•…joyce that I am perfectly happy in my selfe, and I am afflicted for being extreamely unfortunate in another.

Nephizus, gathering nothing from this intricate discourse, but a confirmation of the Dervis his folly, left him, and told me that if I tooke pleasure in the extravagancyes of a mad man, I had found a meanes for my often diversion. Though I was not of the same opinion with the Dervis; yet in shew I forgot not to approve of Nephizus opinion, and to laugh (with him) at the brutishnesse of the Mahometans, that hold those for the beloved of God, from whom the ill disposition of their Organs, or the vapours arising from their spleene have taken away the use of reason. Wee came thence late home to the Pallace, and because I found my selfe much disquieted, I presently retyred into my chamber. There began I deepely to muse on the Dervis his discourse, and finding no∣thing in it extravagant, nor ought that seemed to me very mysterious, I resolved to see him often, and to goe thither so fewly accompanied, that he might have the freedome to discover to me those mysteries which he had yet concealed. Nephizus gave me the oc∣casion two dayes after; for he receiving letters from Abdelmelec, by a Mute who served him in those great imployments, he was (of necessity) to goe to Fez, and from Fez to Morocco.

He left me in the custody of an old Ethiopian Eunuque, who was the most favoured of all his Confidents, and the depositary of all his secrets, commanding him at parting not to let me be out of his sight, nor to suffer me to go abroade, but very seldome. Nar∣cissus (so was the name of the Ethiopian) witnessed a great faithfulnesse to his Master; but he did it with so much judgement and respect, that he never gave me cause to com∣plaine of him, and still concealed all newes that might increase my afflictions. Now, one day thinking on my Hermit and presently urged with a desire to see him, and to under∣stand

the secret of his adventures: I intreated Narcissus to bring me to his Grot. He was so confident that I would never undertake any thing, against that which I ought to Nephizus, that he would not deny me a thing which was not precisely forbidden him. I went therefore to the Hermit with five or six of my women, and the Eunuques which garded me.

As soone as the poore solitary man could speake to me a part: I expected (said he to me) nothing but death; and seeing my selfe deprived of that light which should dissi∣pate the obscurity of this place, I wished even with passion to see my selfe inveloped with that darkenesse which shall never have end. But I know now that the visible An∣gell, that hath so often given me his assistance is resolved to continue it to me. Surely (Madam) I promise my selfe new favours of his goodnesse, and confesse I have offen∣ded in suspecting that divine Essence to be as mortall creatures, subject to change and forgetfulnesse. With this the Hermit held his peace, and I that had an extreame desire to know what was hidden under his mysterious speech, told him, that if I understood well the meaning of his discourse, that his fortune was not altered, since he complained then as he had done other times before. How (replied he) should the effects of my mis∣fortune cease, since the cause of it still endures. I complaine, and lament far lesse then I suffer. But since that beyond all hope, my tutelar Angell, restores to me that light that he hath so long hid from me, I make a vow never to be weary of expecting it, and how long soever his absence be, to hope still for the end. If my curiosity (said I) may be satisfied, without your discontent, I intreat you by that which is most deare to us, to let me know what Angell that is which you mention so often, and what that passion is which obligeth you to draw out so misera∣bly your life among these Rocks, and places of fearefull solitude. At this intreaty the Hermit sighed oftentimes, and being a while silent; whereto am I brought (said he in Spanish) if my Angell knowes not what I suffer, and doth not know it selfe? He had scarce ended these words, when I gave so fearefull a shreeke, that all my servants came running to me, and asked what I ailed.

O heaven (said I) how have I beene affrighted! Me thought I saw at the foote of the Hermit, a Lyon, who awaking at our discourse, was ready to leape at me. The old Narcissus began to laugh at my vision, and advised me to take the aire to divert me. I presently arose to put in action that which he proposed; but the Hermit holding me b•…•… the skirt of my gowne, what (said he in Spanish) faire Princesse, doe you beleeve that by inhabiting these solitary Cavernes I am become one of the furious beasts of the Wil∣dernesse? Those words were so powerfull a charme to stay me, that I stood as unmoo∣veable.

But the Hermit not perceiving it, can it be (said he in the same language) that you who have been moved with my afflictions when you knew me not, should leave to be piti•…•…ull in the same instant when you knew me. Consider Ennoramita, ô be pleased to take notice that I am not permitted before so many suspected persons to beseech and solicit you further to have commiseration on my miseries. Our common enemies have their eyes over us, and I lose you if I continue to petition you. Stay yet but a moment, and say what shall become of me. I can but answere thee to be lamented Muley (said I in Spanish, for indeed 'twas he) I am too much interdicted to take or to give thee any good councell; yet expect in this place to heare from me. Farewell. With that word, the teares came into mine eyes, and I came out of the Caverne with so extraordinary a sadnesse, that Narcissus besought me to seeke no more so unpleasing a diversion. I con∣fesse said I to him, there is nothing but discontent in so sad a conversation. I have my minde filled with horrour, and find that my communication with the afflicted increaseth my afflictions in lieu of lest'ning them.

This said, I returned thence speedily to my Prison, and being shut into my chamber with my faithfull Atalida: Ah my friend (said I) what have I heard! What have I seen this day? Why Madam (she replyde) are you yet in feare of your imaginary Lyon? Why do'st not thou know (said I) what I doe? My astonishment proceeds from a more just cause. If you should have found (said she) the unfortunate Muley under the habit of the Hermit, you had not beene more desolate then you are. Thou hast divined (cryde I) 'tis

he Atalida, tis Muley himselfe. I knew him when hee spake Spanish to me. But who hath brought him into these Deserts? What will he doe here? What will become of him? If you would calme your perturbation (answered Atalida) I will reply to your questions, and without the preventing your wit with any passionate counsell, will leave you the li∣berty to deliberate, your selfe, in a businesse so important. For al that Atalida could say to me, yet my transporting must have its course. Above an houre was I in admirations; and turning in my disordered minde a thousand thoughts farre more confused: At last I setled my selfe; and then, said Atalida, speaking very low for feare of being heard: Tis fit that I discover that which great considerations have forc'd me to conceale from you. I confesse, I knew Muley was in the Grott where you met him. For some six moneths since, desperate of ever hearing, any more, ought concerning you, he resolv'd to take on him the habite of a Dervis, and under that vaile to come himselfe and know whither you had need of his service, or had absolutely forgotten him. Presently he understood the inhumane usage you had from Nephizus, and instantly resolv'd to revenge you. But letting me know his generous design by his faith full Acmett (who every day is here, for wearing the same ha∣bit of an Hermit as his Master, and comming to aske almes, he hath the liberty to come in when he list) I forced him to undertake any thing without your permission, and assur'd him that I would worke things soe, that he should have the happinesse to see you. I durst not tell you of this, because [knowing your severity] I imagined that rather then to suffer Muley so neare to you, you would have consented to his death, nay even to your owne. All that I could doe, for the consolation of that miserable man, was to winne you insensi∣bly to visit the Hermits of you•…•… mountaines, and by that cunning to bring you to the Ca∣verne of Muley Hassen. My plot, as I understand, hath taken very good effect, and I finde that I have well acquitted my selfe of that which I ought, for you, to the constancy of that Prince: Tis now your part to perfect the rest. After Atalida had thus spoken, I began to be very angry with her, and threatned to write to Nephizus what dis-service she had done him. The generous Mayde, without leaving her former coolenesse, answered, and that very sharply, I should be angry for being angry; and that I was to remember, how in parting from Morocco, I had absolutely commanded her, not to abandon Muleys interest; but to serve him, notwithstanding all or any of my commands to the contrary. But tis not e∣nough▪ (said shee yet) that you know he is here; advise and bethinke you what you will have him doe. If you will command him, he will breake open your prison, free you from your Tyrant, and bring you back to Tunis. In a word, he will kill the Tyrant in the midst of your guards▪ and in the very armes of his Father. Hold thee (cried I) execrable Atalida: Hast thou no otherwise profited by my precepts and Example? Dost thou not know that the only thought of those crimes thou proposest, is an offence that cannot be expiated but by death. I am ill used I confesse, but he that treats me so, hath right to doe it. My prison and fetters are sacred; If I doe but consent to have them broken, I am a miscreant and jmpi∣ous. Tis true Nephizus is a Tyrant, but tis a Tyrant which the Lawes Authorize, and which the Heavens and my honour command me to respect. What would you have Muley doe, then replyed (rudely enough) Atalida! Let him returne to Mezila said I, and suffer forme, as I doe for him. You may well take the paynes [if you please) answered my deare Atalida-to give him that command your selfe, and you were best to resolve on't, for he will never obey it, if he receive it not from your owne mout•…•…. I shall have power enough for that, (said I) and though I shall seem to wrong Nephizus, in seeing him, yet having never given him ought but my body, I doe not think that in speaking with Muley, I take from him any thing that is his. But this interview must be quickly, that I may be freed of this mi∣serable man before the returne of Nephizus,

This resolution was executed the fifth day after it was taken. I made a match of hunting with Narcissus, and fortune was so favourable, that the Lion we had in chase, took the way to Muleys Cavern, and was long fought withall in the straight way that lead to the Cavern. I found my selfe almost alone at his death, and comming then from horsback with Atalida and two of my guard, I told them that I would goe see the Hermit til Narcissus came to us. I found him indeed rather dead then alive; The manner of my last parting from him, had been so sensible to him, that he avowed, but for the designe he had to free me from my bondage, he had freed himselfe of his life. Tis true said he

in spanish, that I have none other will then yours; and that I receive with far more resolution those afflictions that come from your hand, then those that are sent me from heaven. But even that which makes you imagin I should suffer all, is it that obligeth * 1.1 and commands me more imperiously not to endure those injuryes you receive from a Tyrant. However banished, persecuted, or miserable I am, yet I have too much happynesse, since I enjoy the felicity of being alwaies in your remem∣brance. When I looke on my selfe, on that side, I doe not murmure. But when I goe out of the least part of my selfe to fix my selfe on the fairest, which is you, [be plea∣sed faire Ennoramita, that I say so] I presently feele al the displeasures, and suffer all those torments I told you of, somewhat obscurely, in our pass'd conversations.

And to weigh things well, can there be a condition more to be lamented then that of a Lover, who knowes that (for being too much affected) the person that does him that favour, is exposed to all the outrages of fortune, to the persecutions of a husband, and the contempt of a father? Surely (Madam) he which sees so great miseryes, and certaine∣ly knowes who is the Author of them, deserves to be the hatred and horror of his age, if he be so cowardly as to live. Suffer me then to die, and revoke the command you made me to indure, my shame and your captivity: or at least, give way that I attempt the meanes that are left me to witnes to you my fidelity. No [Muley said I,] I never re∣voke what I have once resolv'd: and give you no other freedome then that you sigh for my sufferings, to complaine on your fortune, and attend patiently when she wil change either one way or other. O rigorous commands! [said the Prince] to how many new tortures are you about to expose the unfortunate Muley? Since you have resolution e∣nough * 1.2 [said I] not to reject those lawes which I my selfe finde to be extreamely cruel; I will give you those which are more mild. Love me ever; despaire not to obtaine the re∣compence your faithfulnes deserves; and remember that Ennoramita is so just, and so ac∣knowledging, that rather then she will fayle Muley, she will be false to her selfe. Doe not promise me an thing [Madam] said he, if you please tis to through me back into my for∣mer afflictions, to signify to me •…•…his excesse of goodnes. The more generous you are, the more weake I acknowledg my selfe, and the more obligeing you are, I am the more In∣gratefull. O Heaven and earth! Ennoramita, you heape on mee all good, and I am the cause of all your ill: nay you should be happy, if you could suffer me to be unhappy! Alas! doe not impose on me that cruel necessity of obeying you. What Muley [said I] with a note of anger] doe you thinke to make your selfe to be thought on by your dis∣obedience? I have err'd [replyed the Prince, presently faling at my feet) I disavow all that I have said: I obey with a blind obedience; and put off so absolutely all that is proper to me, that [already] I feele no more in me any rebellious motion, nor will, which is not absolutely conformable to yours. Command then Madam, and prescribe, what you please is fit, I should doe. I would have thee live (said I) but I would not have thee live altogether •…•…nted, since I am most unfortunate. Leave then this manner of life, so sad and obscure, and get you farre hence to doe such acts, that the report of them may come even in∣to these Deserts. My honour and faith forbid me to have more private and particular communications with thee, but they cannot countermand my rejoyci•…•…g at thy glorious actions. O Virtue without example! (cryed the poore Muley in Spanish) by what prodigie hath the miserable Nephizus been able to resist thy charmes? But Ma∣dam [said he] coming nearer to me] I make you too long expect the consent I owe to all that you please. From this day I will quit this Cave; and if Fortune deigne to second my obedience and courage, you shall receive that content which you expect from my actions. Go then deare Muley [said I] and doe so, that in spight of my fetters and Tyrant, I may be yet capable of some happinesse. See how wee parted: Muley forsooke his retirement, and I returned into mine with a resolution not to come forth againe. I was there neere six moneths, without hearing any thing from the wicked Nephizus. Yet I understood by the dexterity of Atalida, and knew that that abhominable Prince having corrupted the good nature or rather the vanity of Abdelmelec, had made him take armes against the milde Hely, and that those 2 unnatural Children, forgetting what they owed their too indulgent father, were combinde together, to striue who first should deprive him of his Scepter with his life. I will not trouble you with the recitall of those domestique dissen∣tions.

Let me rather entertaine you with the extreame fidelity and brave actions of Muley. He had not been three monethes from the solicitudes of Atlas, when I heard by a Courier which my too-unsensible father had sent to Nephizus, that he was set on by Land and Sea and invested on all sides, by the forces which the great Turke had sent into Africa. That his Estate was as a prey, if he were not quickly assisted: and expecting from day to day to be besieged in Tunis, he intreated his Allyes, and all his neighboures, to prepare a pui∣ssant succour, and thinke seriously how to deliver all Africk who would meet her train in that of Tunis. This Messenger came to Nephizus at Morocco: But he tooke little care to goe to Succour his father in Law that was obstinately busied about the ruin of his owne father. This courier was seconded by many others, who all instantly pressed for aide, but return'd all without obtaining any. And when I thought to have heard of the taking of Tunis, I understood that it had been miraculously reliev'd by the valour of a Man, who with a potent army of Arabians was come out of Numidia. I asked his name, and was answered that he would never make it knowne. But to enhance his actions, they told me that he had cut in peices the Turkish Army, burned a great many of his ships, pursued the Runawayes even to Argier, inhartned the inhabetants of Tunis, and made knowne to the King my Father, that he desired no other rewards for so generous an action, then the honour to have done it. I caused this Messenger very particularly to be demanded, whither they could know nothing concerning that man, from some one or other of the A∣rabians, or whether he had not caused his troopes to carry some Device or marke by which he might be knowne? The Messenger sent me word that the generous stranger had so exactly caused his Secret to be observed, that none of them all had discovered him, and that in all the Ensignes of his army there was only seene two Arabian words, which signified Love and Obedience. Assoone as Atalida had tould me that paticularity, doubt no more of it said shee, 'tis Muley. He hath kept promise with me, and hath kept it so much the more generously, in that forgetting the indignities he receiv'd from my father, he would by his deliverance begin those brave actions I advised him to These great newes were not alone the cause that confirmed me in the opinion I had of my Lo∣ver: Many more, as good, were brought me in less then four moneths, & the King my father being never able to know from whence was come to him so powerfull a defender, nor who he was writ to me oftentimes; that he beleiv'd, it was an Angell which his prophet had sent him, to reproove the Princes of Fez and Morocco, and his other Allyes, and throw an infamy on them for their perfidies and ingratiude. All this while Nephizus continued his trag•…•…dies: But the end of them turning to his owne misery, he saw him∣selfe constrain'd (as my old Governour made me beleeve) to save himselfe in a vessel, and •…•…ly from the coasts of Morocco. These were the last newes I heard of him: For since Narcissus, though much urg'd by my prayers and teares would never tel me any thing of the man, but that they knew not what was become of him. A whole yeare I continued in this incertainty.

But when I thought on it least, I found my selfe in full liberty; for my old Eunuch sup∣posing a command (which I believe was false) told me, that he was ingag'd to goe to the King my father in Law. I was much surpriz'd at this Iourney, yet imagining that he did it not without order, I thought it was from Nephizus, By little and little the most of my guard followed their Captaine, so that in lesse then eight or ten dayes, I saw my company reduced only to those servants I had brought with me from Tunis. Atalida was the first that told me of so incredible a novelty; but to make me beleeve it, they were forced (as I might say) to make me touch it with finger. When I was put out of all doubt, I stood so astonished at it, that (after I had been a long while in re-collecting my selfe) I cried out as if I had been in some great danger, and told Atalida that the liberty they gave me after so extraordinary a fashion, threatned me with some mischance far greater then that of my prison. Atalida did what she could to put off this imagination; But I knew too well the pernicious nature of Nephizus, either to beleive him capable of doing good, or to re∣pent himsselfe of the misc•…•…eife he had already committed. Assure thy selfe (said I Atalida,) that Nephizus hath not satisfied himselfe, th•…•…t •…•…e could sufficiently be aveng'd of me only by death or imprisonment, he hath without do•…•…bt fo•…•…n me (traytor as he is) to, make it belee•…•…'d that I am a Princesse witho•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉; and to make me double miserable she

would deprive me of that sole consolation which is left to all unfortunate wretches, name∣ly of being pitied by good and mercifull people. Nephizus, answered Atalida, may wel have so wicked a designe; But if it be true, that there is an eternall Justice which governs the motions of mortall mindes, it will not suffer for its owne interest, that Iniquity should grow so powerfull. Yet [Madam since you wil have it so] let us imagin that all men, follow∣ing their inclination of doing ill, doe already doubt of your virtue, and deny you those con∣solations, which your mis-fortune should receive from their charity. Have you not in your selfe a Comforter, that is a thousand times better then all those which you can expect from the world? The quiet minde, which the testimony of your conscience gives you, should make you heare without any feeling, nay with neglect, all that calumny it selfe can invent against you. These perswasions tooke not away all my feares, but (I confesse) they did the greatest part of them. Taking therefore a resolution that might serve for my justification, I left the Pallace, wherein I had been neere three yeares a prisoner, and went to Fez in an equipage answerable to my present condition. All the people shewed their love to me by their teares, and their feare by their Silence. Every where as I passed, I met with multitudes of men and women, which by their actions made me well understand that my misfortune could not be greater. When I came to the Pallace, I found there such an universall solitude and consternation, that I was faine to looke long time to meet with a man to whom I might speake. At last the House-keeper appeared, but to all the questi∣ons I propos'd him, he gave mee no other answer then in shrugging up his shoulders, and shewing by his feare, that he was forbidden to talke, yet must I (said I then a loude) and will (happen what may) put an end to this silence, and know what Nephizus intends shall become of mee. What by prayers, urgings, and teares, at last I got one of Nephizus cheif Officers to tell me where his Master was, and the commands he had received from him; and so he answered me in sighing; that his Master was out of his country, and that befo•…•…e he parted, he had given an especiall command to his subjects, not to acknowledge me any more for their Queen, but to entertain me in such a manner, that I should be inforced to re∣turn to Tunis. This was all the Officer told me; But since I knew (by the wit of Atalida,) that the true cause of al these last wrongs sprung from a furious passion of Nephizus which he had gotten a year past, for one of the King his fathers women. I stood not to deliberate on what I had to doe, but the thought of Revenge presenting it selfe, advised me, to hold no more faith with him that had first violated that toward me, nor to take into my thought [as my Lord] that man who had used me as his Enemy; but (for the interest of my birth and Innocence) to pursue, even to the death, that miscreant who gloryed in the ruine of them both. This Councell I followed. Yet unwilling to make use of those meanes for that revenge, which might be condemned of good men, I thought it fit for me to have re∣course to the protection of the King my Father, and to employ noe other assistance then his, for the obtaining a satisfaction from him that had so much wronged me. I therefore quickly got to Tunis and throwing my self at the Kings feet, besought him not so to have compassion of a daughter whom he had made miserable, as to resent the injuries he re∣ceived from the Prince of Fez, in the persons of his children. That Prince, who before my marriage, I had found so jndulgent & Debonayr, even to an excess, losing in such an occa∣sion, thatfeeling which nature & honour should have given him, was inexorable to my pray∣ers, and insensible of the affronts I had received from Nephizus. I confesse to you that his impassibility was insupportable to me, and in the first stirrings of my greif, there escaped from me some words that were not so respectfull, as became the duty of a daughter, and my answeres put Muley-Hassen into such a fury, that before all his court he accused me to be the cause of the losse of my husband, the disorder of two Royall families, and many other offences. In conclusion, he not only refused me that assistance and protection which I intreated from him, but commanded me to depart from Tunis, and get back to finde out my Husband, & regain his favour, if I desired that he should acknowledg me for his daugh∣ter. I see well (said I to him) that I must onely expect to have from heaven that succour which nature denyes me. Sir, I will obey your commands, & since I find my self a stranger in mine owne country, and odious even to him that gave me life, I abandon, without sorrow, both my native soyle and my father, and betake me to the most dreadfull Deserts of Afri∣cae,

to doe penance for those faults which the guilty throw on my Innocence. The same day that I spake thus to Muley, I went secretly out of Tunis, and without making use of that retreat which my Sister in particular offered me, went as farre as Numidia, to hearken after my faithful Muley. There I understood that he was gone to assist the King of Egypt, & that he had cut in peices two of the greatest armies that ever the Turks had sent against the Mummelucs. I sent divers Messengers to him to let him know the need I had of him: but not having the patience to attend their return, I crossed a great part of Numidia and without making my selfe known, imbarked at the first Port where I found shipping. I ar∣rived at Alexandria, and from thence going up the Nyle the nearest I could to Cairo, some dayes after I came to the Court of Tomombay, and found all in a great rejoycing for the great advantages they had gotten over the Turke. The name of my Lover was there in such veneration, that he was called by the Prince himself, the deliverer of Egypt. This was truly to me a great comfort in mine adversities, to heare him so worthily spoken of whom I loved; but it was a redoubling of my greife, when they told me that he was gone from the Court, without taking his leave of the Prince, and not giving notice to his most cō∣fident friends of the necessity of his departing. Deare Muley, said I to my selfe, this suddain departing gives me a rare proofe of thy obedience. The love of mee hath made thee shut thine eyes to all other considerations, and thou hast beleeved, that thou shouldst gaine farre greater Empires then this, if thou could'st preserve me. Hoping therefore for no more in E∣gypt, I returned to Tunis, and after I had staid there some dayes unknown, I re-imbarked me upon the assurance Atalida gave me, that I should not heare any newes of Muley but in Fez or Morocco. I went to Fez and learning nothing of what I desired, •…•…passed the Streights, to get sooner and more safely to Morocco. I came in there so that it had been impossible for the very servants of Nephizus to know me, & staid there so long as I thought was fitting, to heare what was become of my unfaithfull husband, and my loyall Friend. But for al I could doe, my diligences and perquisitions were bootlesse. For Nephizus; they told me that being desperatly in love with the Princesse Ennoramita his wife, and not indu∣ring she should be in the custody of the King her Father, he had besieg'd him in one of his Fortresses, to take her. But after the winning the place, and not finding her, he was neere dead for sorrow, and presently put to Sea to follow her. Imagine if I were amazed or no at these false tales, and what I was to iudge of it.

A•…•… last, after I had long mused on this Adventure to no purpose, I understood by A∣talida, •…•…hat Nephizus was gone to the Canaries with that pretended Ennoramita. I had Learn'd from Fame, that you were not only King of them, but the defendor of the oppres∣sed, the Avenger of persecuted virtue, and the Exterminator of Monsters and Tyrants. And for that reason, I resolv'd to take you for the Judg of my cause, and to implore your valor for the exemplary chastising of Nephizus perfidies and impostures. The Princess of Tunis could goe no further; for Atalida, in clapping her hands and shewing an extreame asto∣nishment, cryed out that the old Eunuch Narcissus was come into the court of the Pallace with a great company of Trumpets and Armed men. Ennoramita not able to beleeve the astonished Damsel, ran to one of her Chamber windowes, which look'd into the Court, and knowing Narcissus; Permit not [if you please, said shee to Polexander] that any wrong be done to me in a place where you are the Master. Feare nothing Madam, answered Heroe: whosoever dares to think of losing the respect that is due to you, shall not doe it unpunished. And not only here, but wheresoever else you shall please to make use of mine arme, I shall hinder, as much as in me lieth, your enemies from wronging your vertue.

Scarce had he ended these words, but the Captaine of his guard came into Ennoramitas Chamber, and told him that a Herald, sent with a great trayne from Abdelmelec Prince of Morocco, to all the Courts of Vrope & Africk, requested instantly that he might be permitted to acquit himselfe in the presence of his Majesty, of that Commission his Prince had given him. Surely said Polexander, Abdelmelec hath knowne that I have his buckler: We must heare his Herald. In the meane time addressing himselfe to the Cap∣taine of his Guard, goe and receive [said he] these strangers, and assure them that what∣soever they have to say to me, they shall not need to feare any thing, more then if they were in Morocco. Ennoromit•…•… then speaking: I intreat you a favour (said she to Po∣lexander;

whats that Madam, replied the Prince. Tis [said she] that I may have some time to speake with Narcissus, before his Masters command hath ingaged him to any extravigancy. You shall doe what you please, (answeared Polexander) but let his dis∣course to mee be what it will, he shall not want of receiving as good entertainement at my hands, as if he had brought me the confirmation of that which Abdelmelec sometime promised me. I know that your thoughts are not capable of any imbecillity, (said the Princess of Tunis;) but I am sure withall, that the minde of Narcissus is not incapable of feare. As long as he shall imagine that you know not the cause of his coming, he will be reasonable enough to tell us, what is become of Nephizus. But assoone as he hath declar'd his charge, and by consequence, shall beleeve he hath offended you; he will thinke of nothing after, but how to get out of your power, and in his apprehension, and feare of being chastis'd, will not even know where he is. Polexander Laughing at the good opinion Ennoramita would worke in him of Narcissus courage, commanded he should be brought to him, assoone as he should be in case to be seene. The Eunuch, hol∣ding of his nation a certaine proud severity, refus'd all that was offer'd him by Polexan∣ders Officers, and could never be wonne to see him alone. Polexander hearing of these things in the presence of Ennoramita, shee intreated him to let Narcissus come to him with all his trayne; and told him [smiling,] that before that Ethiopian be∣gan his Oration, shee would pesent her selfe to him in the quality of a Peti∣tioner, and accusing the other of his ill treating her, would so force him to put by his gravity. Our Heroe approov'd of all that Amatontha desir'd, and going into the hall of the Princess lodgings, which was already fill'd with his Guard and other Officers, there receiv'd the venerable Narcissus. Scarce had the Eunuch made his reverences and first complements, but Ennoramita appear'd in the Hall, with a most desolate and afflicted countenance, and casting her selfe at Polexanders feet, besought him to give her his protection against many Enemies that did unjustly persecute her. I understood my Lord [said shee,] after the Prince had taken her up] that there was newly arrived in this place, one of the principall Agents of my Tyrants. I therefore beseech you, by the name you have gotten of the most Just Prince of the world, to harken to my complaints; and to beleeve, that I have gone a hundred and fifty leagues by sea in hope that you will grant me that, which my Country, my Parents, my Friends, and my Allyes have refus'd me. In saying so shee cast her eyes on Narcissus, who instantly knew her, and after shee had a while look'd on him, See [said shee to our Heroe] in taking the Eunuch by the hand, an inreproachable witnesse of those verities I am to tell you, and though he hath been of the number of those that have tormented me, yet I have nothing to say to him; for I know how farre the duty and faith of a servant bindes him to his Master. He belong'd to the Prince of Fez, and being answerable and obliged to him for a great Fortune, he could not lawfully consider any thing but his Interests. I acquit him also from all those miseries he hath made me suffer, but yet upon condition that he tell you before me, why he forsook me under a false pretext, whence 'tis for these two yeares and more, I have neither heard news of him nor of the King his Master, and for what cause Ne∣phizus hath unworthily repudiated me.

The Old Narcissus hearing these last words of Ennoramita, lifted his hands to his eies to cope thence his teares; and having often sighed: My Lord (said he to Polexander) cast∣ing himself at his feet) I should be unworthy that Name of a faithfull Servant, which this Princesse vouchsaf'd to give me, if even in that trouble and astonishment which her pre∣sence causeth in me, I did not preserve enough of Judgement, to give to her Innocence that testimony she expects from my mouth. True Sir, this Princesse deserves to be protect∣ed, since she is unjustly prosecuted. But J am deceiv'd in saying so: She hath no more need of protection, for shee hath not any persecuter. Narcissus, in saying so renew'd his teares, and was a long time ere he could dry them. Ennoramita moved with the sorrow of that Man who had alwayes mildly treated her, besought Polexander to re∣tire into his Closset, that Narcissus might tell him in private those things that were not fit to be published. The Eunuch joyn'd his intreaties to those of the Princesse: and Polexander arising led her into his chamber; Narcissus follow'd them, and every one re∣t•…•…ring to leave them at liberty. The good old man moistning againe his le•…•…n cheekes

with a long current of tears, on this manner began the History of Nephizus Secrets.

That eternall Justice which is not allwaies fear'd, because it is not allwayes busied in the punishing of wicked men, hath at last made the poor Prince of Fez to feele, that it chastiseth with a great severity, when it long time defers his punishments. That power made him fall into the pit, which himselfe had digged, and to make it selfe re-doubtableto those Princes that live, hath suffered one of the greatest Princes of Affrica to dye so mi∣serably, that even to this houre we can know no other thing of him, but that he is dead. What doe you tell me, cride Perselida?. What Narcissus, is the Prince of Fez dead! He is dead Madam (reply'd the Eunuch weeping) and all that I can say of his unhappy end is, that he hath served for food to the Monsters of the Ocean. Ennoramita made it well appeare, on this occasion, that a generous Soule is out of her Element, when she is constraind, either to resent her of the injuries, or to deny her compassion to those which are fallen (though justly) into any mis-fortune. No sooner was the Princesse assured of the death of her greatest enemy, but she lost the memory both of all the wrong she had received, and the protestations she had made to be avenged for them. She re∣main'd a while recollected in her selfe, and casting downe her eyes, would have hid the teares that a true greife drew from her. At last, she declared her selfe [and after divers sighes] I confesse (said she, with a marvelous moderation) that I cannot chuse but be∣wayle the unfortunate death of that young Prince. J forgive him, with all my heart, the wrong he hath done me; and beseech the dreadfull Majesty, before whom he is to give an account of the actions of his life, not to deale with him according to the rigor of his Just∣ice. Polexander admir'd this excesse of goodnesse, and praysing so fair a change, intreated Perselida to be pleas'd that he might be cleard of a thing he had heard in Bajazets Jsland. The Princesse replyde, that he might doe all that he thought fit. Thereupon, Polexander tooke the old Eunuch by the hand, and intreated him to tell, why Nephizus had forsa∣ken his country and his wife; and whither it were on the Mediterranean Sea, or the maine Ocean that they thought he had suffered shipwrack. I can satisfy your curiosity, re∣plyde Narcissus, and in doing so, shall acquit my selfe of that whereto my Soveraigne Lady lately engaged me. Ennoramita having bestow'd farre more then she owed to the memory of her marriage, set her neer to Polexander, and Narcissus related to them what they desired to know, in these termes. About a yeere before I left you in the Pallace of the Desert (sayde he, addressing him to the Princesse of Tunis) my Lord the King wa•…•… solicited by Abdelmelec to renew their ancient intelligence, and by a necessary warre to free their country, and even their Father, from the slavery wherein five or six Tyrants made them to languish: Nephizus, who was but too facile to be carried to any mischiefe, met with his brother, and by a parricidiall resolution, engag'd himselfe to put the kinde and meeke Hely from his Throne, and make him renounce by force that authority which he kept too long. This Attempter had the successe he deserved, for Nephizus forces were discomfited and himselfe taken prisoner. But the too indulgent Hely, unwilling to consent either to the death or imprisonment of his rebellious Sonne; satisfied him∣selfe with keeping him under guard some few dayes; after which never remembring what had passed, he shewed him more love and more confidence then before, and utter∣ly to undoe him, the too facile and weak Hely, shewed him (I dare not say indiscreetly) a young wonder, of whom [as old as he was] he was become passionately amorons. I would tell you the story of that fatall beauty, because tis most strange; but it serving nothing to my purpose, I will content my selfe with the relating to you, that she ar∣rived on the coasts of Morrocco in the midst of the flames of a burning ship, as presaging the fires and flames that she was to kindle in that country. Nephizus had noe sooner seen that stranger, but he not only trod under foot the respect he was bound to carry to the passion of his father, but he forgot that which he lawfully ought to love, and what he had other times affected. The desire to enjoy this stranger wholy possessing him and making him to lose all reason, he thought that by cunning and glosing, it might be easie for him to come to the End of his pretentions; and being young and faire should with∣out much difficulty get this marvell out of the hands of the good old man his Father. But after he had imployed in it all his wits, and all his confidents, he found himselfe farre short of his reckoning. For having to doe with an old Man, jealous, suspectfull, and sen∣suall,

and by consequence that was igno rant in nothing that was to be practisd to win a woman; his wyles were soone discovered, and he (to save his life) constrained to fly.

At that time he writ to mee by one of his Mutes, that I should shut you up more strict∣ly then before, (and in saying thus, he bow'd his head to Ennoramita's foot) that I should not suffer you to be seene by any body, and on the penalty of my life, I should not suffer any person whatsoever to come neere the Advenues of your prison. He writ me not the cause of that rigorous command, but I discovered it, since Abdelmelec took me into his service. I will tel it you, because it serves for the cleering of many things which may have come to your knowledg; and besides having oftentimes examin'd it, I found in it so much I know not what, of incredible, and so prodigious, that I call it doubt so of∣ten as I thinke on it, though? have had the confirmation from a thousand witnesses worthy of faith. See what twas, and Judge whether I have cause to speake as I doe. Ne∣phizus inflam'd with love, with Despite, Anger, and Shame, arm'd more powerfully and openly then he dar'd doe till then, and having gotten the principall Townes, to give co∣lour to his detestable rebellion, publish'd a Manifest against Hely, which I Cannot remem∣ber; but my hayr riseth an end with the horror thereof. Among the great number of crimes whereof he accused that poore Prince, he reproach'd him with the stealing of you away to satisfy his execrable lust, and maintayned that she whom they cunningly call'd the stran∣ger Iphidamanta, was the true Perselida, Amatonta, Ennoramita Princess of Tunis. The people were not the sole, who, suffering themselves to be corrupted by that malignity which is but too naturall to them, gave credit to so prodigious a calumny, but many of the principal in the state either beleev'd it, or to have cause to take up armes, made shew to beleeve it. Abdelmelec said in good Company, that for the manner of all his Fathers living, there was nothing in matter of love but might be credited of him. And the too-Amorous Hely, hearing this accusation, was in doubt of the truthes which the stranger Iphidamanta had assured to him. But being againe confirm'd by her selfe, in his former be∣liefe, he caused an answer to be made to his Sons Manifest, to justify him from so black a supposition; and thinking to avenge himselfe, commanded all his followers not call the faire stranger by any other name then Ennoramita; and he observ'd the same he commanded others, and by this trick of youth made that name so famous, that the people of Morocco will not in a long time forget it.

So (if it be lawfull for mee to speake with that boldnesse) by the folly of Hely, and the malice of Nephizus, your Name (Madam) and imagination, became as the fatall fire∣brand, which the Enemy Demon of our peace put into the hands of the Father and Chil∣dren, to make desolate the most flourishing Provinces of all Africa. In a word, after their writings, they came to blowes. The Sonnes gave the Father Battle, overcame him, thrice made him fly shamefully from Morocco, and compell'd him to seeke for re∣fuge in Guargetssem, to escape from their fury. Yet could he not be secure, for a little time after he was be•…•…eig'd, and in spight of all his mens valour and resistance, reduc'd to the lamentable necessity of seeing himselfe, and what he loved more then himselfe, at the discretion (since in the power) of Nephizus. The ill advised Prince entred Victoriously into Guargetssem; Yet gather'd he not by so deplorable a Victory, the fruit he promis'd himselfe. Assoone as he was Master of the fortress, he would needes visit it all. He found his father in a Bed dangerously wounded, but seeing not Iphidamanta with him, he went to search for her, even to the bottom of the Casamatts. He was not like to meet her; for shee fled by sea with one Osmin, who within these few yeares, by meanes of his exces∣sive favour, had been the pertext of all the revolts, and all the Warres of the two Bro∣thers. The flight of that stranger had neere been the death of Hely, for Nephizus en∣raged at her losse, came with his Cymiterre in his hand, even to the Bed of that miserable King, and vomiting against him all that his sury fild him with, he threatned to passe his Weapon through his Body, if he would not restore to him his wife. Abdelmelec staid that blow, and pulling his Brother thence by force, forsooke him not, til he saw him in a great repentance for the parricide he would have Committed. But the passion he was in for the faire stranger, and on the other side the remorse of Conscience not suffering him to stay longer at Morocco, he got some one to intreate his Father, to give him one of his great ships of warre, and assoone as he had gotten it, he imbarqued himselfe with

forty of fifty of his Complices. To tell you whether he intended, or what became of him, is not in my Power; for what enquiry soever I have made, I have not been able to know any thing of him, for a certaine. Some have told me that he was shipwrack'd neare the Canaries, and that there were found in the Isle of Fer certaine Arabick Characters engraven on the barke of a tree, which said, that the miserable Nephizus, after he had lost all, was come to seeke his death in that place; Others averred that he had been taken by Pyrats in the same Isle of Fer, and that after he had in diverse occasions made shew of his valour among them, they had thought him worthy to command them.

However, tis but too true that Nephizus is dead. I thought to have been one of the first that had heard of it; and assoone as 'twas brought me, I deem'd it fitting to ad∣vertize, secretly, Abdelmelec of all; and not to give you any suspition of it, I made you beleive that Hely commanded me to come to him. Vnder this pretext I left you at Li∣berty, and by great Journeys came to Arsile where Abdelmelec kept his Court. He knew nothing of the death of his brother, when I told it him. He gave me great thankes for it, and for many reasons conjur'd me to keepe this newes secret. He in the meane while that would make his benefit of it, came to the King his father, and made shew to him of so great a greife for his passed offences, and such a desire to repaire them by his fidelity and obedience; that the mild Hely not only restored him to his favour, but al∣most resign'd to him all his authority. Those two Princes might now have named them∣selves perfectly happy, if the one could have cured himselfe of that passion whereof he still languished, and kept for the pretended Ennoramita, and if the other had heen wise enough to free his mind from a fantasie, the most unreasonable that love is able to pro∣duce. And now, since that love is the cause of my voyage, 'tis not from the purpose if I tell you what is permitted me to publish. Know then, that above four yeares since, Ab∣delmelec is falne in love with a Princesse which he never saw but in Picture, and which he shall never see otherwise. This Princesse is called Alcidiana, and is Queene of an Island farre separated from these heere, and [incomparably] more fair then these are. This little peice of land is called, by some, the celestiall Island, by others the Inchanted Isle, but the most proper name is that of the Innaccessible Island, because all the Arte of Naviga∣tion, nor the best steerage of the most experienced Pilots of the world can bring a vessell to any Port there, this impossibility doth Abdelmelec know, nor is he ignorant that, to love Alcidiana, is to love farre more vainly, then to fall in love either with the Sun or or some other Starre. Yet he perseveers in this unreasonable affection, and since he was thus bewitch'd, there hath not pass'd a yeare wherein he hath not undertaken one or two voyages with an endeavour to get to a place, which every day he himselfe calls In∣accessible. Tis not long since, that [to content his sencelesse passion] he caused to be built the most rich and brave vessell that [may be] ever sayld on the main Ocean. But scarce was he imbarqued, when by an unexpected surprize he was beset by eight or ten sayl of Pyrats and enforc'd (spight of all his valour) to give way to their number; and after a bloody skirmish got from them, in spight of all their obstacles, by vertue of his armes: Yet esteeming farre lesse that which he had sav'd, then what he had lost, he even thought to have dyed with greif when he saw himselfe in safety, because he remembred that one of the Pyrates by craftinesse had stoln from him his buckler: and they were faine by vio∣lence to keep him from returning to fight, for he would die or recover that Buckler, and would do it the more earnestly because he had caus'd to be painted on it the Portraict of Alcidiana. Though Polexander thought that Narcissus spoke of him without know∣ing him, and noted the truth through the fable which the pride of the Prince of Moroc∣co had invented to disguise the fight wherein he lost his buckler; neverthelesse he would not make appeare to the old Ethiopian that he had any knowledge of it. He laugh'd to himself, at the foppery of Abdelmelec who to hide-the shame of his defeat, had given out that divers vessells had set on his, and afterwards he listned againe to the narration of Narcissus

The King my Master (said the Eunuch) long time pursued the ravishers of his treasure, but being neither able to come up to them, nor to know whence they were, He returned to Morocco, with an intent rather to lose him selfe then leave the portraict of Alcidiana in the custody of a company of Barbarians. He had a mind to cause a part of his Navy to

be made ready, and to scoure along the seas, from these Isles to that of the Pyrats, to fight with all the vessels he should meete in his course, that by the taking of a great many Rovers, he might heare newes of those that had robd him. But the famous Abul Ismeron, who among all the Moores is held for a great Prophet, advised him not to undertake that voyage. I Know, said he, by the rules of mine art, and See it written in heaven as a thing infallible, that in this very place, thou shalt by the solemnity of a publique feast meete with him that hath robd thee of thy Buckler. Hasten that day, by the proclama∣tion of some Turney, and send Heralds through all the courts of Africa, to oblige all Princes to appeare here, and to fight for the Beauty of their Mistris.

Abdelmelec liked of that councell, and not to defer the execution of it, commanded me to goe through the Countries neerest to his own, not only to defie all young Knights in his name, but to publish, before all the World, that he held for a Theef and a Coward, that man who had taken his Buckler from him, when he was not in case to defend it, if he came not to Morocco, brought not the Buckler he had stole, and after he had de∣posited it, assaied not to gai•…•…e it by a just combat. But since in that Turney, his principal intent, is not to defend the Beauty of Alcidiana, for whome he hath oftentimes al∣ready taken armes; but to aveng him on the stealer of his Buckler; He Declares too, that no Knight shall be receiv'd to fight, till (in a Place that shall be appointed for speech) he have first made knowne, who he is, whence he came, who is his Mistris, and have purg'd himselfe by an oath, that he knowes nothing of them that stole the portraict of Alci∣diana.

Narcissus finishing thus his discourse, humbly besought Polexander to be pleas'd that he might publickly performe his charge; and that before all his court he might, at liberty▪ declare the intention of the prince his Master. Our Heroe witnessing his being pleased with his civility, gave him leave to doe and say what he would; and for feare (said he) least some one of your traine may accuse you for not, punctually enough, observing what you have been commanded, I will be present at what you doe, and receive my selfe Abdel∣melec's challenges. Narcissus gave him thanks for his Nobleness, and leaving Perselida Amatonta in an estate, that shew'd the agitation and mildenesse of her Spirit, return'd into the hall where his Trumpets and followers staid for him. Polexander came thither a little after, and his presence commanding silence to all, and there ranking them in their places, ask'd aloude of Narcissus what he had to say to him: Scarce had he pro∣nounc'd those words, but the Trumpeters got the windowes of the Hall, and with the noise of their sounding deaf•…•…ed all that were within the palace. After they had done, Narcissus presented himselfe at the foot of Polexanders Throne, and holding in his hand a piece of velume, written on in the Arabick, Spake thus,

Abdelmelec Prince of Morocco, and of Fez, and Trevisan, Vanquisher of Nations, and Commander over the one and other Sea, knowing that honour is the sole price, for which great Princes, as himself, should be industrious, hath never taken armes, not left the quiet of his Court, but for the possession of a thing so generally desired. He hath attained to what he pretended, and his Paines, Valour, and good Fortune, have acquir'd him so great a name in the world, that he cannot with justice expect any thing more signall from the Knowledg of mankinde. And well truly might he repose him∣selfe deliciously under the shadow of his own palmes, if Love, jealous of so great a re∣nown, had not robd him of his heart, to the intent to make him lose the quality of invincible. Yet he had recover'd both the one and the other, if by a prodigious adventure, Love had not shut up that Beauty for whome our prince languisheth, in a place which no mortall can attaine unto. This impossibility stirrs up the great heart of Abdelmelec, but it wearies not his constancy. He first aspires to that which his reason tels him he can never arrive at. He Loves, he Desires, but he hopes not to enjoy: and as that Nation which adores the Sun, worship it, because they beleeve it to be the portraict of the Divinity which they cannot see So my Lord the Prince, not being able to hinder the admiration of Pictures, by authority of his example as much as by that of his Scepter, hath caused them even to be ador'd, by those to whome the great prophet Mahomet hath for bidden the worshiping of Images. Now it hath happened by a Treason, the most base that was ever committed, that one of those faire pictures, is fallen into the hands

of a miserable Pyrate, who without question, is barbarous enough not to know his good fortune. Abdelmelec therefore, not enduring that so sanctified a thing should be expos'd to the outrages of the prophane, hath resolv'd to purchase it againe with the price of his owne blood, and couragiously to hazard his life and estate in a warre which his love makes him call Holy. But for as much as he knowes not the aboad of those sacriligious persons who have put their execrable hands on the sacred portraict of her visible divinity he hath sent Spies into all parts to hearken after it; and intreates all Princes and Knights that love honour, to interest themselves in his quarrell, and come quickly to Morocco to consult with him of the meanes he should take to make those Pyrates feele a punish∣ment that may be somewhat answerable to the greatnesse of their crime. And in the mean time, if it had chanc'd that any Prince, Moor or Christian, were associated with these theeves, to have gotten by treachery what he thought he could not obtaine by a just combat; he gives him to understand, whatsoever he be, that he holds him for a coward, and a Traytor, if he declare not in the publick place of Morocco, that equally forc'd by the feare of Abdelmelec, and the violence of his passion, he craftily made himself Master of Alcidiana's portraict; But acknowledging his low merit, he repents him of his theft, and restores the faire picture to his lawfull owner. And to the end that no man finde any pretext to fayle at this Assignation, My Lord the Prince sends, for the security of all (Christians and Moores) his Pass-ports and safe conducts in the best form that they can desire.

In saying thus, he presented to Polexander the velume which he had unfolded at the be∣ginning of his speech. Our Her•…•…e (having with much constraint refrain'd from laughter, for the extravagant titles and insupportable vanities that fill'd up almost all the writing) said to the old Narcissus (for all the answer he was to have there) that if his affaires did not call him to some other place, he would quickly be at Morocco, and (may be) would bring Abdelmelec newes of his Buckler. After he had thus spoken he arose, and giving leave to all the company to depart, retyr'd to the Princesse of Tunis. When he had been a while in discourse with her about the extravagancy of Abdelmelec, and seeing her extreamely musing and melancholly: I have not much lesse cause then you (said he) to meditate deeply on those strange Adventures which the old Narcissus hath related to us. For if they be all true, I find I am involv'd in the follyes of Nephizus, and compeld, in respect of my blood, to declare my selfe his Eni∣mie. But what? (said I) Nephizus is dead, and what outrage soever he hath endeavoured to have done me, I will by your Example sacrifice all my choler, and all my resentment on his Tombe. On the other side, I conceive a thing which astonisheth, and rejoyceth me together. For if my conjectures deceive me not, this stranger Iphidamanta, (that Nephi∣zus would have to be taken for you, that he might so get her from his father) is my Sister the Princesse Cydaria, and twinne Sister of that Prince from whom she hath borrowed the Name of Iphidamant. This being soe, as I cannot almost any more doubt of it, Cyda∣ria is not dead, as I beleev'd hitherto; and he was not well inform'd who reported to me that she perish'd in a ship all on fire, in sight of the Fortresse of Guarguetssem. That which most strongly perswades me, is, the particularity of the burning of Cydarias ship agrees well with that which Narcissus hath related to us touching the arrivall of the false Ennoramita on the coasts of Morocco. There is this difference that my servants re∣lated to me, how the Sea had swallowed up my Sisters vessell: and I finde by Narcissus reccitall, that that wherein she was, was cast on the coastes of Morocco. Ennoramita a∣wakening at this, as out of a deepe sleepe; Have I (said she to Polexander) dream't, that she who Nephizus would have to be taken for me, should be your Sister. I have told you so Madam, (he replyde and added withall) it can be none but she: and more 'tis only she that hath delivered you from Nephizus. How could this Miracle be done (asked Ennoramita presently?) Tis hard for me to tell you (said Polexander) for I doe onely guesse in this businesse. Yet I think I doe not deceive my selfe, and therefore mark why I imagime•…•… it. I was not long since in Bajazets Island, and there bound to make some stay. A thousand incomparable qualities justly intitles him the prime man of these times, wonne me to the curiosity of knowing who he was. Among al those of whom I enquir'd, there was not one that could, or would tell me any thing else, but that he was a Prince

that he was become the protector of the Pyrats, to the end he might finde againe a young Princess, with whom he was passionately in Love, and that he was gottēn to be Gene∣rall of the Rovers, by a way as glorious, as it was extraordinary. I earnestly pressed him that spake to mee, to tel me what had happened of Rare, and so much renowne n the election of Bajazet. After I had long time intreated him, he answered me thus. •…•…Our last Generall (of whose Birth or first condition, neither I nor any of my compani∣ons, could ever learne any thing,) being by the suffrages of all elected, and setled in the place of valiant Abinadac, deceiv'd the hopes we had conceiv'd of his courage, and ruin'd the designes we had on the Portugalls, by a resolution he tooke to make warre with a Kingdome neere to this Island, which is call'd the realme of Benin. Wee oppos'd him awhile, and gave him all the reasons wee could to hinder that voyage. But that headstrong and Wilfull Spirit, making use of this unbounded power we had given him, as we doe to all our Generalls, constraind us to follow him in that unhappy expe∣dition. I may well call it unhappy, since wee got nothing but the shame of fayling in our enterprise, and the sorrow for the losse of many of our Captaines. Indeed the cause of that journey deserv'd no better a successe. For it was nothing but a meere extravagancy of a young man, and a blinde desire to enjoy a Christian, call'd the faire Ennoramita, who, may be, was no fairer then five or six hundred others that were kept in the Island for the Generalls pleasure. When that Nephizus (I have learnt our Generalls Name was so, before wee call'd him Amurat) was arrived at Benin, and saw himselfe com∣pell'd to give ground to the Kings sonne, and by consequence, to lose the hope of pos∣sessing his Mistris, he committed the actions of a mad man. He accus'd us of Treason and cowardize, and commanded wee should follow, and perish with him, in the mid'st of his Enemies. But when he saw that those which were with him, in Lieu of obeying, brought him back by force into his ships: turne yet at last (said he) turne your weapons on mee, & shew me on this occasion, that it is not falsely, that you have vanted to have an entire & blinde obedience, for those to whom you have given the power to command you. Why doe you stay? No, No, doe not deliberate. Tis farre more just, that you should obey me now, then it was when I forc'd you to follow mee into this country. I would dye, my companions, and if you are not so much my friends to deliver mee from a Life that is troublesome to me, you will enforce me either to make use of mine own hands to rid me of it, or•…•… run miserably imploring those of mine Enemies. Do not think that Ambition or avarice hath made me accept the command, of a company that made vaunt themselves to be Masters of the Ocean. No, my birth gave me titles and riches enough, to have no need of those which you so generously granted mee. Twas only Love, (I say that Love which made me finde such delights in that Miserable estate wherein you found me after my ship∣wrack) which hath made me wooe your protection, fight for you, and lastly made me receive with joy, the quality of your Generall. It likewise made me hope that by your assistance, I might one day recover the treasures my owne Father had rob'd me of; it promised me, if I perseverd in my passion, that even the faire and Divine Ennoramita, (in spight of all the forces of Benin) should be the reward of my constancy. In a word, I secur'd my selfe, that being seconded by your valour, I should finde no obstacle in my enterprizes. And yet you see in the meane time, that a multitude of naked and fearefull people, a Nation so Barbarous, that they know not the use of armes, shamefully pursues mee, drives me into my vessells, and by a prodigy, which carries no shew of truth, in making me lose the hope of my good fortune, hath deprived you of the fruition, of your Honour: But now I have consider'd that you and I have been equall losers; Ire∣voke the request I made you (my companions) I aske you no more for Death. I only intreate you to have a care of your reputation, and returning altogether to the City of Benin, that wee avenge our selves alike of our common Enemies.

This Speēch had so great power with all us that were with him, that treading under foot all feare, and all other consideration, wee bid him leade us boldly on, and he should then confesse, that it was not without reason, that he hoped much of our as∣sistance. Presently wee got into our Shallopps, and landed againe. Amurat, ravish'd with our resolution, put himselfe in the front of us, march'd right up to his Enemies, charg'd them, amazd' them, overthrew them, put them to flight and press'd on them

so, that he entred their Towne together with them. We thought we had no more to doe, then to gather the fruit of our Victory, when we saw our selves set on by men far more resolute then those wee had routed. The Prince of Benin made them fight and by his example made them so valiant, that 'twas then our turne to retire, and to contract all our pretentions within the only thought of defending our selves. My companions, de∣siring rather to dye in their conquest, then to survive to their losse, made a vow not to abandon their stations, and almost all of them made it good, for there died aboue two thirds of them on the place. Amurat perceiving that the more Blood the fury of the E∣nemy shed, the more it increas'd, became instantly and wholely capable of a passion far more shameful and base then that of Love. He began to be affraide, and in his terror not only forgot his Mistris, but himselfe too; and so leaving the City of Benin, and drawing us after him, caus'd us to make as much hast to our shipps, as he had wonne us to goe from them. Wee set Sayle that very night, in such a disorder, that we never look'd after any one of our companions. To our Tempest by land, there succeeded another by Sea; wherein we ran no lesse hazzard. Assoone as it was overblown, our vessel was assayl'd by an other, which at the first wee tooke for a Portingall. But when wee were grappell'd, wee knew it belong'd to the King of Benin, and that the Prince his Sonne, had imbarqued himselfe in it to follow us. The Combat began againe with an in∣credible Fury; and the Prince of Benin, giving oftentimes the name of Traytor and Ra∣visher to our Generall▪ made him feele that supernatural valour, which caused us to looke on him as a God descended from heaven to converse with men. He gash'd Amurat with so many blowes, that after he had forc'd him to fall at his feete, he offer'd his Cy∣miter to his throate, and told him he must either dye, or restore the Princess whom he had stolne. Amurat witnes'd an extream Scorne and Anger to see his Enemy so cruell as to make him his jeast, and subject of laughter, after he had vanquish'd him. This last outrage gave him his Mortall blow. Yet in that last instant of life, he had the comfort to be bewail'd, even of the person that killd him.

At that word Polexander, altering his voice, Til now (said he to the Princess of Tunis) I could never know, whether Amurat-Nephizus was the Prince of Morocco, or some other, that had taken on him the name of Nephizus. But after our hearing that which Narcissus hath told us, there is left for it no place of doubting: no truly; (an∣swered him Ennoramita Sighing) and by an effect of that providence which produ∣ceth every thing in its due season, I finde the end of Tyranny in the same place where I came to seeke for succours against the Tyrant.

Ah cruell and inconstant Nephizus (said she with her eyes full of teares) why dost thou compell me to be inhumane against mine owne resentments, and to rejoyce at thy unfortunate end▪ But I am injurious to the eternall Justice, which hath restor'd to me that Libertie, whereof by thee I was wickedly deprived. I do owe that power any due acknow∣ledgements for thy punishments, and consecrate to it the fetters from which by that vertue, I am miraculously delivered, Go then, Goe, Nephizus, to that place, whither the rigorous Iudge of Soules calls thee. Answer, if thou canst possibly, the severe examination of the black Angell. Finde out justifications for thy voluptuousnesse, for thy madnesse and parricide! But above all, thinke seriously on the actions of my life, that thou mayst not goe on in accusing me unjustly with thy excesse and offences. In the meane time, I blot thee out of my memory as an Apparition that affrights me, and burying under the waves which (may) have swallowed thee, thy cruelties and thy Name; I re-give me entirely to him alone, to whom heaven and my will gave me, assone as I was of discretion. Come deare Muley, receive the rewards of thy travells and constancy: Hasten to the consolation of Perselida. Put thy selfe in possession of what hath long been thine owne, and make it knowne to all obstacles, which thou hast surmounted without doing a∣ny thing, either senting the coward or guilty, that our Vnion was written in heaven, by that puissant and infallible hand, that gives Order and lasting to all things. After Ennora∣mita had thus ended, Polexander continued the discourse, and having confirmed the prin∣cesse in the resolution she had taken, left her with Atalida, and her other Domestique Ser vants, to the end she might the more freely discharge her selfe, of all whichthe change of her •…•…prtune had burthe•…•… her minde▪ Polexander went to Zelmatidas chamber to ex∣cuse

his leaving him alone, and relate Ennoramitas Adventures: But he understood by Alcippe, that he was got on horseback with Garruca, and rid towards the great Wood of Cedars. We must leave him to his liberty, (said Polexander) and not looke after a re∣medy for those maladies which are not capable of any. He therefore retyr'd into his cham∣ber & after he had given som new orders for the safegard of the Isle of Tenriff, which was again threatned by the Portingalls, shut him up with Alcippe to think on the means were left to bring him to the Island of Alcidiana. I am resolved (said he to his Favorite) to take courses farre different from those I have run hitherto. It hath been impossible for us to do any thing (to that purpose) by force. We must use cunning & (so dextrously deceive Alcidianas Pilots, that they may conduct us, without knowing whither we intend to go. Alcippe, seeming to allow his resolution, answered, I imagine that this project may have a successe according to your Majestyes wish. But when you are got to Alcidianas I∣land, what good, what content hope you for it? In that equipage wherewith you will there appeare, you will never be taken for your selfe, but run a hazard to be punished as an Imposter that would faine make himselfe passe for what he is not. Either you should not desire your returne to the Innaccessible Island, or should desire it with all the Marks and advantages that belong to your condition to the end that Alcidiana who onely doubts of what you are, may by the bravery and state of your attendance, change her doubts into certainties. I would willingly follow thy councell, answer'd Polexander, but thou seest tis impossible. If I should make ready a fleet of two or three hundred Ships, If I should put into them all that treasure which the Queen my mother hath left me, If I should get al my Subjects to abandon their houses, wives, and children, to imbarque with me, all this great preparation would have so poore a successe, that even scarce the noyse of it would be heard in the Innaccessible Iland. No, no my freind, this Adventure must end as it began: Chance brought me with a small company to Alcidiana, and chance must bring me thither againe in the same equipage. But to what will it serve you to be there in that fashion (replyd Alcippus?) Ah my dear friend (answered Polexander▪ bring me first to Alcidianas Iland, and when we are there, we will think of resolving thy difficulties. In saying so he arose very sad, & to omit nothing of that which civility requir'd from him, went againe to the Princesse of Tunis. He perceived how, in that little time he had been absent, she had gone a great way. For she had absolutely forgotten Nephizus, and with him, all the torments that he had made her indure. She talk'd now of nothing but Muley-Hassen, promised her selfe nothing but roses and delights, and troubled her selfe no more with any thing, but about the place where she might meet her Lover.

Polexander made her, to that purpose, all the offers fitting, and promis'd to send even to Alexandria, to inquire what was become of that Prince. I thanke you, (said Ennorami∣ta) The good Angel of Muley assures me that I shall not be long from meeting him. I will leave that great Affair to so sage a conductor, and expect from heaven the end of that miracle, to which it hath given so fair a beginning. Shee had no sooner ended those words, but the weakness of her nature, appearing by motions out of time, threw her againe into her former feares, renew'd her first disgraces, and perswaded sometymes that Ne∣phizus was not dead, and then againe that Muley was not Living. Our Heroe noted, with astonishment, this Ebb and Flood of her minde, and thinking it would be but the opposing an impetuous torrent to go about to stay the agitation of the Princess, wisely avoyded what he was not able to overcome. He began then to talk of Abdelmelec's defi∣ance, and declaring to the Princess, the unjustnesse of the Moores complaints: There is (said he) I know not what Fatality in the house of Morocco, which inforceth all those that come out if it, to make themselves remarkable by some great extravagancy. But of late their madnesse hath alter'd, and so much for the better changed, that it is grown tame, and of cruell, is become humane and civill. Ambition, heretofore made them carry fire in one hand, and the Sword in the other. There was nothing so holy which was not viola∣ted by their impiety, nor so just that could escape their Injustice. The children stabd the ponyard into the bosome of their fathers, The fathers cut the throates of their Children. The bonds of blood and parentage stood in no other stead then to bring the unfortunate more surely to execution.

In a word all was permitted to the desire which these new Princes had to govern. Now

that they are got in possession of their Masters Estates, & that they command every where, who were there wont to obey; they have gone from the voluptuousnesse of a Lion to that of a Dog. They have no other object but infamous pleasures: and the Honour of Ladies runs lesse hazard amongst the Wild Arabians and other Robbers of Africa then in the Court of Hely. I Confesse I speake in heate, but I finde my selfe obliged to it, by so many considerations; that if I were not insensible of the outrages of the Princess of Morocco, I should be an enemy to virtue and Nature.

Ennoramita, contentedly smiling at the last words of Polexander: tis not (said shee) your owne quarrell that you defend, but mine, and tis Perselida that makes knowne her just greivances, when Polexander speakes. This discourse went no farther, for the Kings Officers came to tell him his supper staid for him. He did with a good grace an action, which a man comes ill off on, when he does it with too much punctuality. He intreated the Princess of Tunis to goe take an ill repast; and without insisting on irksome com∣plement, had the fitnesse to entertaine her with Muley-Hassen, til she came into the Hall where they were to sup. To let you know the greatnesse of that Feast, tis enough to say, that it was made at the cost, and by the Order of the most Magnificent and polish'd Prince of his time. Ennoramita being set at table, with the thought of soone-seeing Prince Muley, was extreamely plea•…•…ant all the supper time. She told Polexander that he should remem∣ber his good freind Abdelmelec, and send for the old Narcissus. This discourse pro∣duc'd many Causes of Laughter, even so farre that some of the Courtiers tooke the Boldnesse to jeast at the Moorish Prince in his absence, and to exalt his Combats in a man∣ner far more dangerous then if they had openly mock'd at him. But Polexander im∣pos'd silence to those jeerers, but unwilling to have them thinke that he tooke the protection of impertinent Princes, without a reason: it is injustice, said he, to expect in Princes, those Qualities which are altogether Miraculous; they are men as other men, and are infinitely more worthy of praise then private ones, when they do nothing else but make themselves Masters over Ordi∣n•…•…ry vices. This discourse drew on others during their re∣past, and furnish'd them with entertainement all the Evening. The houres for bed approaching, Po∣lexander took leave of Ennoramita, and having expected Zelmatida til two houres after midnight, gave the rest of the night to an infor∣ced repose, and an often interrup∣ted Slum∣ber.

The end of the First Book Of the second Part of POLEXANDER.

THE SECOND PART OF POLEXANDER. The Second Book

POLEXANDER Had but laugh'd at the insolent Challenges which the old Eunuch had given him from Abdelmelec, but when he had left Perselida, he reflected on the vanities and insolencies of the Moorish Prince, and thought that since Alcidiana was wrong'd, he was bound to be sensible of it, and therefore presently resolv'd to returne once more to Morocco, and by an exemplary chastisement, reduce his unworthy Rivall to the necessity of being wiser. With this intention he went to bed, and by meanes of his musing, entred into such impatiencies, that he slept as little all night, as if he had layne on thorns. Assoone as twas day he arose, and scarce allowing himselfe time to be dress'd, went with Alcippus to Zelmatida's Chamber. He found him in his bed, where according to his wonted custome, he gave himselfe a prey to melancholy, and complain'd of his surviving the Mexican Princess. After that Polexander had intreated him to attend that succour which infallibly time would give him, and entertain'd him with the adventures of Perselida Amatonta; I can (said he) relate, to you a novelty that will no lesse make you wonder, then the fortunes of this Princess. Tis like, that yet you may remember the enconter? wee had in coming hither, and the Combat wherein we were ingaged, by the pride of the Knight with the golden Armour, know, that the same Knight, who, as you saw, defended bad enough the portraict of Alcidiana, hath now a great desire to recover it. But not knowing who twas that tooke it from him, and thinking he cannot have any newes of it by ordinary meanes, he hath publish'd a Turnament, whereto indifferently he invites all Knights; and promiseth full safety to Christians as well as Mahometans. He declares by his Cartells, that he will receive no man to just with him, til he have made known to the appointed Judges for the courses, who he is; who is his Mistris; and what pretension he hath to Alcidiana. He adds to it, that every one shall be bound to purg himself by oath, of the theft he supposeth hath bin done him, and to name who was the Author, if there be any that know him. And in conclusion, he calls to Combat the Pretender Robber, and protests to hold him for a coward and an infamous person, if he make not his apparence at the Turney, and that (after he hath de∣posited the portraict of Alcidiana) if he strive not to get it by a just Combat. Tis boot∣lesse for mee to tell you, to whom this packet addres'd it selfe, for you know well, that I

am the Theife against whom Abdelmelec makes his protestations. I see it very well (re∣plyed Zelmatida) and would you be rul'd by me, [the witnesse of your conscience be∣ing for you] I would not [were I in your place] trouble my selfe about any justification. If there were none in the world but Zelmatidas [said Polexander] I would doe as you advise me But when I consider, that the greatest number of men is composed of fooles and miscreants; and further, that our reputation is servilely knit to the opinion, of the multi∣tude; I think that we are ingaged to make it appeare what we are; and hold that whoe∣ver lives amongst people incapable of the soveraigne wisdome, tis more vitious to go a∣gainst custome then against virtue.

This Doctrine was not taught in our world (replyed Zelmatida) and I know not whe∣ther it be good or bad, therefore you may doe as you please. Well then (said Polexander) since it must needs be so, I will to Morocco; and [without making my selfe known) strive to gain, better then I have done, the Buckler of Abdelmelec. I see well what the matter is, (answer'd Zelmatida) you would have none but you that should keepe Alcidiana's pict∣ure. This designe is worthy of you; but beware that Abdelmelec have not made this match to have you at his mercy, and avenge himselfe of the affront he hath received, without running the hazard of receiving another. Abdelmelec is vaine (replyed Polexander) but yet generous. The good opinion he hath of himself leades him to ridiculous actions, but it will never make him to do any ill-ones. He thinkes himselfe farre more valiant then he is, and though in his combats he come off with the worst, he doth not therefore think himselfe overcome. He casts his mishap sometime on Fortune, sometime on the Sunne, and otherwhile on his Horse; and in breife, not to accuse himselfe at any time, he ever accu∣seth some innocent. As for my selfe, I doubt not but he thinkes me the greatest Theife in the world, and Imagines I have gotten his Buckler by treachery, but that I keepe me con∣ceal'd for feare he should meet with me. This being so (sayd Zelmatida) you are obliged to go to Morocco, to put that Prince in his right witts. But (replyed Polexander) whilst I am in that Journey, who shall keepe you company? The shadow and remembrance of Izatida (said Zelmatida sighing) Those precious reliques of my happinesse are my faith∣full companions. They never forsake me, and entertaine me so sweetly, that (without of∣fence to the incomparable Spirit of Polexander) I find nothing that pleaseth me better. But what need you trouble your selfe? Doe not you know that Zelmatida is a wretch, which should be no more accounted among the living? Polexander, (unwilling to continue this conversation) oftentimes embraced the melancholly Zelmatida, and so took leave of him, after he had given an assurance of his speedy returne. Assoone as he was in his lodg∣ing, he sent for an old Knight that had been his Governour, and since by him made Vice-Roy of the Canaries. Him he commanded to observe Zelmatida as himself, and to do nothing without his ordering. His Vice-Roy answered that he would not faile in what he had prescrib'd him, and that he would endeavour to behave him in such an observance, that he should have no cause to be discontented.

I intreat you Father, said the King, to perform it, and with that went to the Princess of Tunis, who had sent to looke for him whilst he was with Zelmatida. He wondred to see her ready so early, and wanting time to imploy those obliging termes which com∣lacency hath made men invent to •…•…atter the Sloth of women, he set himselfe to finde fault with the incommodity of her Chamber, and the illness of the bed whereon she lay. I was never better (said Amatonta) and if the Newes I heard last evening had not hinde∣red my rest, I had been yet deepely in my first slumber. But not to keepe from you lon∣ger, the resolution I have taken this night, I will tel you, that I should think my self guilty of an ingratitude the most base and Signall, •…•…f I did not destinate all the time and Liberty which heaven hath vouchsafd to give meto the contentment of Muley Hassen, I therefore [though abruptly] take my leave of you, and converting into actions of thankes, those prayers and intreaties I intended to make you, I promise to preserve eternally the memo∣ry of your courtesies, and that, if I ever arrive at any happinesse, I will impute it to the fe∣licity of meeting with you; since in the same instant, I found the end of a part of my mis∣fortunes. You should ascribe it to the Iustice of heaven [answer'd Polexander;] for after it had tried your constancy by a great many of crosses and persecutions, it was obliged to give that virtue the Crown it had deserved. Do not doubt Madam: but that you shall find

Muley-Hassen againe, overcome the insensibility of the King your Father, and moving him with the recital of your disgraces, you shal find even in Tunis, the desired haven, where∣in your vertue shal rest safe and free from al Tempests. Set on-wards then assoone as you can, since that your happinesse attends you on the coasts of Africa, and if you thinke it fit to honour me, in waiting on you thither, I promise to my selfe, that I shall be a witness of your good fortune. Ah Polexander (answered Ennoramita) I doubt not but that, if my felicity depended on you, it should be very neere and certaine. But when I thinke on the difficulties that yet oppose it, it is almost impossible for mee to hope for it. Tis aboue 2 yeares since Muley hath heard from me, and by consequence knows not whether I be a∣live or dead. His affection hath certainely perswaded him that I am dead; and imagin to what dispaire that beliefe hath carried him. Alas, that poore Prince hath done violence to himselfe, not to survive me. Quite contrary (replied Polexander) he lives, and desires to reveng your death, hath certainely made him resolve to seeke after Nephizus, even to the end of the world, and not to attempt ought against himselfe till he hath found his Enemy. But (will you say) if by chance he heare of his death, he will give over to search & by consequence to live. No such matter Madam; he wil without doubt have heard from some one, how you are gotten from your prison and (may be) not knowing now where you are, he wanders through the Kingdome of the King your Father, to Learne what is become of you.

My first thoughts (said Ennoramita) would have me beleeve you, but when I advise with my reason, it tells me, that I doe but take pleasure in deceiving my selfe, to flatter me with these vaine hopes. Yet happen what may, I beleeve what I Desire, and promise to my selfe, that after I may, being so long time unfortunate, I shall be as long againe happy. Let us then (Madam) said Polexander, ship our selves with that good presage, and doubt no more of the successe of our enterprise. If you will do me the honour to be ad∣vis'd by me, I would have you goe to Morocco. It is impossible that amongst the great number of Africans which are to meet at Abdelmelec's Turney, wee should not meet with some one that knowes Muley-Hassen. And who knowes whether that Prince, wea∣ried with so many journeys, which he hath so unprofitably taken, should not come to Mo∣vocco, to enquire after you from some of the Domesticks of the late Prince of Fez. Per∣selida Amatonta, overcome by reasons so conformable to her wishes, consented to goe to Morocco; and understanding that the wind was fit for that crossing over, would not even give her selfe the time of a repast. And Polexander having given command that his great vessell of Warre should follow him, with those domesticall servants he could not misse∣brought the Princesse of Tunis to the haven, and shipped himselfe with her. The first houres of their imbarquing were imployed in diverse imployments: Polexander much perplex'd for his taking a course so opposite to that which should conduct him to his in∣tended happinesse, complayn'd [as he was wont] of the Injustice of Fortune, and [not without reason] reproach'd her, that there was not a day wherein she raisd him not up new hindrances and new Enemies. Ennoramita, on the contrary, made vowes to that imagina∣ry Power, and to obtaine a happy successe to her designes, besought her to conduct Muley-Hassen to Morocco, or at least to preserve his life, and take out of his minde the distrust of her not being yet among the living. She her selfe granted her own request, and taking on her the place of fortune, assured her selfe that all her misfortunes were ended, that Muley-Hassen was alive, and that her Father, who had so long time forgotten her, repen∣ted him of his obduracye, and sigh'd for her returne. This Princess having wearied her I∣magination with too much troubling it, was inforc'd to make an end of her musings. she sent to know what our Heroe did; and that Message being an advertisement to the Prince to go see her, He came from his Cabinet, and to entertaine her with what was most wel∣come to her I know not (sayd he) whence the beliefe comes to me, but I cannot let it slip out of my fantasie that you shall meet with Muley at Morocco; and that your con∣tent shall begin in the very same place where your afflictions had their Originall. If that bliss betide me (replied Amatonta) I Will as much blesse Morocco, as I have heretofore curs'd it, and that to make it suffer some part of those miseries, which I have endured un∣justly through the cruelty of her Prince, the fire of Heaven would consume it to ashes. But tis fittest that the memory of what is passed, should be blotted out, and to bury

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with Nephizus all causes that have made me hate him. Your resolution is worthy of your vertue (answered Polexander,) and when I heare you speake so generously, methinks I heare the magnanimous Benzaida to accuse the ingratefull Nephizus, and mildly to reproach him for his inconstancy and violated oathes. What a pleasure have you done me (said Ennoramita) to bring into my Remembrance that poore abused creature. Re∣late to me (I beseech you) the story of her Lover, and why Nephizus made her come to Fez, Since he had forsaken her. It may be (said Polexander) that Nephizus never thought on her when he met her at Fez. That meeting was the last Exigent and misery which that incomparable Lady was brought to by her constancy. She could not live out of the sight of that disloyall Prince, and for many yeares of late, hath search'd him every where. But twas much to her mishap that she found him, for then hearing, from his owne mouth, how much he contemn'd her, she stabd her selfe, to be aveng'd on her own person for his disloyalty & ingratitude. That history Madam is no lesse strange then Tragicall, and you cannot better employ the remainder of this day, then to heare, with compassion, the miseries whereof you are the cause, though most innocently. Ennoramita was astonish'd at those last words of Polexander. Yet beleeving he had not spoken them without a cause, she besought him to tel her whereof she was guilty. You have made one most miserable (answered our Heroe,) and yet are guiltlesse of it. After he had made this reply, he came neer to a little bed on which the Princess was seated, and seating himselfe right against her; in this manner began the to-be-lamented adventures of Benzaida.

When you did me the Honour to intrust me with the secrecies of your life, I noted from the beginning of your narration that you were ignorant of the principall part of Nephi∣zus adventures. I was divers times tempted to interrupt you, and to discover that which oblig'd him to keepe himselfe conceal'd so long time; to change so often places, and not to appeare in publick, but under the name of a stranger. But not certainely knowing whether he were dead, I thought it was fit to leave you in your error, and not give you new cau∣ses to think worse of him. But now that I can put you out of trouble, and make you per∣fectly know him without any wrong done; I will tell you his first legerities and make known those secrets which, with a great deale of reason, he hath alwaies hid from you. Even before your Infancy had triumphed over the heart of that Prince, he had subjected it to two personages farre different in humor and condition, yet both equally faire and alike abused. The first was called Izilia, the daughtur of an Arabian Knight, very rich and famous for the preserving (alone) the Province of Temesna, in the obedience of the King of Morocco. The other was the discreet and generous Benzaida, Princess of Grana∣da. How! said Ennoramita (all amaz'd) Benzaida Daughter of the unfortunate King of Granada? The same (said Polexander,) yet I have oftentimes heard say (replied A∣matonta) that shee was stolne away by a Spanish Captaine, before the taking of Grana∣da, and since that time none knew what was become of her. The King her father (answe∣red our Heroe) without doubt was the cause of that brute, to hide from his Subjects the shame of his family, but tis most certaine that she dyed at Fez, and that the ingratitude of Nephizus was the cause of it. If you love me, said Ennoramita (interrupting him) re∣late to me that strange adventure, and without refraining for feare of renewing my anger, let me know (I beseech you) all things as they have hapned. Nephizus is sufficiently pu∣nish'd by his death, though he had not been to me as he was; yet were I obliged to par∣don the wrong he hath done me, & forget all my sufferings, out of that holy respect which the living should beare to the dead. If it be so, as I doubt not, Madam (said Polexander) you shall be absolutely satisfied.

Some few yeares past Abdelmelec, who is esteemed one of the Expertest Knights of all Africa, and the stoutest Juster amongst the Moores, published a Turney, to Maintaine a∣gainst all Knights, both Christian and Mahometan, that Alcidiana is the fairest Princess of the world. I was at that Turnament, without any other designe, then to be a spectator of that galentry; for being without passion, I was likewise unprovided of a cause to quar∣rell with Abdelmelec. I wish'd he had not given me more by his last challenge then he did by his first, I would then leave him a free possessor of his imaginary prosperities, and not goe trouble those fine dreames which his vanity brings on him waking. I came to Morocco the second day of the Turney, and knew well by divers courses, that tis not without reason

that the Moors vaunt to have taught the Christians the art of giving a blow with a lance with a good grace, and mannage and sit a horse for justs and running with canes, In see∣ing those excellent Knights, there kindled a desire in me of trying them, and to put in pra∣ctise those lessons they had given me in France. This resolution was not so well taken, but that it might have bin very easie to have made me change it. But being by chance lodged with some Arabian Knights, I heard them speake such extraordinary things of the beauty and vertue of Alcidiana, that I had a great minde to see the Picture, which I did, on the Buckler of Abdelmelec, and in many other tables which that Prince had caus'd to be made, notwithstanding the Remonstrances of his Marabous, and the forbiddings of the Alcoran. Assoone as I had seen it, I fell straight into that Error which accompanies young men, and thought Abdelmelec was not so worthy, as my selfe, to serve so faire a Princess. The very next day I took armes against him, and maintain'd that twas to me only, for whom the Destinies had reserv'd the honour to serve Alcidiana. He accepted of me in the Combat, in the Quality of a Rival, and I, who demean'd my selfe in it with all the violence of a man of Sixteen, perpl exed him in such sort, that after divers courses, he was reduc'd to the necessity of giving me place. He was not only oblig'd to it by the lawes he had imposed on himselfe, but more, that he might renounce the title of Alcidiana's knight, he was compel'd to have recourse to the Ax & to the Cymiter; but had no better fate then with the first; and his misfortune was such, that I inforc'd him to demand his life of me, and yeeld to me that brave title of Alcidiana's Knight. And so by a meere Caprichio of For∣tune, I became master of the feild, of the arms, of the pictures, & the Prize appointed for the victor. I retir'd with al these advantages, & ravish'd with the tables which I had so glori∣ously won, return'd to my ships, with an intent to get me speedily to the Canaries. But my voyage was interrupted by the arrival of that faire Arabian, which I nam'd to you, Azilia: she came one Evening into my ship, and when she was alone with me shee cast her selfe at my feet, & her Eyes ful of teares besought me to commiserate abused innocence, & avenge her of a Traytor, Who under promise of Marriage had robd her of her Honour. I took her up assone as I could, and promising to assist her in so just a quarrell; If any thing may hinder mee (said I) tis the opinion I have that your Enemy is in such a place; where twil be hard to bring him into Question. Questionlesse he will laugh at my defiance, as he hath been merry with his faith, and will do you (may be) some new injuries, in Lieu of asking your pardon for the former.

I will hinder him well enough (answer'd the Lady) from using his former treasons: He shall feele what tis to be a faith-breaker. But noble Knight I beseech you to grant me two favors at once. The one is, that you will not deny me your sword and arme, and the other, that without informing your selfe by what way I intend to effect my re∣venge, you will promise not to leave me till I be fully satisfied. I granted her all, and taking but one Squire with me, followed her to a house that was at the Gates of Fez. All our way, she gave not over intreating me to observe exactly what I had promis'd, and when I had overcome her Enemy, not faile to cut off her head.

Assoone as I was in my lodging, she renew'd her petitions, and receiving me with a great deale of civility, besought me to call my selfe Scander Stianack, and to take on me the Arabian habit. I agreed to her, and after I had been some dayes in that lodging, I knew it was the very same wherein Izilia's Lover was wont to meet her. Now one morning as I was walking in an Alley of the garden, I saw a man enter very richly clad. He came right to me, and drawing his Cymiter: tis at this time (said he) thou Man with heart and faith, that thou shall undergo the punishment thou hast long since de∣served. When I give thee thy life, did not I command thee never to set foot within these doores, nor within this Kingdom? Yet I see thee return'd to perfect the assassinate which thou began'st the last year, and continue thy cruelties on a person that is deare to me▪ but I have prevented thee. Thou must dye Traitor, thou must dye. This discourse was suf∣ficient to surprize me, yet, from the beginning, and judging that Izilia had kept her word with me, and deceiv'd her deceiver: I beleev'd it behov'd me to hold on the jeast and oblige this ill-advised Man, to give satisfaction to his beloved. I therefore drew my Cymiter, and answering him in the language he had us'd: I can no longer suffer (said I) the shame of mine house. Izilia through too much loving thee, hath wanted that love

which she owes to her selfe, and kindred; and that blemish, wherewithall she hath fulli∣ed her own honor and that of her race, must be wash'd away either by thy blood of Allyance.

The Man began to laugh at my threatnings, and using me as a Poltron, or infamous fel∣low, let fly at me a furious blow with his Cymiter. I put it by, and presently gave him a∣nother so weighty, that, but for the greatnesse and softnesse of his Turbant, I had with∣out doubt accomplish'd, whether I would or no, the will of Izilia. We were in a large Alley and girt on each fide with a palisado of Orange and Pomegranat trees. No body appeard in the Garden but the wife and daughter of the Gardiner. Izilia was there, but she was hidden and expected, behind a palisado of Iesemins, what should be the successe of her deceite. Her Enemy, the while, beleeving that I was Scandar Stianack, promis'd himselfe to bring me quickly to the case of asking him once more for my life. I, who de∣sired that his busines might be ended by kindnesse, solicited him to have regard to the an∣cient fidelity of our house, to remember what he had promis'd to Izilia, and not exaspe∣rate a whole illustrious and couragious family. What (answer'd me fiercely the abus'd man) thou yet dar'st to open thy mouth? Ah miserable fellow thou must perish, and in saying so, let drive a blow at me with al his strength. I avoided it happily, & entring upon a point with him sheath'd my Cymiter in his thigh: truly he witness'd that he had a good heart and skill, for he made extraordinary essayes to revenge the loss of his blood, and thinking it best to fight with more caution then he had done, preserv'd himselfe with so much Judgement that I was neere a quarter of an houre in bootelesly, beating the Ayre and the Iron. But the blood he lost by his wound taking from him, by little and little, his strength and agility, he did nothing but feebly ward. I might say to you without Vanity, that it had been very easie for me to have kild him in that case; but I would not make use of my advantage. On the contrary being desirous to oblige him to satisfie Izilia, ra∣ther then to satisfie her my selfe, Iintreated him to acknowledge the Injustice of his cause by the ill Successe of his armes, not to contest any more against that which was resolv'd in heaven, and to preserve his life by keeping his word. Thou shalt dye murderer (cried he, instead of answering me) and with those words cast himselfe in upon me with all the rest of his strength. I stood firme for him, and his choler taking away his Judgement, he fel head long into mine armes; The blow he received, by his own fault, was great and dange∣rous. He lost his courage by it, and after he had let fall his Cymiter, he himself fell too along by the palisado. As I came neere to helpe him, She that called her selfe the Gard∣ners daughter; came running cross the palisado, and catching me fast by the arm cried out: Ah noble Knight take not away the life of the Prince of Fez. I started at that word, and turning to her, what? (said I) is this Knight a Prince? Tis Nephizus said she, and una∣ble to speak further, her sobs and sighs made an end for her. I then perceived well how Izilia had deceived me as well as Nephizus. She presently appear'd in the Alley, & run∣ning with al her speed was presently with me. When she saw Nephizus stretch'd on the grasse & al bloody: Make an end, make an end (said she) brave Knight! Tis not enough to have brought the perfidious Nephizus to the state he is, but you should give his head into my hands; you are engag'd to it and cannot deny it, if you are a man of your word. The fair Gardneresse, this while, held my arme, though there was no need, and turning on me her sweet and languishing Eyes; Beleeve not Izilia (said she) She will be very an∣gry should you content her fury. Nephizus is very deare to her as disloyall as he is, and her satisfaction should be farre greater in seeing him penitent then beholding him dead, I have lesse interest then she, in the preservation of this Prince, since I have lesse hope of possessing him; yet I beg his life, and if my head be worthy to be the price of his, I offer it you with joy, & beseech you, by that exchange, to satisfie Izilias anger. Yes too-avenge∣full Izilia [continued she] turning her to that Arabian, do what thou wilt on me, ex∣ecute all thy sufferings on this Body, and make it a lamentable example of thy vengeance. Tear out my heart, steep thy hands in my blood, use me worse then thou wouldst handle Nephizus; I will endure all without complaining, so that Nephizus have his life I know he is disloyall: I know he takes not an oath but with intent to breake it. But he is still Nephizus. He is the Idol of my Soule, nay he is my very Soule. Izilia regarding that Heroicall Gardneresse with severity: and since when is it [said she]

bold Zaida that you have lost your respect? What, you love Nephizus? Truly [unfortu∣nate Slave] I shall well chastise your impudence. Leave (answered the faire Zaida) give over (if you please) these Injuries and threatnings. If I were as little Mistris of my passi∣ons as you, I would reproach you, justly, farre more then you revile me. You are the cause of my sufferings, you have the good I injoy'd. In a word, Nephizus was mine before he eversaw you. Izilia became mad at those words &, had I not held her, she had without doubt, faln on Zaida. Whilst these two thus shew'd the contrariety of their humours Nephizus came to himselfe; and knowing Izilia, Well now mistrustful-one (said he) do'st, thou any more doubt of my love? Ah Traytor (repli'd Izilia) thy cunning is no more in season, thou must dye, and by thy death recover the Honour, which thy false oathes, and disloyall flatteries have rob'd me of: Thou art faln into the snare thou foresawest not. Dost thou not remember the promises thou mad'st me in going to Morocco? Am I that Amatonta for whom thou hast taken Armes against thy Brother? Thou might'st well thinke (disloyall) that Heaven would not alwaies be deafe to the cries of the Innocent; and to the end to chastise thee, it would permit, that after thou had'st deceived others, thou should'st deceive thine owne selfe. Know that he who thou see'st before thee, is not the miserable Scander-Stianack. Tis the victorious Knight, that carried away the Ho∣nour of the Turney at Morocco. Thus would shee pay me, for the service I had done her.

Polexander said thus with a low voice, and retaking his First tone, went on thus Scarce had Nephizus knowne who he was, but that lifting up his head a little, (whilst the faire and desolate Gardneresse held her hand on his wound) since (said he) I dye not by the hand of the Traytor Stianack, I dye without any great deale of sorrow. But tell mee I beseech you, by what chance came you hither? The intreaty (said I) of Izilia brought me hither, and en∣gaged me to Fight against you unknown. And this is enough of that for the present, tis fit now to look after the saving of your life, to the end that when you are in better case, then now you may know from Izilia, with what Dexterity she hath brought to pass this intricate businesse.

The faire Gardneresse then began speake, having newly torne her Vaile to binde up Nephizus wound. Turne likewise your Eyes on me (said shee) and know Benzaida. She would call her selfe extreamely unhappy, if Fate had not at last brought her to a place, where she might yeeld thee some new proofes of her affection. It may be thou hast lost the remembrance of that name, & thy new love suffers thee not to cal to minde thine old: or rather the disasters of our house, the calamities of Granada, and the deplorable condi∣tion of her Princess makes thee contemn and abhor the Poore Benzaida. Open thine Eyes Nephizus; She that Speaks to thee in the habit of a slave, and a Gardneresse is that Princess not long since ador'd of so many people, and serv'd by so many Princes, who, for her too much Love to thee, forgot what shee ow'd to her Birth and her selfe.

Imagin (Madam) said Polexander [applying himsefe to Ennoramita] whether Izi∣lias and my astonishment were not great, when in an instant we saw a Gardning maiden become a Princess; but withall [if you please] think in what a confusion Nephizus was when he found himselfe convinc'd of his faithlesnesse by two so irreprocahable witnesses. Yet instead of repenting him of his crimes, he preseverd; and not being able to justifie himselfe, beleev'd that in his great heart, he was bound to be obstinate in his offence, Vnworthily therefore thrusting away the deplorable Benzaida, and plucking aside her hand which was on his wound; Thou object [said he] more dismall to me, then the black Angels that wait for me at the entring into my grave, who hath made thee outlive thine Honour, and thy Fortune? Go miserable Exile, accomplish the Fate of thy Generation; Go finish thy li•…•…e in the fetters of Ferdinand and Elizabeth; or as thy unspirited Fa∣ther, go beg thy bread from doore to doore, and vainely implore the assistance of all the Princes of Africa.

Izilia hereat, taking the word for Benzaida who dissolv'd in teares; O abhominable renegado Musulma [cried she] dar'st thou thus out rage that innocency which thou hast made miserable? Tread'st thou under foot that which thou sometimes adored'st. Doe'st thou Triumph over the sad Fortune of thy equals? O Unfortunate that I am, what can I ex∣pect

from this Barbarian, since so faire a Princesse is so cruelly wronged? I must, I must e∣ven instantly teare out his treacherous heart; and avenge Benzaida, since she is not hardy enough to avenge her self; And with that, put her self forward to execute her resolution▪ but I stop'd her, and so did Benzaida, who holding her hands, suffer (said she) Ne∣phizus to go on with his revilings.

No, no Madam, [said I] tis not fit to give that liberty to Nephizus, in such a case as permits him not to thinke on what he sayes: Anger and paine have deprived him of reason. Think of bringing that againe, and afterwards we will take care for the rest. Pre∣sently we called for some of Izilia's Servants, and in spight of his violences carried him into a chamber that was richly furnished.

Benzaida, who retain'd the quality of those Kings whence she was descended, of be∣ing very skilfull in Physick and Chyrurgery, dress'd with her owne hands her unfaithfull Lover; and (as you shall heare) receiv'd for it a most lamentable recompence, Assoone as the applications had brought Nephizus from his fainting (wherein he had still been after they had brought him out of the Garden) Benzaida came to him, and with a sweet∣nes able to mollifie a heart of Diamond, ask'd how he did, and intreated him to be pleas'd that she might serve him, at least, as a slave; since Fortune had depriv'd her of the meanes to serve him as a Princesse. The cruell Nephizus losing all sence of humanity, goe, infa∣mous Princesse [said he] go and run after thy Mescenarez and Tyndarache. Thou hast chosen them to glut thy lascivious desires; go find them out, and never shew thy self to him that hates thee more then death. At those words of lascivious and infamous, Ben∣zaida grew pale as if she had been ready to swoon: and almost assoone the fire flying into her face and flaming forth her eyes; Monster (cried she) more dreadfull then all those thy Affrica ever produc'd; Hangman, that inhumanly dashest a ponyard into my brest, is this the effect of thy promises and assurances which thou gavest me by Alalita, and Zamaella? O dismall Names to my remembrance! pernicious councellors, who are the causes of my afflictions as well as of my faults: Come and see that Nephizus which you represented to me so generous, and so worthy of the quality of a Prince. But I accuse you unjustly; you were the first deceived; and the for∣sworn man, who would make use of you to throw me headlong where I am, first put out your eyes before he employed you in that office. Pardon me my reproaches, too-dear & too-credulous freinds. Tis thee alone Nephizus, which I ought to accuse for all my mis∣fortunes and all my offences. But shew not so much scorne and aversion to me; I shall not be much longer troublesome to thee. Tis fit only that for my justification, I make thee know, that I am innocent and guiltlesse of those impurities which thy unclean mouth chargeth me withall, and that the execrable Mescenarez, and the too-faithfull Tinda∣rache never shared in that which I only reserv'd for thee.

Heare then my Innocence; And should'st thou reject her testimony, thy vanquisher and thy Love, whom I beseech to receive my deposition, will publish for the discharge of my memory, the truthes I am about to tell them. Know then, and thou knowest it but too well, that wonne by the perswasions of Alalita and Zamaella, I lov'd thee, and without regard to my reputation which I hazarded, made thee absolute Master of the better part of my selfe. But alas! that joyes are but of a short continuance; and felicities are but •…•…ll upheld that have no other foundation but the faith of such traytors as thee.

No sooner had I a Lover, but I found my selfe expos'd to the outrages of an Enemy; and (mark) that in the same time when I thought my self at the Port, an unexpected tem∣pest shipwrack'd me. Thy unthought-of departure or rather thy pre-mediated flight o∣verthrew al my designes and ruin'd al my hopes. I found that I was truly robd of al my former fortune, and that the Tyrants of Castile triumphed over Benzaida, even before they had set on the miserable Granada. Thy absence, after it had taken from me my hope and comfort, deprived me of my Judgement, and after my judgement, of the Love which I had alwayes borne to my parents, and subjects. I wish'd the loss both of the one and the other▪ Boabdilez himselfe (good heaven shall I speake it) became odious to me, and holding for Enemies all the Princes and Knights that served me, I discharg'd my choler on them, but particularly on the ambitious and rash Mescenarez.

He returned from the frontiers of Granada, a little after thou hadst forsaken me, and

would have taken the boldnesse to entertaine me as othertimes he had done. But be∣coming almost furious in seeing him, chid him for his impudence and rashnesse, and told him, that his impudence should have been long since corrected. But when he was gone, and I had permission to speak freely, what said I not against the providence of our great Prophet, against the starrs, against love, against fortune? in briefe, against all nature? And that; Traytor, to the end I might say nothing against thee. Yet I was quickly (in spight of me compeld to make thee a partner. The terrible object of thy treason, pre∣sented it selfe before me, and I saw thee so horrible, that I could not look on thee with∣out hatred, nor to hate, without reviling thee, as thou hadst deserved. It may augment thy rage to repeat them: But how excessive soever I make them by my words, they will never be equall to the miseries which thy ingratitude hath made me suffer. And now Traytor (cri'd I) thou hast left Africa, and cross'd the Sea, only to abuse an Innocent, and betray the facility of a maid, whose love and age made her capable of beleeving all. What do'st thou hope for, for thy treason? VVhat recompence is there reserv'd for so shamefull an action? Art thou so much degenerated from thy Ancestors? or is Africa, that was late the retreat of loyalty and truth, perverted, that thou canst not there keepe the place that thy birth gave thee, without making thy selfe famous by some extraordina∣ry treason? But is it not some old hatred that obligeth thee to treate me so unworthily? Canst not indure that the Race of the Great Mansor should reign in some corner of the world? Art thou not content that thy predecessors drove him out of Africa? Art thou leagu'd with the Enemies of our Religion, to exterminate the Beleevers, and ravish from the Alcoran that power which is left it in Spaine? Assure thy selfe that I never took part in the quarrells of our houses. Assoone as I saw thee I gave thee my heart, and made no distinction between the Race of Marin, and that of Mansor. But I invented reasons to justifie thy disloyalty, which can have no other, but that thou art a man and an African, that is, that thou art doubly disloyall.

Would to Heaven that the ambition and avarice of our Fathers had been confined within the limits of their Provinces, and that their darings had not violated the sacred bounds, with which Nature had seperated their Regions. The Prince of Fez had not then ever heard speak of the Princesse of Granada, and the honor of that poore May∣den should not be, as it is now, the sports of thy inconstancy, and subject of calumnies. But why stick I at these vaine considerations? Go Miscreant, triumph at thy pleasure over my heart, and reputation. Leave nothing undone to make the horrors of thy life without Example, and vaunt thee in the presence of thy Africans, who may be, are as simple as I, that 'twas for the love of them, thou falsifiedst thy faith to a Granadine La∣dy, and neglected that which Spaine had in most adoration. Without doubt thy vanity brought the like discourse within thee. But what's that to me, if it were so? Is it not enough, that I too truely know that thou hast betraid me? Neither the great Maho∣met, on whose Prophesies thou swor'st to be true to me, nor the feare which the black Angells should imprint in the Soules of the perfidious, nor my innocency, nor my love, nor in briefe, the resentment of my favours, have not been able to quell thy ill Nature, nor stay thy inconstancy.

Abominable follower of false Prophets, who are risen against the Great Prophet! Musulman unworthy of thy Circumcision, speak, and tell me who oblig'd thee to come under the vayle of allyance and friendship, to seduce me even in the Palace of the King my Father. Thou knowest, in thy conscience thou knowest, that I have contributed nothing at all to my misfortune.

The subtleties that my Sex imploy to make themselves Masters of thine, have been hitherto unknown to me, or at least hatefull. I would never yet do that affront to Na∣ture, as to change the colour of my Haire, nor hide the blacknesse of my complexion un∣der a strange white. My words and actions have not been lesse genuine, nor lesse naturall then my disastrous beauty; and I dare say, that I oftentimes complain'd to Heaven, that mine Eyes express'd so ill the feelings of my Soule. In short, the more I reflect on my selfe, the more my conscience assures me, that I am guilty of nothing but of loving thee. And if that crime deserv'd to be punished, surely thou oughtest not for it, either be the Judge or the Hang-man.

If my Love seem'd to thee injurious, if my little stock of beauty distasted thee, if the rudenesse of my wit were insupportable to thee; yet my simplicity should, at least, have wrought some pitty from thee; and my goodnesse was great enough to oblige thee, not to do me any wrong. VVhy hadst thou not rather said, this Maidens face hath some∣hing dismall in it? My eyes cannot indure to look on her colour, yellow and black. She hath not wit; and the best things she speaks, are but very bad expressions; Yet shee is good, she loves me, and if I cannot affect her, yet must I pitty 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…cence, and not deprive her of that quiet which her stupidity affoords her. Tis no•…•… 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 that ill, which a man may do without feare of punishment; and if we exercise •…•…ity in comforting any one that is miserable, we practise it a great deal more, in not permitting him to becom so. These good thoughts were not likely to possesse a Soul so wicked as thine. And if by chance, some good angel would with them have inspir'd thee, thy pernicious inclination would not have suffer'd to receiv them. Those that brought thee into the world, underwent the curse of Heaven, & thy parents should call thee rather the punishment of their offences, then the blessing of their marriage. Nor art thou come out of thy Country, but to free it of a Monster, which was become the cause of terror, and hatred to all. Truly the success∣ors of the great Mansor have good cause to rejoyce, since the usurper of their Estates hath left so abominable a Race. Comfort thy selfe; Comfort thy self in thy disgraces.

The Tyrants who drove thy Ancestors out of Africa, have left such heires, that they wil soon have reason to envy thee. But what said I? No, No Nephizus, who shall be ever dear to me, I do not beleeve all this. The Love I bear my self, hinders me from mine own know∣ledge, and makes me throw on thy inconstancy, that change whereof I onely am guilty. The audacious Mescenarez having dared to pretend to that, which Love reserv'd for thee alone, made thee jealous; and the little care I took to cure thee of it, compell'd thee (with∣out doubt) to leave mee. It may be, thou yet wandrest through the Deserts of thy Numidia and askest from Love that he should give thee Iustice for the faith which I have violated. If it be so, O too credulous Prince, return where thou hast left me! Thou shalt know how I have suffer'd the wooings and rashnes of Mescenarez; and (since thy departure) whether he or his adherents have been able to get any advantage of the scorn and neglect thou hast made of me. Why sawest thou not me as I am now, discheveld, furious, an enemy to my self, or rather repentant, & desolate? Thou shouldst have seen me with my knees on the earth & tears in my Eyes imploring thy mercy, and confessing my self guilty, though I am nothing but a most miserable creature. But thou, most to be abhorred, neither carest what I do, not what I suffer. Thy lightnesse is satisfied in deceiving me, & (may be) it now glories in my being abused. Go, go whether thou wilt (the Horror of thy Sex & mine) I wil folow thee as a Fury, & making thee suffer a part of those torments which I have endured, I wil not per∣mit thee to rejoyce (unpunish'd) of that death which thou hast given me. Benzaida stopping at that word, held her eyes some-while fix'd on the planching: at thelast she cast them on Nephizus, who, with Izilia and my selfe, hearkned to her without a word speaking; and changing her voice, tis enough ingratefull man (said she) tis enough to have reproved thee of thy misdeeds; I am in such an humor, that I am weary of complaining; I wil only tel how long I have sought thee, & by what chance I heard news of thee, Know therefore that some few dayes after thy departure, I found my self so extreamly desirous of re-seeing thee, that I could not possibly stay longer in Granada. I then forsook my Fathers Palace without the knowledge of any but Zamaella and my Nurse, and commanding them to take, with them, all that was necessary for me, stole away one night, without fearing the cruelty of the Spaniards who ransack'd our country, or the dangers of a long Journey; and swore never to sojourne in any place of the world till I had met with thee. With this reso∣lution I took my way to the Sea-side, and as I was ready to imbarque my selfe in a vessell that was bound for Africa, the generous Prince (which thou shouldst never forget, as in∣gratefull as thou art) Tindarache I say, being not to be put off neither by my cruelties nor by our common extravagances, presented himselfe to me, and casting him at my feet, besought me I would be pleas'd that he might accompany me. Benzaida (said he) I come not here to make you alter your resolution, nor to intreat you to acknowledge my per∣severance. I come to you, because my fidelity commands it, and because I cannot re∣solve to dye till I see you happy. These offers much troubled me, yet knowing of a long

time, Tindaraches respect, and doubting that I might have need of his assistance, I tooke him into my company. But for feare he should not observe all that he promis'd me, I receive you (said I) on condition that you take no heed neither to my actions nor my words, and look not on me but as on a person that knowes no more what she doth.

That young Prince full of love and pitty, was so much mov'd at my speech, that the teares came into his eyes. He looked upon me, he gaz'd on heaven, and being able to endure his fortune without murmuring, What ever thou be (cried he) O Provi∣dence! that watchest for the generall good of the world, what have I done to thee, that I should be the party belov'd of Benzaida.

After he had ended this exclamation, he turn'd himselfe towards me, and ask'd me whither I would go. Tis no matter where [I replied] provided it be there where I may find the Prince of Fez. Provided that it be where you may find the Prince of Fez? re∣plied Tindarache! O Too happy Prince if thou knew'st thy happinesse. Let s go, Let's go [Madam] after that ingratefull Man; Let us search for that enemy of his owne good; Let's compell him to accept the good Fortune he refuseth, and if there want but my life to make him true, I am content that you bestow it on your passion. The love and Noble∣nesse of that Prince touch'd me so to the heart, that I was forc'd to impose him silence, for feare least his speech should make me too sensible. He was no lesse obedient to me in that, then in all other things; and I beleeve that wee cros'd the seas and a part of Fez and Morocco, without any talke aboue five or six times. I found thee not in either of the Kingdomes, but I understood that the love thou barest to Ennoramita, Princess of Tunis, had made thee undertake a voyage on the Ocean. I therefore left Morocco, and went to imbarque my selfe at Azafi, to see if I could meet thee at Sea, or at least to passe the streights, and finde thee at Tunis: but being ingaged to stay at Azafi, to attend a Portugall ship, I was [I know not by what odnesse of Fortune] seen and desired by four Castilian Knights: who seem'd to be very Inquisitive of mee? And not contented to have entertain'd me in their Inne, shipped themselves with me, and did what they could, to win me not to forsake their conversation. I avoyded it yet as often as it was pos∣sible, and heaven, hearing my prayers, Stir'd up so furious a Tempest, that it gave the Spanyards farr other thoughts then those of pratling to me. After our ship had bin three dayes and three nights beaten with the Tempest, it came to shyde on to an Island, which is now famous by the stately Tombe of a Prince called Almansor. There wee went on shore to expect fairer weather, and give time to the Mariners to trym their ship; and I that would avoid the sight of the four troublesome Spanyards, I caus'd me to be conduct∣ed by Tindarache to a village which is not farre from the sea. But I could not keep me from the curiosity of those mad men. They followed mee, and stopping me between a wood and a many rocks, told me that they were come to serve me, and not to offer me any outrage. Wee are [said they] four Cozens, who are equally in love with you, and because our affection is too violent to endure any companions, we are resolved to fight in your presence, to give an end to the cause of our jealousy, and leave you the prize for the vanquisher. Though my minde was busied about nothing but the remembrance of thy in∣gratitude, perjur'd Nephizus, yet the extravagancy of those men was capable to stay my musings. I gave Heaven thankes that it made me see a folly, which was not lesse extra∣ordinary then mine; and told those Lovers, that I found their loves so unreasonable, and the person, who was the cause of it, so unworthy the fortune they would run for her, that I ad∣vis'd them to continue freinds, and give over an enterprize that could be no other then, very unfortunate to them. That must not stay us, if you please (they replyed) since, of four that we be, there will be no mishap but for him that shall survive his companions; and in ending these words they threw off their doublets, and came to meet one another with their Swords drawn. The Combat was very short, though very bloody, and indeed it could not be otherwise, since 'twas done by the advice and guidance of so murderous and furi∣ous a passion as that of love. Three presently fell down dead, and the fourth (his sword red with the blood of his Cozens) came and cast himselfe at my feet to aske me the prize for his victory. Tindarache, till then had shewed so little feeling, that not being able to doubt of his courage after the proofes that he had given me of it, I thought that by the re∣membrance of thy false promises, I was not to give any more trust to his faire words.

But when he saw the Spanyard at my feet: Knight (said he to him) you make too much hast and having not yet done but the halfe of your businesse, you stick not to aske the salary for the whole. Doe you think that I am lesse Jealous, or not so cleare-sighted as you Spanyards? Truely (answered the other) you surprize me. Your leane and disfigur'd countenance, your reeling, and weak walking, and the feeblenesse of your armes, made me beleeve that you rather look'd for some Physitian to cure you, then for an Enemy to cut off some one or two of those dayes that were yet to live. Notwithstanding since you beseech me for it, in so good a manner, I am pleased not to have you to languish any longer, but to kill you a little more speedily then your melancholy would have done. Tindarache in lieu of replying to that arrogant answer, did but smile, and taking his Sword in his hand, told his enemy, that he besought him to make an end of his Cure. The other, whose new victory had made him more proud then he was by birth, went on very resolutely to Tindarache. The Prince met him as bravely, and at first gave him such a dangerous wound, that he forc'd him to put one knee to the ground. The Spa∣nyard seeing his strength go away with his blood, furiously rose up to avenge himselfe of his vanquisher; but he, who knew how much his preservation imported me, recoyl'd still in warding, & in that manner let him lose the rest of the strength & blood that was left him. Atlast that unfortunate Castilian fel backwards & not being able to speak by reason of the blood which came out of his mouth, he took a handkercher, which he steep'd in his wound, and after he had kissed it threw it towards me. Tindarache who was not wounded came to me, and seeing me affrighted: Away Madam said he, let's away from this dismall Island, wherein▪ Love hath been the cause of shedding so much blood, and let us go find out the happy Prince of Fez.

I took the advice of that generous Lover; and after I had given order to the Inhabi∣tants of that Bourg (whereinto I was retyr'd) for the buriall of the Spanyards; I re-im∣bark'd my selfe in the same Ship which had brought me thither. The violence of the tempest had put the Portugull Ship to that necessity, that they were forc'd to return to Azafie, and there I left them and came back to Morocco, where I understood that thou wert at Fez. Presently I put on, with my little and faithfull company; but passing through the solitudes of Mount Atlas, a Lyon rush'd on my poore Nurse, and carryed her away, Tindarache not being able to rescue her. The losse of one who had been al∣wayes deare to me, so transported me, that I would have expos'd my selfe even to the fury of the Lyon. But the faithfull Tindarache, who had alwayes his eyes on me, tooke notice of my action, and doubting of what I had resolved: Madam (said he) what mean you to do? Do you not remember now, that there is nought in the world capable to move you but the Prince of Fez? I must confesse it to thy glory, and my confusion, (per∣jur'd man) that thy Name took away my griefe, and I often accused my selfe for loving any other then thee. Some few dayes after I came out of those Deserts, and entred into thy Kingdome. Consider what kind of passion mine alwayes hath been, since, at the on∣ly name of Fez and the sole looking on thy Territories, I was so transported, that my body, too violently agitated by my mind, was compell'd to give way. I fell sick of a ma∣lady, which at first they thought deadly. Shall I relate to thee (insensible man) the care which Tindarache had of me, the paines he undertook, and the despaire whereunto the obstinacy of my ill, oftentimes threw him? No, I will tell thee nothing of it. That soule intirely loving, and wholely pure, which now enjoyes the eternall felicities, will not have me to prophane his mysteries. Thou shalt only know that I overcame my Fever by the desire I had to see thee. Assone as I could leave my Chamber, I went from the place where I had faln sick; and endeavour'd by little Journeys to make an end of my unfor∣tunate voyage. And I had almost cross'd the large champians of Temesna, when I know not what strange affrightment seiz'd on me. I turn'd me towards Tindarache, and looking round about me, as if I had been pursued: Tindarache (said I without knowing why) we must shortly part. Madam (replied he) I do no lesse then you wish for that happy moment, that must render you to the dearest part of your selfe. But if my love could consent to it, I would wish to die, ere I were compeld to that cruell ne∣cessity to lose, with that content I receiv'd by your presence, the remaynder of an imagi∣nary hope which yet flatters my passion. Yet happen what the Destinies please, Tinda∣rache

will without feare see fall that blow which must deprive him of his life. Those words made me beleeve that that faithfull Lover fear'd to meet with thee, not that he thought thee more valiant then himselfe, but because he knew by my extravagancies, that thou wert better belov'd then He. I would willingly at the same time, have free'd him of that feare, and stopping in the mid-way to speak more earnestly: Tindarache (said I) if you beleeve that I leade you where I am to find my greatest Enemy, to give you that discontent to see him possest of that which you think you have deserved, and to make him triumph on your disgraces: you neither know my intention nor what is the gene∣rousnesse of the infortunate Benzaida. I am not of those light mindes which may be twice deceived by apparances. I have committed one fault, but my Spirit and the assistance of our great Prophet, wil hinder me from acting a second. Let us go there∣fore (Prince as unfortunate as my selfe) let us go find the Traytor, At whose very name my Sense and Reason re-begin their old enmityes. But lets find him quickly, to the end that one same houre, and one same action may make us all Three equally contented.

I had scarce ended the words, when Zamaella began to cry out, that I should take heed to my selfe. I turned my head, and saw ten or twelve men on horsbacke, who with their swords drawn, •…•…ere ready to fall on Tindarache. Assoon as they had beset him, one of them came to me, and presenting me the point of his Sword: Is it so (said he) infamous and vagabond Izilia, that to satiate the Lubricities of a Tyrant, thou prostitutest thine honour, and reputation of thy race? I answer'd nothing to those revilings, because I thought they were not addressed to me. In the meane time he that had spoken, commanded two Negroes, that were of his company, to bind my hands, & guard me well on payne of their lives, & presently hasten'd to his com∣plices that were cowardly murdering of Tindarache. I did all I could to withhold him and to make him know that he was mistaken; but his choler having blinded him, he perceived not the fault he had done, till after, when it was irreparable. Assoone as, Tindarache was faln •…•…to the Earth, he that had taken me, alighted from his horse to know him better, but not finding him whom he look'd for, O Heaven! (cried he, to his •…•…mpanions) how blockishly are we mistaken. He came then presently to me, and looking long on me, Unfortunate Scander Stianack (said he striking his brest) what hast thou done, and how wilt thou justifie thy mistake, and ending those words, he took me by the hand, and taking off my bonds, what service can I do you (said he) that may be sufficent to expiate the wrong which I have Igno∣rantly done you? Exact from me what satisfaction you please (Madam;) you will see by the content I shall have in it, that my intent was not to offend you. I would have answerd him when I heard thevoyce of Tindarache sounding in mine ears, which made me run to the place where he lay. I found him all weltring in blood, and ex∣treamly wounded in divers places. Assoone as he saw me he strove to arise, but not being able, he turn'd his dying Eyes on me, and kissing the hand which I had given him Madam said he to me, I cannot perform what I promis'd you; but you see tis not my fault. Give me an assurance that you are satisfied, and I shall go contentedly out of the world. Those words were so peircing to me, that forcing my weaknesse, and forgetting that I was look'd on by men who might conceive an ill opinion of my re∣sentments, I rais'd up the head of that to-be-lamented Prince, and knowing not what I said, so much was I troubled, besought him not to forsake me and leave me all alone in an Enemies Country, Tis that which makes me go to my grave with sorrow (replied he with a low voice,) but the vowes and prayers I make for the re∣tarding of my death, are vaine and to no purpose; spight of me I must leave you; and I perceive that I have no longer time to live, then sufficeth to bid you farewell. Fare∣well then Benzaida; remember [if you please] Tindarache, though he deserve it not; and lose not the memory of him in the contentments which you hope for by the sight of the too much—He could not finish what he had begun, for death preven∣ted him. I will not tell thee now the greifes, the perplexities and despair which have been my constant companions ever since that Tragicall accident. Content thy selfe in knowing, that if I could have been beleived, the Murderers of Tindarache had

not spar'd me. But their afflicted Commander returning to me more afflicted then at first; How unfortunate am I (said he,) I cannot avenge my selfe on those that have o•…•…ag'd me, and I kill those that never wrong'd me. I seeke the Trayterous Prince of Fez, and when I thought I had met him, '•…•…was then I found that he had escaped from me. But I shall do better to tell you the cause of the accident which is beti∣ded to me as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as to you; and if you think me not worthy pardon when you under∣stand through what Error I have offended you, I submit my selfe to that punish∣ment which your just sorrow shall impose upon me, I have a Sister faire as you, and which resembles you in stature, co•…•…ntenance and action; She is called I•…•…ia. My Fa∣ther kept her as a thing not only precious, but weak, and therefore was not seen, nor come to but by himself and I. Yet could not we be so carefull, but that the infamous Nephizus [so is the perfidious Prince of Fez called] discover'd her. Presently he suffer'd himselfe to be transported by his usuall lubricity, and to satiate it, resolved to imploy al his strength and cunning. You know, it may be, what charmes and allure∣ment accompany the quality of that Prince, and how easie young Maidens, cheifly when they are a little vaine and proud, are to be caught in that kinde of trap. Izilia flatter'd with the hope of being a Soveraign, beguil'd the watchfullness of her kee∣pers, and never thinking of what might come after, gave her selfe absolutely over to the discretion of her Enemy. The Tyrant having quench'd his brutish hea•…•…, repet∣ted him of hi•…•… being intangled with Izilia, & presently bethought him how he might be rid of her. But fearing •…•…east his crime might come to my Fathers or to my hearing, and that we might ingage him to give us satisfaction, he resolv'd to continue his treason; and to that end flatter'd still Izilia, promis'd againe to marry her, and in∣treated her to put off the consummation of it to another time. Izilia had patience se∣ven or eight moneths: but having an excellent heart and wit, she perceived at last that she was betrayed, and instantly bethought her of revenge. She therefore dis∣covered to me how she had been abus'd, and intreated my helpe for a remedy with∣out giving notice of it to my Father.

I thereupon undertook her quarrell, but you may imagine with what hope of suc∣cesse. I was alone, and had to do with a world: I was a Subject and was to contest with my my Soveraigne. Yet for all this, I gave not over to attempt my revenge; and my plot failing me, I was faine to forsake my Country, and my house; and to fly for refuge into the solitudes of Atlas. I was not able to live there long, but getting the love of those Ar•…•…bians you see, I have wrought them to undertake with me one desperate attempt. We came all with one same resolution; but arriving at my home, I understood that Izilia was become more foole and wanton then ever, and that she was fled away with a woman to run after the perjur'd Nephizus. I enquir'd whither they thought she might be gone, and I was told, to Morocco. Thither I came without making my selfe known, the very day that Abdelmelec's Turney ended.

I went to the Pallace to find out mine Enemy, and accosting one of the Kings Guard, I learn't that all the Court was in an uproare, because the night before Ne∣phizus had stolne away a faire Stranger, and was gone with her accompanied only with two or three slaves. I presently beleiv'd that 'twas Izilia whom he had met with at Morocco; and to punish them both, I parted from that City, and with my Arabi∣ans took the way of Fez. Some dayes past I came thither, and understanding that Nephizus was not yet return'd, I retyr'd into a House not farre from hence, and e∣ver since have beaten up and downe the country, and day and night have set Senti∣nells on the way of Morocco, to be advertiz'd of Nephizus returne. He that was in Guard last night, [without doubt] discovering you, came to give me intelligence, that Nephizus and Izilia were coming. I got to horseback with my companions, and seeing you a farre off, took you for Izilia. This Error hath made me guilty of the wrong which I have done. I am infinitely sorry for it, and beseech you even with teares, to pardon me the death either of your Brother or Husband. If you can re∣solve on this favour and endure my presence, I shall testifie by my services, that J have as much love for vertue as J have Enmity for vice. Benzaida, staying at these

words, as to take breath, saw that Nephizus lay insensible to all this narration. Yet she went on: and addressing her to that cruell Prince: doe but reflect (said she) on all that I have related to thee, and thou shalt see that thy perjury is the cause of all those ills which have betided me; not only in mine owne person but in that of my freinds. Yet I reproach thee not for them, for after thy last injuries, those deserved not to be thought on. Hearken only to the remainder of my sufferings, and afterward I will leave thee in peace. When Scander Stianack had made me a recitall of thy new disloyalties, and that I had a long time bewaild the loss of Tindarache, I resolv'd to accept the offers he had made me: and, not to erre any more, told him; that since he had depriv'd me of him that was to me instead of a Father, Brother, & a Husband, I was wel pleas'd to have recourse to none other then to him that had made me so unfortunate; and that he would conduct me to some place, where I might live unknown, and have my Honour in safety, He pro∣mis'd me to take care of me as of his Sister; and assoone as he had caus'd Tindarache to be interr'd, brought me towards this lodging. Assoon as I came hither, I entreated him to let me live at mine own wll; and obtaining that favour, I tooke on me the habit you now see me in, Zamaella clad her so too, and for these ten or twelve dayes, we have pas∣sed among the domestiques here for two Christian slaves, which the Father of Izilia had bought. The next day after our arrivall, Scander Stianack came to see mee; and seeing by his action that he was very much troubled: Faire creature (said he) I am enforc'd to leave you. The ancient Enemies of our family have besieg'd my father in a House which he hath in the Province of Temesna, and I must needs goe to assist him: I cannot be back againe in lesse then two moneths, for I must have some time to get all My freinds toge∣ther, and that they may be in case to dis-engage my Father. After he had sayd thus much, he call'd for his Gardner and his Wife, and commanded them, that in publique, they should use me as the other slaves, but in private to serve me as Izilia her self. Hereupon he tooke leave of me, and since that time I never heard of him. This true recitall of my mis∣fortunes (without doubt) will not be sufficient to take from thee the opinion which thy owne crimes have laid on mine innocence. But if this confession serve me for nothing with thee, yet I am well assur'd 'twill stand, for mine avayle, with all persons of Honour and virtue. Yet beleive not, miserable Nephizus, that the seeing of thee convicted of so many falshoods and perjuries, I have, as thou hast done, chang'd my affection and desire: No, No, I am still the same Benzaida; Such as thou as known me at Granada, such am I at Fez. I love thee, because I have been capable to love thee. But since my love is a fault which hath made thee commit many others, I will beare the punishment of all those of∣fences; and in revenging my selfe on my selfe, avenge all the Innocents which thou hast abused after me. In finishing these words, Benzaida turned on t'other side, and calling Zamaella who had follow'd her, made a signe that she should come neer her, & when she was come: Have a care (said she) that when I can no more think on my selfe, there be∣tide nothing that be mis-becoming the pudicity of Benzaida. She had no sooner ended these words, but she drew out a Ponyard which she had under her robe, and with it strook her selfe a blow to the heart. She stagger'd presently, and leaning on Zamaella, had care, even in dying, to preserve that honesty of which the excess of love could never make her neglectfull. Izilia first of all saw the Ponyard, and ran to stop Benzaida, but neither she nor I were quick enough. All that I could doe was to clap a handkercheif on the wound of that Generous Princesse. She gently thrust away my hand; and her beauty being invi∣sibly increased in this last moment of her life, she appear'd to me so farre unworthy of the usage she had received from Nephizus, that to revenge her I was at the point to per∣form what I had promis'd to Izilia. But that African Lady, almost plucking Nephizus out of his bed by force of tormenting him, See Tyrant (cryed she in his Eares) see what thou hast done! O Barbarous and inhumane wretch, canst thou live and see Benzaida drown'd ••n her blood? It behooves, nay tis most fit that I should execute, my selfe, what thy van∣iquisher will not grant me; and with that she ran to Benzaidas Ponyard, and questionles had plunged it in Nephizus brest, had I not held her. I got her out of the Chamber, and ••••treating her for recompence of the service I had done her, to enterprize nothing against ••hat Prince: J saw well, that if J joined not my force with prayers, it would be impossible for me to hinder some new mischance. Yet the night following there fell out a very

bloody one. For the House, wherein we were, was broken open by strangers, and for all the resistance I could make, they tooke away Izilia and Nephizus, and left me for dead in the Court of that fatall Lodging. Tis needlesse to tell you by what chance I was brought thence, for those particularities will serve nothing to the clearing of your doubts. Polexander having thus related the History of Nephizus perjuries; Ennoramita after she had shewed her astonishment by divers actions spake thus: I confesse (said she) that I have much adoe to imagine that one man hath, been capable of so many wickednesses. Heaven is Heaven (added she after the manner of the Mahometans) and its Justice that never sleepeth, breakes out fearfully when its patience is exhausted. At so holy and profi∣table a thought, Polexander bad the Princesse goodnight, and commanding his Pilot to make use of all favour of the Wind, his Vessell made so good way in two dayes and two nights, that he came neere to the coasts of Morocco. The wind fail'd them under the For∣tress of Guargetssem, & compel'd Polexander & his Company to make the rest of their Journey by Land. Ennoramita being very much disguised and her Women too, tooke Camels, and by little Journeys, came with their conductor to that famous City which the follies of the Old Hely, and the Tyrannies of his ridiculous Sons, had made more deso∣late then an Army of Christians would have done.

Ten dayes had the Justs been open when this Troope arrived, and a great number of Knights had appeared with severall Successes, and all had been constrained by the Lawes of the Turney, to declare publikely who they were, & who were their Mistresses. Polexan∣der, who came expressely to chastise the indiscretion of Abdelmelec, and avenge Alci∣diana of that Princes impudence, had a great minde to put himselfe into the lifts, the next day after his arrivall. But Ennoramita intreating him to give her one intire day, as well to see the Combat as to be informed of the Combatants, he put it off to the second day; and went, with her, to take up their Lodging in one of the great Innes, wherein strangers had all kind of freedome. Ennoramita was no sooner lodged, but she sent one of her Slaves to enquire, through all the Innes, if there were not any Knights of Tunis. But for all the Slaves diligence in that perquisition, he returned to his Mistris without learning a∣ny thing that might content her. She passed all the night in much unrest, and assoone as 'twas day, clad her selfe in the habit of the Lady of Morocco, that she might be the lesse noted. A little before noone she went to the place of the Justs, and taking her seat in the place appointed for Spectators of quality and cheifly for Ladies, she heard the sound of many Trumpets. The desire to find Muley-Hassen, turning her all into eyes, there was not a man entred, were he on Horseback or otherwise, that she surveyed not from head to foote. The trumpets which she lately heard, came into the field. They were clad like so many Fames and served as Vant-Courtiers to a Knight clad according to the ancient Greekes. He came to the place prepar'd for the recitalls, and all being silent, he spake thus.

Tis superfluous that I tell my Name, since so many Fames publish who I am; yet not to interrupt that Order which many valiant men observed, you shall understand that my Name is Sidy-Bu-Median, famous by the reputation of the great Saint from whom I am descended. And more famous yet by the affection which the Princesse of Telensin hath always born me in spight of the cruelties of that Tyrant who possesseth her estate. Those who have come in here before me, have appear'd to give a proof of their love and valour and I am come to publish the virtue and beauty of a great Queen, and to oblige all those in this Assembly, who are men of courage, to have pity of my mis-fortune and to employ their valour for the deliverance of my Princesse. Every one being moved with this pre∣face, gave double attention, and promising to himselfe to heare something that should be strange, made known to Median that they had a great minde to heare him. He thereupon (after he had discovered the Picture of the Princesse of Telinfin that was painted on his Buckler) went on thus. There is none in this Assembly who knowes not the greatnesse of the Kingdome of Telensin, and who, in some way, hath not heard that the Kings of it have made themselves redoubtable to their Enemies. He which now raigns What said I? He which raigns, No he raignes not, for the fury of his Subjects excited by the Sorceries and predictions of a false Prophet come out of Tefesca hath loaden him with Irons, and dispoyld him of his Government. The poore Habdulac-Numen (so

is that Prince called) hath one only daughter; of whom I dare say nothing for feare I should not speake as I ought, This Angell of Light is called Arzila, and should not have been put amongst the List of mortall things, if the affection which she beares to the least of men had not cut off somewhat from the opinion they had conceived of her Divi∣nity. I was that Happy man, though an unworthy object for Arzila's affection. I re∣ceived that favour with the respect that I ought, and not being able to deserve her by any service, I never vaunted of any thing but that I could not merit her. I was even on the point to be elevated unto heaven, when a Divell gotten loose from hell (I meane the false Prophet of whom I have spoken) ruined all my hopes, and buryed my felici∣ties under the ruines of the Royall Progeny. Habat Elmely (so was that cruell Tyrants Name) covering his ambition and Pride with a falle and pernicious piety, entred into Telensin with a great company of his Sectaries; and after he had there preach'd his He∣resies, gain'd the Brutish and inconstant people, and made them rise in armes against heir Soveraign. I Joyn'd my selfe with those that were loyall, and did my best endeavour. tBut after divers defeates, and being left for dead in the feild of the last Battle, Abdulac V∣men was taken prisoner, loaden with Irons, and thrown into a horrible Dungeon. The false Prophet presently took on him the Royall Authority, and since that he had acused to be published at the beginning of the War, that he was come from Heaven and the great Prophet Mahomet, to teach the truth to the Telensiens, and, by the marriage of himselfe with Arzila, beget them Kings that should chase all the Christians out of A∣frica; he commanded that in what place soever that Princesse should be retyr'd, they should bring her to him, and declar'd, that not only he, which conceal'd her should be impal'd alive, but also, that if she came not in within foure dayes, Abdulac Vmen should be flead alive in the great place of Telensin. At this last newes Arzila, (who passionately lov'd her Father) left the place where she was in safety, thought it good (in appearance) not to dis-allow of the false prophets designe; came to him to his Palace, only with two Women, and casting her at his feet: Behold (said she) the Maiden (for whom thou hast testified hitherto so much respect and affection) reduc'd to submssions and prayers! If the desire to raigne, which hath made thee forget the Loyalty thou owest my Father, hath not made thee lose the Love thou didst beare the Daughter, repent thy selfe for having displeased him, and setting a period to his mis-fortune, give him cause to acknowledg so great a service. I present not my selfe before thee to make use of that absolute power which my birth and thy affection gives me over thy will; but I beseech thee as a Subject, and submit to all thou shalt ordeine me; Provided thou restore to me the King my Fa∣ther. Ought not the false Emely to have beene moved by the prayers and tears of that faire Princesse? He was not a jot, though he feigned to be so. His infamous brutality see∣ing it self at the point to be satiated, made him dissemble his hatred. and advis'd him to promise Arzila all that she requested to the end, that she might the more willingly sa∣crifice her self for the safety of her Father. He then led her into a place where she could be heard by no body; and taking her by the hand said, I keep not Abdulac prisoner, not have I taken on me the title of a King, but to oblige you not to be cruell to me. Have pi∣ty of one that is unfortunate. succour a man desperate, pay with some small favour so many yeares services which I have given you (though my discretion hath hindered me from making it appeare to you) and dispose, as you please, of the Crown of Telensin: I restore it you with your Father, and renounce for ever all other glory but that of enjoy∣ing you. He added many other immodest and lascivious words to those, and seeing him∣selfe sweetly refused, began to be moved, and told the Chast Arzila that she should not hope to see againe her Father on the throne, if she did not grant him what he had so ma∣ny yeares search'd for. The Princesse, hiding her just displeasure, threw her selfe again at the feet of that abhominable wretch, in Lieu of answering him; and melting into teares My Lord (said she) consider what tis you require of me; thinke who I am, and do notmake me beleeve that thou hast ever lov'd me. The Tyrant laugh'd at the Princesse virtue, and raising her from the ground, you 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 me invane (said he) if you havenot a will to fulfill my desire I have a long time observ•…•… all the Lawes which Love and respect imposed on me; You must now receive mine, or we must be equally miserable. At those words Ar•…•…ila be

came red as fire, and stepping a pace or two backwards; My honour then (said she) is the only ransome thou desirest for thy Princes liberty? I ever beleev'd that thou wert an in famous fellow and a Traytor: But expect not that the feare of death, nor the hope of reseeing Abdulac in the throne, shall ever bring me to lose that which I love more then the Crown or my life. The King my Father would disavow me for his Daughter; and would be his owne executioner, should he know I had reestablish'd him by so sordid, so shamefull, and execrable a treaty. The false Prophet, enraged to see himselfe so farre from his purpose, caus'd Arzila to be taken away by some of his guard, brought her into the Dungeon where her father lay; and to affright her more, and by other wayes, then by threatnings, commanded her Fathers Nose to be cut off: At which horrible spectacle, Arzila tore her haire, cast her selfe into her Fathers Armes, be-bloodied her face against his; and after some lamentations, able to make the heart of a common Executioner to re∣lent, besought the King to give her over for the price of his liberty. My body (said she) is yours; give it then to that Monster, and make use of that power which Nature hath gi∣ven you; and, with that, she againe imbrac'd her Father, and besmear'd her face all over with his blood. When she thought that she was frightfull enough by that soyling, shee turn'd her to the Tyrant, and extending her Armes and hands to him: Thou most infa∣mous and lustfull Goate (cried she) why dost thou not exact presently from this Prince, whilst he suffers under thy afflicting torments, that which thy lust hath so long wished for?

Abdulac made his Daughter to be silent, by the most pitifull remonstrances, that so tragicall an occasion could put into the mouth of a Father. But why should I stand so much on the misfortunes of that incomparable payr? The good King would never con∣sent to the dishonour of his Daughter; and seeing so great constancy in so weak a perso∣nage, indur'd, with a great deale of patience, his ignominious and cruell usage. The inhu∣mane Elmely, grown desperate by the virtue of those two truly-royall minds, caus'd Ar∣zila to be put into a Dungeon apart from her Father, and so went away, after he had as∣sur'd them that there should not passe a day, wherein they should not feel how far his choler would extend. It is (brave Knights) five moneths now, since these honor'd perso∣nages have suffer'd an infinite sort of indignities in these Dungeons, wherein they are bu∣ried alive. Ever since I have been able to carry Armes, I have try'd divers wayes to free the Father and Daughter, but none hath succeeded; and if by your assistance, I see me not quickly in case to pluck the Tyrant from that Throne, who is no way redoubtable but in words, I here make a vow, never to review my desolate Country. Abdelmelec, (who was present at this relation) perceiving that Sidy-Bu-Median had no more to say, fixing his Eyes a while on the portraict of Arzila, began to speak thus: I see well (said he to the unfortunate Knight) that you are come hither to make friends, and not to engage your selfe in new enmities. As for my selfe, who alone should have some cause to refuse the succour you come for, since you are come with an intent to fight with me: yet I make known to you, that I give my full resentment to the consideration of Arzila, and will imploy, for her deliverance and the King her Father, all the power that I have in the Kingdomes of Fez and Morocco.

Above five hundred Knights, Christians and Mahometans, presently after, offered themselves to Sidy, and their offers were prosecuted with so many actions of valour, that the very yeare of the Turney the false Prophet was burn'd alive in Telensin, Abdulac Vmen reestablished in his Throne, and the vertuous Arzila married to the constant Sidy-Bu-Median. Assoone as he had given Abdelmelec thanks for the assistance he promi∣sed, he besought him to dispence with his Iusting against him; for (said he) I cannot with∣out an extravagancy contest for valour, with that man whose succour I am come to im∣plore. After he had made this just excuse to the Prince of Morocco, he retyr'd; and left the field free to a Portugall Knight, the Son of the Governour of Larache, who on the faith of Abdelmelec's Chartells, fear'd not to forsake the Banks of Zila, and to put him∣selfe into the hands of his Enemies. He came to the place appointed for Speech, and said boldly that he was a Christian in Religion, a Portingall by birth, a sworne Enemy to the Moores by duty and inclination; and Son of him that had taken from them the towne of Larache. But if all these things (said he) give you cause to look on me with an Eye of

of hatred, that which I have yet to tell you will oblige you to behold me with that of commiseration and pity. Amongst the Slaves which the Law of Armes gave us, we met with a Moorish Lady, so faire and so accomplish'd, that assoon as I saw her, I became her Vassal. Neither the Antipathy of our Nations, nor the contrariety of our Beleifes, no not the very contempt which that deare Enemy made of my service, have been able to cure me of my passion. I daily besought her to be favourable unto me, and as daily she rejected my prayers. She will not almost either see me or heare me; and threatens, that if I restore her not quickly to her father, she will free her selfe by death from the servitude where∣in she is. I feare to lose her, either one way or other; so that I know not how to demean my selfe towards her: I would willingly give her her liberty, but I feare that she will forsake me assoone as she is free. On the other side, I doubt, least in keeping her, she carry her selfe to some desperate action; and that apprehension presseth me to send her to her Parents. At the same of this Turney I have taken Armes to oblige her; and having promis'd to maintaine that she is fairer then all the Ladyes in Africa, I am now come to perform my word to her.

After the Portugall had made this recitall, he was led about the Lists, and being left with a very good Lance, expected when the Trumpets should give him a Signall of the time and order of the Combat. Presently after came Abdelmelec out of his Pavi∣lion, and being warned to put on, came fiercely on the Portingall, who made it ap∣peare that he was an excellent Horseman, and broke his Lance on the Princes Caske. At the second Course he made the Challenger forsake his Saddle; but by his owne strength as much as by that of his Enemy, he was carried over his Horses Crupper. The Officers of the field came and presently took him up, and giving him his horse againe, took his Buckler and hung it up among many others under the Portraict of Alcidiana. The valiant Moore Elgazair tooke the Portugals place: That Knight was the belov'd of Ladies and Warriours, and though he was very inconstant in his Love and Freindship, yet he had the good luck to acquire many Mistresses, and many Freinds. At the first Turney of Abdelmelec he did Wonders for the proud Moore Abra; at that of Nephizus at Fez, he maintained that Arais Princesse of the Arabians, of the Mountain Farobe was the most charming beauty of either the one or the other Mauritania; and now he would make Abdelmelec confesse that Alcidiana was not so faire as the young Elserifa. He came to make his Declaration at the accusto∣med place; and made all his Auditors laugh, at the grace wherewithall he publish'd the perfections of his new and easie Mistris. He desired not though, to be esteem'd more con∣stant then he was, and for that cause he carried both armes, & a Device that intimated suf∣ficiently the ficklenesse of his mind. His Arms were wavy, and wrought with such art, that when the Sun darted his beames on them, the Colours losing themselves one in another, & producing a fair effect, resembled the rainbow, or rather those various shadowings which you see on the necks of pigeons. His Buckler was bordered with Opalls & in the midst was seen a Fountaine like to that marvelous one in Daulphine, which from time to time casts out flames. This Knight was so renowned for his valour and courtesie, and so known for the many fair actions he had done, that all the Spectators promis'd to themselves an ex∣treame pleasure in the Combat. Abdelmelec lov'd him with all his heart and if he could have suffer'd himself to be overcome, so that the glory of Alcidiana had not receiv'd a diminution by it, I doubt not but he would himselfe have contributed to his owne dea∣feat. But Love being alwayes stronger then freindship, suspended the Princes affection, and oblig'd him to satisfie his owne passion. And that of the whole Assembly▪ and there∣fore taking his place, and Algazair his, they parted both at once, and met in the midst of their Cariere with such an extreame force that they lifted up one another, and sent the splinters of their Lances all about the fields. The two next courses were not lesse faire nor unequall to the first, and so ravish'd the Spectators that they clapped their hands, and signified by their acclamations, that they had not yet seen any like it. But the fourth decided the businesse, and caused the Picture of the young Elserifa to be placed immedi∣atly under that of Alcidiana.

This faire Encounter was follow'd by another, which gave no lesse admiration to all there present. 'Twas undertaken by a French Prince, that was expressely come from

Naples to be at this Turney. He was the worthy inheritor of his Predecessors eminent virtues, and from his Infancy had equally made profession of love and the warres. If they were astonished at the richnesse of his Armour, and the pomp of his equipage, they admir'd not lesse the novelty which appeard in the picture of his Lady. Shee was clad in such a fashion, that they might easily know the greatnesse of her condition: But two little Loves which were painted over her head held a Veyle before her face, and kept her from being known. Abdelmelec drew neer to complain of that sleight, and thought he had the more cause, because looking on the hands of that Lady, and taking them for Nose-gayes of Lillies and Roses, he told the Prince, that hee wrong'd so excel∣lent a beauty in not shewing her in so famous an Assembly.

The Prince answer'd him, that he was of the same opinion, and that his Lady deserv'd to be seen by the Eyes of all the World, but that he fear'd the chance of Armes, and dar'd not expose the fairest creature of the Vniverse, to the extravagancies of fortune. Ab∣delmelec approv'd of the brave French-mans just apprehension, and would not that the veyle of his Lady should retard the contentment of the Company. They ran at one ano∣ther, and in their first courses brake their lances without any advantage; at the fourth, our generous French-man strook and was not touched; at the fifth he made Abdelmelec quit one of his stirrops, and at the sixth they fell, both men and Horses together. Presently they got up againe, and put their hands to their Swords to decide the difference, but the Judges of the Field came instantly in to them, and separating them according to the Lawes of the Turney, proclaym'd them both Victorious. Abdelmelee return'd to his Tent, and the French Prince to his lodging with his veyld Picture. This Iust so ended, there entred two Knights clad as the Ianizaries, which are of the Guard to the great Turke. They were two Flemish Renegados, who were in great esteem among the Warri∣ors of Argier, and were no lesse famous for their valour then for their fantasticalnesse. Of extraordinary Enemies, which they had been, they were become friends, and their a∣mity had produc'd a love, which hath for a longtime been the talk of all Barbary. The one was calld Abdear, and the other Raman. Abdear had married a Moore, who passed among the Ladyes of her Nation for a beauty perfectly accomplish'd, and yet her extra∣vagant humour and eight or ten dayes enjoying, had made her so displeasing to him, that he had much adoe with himselfe to refraine from repudiating her. Her black haire, her complexion that shew'd the Eye a mixture of pure incarnadine, with a brown that had nothing of the Olive, her stature tall and slender, the quicknesse of her Eyes and of her wit, were not sufficient charmes to allure him. But on the contrary, the yellow Locks of Ramans wife, who was a Brittaine and by him made to deny her faith, the whitenesse which she borrowed as well from art as Nature, and her green Eyes, which made some beleeve that she saw not a glimpse, were to Abdear such miracles and perfections as were not found in all the Sex of Woman besides. Raman was, (as he said himselfe in the publick place) of his friends humour, and yet they had different palats. He noted every day some new defects in white-flaxen hair'd Woemen, to the end he might find cause to con∣temne his owne. He cal'd that red, which was but halfe flaxen, and never cal'd the ex∣treame white complexions, but relicks of Sicknesse, and Images of Playster. For the haires and black eye-browes, he spake of them as of the Master-peeces of Nature; and said they were made to compose of them those powerfull bowes, by which Love hath got to himselfe the Empire of the world. The black and sparkling Eyes in a cleare and well-colour'd face, seem'd to him more faire then the brightest Stars in a calme Evening.

In a word Raman was in love with the Wife of Abdear, and Abdear with the Wife of Raman; and their passion was come to such a point, that after they had made themselves confident of one another, they were come together to maintaine publickly the beautie of their Mistrisses. Raman came first into the Lists, and first felt that Abdel∣melec had more strength then needed to orethrow him: and if the Grecian and African beauties had left their defence to him, they had lost that fame which they had gotten a∣mong all the Nations of the world. Abdear thought that the flaxen should be more be∣holding to him then the brown had been to his companion; But he kept his Horse no better then his friend, but blemishing (as much as he could by his fall) the great lustre that

subjects us to the power of the flaxen-hayrd beauty, made all the Assembly say, that Cau∣ses are good or bad, according as they find good or bad Defenders. Assoone as the noyse∣that follow'd the defeat of these two Extravagants. was over, there were seen appeare at the Barres, a Troup very proudly, but very sadly accroutred. The Trumpetters were clad as those of Europe paint the Phantasms and shadowes of the dead. Their Trum∣pets were made as t were of bones, and had a sound so dolefull, that many imagin'd, they were to see some Funerall in Iesu of Iusting. But they soone changed their opinion: for presently after, they saw come in divers foot-boyes, and many horses, which among the black that cover'd them, made some shew of flames. The Captaine of this Brigade, was mounted upon a Roane horse with Caparisons of black Velvet, imbroider'd with Gold and Silk of the colour of fire. The Armes he bare, by the industry of the Workman, re∣presented a furnace, wherein the fire was nourished by a little mizling raine that fell in∣to it. His shield was black in many places, and the rest bloodied with the long tresse of a Comet. This Devise had for motto to it, these three Latin words: Vt perdat lucet. Po∣lemander (so was the Knight call'd so deadly inflamed; came to the place prescrib'd, and easily obtaining the Audience, he desired, said: that he was come out of the Mountaines which separate Spaine from France, to give to the faire Infeliciana the last testimony of his love. Truely his constancy deserves from us extraordinary prayses. For though the object of his passion was, during her life, full of grace and merit, yet we must confesse that there was a miracle in so long a perseverance.

Infeliciana enjoyed in the highest degree, all that which the fairest Ladies, either Greek or Spanish, had of allurement or fire; yet whoever, di-sinteress'd should, Judge▪ will acknowledge the beauty of that Lady to be nothing in comparison of the won∣ders of her wit, and the sweetnesse of her conversation. This magnanimous Knight, charm'd with so many divine qualities, had neither soul nor life, but what he receiv'd from the Eyes or discourse of Infeliciana. When he was absent from her, he did no∣thing but languish: His melancholy and heavinesse made both the Court and the light odious to him, and made the King of Navarre (of whom he was passionatly be∣lov'd) to take notice of it. That Prince, by all manner of offers and favours, would faine have won him to discover the cause of his disquiet, but all in vaine. After he had long time mused on it, he doubted that the sadnesse of his favorite came from love; and himselfe being then extreamely in love with a young Lady call'd Ismenia, who wanted no allurements, he imagin'd that Polemander kept not his love pri∣vate, for any other thing, but because it had originall from her beauty. Presently the King grew jealous, and so extreamely jealous, that, to free him of all his suspitions, he made use of all the wit and subtlety wherewith his love could furnish him. But it was all in vaine that he made use of his great promises, his feined compassion, and his other artifices. The discretion and silence of Polemander triumph'd over all those enemies, and confirmd the King in that opinion he had too lightly conceiv'd. He secretly look'd on Polemander as his Rivall. He forgot what he was to him, He threatens him, and suffering himselfe to be transported by his former motions, de∣liberated already on the execution of him, which but lately he lov'd as his owne per∣son. On the other side, his fury made him think strange things of Ismenia. He ac∣cused her for being crafty, to desire more then one Lover, and but to feine as often as she promised him her affection; some dayes passed, during which the Prince was able to containe him, but the excessive torments which his silence added to those his jealousie made him undergoe, compel'd, him at last, to make known his suffe∣rings, and discover to all Navarre the cause of his vexation. He brake out (in the end) even against Polemander, and not content to revile him for those things where∣of he never thought, told him, that if he gave not over his love, he would make him feele all that which could be expected from the just indignation of an offended Mo∣narch. This perfect lover seeing himselfe thrust at, & tott'ring on all sides, would not give place to violence, but abiding in his first resolution, intended to perish rather then to faile of that secrecy he had promised to Infeliciana. Whilst all the Court was troubled at the Melancholy and Ch•…•…'ler of the King, and that the Enemies of POLEXANDER accusd him aloud to be too indiscreet;

Infeliciana admir'd the generousnesse of her Lover. She confesseth that he only is wor∣thy to be beloved, and laugh'd at the blindnesse of those cowardly and perfidious minds that have no other light but what they have from Envy and detraction. Polemander, who well saw how much his discretion made him miserable, protested to Infeliciana ne∣ver to forsake her; and rather to lose the Kings favour then to violate his faith, or those commands which she had justly impos'd on him. He kept his word so truly, that the most crafty and curious Courtiers of them all, were as well caught as the rest, and made no difficulty to beleive that Ismenia was the true cause of Polemander's passion. But if their preoccupation had not made them see things far otherwise thenthey were, it had been very easie for them to have been dis-beguild, when Infeliciana was taken from the Court to be given to a German Prince to whom she had been promis'd by her parents. Truly, death is not so horrible as the departure of Infeliciana was to Polemander. He fail'd but little of being lost to himselfe, and had infallibly done injury to his owne person, if that beau∣tie's forbiddings, and the hope of re-seeing her had not staid his Tragicall resolution. In spight of himselfe he therefore gave himselfe life, but unwilling to keep it but as an Ene∣my which he would persecute, he did him those ills, and went on to such extremities, that none would ever beleive it, but such as have lov'd so truly as he. The day that Infe∣liciana parted, he went out alone from the City, and taking on him the habit of a Beg∣ger, put himselfe in the way she was to pass. As farre off as He saw her Chariot, he tore his hair, gave most fearfull shriekes, and beating his head against the trees and stones, lay as dead in the midst of the high-way. Those that rid before Infeliciana pittied him, and taking him; for a man afflicted with some strange sicknesse, commanded their Ser∣vants to remove him, those that were chosen to doe that worke of charity, were so base, that they had almost kild him, in Lieu of assisting that poor Lover. They did him a many mischiefes in drawing of him, and with the extremity of their dragging made him recover his senses. Presently he rose up as a man enraged: and getting out of the hands of those un∣pitifull men, ran even to Infeliciana's Chariot. In her presence he renewed his cries and fury, and spake such things that the most barbarous mindes could not hear without rele•…•…∣ting. On an instant he cast himself under the Chariot, which the Charioteer had stop'd; and as he lay there besought them to crush his head in peices under the Wheeles, to ter∣minate, by so glorious a death, a life that was odious unto him; in this speech he intermin∣gled the Name of Infeliciana, and repeated it so often, that she tooke notice of it, and knowing him, was so strucken with greife that she fell into a swoon. Assoone as her Wo∣men had brought her againe from her fainting, She commanded her Squire to take that miserable creature from under the Charriot: divers alighted to obey her, and taking Po∣lemander by the armes and head, made him by force to let go his hold on one of the wheeles. But assoon as they had pulled him off, he threw himselfe on againe, and those that would have hindred him, could not doe it so wel, nor the Charioteer so fitly take his time to put on; but that one of the wheels ran over his right leg, which pain he indured so patiently that no body perceived it; and though he could scarce keepe himselfe up, yet followed her more then a league on foot, still caling on the Name of Infeliciana, & wish∣ing her a happy Iourney. He remain'd still in these violent passions, and begg'd from Heaven eithera speedy death or the return of that beauty. When he was told that she had forgotten her promises and given her selfe to one of the house of the Palatine; Tis very hard to expresse the excesse of Sorrow; which that infidelity brought on Pole∣mander. But when he was in the height of his griefe, he heard that Infeliciana was dead with sorrow for having left him for another.

Polemander, after he had related all this, stood a while speechlesse; at last surmoun∣ting his passions, and wiping off his teares, he addressed him to the Prince of Morocco, and discovering the Picture of Infeliciana; I come, said he, to maintain that there is not a beauty in the world which should not give place to this. Abdelmelec would have made an answer to that speech, conformable to his peevish humour, but the Judges of the field intreated him to give them leave to doe their charge; and addressing them to Pole∣mander: Your intent (said they) is praise-worthy, but it is contrary to the Lawes of this Turney, the Prince Abdelmelec hath undertaken it, to make all Knights confesse that Alcidiana is the rarest beauty in the World. She, who is pictured on your Buckler; is

dead, and by consequence how faire soe ever She hath been, she can, be no more compar'd with Alcidiana. That beauty which is no more, is as a beauty that hath never been. Judge, after this, If you may be received to the combat, and whither Abdelmel•…•…c should hazard the glory of Alcidiana to ruinate that of a Shadow, of a Name, of a Picture, of nothing. Polemander had too much witt to stand without an answer; He then replyed to the Judges: that it was to wrong that beauty which he adored, to beleive that death had been powerfull enough to destroy it; That she Li∣ved, not onely in his heart, and in the memory of men; but in heaven, where she shines fairer then She did on Earth, and where She was assur'd of her immortality.

The Judges, who knew how farre the gallantry of a Lover mightextend, hearkned very favourably to Folemander; but answering him in few words, that a dead beauty could not be set in comparison with a living one, they, intreated him to retire; & til he had gotten a new Mistris, give place to those that were yet to run. Polemander, loath to be noted by an unreasonable wilfulnesse, the very same day got towards his shipping, and after his setting sayle, within few dayes (happily) arrived at Beyone.

The while, Abdelmelec seeing the Sun ready to set, promis'd to himselfe to goe victorious out of the Turney, and bragged already amongst his Courtiers, that the Theife, who had stolne from him the Picture of Alcidiana, durst not forsake his vess∣ell nor appeare in so famous an Assembly. But the pretended Thiefe was come; and, had it not been for Ennoramita's intreaty, had long before made him (with his Ho∣nor) lose also the boldnesse of continuing his boastings. Whilst that Princesse sate desperate of seeing him come in, whom her heart and Eyes so servently long'd for: She saw enter a Knight clad after the same manner as are the Knights of Senega and Thombut; he was followed by six black Slaves, and mounted on a Black Barbary, caparison'd with Olive-colour Velvet cut into the fashion of Oake•…•…-leaves: and when he was before the Judges, he ask'd them leave to speak and to fight. Abdelmelec, who was gone to meet him, and had received him with a courtesie that was not na∣tural to him, intreated that before he told what he was, he would shew his Buckler. The Knight took off a taffata of the colour of dead leavs that was upon it & shew'd him a prodigions shape, instead of a Lady's picture; 'Twas a living death: He had caused to be painted a body, which in all parts was half bare to the bone, and half cover'd with flesh. One side of her face seem'd very faire, and the other shew'd nothing but bones Abdelmelec was affrighted at the sight of it; and asked of the Knight; whither: he had caus'd that Monster to be pictur'd in contempt of ALCIDIANA.

Such as she is [said he) she is more fair then your Queen; and could you see he Originall, as you now see but the Copy, you will avow, to the shame of Alcidiana, that this body so faire in those places by which she seemes to be living, is the sole ob∣ject whereto all Princes owe their affections and services. But that I may let no∣thing stick in your minde to hinder you from being of my opinion; Know, that pict∣ure you see is that of a Princesse, who lately was adored through all Africa She is faire in the highest degree, but she is more unfortunate: her body, which by a parti∣cular priviledg preserves all her beauties in her mseries, is accompanied with a minde that incessantly dies, and which is equally devour'd by love and hatred, by duty and aversion. If Christians, who have the liberty of re-presenting all things by their colours, had the Art of painting mindes: you should see the fairest body of the world joyn'd to a minde even like death it selfe. But what my Painter could not doe one way, he hath done in another, and not being able to make the mind seen with the body he hath divided the body it selfe and painted the one part alive and the other dead. The Starre, under whose aspect I took possession of earth gave me not life, but to consecrate it to this faire Princesse. I loved her, before I was of fit age to know her, and I adored her assoone as I was capable of reason. I left Africa to try by the knowledge of strange virtues and manners to acquire such qualities as were worthy of her, after 3 years: carying her to an excesse which I had no∣cause to hope, drew me out of the dirt, to raise me even to the Skies: My Rivalls were amazed at my good fortune, and their pride not permitting them to suffer it, they e•…•…ployed forces more to be feared and more powerfull then their own, to com∣pel

me from that place of pleasure. I was stricken by the same hand whence I expected my protection and my miserable soule exposed to eternall tortures was condemn'd towander incessantly through the solitary Deserts of Numidia. Ennoramita could not longer be in quiet (after the hearing of those last words) without testifying by her cries that she was that Dead-living-Lady, or rather that dead-one reviv'd who was painted on the buckler of the desolate Knight: she doubted not, but he that had spoken was Muley Hassen; and throwing her on the Neck of her confident, who was seated neere her; Atalida [said she] marke that Knight, tis Muley, tis Muley, without doubt: But let's heare the continuation of his History and mine. Muley, who had not been interrupted by Ennoramita's agitation, thus continued on his Narra∣tion. Some short time after I was confined to the deserts of Numidia, my Princess [as if shee had been guilty for not loving her Enemy] was deliver'd over to his fury, and condemned to a punishment, that was to last as long as she had either faith or life. Tis even he [said againe Ennoramita;] Good Heaven! How discreet is he to hide what should not be known? She implor'd not the mercy of her Judges [said the Knight,] to make them lenify the sentence of er Condemnation, but seeing that it could not be revo∣k'd, she went willingly to her torture, and in the height of her torments, exceedingly blessed the Executioners, for giving her so illustrious means to make her virtues the more renowned. In the meane time I led on a miserable life, among the precipices and moun∣taines & having no more to hope for in the world, I went out of it by a voluntary retire∣ment, and sequester'd my selfe into the Caverns of our Mountaine Atlas. O how wife was he in the art of love, who said, that Love is a just Master; and if so be wee would suffer and have patience, wee shall infallibly receive the wages we have deserved! I had not there abandon'd the World six moneths, with the hopes that had so pleasin gly stayd me there, when the very voice of my faire Princess call'd mee thence: (O heaven cried out Ennoramita, he Speakes of that time, when he was a Hermit, and that I visited him with Nephizus.) That visible Angell [continued Muley] took the payn to descend in∣to my solitary vault, and by a light derived from her selfe, to expell the obscurity of my cavern. I saw that miracle; I spake to her; I told her my afflictions. I Petitioned that I might aveng her; and offered to lose my selfe for her safety. But unwilling to have any other will then hers, I intreated, that I might be once, for all, commanded what I should doe. I would have thee live, said shee, but not live contented, since I am unfortunate. Give over then this manner of obscure and dismall life, and get thee far hence, making the renowne of thy actions to sound so farre, that the noyse of them may come into my eares. My Honour and faith forbid me, to have any particular communication with thee: but they forbid mee not, to rejoyce in thy Fame. O poore Prince [said Amaton∣ta softly] how well hath he concea'ld that which I spake, in banishing him from my presence. I obeyed, without resistance (continued the Knight) a command, that was so glorious for mee, and so worthy the vertue of my Princess. I put my selfe into the Armies of mine own Enemies; and, during two yeares, serv'd them so well, that it was my fault alone, if I brought no other fruits thence then that of Honour. Hee lies not [said Ennoramita] but alas! what hath he done since? Whence comes he now? I was on the point [said the Knight] to put in execution one of the fairest enterprizes, that a faithfull Musulman could conceive against the Christians, when they who were im∣ployed in the Secrecies of my affection, gave me intelligence that my Princess had been taken away from that place wherein her Ty ant had long time kept her prisoner, and con∣ducted into some other that was not known but to her Tormentors. Presently I forsook my Armes, and infallible designes, and under the habit you now see mee in, have tra∣viled from the one end of Africa to the other. Two yeares now, or rather two ages have I wandered, from Province to Province, from Sea to Sea, from Isle to Isle, to l•…•…arn newes of my faire & unfortunate Princess, and to Know whether I should live or dye; to the end, to have the contentment to be neere her. But getting nothing that might cleare me of my doubts; I liv'd, as if my Princess lived yet, and dyed, as if I were sure of her death Love which usally is accompanied with feare, hath changed his wonted custome, [it ma▪ be] to make me languish the more; and [in spight of me] would have me to hope stily 'Tis that hope, but imperfect hope, which hath brought me hither, and makes me main•…•…∣taine,

that the princess whom I adore, is the most accomplished, be it for beauty of body or that of the Soule, of all the Princesses this day living. Assone as Muley-Hassen (for 'twas he) had finished his history, there grew a humming or muttering noyse from the midst of the Auditors, and presently after some shouts and talke, which intimated that he had given satisfaction to all the Company. But if the rumour had not taken from the faire and constant Amatonta Ennoramita, the liberty of being heard; O how had the publique joy been augmented •…•…and the shoutes and clapping of the hands been redoubled! In the meane time, the Heraulds imposing silence: Abdelmelec began to speake, and told Muley, that though in the causing him to lose his Buckler, there would be nothing got∣ten to Alcidiana or himselfe, yet he was glad that he should make an end of the day by his defeat. Muley answered nothing to that boasting, but went to take one of the strongest lances that was in the field, and brought his Horse gently to the end of the Tilt.

The Trumpetters, that were weary with calling so many Knights, sounded for the last time, and seeing the Sun set, invited by a hasty sounding, our two Princes to a speedy de∣cision of their difference. At the parting of Muley, Ennoramita grew pale, and, if she had not lean'd on one of her Women, She had infallibly discovered that she was Interest∣ed in the Iust. 'Tis a strange malady, or rather a pleasant folly this Love. Ennoramita knowes how strong her Lover is, how expert, and how many more redoubtfull Knights then Abdelmelec he hath overthrown, yet she feares least some disgrace betide him, and that the same Demon which had so many yeares persecuted her, should enter into the body of Abdelmelec, or at least-guide his arme and lance, so that Muley might receive an affront from him. But whil'st she was in these feares, the hardy Hassen astonish'd his adversary and all the Spectators with his vigor and dexterity. He had already broken three lances, and, at all the three courses, carried away the Honor from Abdelmelec. At the fourth; he made him lose his Stirrops; and if the Moor had not clasped his Armes a∣about the neck of his horse, without doubt he had gon to the ground. Ennoramita saw that brave course, and from thence conceived such a hope, that her blood, which was all got to her heart, left the place that had no more need of defence, and spread it selfe through all those parts which it had forsaken. The Judges of the field hindred any further running, and fearing least the successe might not be fortunate to their Prince, for that by reason of •…•…ight, there might be some false play; put it off to the next day. Presently every one ra∣•…•…ished and wearied with the Chances of the Day, retir'd to their lodgings. Ennoramita, was no sooner got thither, but she went to Polexander, and calling him the Prophet of her happinesse and the Author of her true reviving; She told him that she had found Mu∣ley, and within a quarter of an houre she would know where he was lodged. I have (said she) sent my faithfull Slave, with a Charge to follow him, and that assoone as he is •…•…n his Lodging, to intreat him, in the Name of a Lady of this City, to take the paines to walk hither. Polexander had a great share in Ennoramita's content; and obtaining leave to take (the next day) the place of Muley, staid above an houre with her, in talking of nothing else but the valour & fidelity of that Prince. As he ended his discourse, Ennora∣mita's Slave entred the Chamber, and at his entrance addressing him to his Mistresse, See Madam (said he) the Knight you sent me to seeke Amatonta startled at that newes, and was so surpriz'd that she could not arise from the place where she was seated: Polexan∣der undertook the entertainment. He went to meet Muley at the Gate, and after he had prais'd his Valour, told him, that a Lady of great quality was so ravished •…•…ith it, that she would assure him of it her selfe. I should have purchas'd that thing which by me was not desired (answer'd Muley) If I have acquir'd any esteeme by this dayes Action. I have not a long time, pretended any way either to the Honor or favour of Ladies Yet should it be very hard (replied Polexander) if you have not a great deale of honor since all the world gives it you. For the favours of La∣dies, I beleeve there are a great many who are indifferent to you: but those that are to be offred you, come from a creature •…•…o rare & lovely, that I begin to feare you & your •…•…idelity; and even dare beleive, that for a Widow, you will forget the Oathes▪ you so solemnely swore to a Married Wife. Good Sir (replied Muley) do me the favour to bring me quickly to the test: I will doe it (said presently▪ Polexander) and streight ta∣king him by the hand, lead him where Amatonta was, still in her former perplexities. The tried out in seeing Muley comming neere, and making her self sufficiently known by

that cry, gave her Lover more then the halfe of her trouble. He stood presently im∣moveable, and abode befor Amatonta, as if he had been strucken by a thunderclap. She arose to recall him from that transport, and told him aboue a hundred times, with an action full of Sadnesse and Love, that she was the unfortunate Perselida-Amaton∣ta-Ennoramita. Is it you Madam, cried Muley-Hassen? and are you free and alive? Yes Muley (answered the Princess) I live, and should say that I do but now begin to live, since but of late I have recovered that life, which Nephizus had deprived me of, in taking from me the liberty of seeing thee. Thereupon, she related to him the death of the King of Fez, the long time she had been kept a captive, and the resolution she had at last taken to get out of her Prison, and to search for some one which might deli∣ver her from the servitude of him who had forsaken her for the love of another. After this she made known to him, that being not able to obtaine any protection from the King her Father, she had sayled to the Canaryes, tobeseech the King of those Islands to put an end to her mis-fortunes.

In the ending this Speech, she made known to Muley who Polexander was, and thereby obliging him and our Heroe too to new complements, for the conclusion of this first interview, made them promise to be mutuall freinds al their lives. Muley-Hassen was not free for his already Narration of his adventures; but was forced, after supper, to re∣cite the particulars to Ennoramita. That relation being ended, the Princess intreated him to thinke no more of the Combat he had undertaken against Abdelmelec, and to give himselfe the pleasure to see it ended by the valour of Polexander. Muley, who tasted too much of true content to tye himselfe to the prosecution of so vaine a victory as that which he might obtaine on the Prince of Morocco, very easily consented to Ennorami∣ta's intreaty, and told Polexander, that he yeilded to him his place.

Polexander, that was out of all patience til he had left Africa, accepted his offer with a great deale of content, and beleeving 'twas farre in night, conducted Perselida into her Chamber, and gave his owne to Muley. Assoone as he was retyr'd into that of Alcippus, he commanded both him and Diceus, that all his Equipage should be ready the next day betimes, and that his Ship should be in case to weigh Anchor the night following. There∣with he went to bed and assoone as 'twas day sleep, which he had taken but by Intervalls, left him. He quickly clad himselfe, and after he had addressed his first thoughts to the Au∣thor of all good Events, went to Muleys chamber. He commanded to be brought him very rich Clothes, and very neere the fashion of the Knights of Morocco, and the while that Ennoramita was dressing, told him a part of his Adventures.

The Princesse was no sooner in case to be seen by a Lover so passionately desired, but she sent to intreate him to her Chamber. He came thither with Polexander, and found her so dressed and clad, that he had cause to have a good opinion of his fortune. These two Lovers renewed the assurances of their affection, and stood a long time parlying with their Eyes and hands; not daring (may be) in the presence of Polexander, to ex∣presse that which the height of their love fill'd their mindes withall.

Our Heroe tooke notice of it, and knowing that the mysteries of Love desire no be∣holders, fitly tooke leave of them, and went to prepare him for the Justs. At the houre prescribed by the Laws of the Turney, he rid out of his lodging accompanyed only with Alcippus; and, as an ordinary Moorish Knight, came to the Gates of the Field. Those who were appointed to give entrance to the Assailants, looked on him with a great deal of Scorne; and seeing him so ill followed, Judged (according to the impertinent custom of bruitish bred men) that he was a man of no great value, At last (with much adoe) he had leave to enter, and comming to the place where the Prince of Morocco used to receive and hear his Rivals, Abdelmelec (said he) tis needlesse that I should tell thee who I am. This Picture shall speake for me: and in thus speaking he discovered that Buckler he had taken from the Prince. Abdelmelec presently knew it, and had not pow∣er enough at his first perturbations, to see, without trouble, the man which he expected with so much impatiency, He trembled, and, favourably to interpret that trembling. I will say 'twas out of Joy and feare, at least he made it seeme so. For being recollected from his first agitation; I never hoped to see thee more (said he audaciously to Polexander') and beleeved, that the Cowardize, wherewith all ill actions are accompanied, would not

suffer thee to shew thy selfe in this place of Honour. But since thou hast no lesse impudence to maintaine thy Thefts, then thou hadst boldnesse to do them, I find that Fortune is not all together unjust in making thy rashnesse happy. Yet see here a place wherein she hath but little Authority; And therefore thou shouldst feare least she forsake thee at thy need, and leave thee to suffer that punishment which thou hast deserved. Thou art (replied Polexander) either poorely in Love, or very senceles, to suffer (for so long a time) the Portraict of Alcidiana in the hands of a∣nother, and of such another as hath so shamefully made thee quit it. On, Abdelmelec, Run on to thy revenge, & do not Evaporate thy Choler in idle Narrations. When our Heroe had ended his speech, he turned his back to Abdelmelec, and rid to attend him at the end of the Li•…•…t. The Prince of Morocco, re-collecting all his force and all the opinion of his Courage, came thundring on Polexander, and broke his Lance with a great deale of strength. Our Hero: struck his on the Princes Casque, and turning him over on the Crupper of his Horse, astonished him so, that he was carried to the end of the Cariere, sencelesse. yet he recovered, and tooke a second Lance; Polexander, met him with his first, and so impetuously lifted him above his Horse, that almost in the very instant of the shock, they saw him extended on the Gravell. Presently he got up, and on all sides hearing the noyse of the people, and the hand-clappings of all the principall Spectators; he thought himselfe lost in his reputation, if he did not hazard his Life to regaine what he had so lately lost. He call'd for [and 'twas brought him) a fresh Horse, and sent two Pole-axes and two Cimyters to Polexander, that he might take his choyce of two. Polexander tooke the first he met withall under his hand; and sending the two other to his Rivall, bad them tell him, that he was not his E∣nemy though his Challenges had extreamely offended him, even to the taking a∣way of his life: that he should look to himselfe, and undertake nothing beyond his power. Those words made Abdelmelec lose all the little reason was left him: He ran on Polexander with the sury, but not with the courage of a Lion. Polexander presently stopp'd him, and unwilling to make use of his armes, because they were dangerous, made it appeare to all the Assembly, that he came to the Turney, rather to reprove Abdelmelec for his daring, then to punish him for it. The inequality, noted between them, took away all the pleasure the Spectators promised themselves in see∣ing the Combat. Even Polexander, (being ashamed of so much advantage) retired often, and besought Abdelmelec to have a care of his life. But that weak and wilfull Prince, neither being able to vanquish nor to yeeld, gave Polexander a great deale more trouble, then if he had farre better defended himselfe. Whilst our Heroe sought a meanes to be rid of him without killing him, He heard a great noyse of Trumpets at the principall Gate of the field; and took that occasion to oblige Abdelmelec, at that time, not to be killed. Let us at least see (said he) before we end our Combate, who comes so boldly to violate the Lawes of the Turney. Abdelmelec, gave a deafe Ear to these words, but seeing a great many Trumpetters enter the field, he tooke off his Casque, and went from Polexander to chastise those that had contemn'd his countermands.

A man clad in a long robe, after the Persian maner, covered with Plates of silver cut and imbroydered in scales, streight appear'd mounted on a brave horse. He was atten∣ded by twelve black Slaves, who had all Collars of silver and long chaines of the same mettle! The Knight himselfe seemed a Slave, for he had chaines on his legs, which (though of Gold) were yet the tokens of his servitude: Polexander (at first, knew not what to thinke of that novelty, but casting his eyes on the Banners which were tyed to the trumpets of that Slave-Knight and noting on them a Phoenix which arose out of its Cradle, (or if you will it's Tombe] he imagined that 'twas one of Al∣cidiana's Slaves. His astonishment was no lesse then his joy: He grew pale, he trem∣bled, and passing, in an instant, from one extremity to another, became all on fire. His first perturbances were followed by other more temperate, and re-collecting his Spirits, and making use (as he ought) of his reason, perswaded himself that Alcidiana had not, without some important cause, sent that illustrious Slave, to the Court of Morocco. Being more nerely approached to see him distinctly, he knew 'twas the same

Pallantus who had pronounc'd the sentence of his condemnation in Bajazets Island. He was oftentimes tempted to go and embrace him; but the considerations of the Iust, not permitting his discovery, he expected with a great deale of impatiency what Pallantus had to say. The trumpets imposing silence, and the famous Slave be∣ing conducted to the place for the Orations, spake thus: Alcidiana, Queen of the most happy Island, hath understood, that divers bold men, have taken to themselves such Licence as hath been disadvantagious to her honor, and have dar'd not only to take her for the object of their diversions, but to stile themselves the Knights and defenders of her beauty.

These Insolencies have troubled the peace of her mind, and have made her ca∣pable of choler. After she had long complain'd of the pride of men she hath pleas'd to divulge her just indignation, and given me command to be at this Assembly, to the end that by a publick disavowing, I should make known to all the world, that she holds all those for her enemies, who have the impudence to name themselves her Lovers. She therefore forbids the continuation of these Iusts, and her will is, that the Prince himselfe of Morocco be compriz'd within the rigour of her Law. And for asmuch as she heares how a certaine Barbarian call'd Phelismond, dares in the Deserts of Denmark to vaunt himselfe only worthy of her service; She invites to the ruine of that Monster, all those who think them interested in her honor. Pal∣lantus, after he had thus ended his strict and proud Declaration, retyr'd: and left all those who had not heard of Alcidiana in an extreame astonishment at his high cari∣age and language, and in a great desire of knowing him. In the meane time, Ab∣delmelec farr more offended at Alcidiana's contempt, then with the disgrace of his combat, I will obey, said he, that which this proud Queen commands; and I will scorne her, since she makes her selfe unworthy of my service. And with that he went and pluck'd downe her Picture which he had hung under a paviiion of Cloth of Gold, and throwing it on the ground, trampled it under his horses feet. Polexan∣der, beholding that bruitshnesse, ran to Abdelmelec, and offering his Cymiter at his throat, what Monster (cryd he) more Monster then he of the North, give over the not rendring the respect thou owest to Alcidiana; and if thou wilt avenge thy selfe of thy shame, do it on thy selfe, since thou alone art the cause of it. Polexander, in thus speaking, alighted to take us Alcidiana's picture; When Abdelmelec, who had lost all knowledge and sence of honor, glad to make use of that advantage, let drive so weighty a blow with his Axe; on our Heroe's helmet, that he had almost laid him on the ground. Polexander feeling this basenesse, got present on Horseback; and to a∣venge Alcidiana rather then himselfe, had quickly brought Abdelmelec in case to implore that excessive courtesie which he had so basely offended. Polexander gene∣rously gave him his life, and went out of the field with the Victory and two Pictures of Alcidiana. * 1.3 In comming from the place of the Iusts; Muley joyn'd to him, and inti∣mating to him the opinion he had of his valour, made him new protestations of his love. They went streight to their lodging, and found there Ennoramita, who out of the impatiency of seeing her Lover, could not stay out the end of the Turney. She besought him presently to take her out of her Enemies Dominions, and bring her to some place where she might, with facility, heare from the King her Father, to treat with him of her returne and mariage. Muley related to her, that, during the time he lay at Mezila and in some other Townes of Numidia, he had there gotten so many friends and so much credit, that he was little lesse absolute there then the King himselfe: Lett's go thither then, said Ennoramita, and assure our selves that, in spight of the power of our common Enemies, we shall quickly see our selves in Mu∣ley Hassen's favour. This resolution was not long from being put into execution: For that very houre Perselida Amatonta Ennoramita gave to Polexander those thanks which she beleev'd was due to him from her, and beseeching him to preserve to her and her deare Muley, the friendship he had promised them, rid out of Mo∣rocco to the place where she had left her ship. Polexander, on his side had no lesse impatiency. Assoon as he was alone, he sent Diceus to learn where Pallantus was lodg'd; and after he had been a while with Alcippus, silent; we must to Denmark (said

he) and avenge Alcidiana of a Barbarians boldnesse. Alcippus would have made known to him the difficulties that were to be met with in that voyage; but Polexander with one word shut his mouth; and to tell him that his intent could not be alter'd, we must (said he) the second time go to Denmark, and part, for it, hence this very day. In that very instant, Diceus return'd, and told the King his Master, that Pallantus was return'd to his ship, and had presently set saile. Let him go (said he) and let us, on our part, do what is commanded us: In saying so, he got to Horseback a little before night, and rid to im∣barke him at the mouth of the River of Tensif, where his Mariners had order to come and expect him. When his Ship was under sayle, he cast his Eyes towards his deare Islands, and sighing at the remembrance of those things he went from, 'tis not (said he softly) by the course which I take, that I shall discover the Inaccessible Island. But I have this comfort, I do that which I ought; and if I have not the happinesse to see Alcidiana, yet I have the glory of obeying her. After these words, he began to think on the meanes of fighting with Phelismond, and mus'd, a long time, on those he should take hold of to know, who Phelismond was, and in what Province of the Kingdome of Denmark he might meet him. But he resolv'd to free himselfe of those cares on the dexterity of Al∣cippus, and not to make himselfe knowne in that Northern Court. After these thoughts, he remembred Zelmatida; and calling to him Alcippus, what will Zelmatida think (said he) of our stay? I feare least he will imagine some treason wrought against us by Abdelmelec; and if once he have that opinion, assuredly nothing can hinder his comming to Morrocco, to know the certainty himselfe: I have a mind to send some one of my servants to him. Alcippus approv'd of the King's apprehension, but the difficulty was to find the means. The next day they had it, for a Patache of a Madera Merchant, pass'd very neer by Polexanders Ship, and she gave her the rights she ought, and being known, they made her come neer. Our Heroe, after he had spoken with the Master, commanded him to carry one of his followers to the Isle of Lancerotta; and presently went to write to Zelmatida; and by his letter excusing himselfe in a good manner, that he was compel'd to break his word with him, was now in no other care but to chuse amongst his company a man that he might send to Zelmatida, of capacity, to tell him by word of mouth what he could not write to him. Alcippus and Diceus came first into his mind; but being not able to misse two such imployable & faithful servants, he was compeld to think of others. He had bred up a Canaryan, a Prince by birth and great grand-child to the King Gua∣vartemus; and in all his travells had found him so capable of his service, that he thought he could not find a man more fit. He therefore cald for him, gave him his letters in charge, and instructing him in what he had to say to Zelmatida, caus'd him to be imbarqu'd in the Pinnace of Madera; and commanded that he should attend on the Indian Prince till he returnd. In an instart, the 2. Vessells were farr separated; that of Madera plied right be∣tween East and South, and the other, wherein our Heroe was, taking diverse courses, inas∣much as it was to coast part of the continent of Africa and of Europe, put in practice for a long time the ability of his Pilot. He ran the hazard of being lost at the Cape Finister in Spaine; He was cast on the Coast of Britany by a terrible tempest; He was constrained to put into Holland, yet all these mis-fortunes gave not so great a hindrance, but that af∣ter three moneths sayle, Polexander landed in the Isle Zeelandia, where the Kings of Denmark have establish'd their principall seat as being the fairest part of their Domin∣ons.

The end of the second Book of the second part.

THE SECOND PART OF POLEXANDER. The Third Book

WHILST our Heroe pursued that Honour which attended him in Denmarke, the Pinnace of Madera cross'd the At lantickOc ean and got to the fortunate Islands. She arrived happily at that of Polexander, and landing there the Messenger sent by him to Zel∣matida, betooke her to her former Course. Assoone as he arrived, he tooke horse, and, with the most expedition, came to the Indian Prince, and presented him Polexander's Letters, telling him withall, that the Prince had given Command he should assure him by word of mouth, that his Voyage was not (for the most) but a voy∣age of two or three moneths. Zelmatida opened the pacquet, and therein found a Letter (which I should make a difficulty in publishing, if that Prince had * 1.4 not given me the copy of it.) Assoone as he had read it, he gave it the Vice-Roy, who seldome left him, and he over-looking it found it said thus.

Polexander to Zelmatida

IF I make you not an excuse for failing in my promise, 'twas because I was engaged by the Command of Alcidiana. I know this reason would not be available with many: But I know withall that Zelmatida, who very highly enjoys the quality of a brave man and a Lover, will no sooner have looked on it, but will instantly be satisfied. I came happily off my Iourney to Morocco; and then thought onely of returning to you, to re-begin our usuall recreations, when one of Alcidiana's Esquires, expressely sent to make all her Adorers run desperate, commanded me to a Iourney for the exterminating a man, who in the midst of the Septentrionall darknesse hath erected Temples to that new Sun: Thus I go where the light of that faire Starre conducts me. I would say nothing of the hopes I have in the Successe of my voyage, if I were not assured that it cannot but be very for∣tunate being guided by Alcidiana.

THe Vice-Roy, who looked on Polexander, as the worke of his care, of his watch∣ing, and instructions; and who (according to the weaknesse of old folks, believed himselfe, in some manner, to be the Author of all the Princes fairest actions,) could not read the Letter without the shew of an extraordinary content. He gave it back to Zelmatida, and putting on a very serious countenance, I must confesse (said he) that there is something (of I know not what in our Prince) that is seldome seen in other men. O! how much are those poore Kings of Europe, (who without heart and honour shame∣fully languish in the idienesse of their Courts) beholding to that passion, which for these three yeares hath made Polexander to wander all the quarters of the Ocean. Certainly, without this obstacle, the King my Master had taught them how to obey, since they are

unworthy to command and had of a thousand little States which tare and vex'd one a∣nother, compos'd a Monarchy equall to the Three Ancient. Zelmatida answered not to the extollings, and amplification of the good old Man, but only with a little shrug of his Shoulders▪ and unwilling he should continue such censures as might extend even to himselfe, Father (said he) let's know (I pray) what the King your Master hath done at Morocco. Therewith he addressed himselfe to the Canaryan Prince, and with a great deale of civility besought him to intimate how Polexander came off from the Turney of Abdelmelec. The Canaryan, who savoured no more of his Ancestors barbarousnesse, re∣lated with a great deale of Ingenuity, all that had passed at Morocco; and to shew that he could do it well, intermingled so neatly the Adv•…•…tures of Ennoramita and Muley-Hassen with those of his King, that Zelmatida, and even the Vice-Roy as pensive and froward as he was, took an extreame contentment in it. That Old Man, permitting him∣selfe to be carried away with the ill custome of those of his age, began to speake, assoone as the Canaryan had ended; and making a rigorous and unprofitable inquiry of all which had hapned at Morocco, drew-in headlong from thence this pernicious consequence, that Love is the greatest of all follyes whereto Nature can possibly bring men in Subjection. Zelmatida Shrugg'd his shoulders again, in hearing himselfe so il dealt with in the person of another; & to silence the Vice-Roy, put himself on the praysing the Valour and good fortune of Polexander. That which you know of him, (replyed the Vice-Roy presently) is not to be thought on in comparison of so many other acts of Iudgement and Valour which he hath done since he came into the World. I say, since he came into the world, without wronging those termes which are used in the Ordinary fashion of speaking: For, from the first years of his Infancy, he hath made it appeare that he was not borne but for the astonishment and felicity of his age.

Zelmatida taking occasion at that hint which fortune gave him, to hear the Vice-Roy at full without much intreating, besought him often by the Name of Father, to relate all the story of Polexanders life. The good old Man, (taken in his weaknesse) had no mind to deny, but presently consented to Zelmatida's Petition, and would instantly have begun the History of the King his Master, if the Indian Prince had not stopped him at the first word, and said, that so brave a relation was excellent matter for a walke, and the Vice-Roy approv'd of it. Zelmatida hereupon came out of his Chamber, after many kindnes∣ses done to the Canaryan, and wishing him to repose himself awhile, came down with the good old man into the great Garden. The Sun already began to decline to the West, and the heat of the day, temper'd by a little wind, seemed by it's freshness to extinguish that heat which the Sun, had spread through all the Horizon. Besides, the Pines, Palms, Cedars, and Orange-trees composed Allyes, as delightsom to the smell as to the sight. Zelmatida went into one of them, so long and close, that, but for the sweet trouble of an infinite number of Songsters which gave not over chanting on the trees, he could not have found out a place more fit for his walke, for to hear the Adventures of Polexander. The Vice-Roy, unwilling that such litle Chir∣pers should be of capacity to make him hold his peace, at the first signe from Zelmatida, began his Narration; and the more to en∣deare his Auditor, did it with this Preface.

The History of POLEXANDER KING OF THE CANARIES.

IF your Majestie had not all qualities deserving the Author of your race, the glo∣rious Sirname of Child of the Sun, and the incomparable title of a Deity, I should fearel east that, in relating to you the actions of a Prince which infallibly is some∣thing more then Man, you might accuse me of falsehood and flattery. But when I consider that I am to speak to a Prince, who by his own wonderful acts is bound to beleeve those of His life; I feare not to relate to you a Life as miraculous as any of those Heroes, of whom your Forefathers, and ours have made them their first Gods. Some have bin of opinion that Kings receiv'd from Heaven some advantages which were not granted to other men. I have known divers Kings who have made me doubt of the ve∣rity of that beliefe. But having the honor to know you, & withal Polexander, as I do, I am forc'd to confesse that, as there are Kings who are alwayes children, there are others too, who are men in their Infancy. Without giving then ought to my affection, & without soo∣thing. I dare say that my King is of those last, and that he came into the world with those excellent qualities, which age, Study, and experience sell to ordinary men at so deare rates. His Soule, in her descent from Heaven, preserv'd & retayn'd al it had receiv'd in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of her originall Her descent or fall made her not lose or forget any thing. She was c•…•…ea∣ted full of knowledge, and so entred compleat into the habitation appointed for her; and in spight of all the fetters and vayles of the body, kept still her prime agility, and fi•…•…t illuminations. But it was very fit, and I dare say absolutely necessary, that Polexander should be borne with those qualities which are seen but in very few Princes: for it would have bin a peice of prodigie, if there had come ought, that was any way vulgar, from Pe∣riander the wonder of his age, and Axiamira the Admiration and glory of her times. The Prince, which (for good cause) I alwayes call incomparable, was borne in this Island, and, with his life, receiv'd the Crown of almost all the Canaryes: Not that he had his ex∣traction from those barbarous Kings which heretofore raign'd here: His derivation is more glorious; being descended from two of the greatest houses that ever flourished in Europ. The one is that of the Kings of France, and the other of the Emperors of Constantinople. It is but little lesse then three hundred yeares, since the French had, for their King, a Prince, who for the sanctity of his life, hath been thought worthy to be ran•…•…d in the number of the Semy-Gods: This King had a Brother call'd Charles of Anjou, The greatnesse of whose courage, and renown of his virtues, acquird him the Crowns of the two Sicylyes and Ierusalem. From that Prince, in a direct line from Father to Son, is Polexander descended; and if Fortune had not too cruelly exercis'd, on that house, that horrible fury wherewithall she useth to break Septers and over-tumble Thrones, he should be now (as his Predecessors have been) King of the best part of Italy, Greece, and Thrace. But those of Arragon on the one side, and the Paleologues on the other, and lastly the Turks have depriv•…•…d him of the inheritanee of his Ancestors, and left him no∣thing but most just causes to be sensible of their common usurpations. But alas! I know not whether I should wish that Polexander might change the affection he hath to Alci∣diana for an inclination to •…•…evenge. For when I think on the disasters, which are fatal∣ly linck'd to such an enterprize, and reflect on the unfortunate life, and Tragicall death of the great Periander; I feare that which I have most passionatly desired and requested of Heaven, even that the King my Master might never think on those Territories which

his Predecessors had lost. The famous Ama•…•…ontus, Father of Periander, seeing that by the remissenesse of the last Paleologue, Constantinople fell into the hands of the Turke; and besides, many times but vainely attempting to make the Easterlings arise in A•…•…es against their Tyrants, had such a detestation to a people so infamous, that, to lose their memory with the sight of them, he forsook Greece, desirous to seek, out in some other end of the world, a place of retirement, where he might live unknown. But Fortune, who soon repented her of the injustice done to so great a Prince, brought him into these Seas; and in lieu of the most rich Crown of the World which she had taken from him, gave him the fairest and most delightfull. I meane, that after she had long time made him wander on the Ocean, she brought him to cast Anchor and land on this Isle, the very day whereon the Inhabitants were assembled to chuse them a King. He was called to this Little Monarchy by the consent of all, and in lesse then three or four yeares made him∣selfe so much valued amongst those of the neighbor Islands, that in emulation of one a∣nother, they would needs have him for their Commander. After the death of that Prince, his Son Periander not only succeeded him, but to extend the bounds of this little Empire, drove the Portugalls out of the Isles they had guarded, and without doubt might have gotten the Crown of Spaine it selfe, if the desire of recovering his ancient inhe∣ritance had not engag'd him in a War with the Turk. In his first voyage into the Le∣vant, he marryed with a Grecian Princesse call'd Axiamira, who by her spirit and virtue made it well appeare, that she came from that Heroick blood which had so often tri∣umph'd over the Monarches of Asia. He returned hither with that Princesse, and within the four or five first yeares of his marriage, had on her Polexander, Iphidamantus and Cydaria. Assoone as he saw himselfe made happy by so fair a posterity, he thought on the meanes to make their condition equall to that of his Predecessors, and to that end renewing the Treaties wherein the Knights of Rhodes and many other Princes of Chri∣stendome would have before time engaged him, he undertook a busines, which as im∣possible as it seem'd, he had infallibly effected, had it not been for the treason or co∣wardize of his Allyes. He got him secretly to Rhodes, and not finding matters there as he had been by some made to hope, would therefore be himselfe his owne Agent. He travell'd alone through all Greece; visited all the Princes of the Imperiall house who were banished into the Islands of the Mediterranean, passed thence into Syria, to cause the Heyres of the house of Antioch to take armes; and lastly, disguiz'd like a Turke, came to Constantinople, where he abode neer six moneths, and dealt with so many Christians, during that time, by the mediation of the Patriark, that he thought himselfe powerfull inough to drive thence the Turke. Thence he returned to Rhodes with that good hope, and having wrought his enterprize to it's perfection (at least he thought so) he departed from that Island with an army which should have been invincible. Assoon as he arriv'd, he made himselfe Master of those Castles which shut up the mouth of the Hellespont, and by that surprise threw so great a terror into Constantinople that Ba∣jazet was on the point to forsake it. Periander entred into the Propontis and s•…•…iz'd on the Isles of Marmora and Calomina in spight of all the strength the Turk had at Sea, Petarded the City of Gallipolis; and entring it by the helpe of the Christians, made ha∣vock of the Turkes, and receiving intelligence that all the Fleet of his Allyes was at the entry of the Hellespont, resolv'd, not to give the I•…•…dels time to bethink themselves, and therefore sayld streight to Constantinople: and meeting the great Turks Navy a daies saile from the Town, fought with it and put it to flight. His victory was his losse, For all his Soldiers being loaden with the spoyles of their Enemies, and masters of many thou∣sand Slaves, began to lose their first valour and to thinke of a retreat. Periander, finding this dangerous a•…•…teration in a second conflict, caus'd all the Slaves and booty to be thrown overboord; and to satisfie the covetousnesse of the Soldier; told them that he gave in prey to them, all the riches which the Turkes had in Constantinople. This pro∣mise pacified not the sedition; he was forc•…•…d to chastize many o•…•… •…•…e m•…•…eers, and de∣fend himselfe from the rest as much, or more, then from his very Enemies. The Turk, by his Spyes advertiz'd of this disorder, would make his benefit of it▪ and thereupon return'd on Periander, and fought with him with six times more forces then the other had. The Christian Army, in lieu of advancing, recoyl'd▪ The Traytors, in that occasion, made them∣selves

known what they were; some yeelded to the Turke, others got the Archi-pelagus; and Periander, after he had fought a day and a night with a handfull of men, was with the blow of a Stone-Engine strook downe, and, halfe dead as he was, chain'd and carried to Constantinople. A little time after this mis-fortune, there arrived here a Portugall ship, which, without doubt, was expressely sent hither to search out the state of the Isles, and to publish the defeate of Periander. Assoone as the Queen, his wife, heard these most sad newes, she stood not to deliberate what she was to do: She commanded me to stay here with the authority of Vice-Roy: and taking Polexander, Iphidamantus and Cyda∣ria, imbarqued in one of her vessells, and, without any other consideration or advisement then that of running a like fortune with her husband, came to Constantinople. The day She arriv'd there, Bajazet, who by the taking of Periander had dissipated all the de∣signes of his enemies, Celebrated the feast of his eldest Sonnes Circumcision, and had caused to be pubilshed that in acknowledgment of so many prosperities which his Pro∣phet had so miraculously showr'd on him, he promis'd, on the word of a King, to grant to the first miserable, unfortunate Creature that should present it self before his Highnes, al•…•… that should be demanded from him. Axiamira, imagining that this proclamation was made for her, came with her children into the place appointed for the magnificence of the sports; and assoone as she had seen the King her Husband passe by amongst an infi∣nite number of slaves, She cleft the crowd of people, and threw her selfe, with her two Sonnes and Daughter, at the foot of Bajazets Throne. Cast down your eyes great King (said she) on these three Innocents and their unfortunate Mother. They are come, on the day of thy triumph, to lay open to thee their calamities, and to implore thy pity. They have heard that, by an acknowledgment worthy thy Piety, thou hast promis'd to heaven thou wilt deny nothing to the first unfortunate and miserable wretch that shall have re∣course to thy clemency. See, O King; behold a Subject, on whom thou may'st fully ex∣ercise that Queen of Virtues. These three little Infants do beg of thee to give them their Father; and I the miserable and wretched Mother, beseech thy Majesty to restore to me my Husband. Before I tell you the successe of her Petition, 'twill be fitting that I relate an action, by which Polexander, who was then but seaven yeares old, astonished all the Ottoman Court; and made the first shew of those wonders which have made him the prime Prince of Christendome. Assoon as the Queen his mother had made him kneel he rose againe, and looking on Bajazet, with a boldnesse more then his age promised, as∣cended to the highest steps of the Throne, and took hold of the Kingly Scepter. The great Turk took pleasure in his action, and, stroaking Polexander, asked him in Greek whither he likewise came to intreate any thing of him? The young Prince (that understood the language, because 'twas almost naturall to him) answer'd Bajazet, yes; and still kept hold of the Scepter: I aske from thee what the Queen my Mother desires; and do not refuse me, for I shall not be ever a Child. Bajazet began to laugh at that threatning; and yet thinking on it, as if it came from some other then a Child, he turned him towards the Mufti that was on his right hand, and causing him to take notice of Polexanders speech to him; This Child (said he) makes me call the Traytor Scanderbeg to my remembrance. The glorious Mahomet, my Lord and Father, whose Soule raignes now with our Prophet, sometime told me that the Prince of Albania, being but a child, spake to him in snch a manner, as he pre-judg'd he would in time be a man of extraordinary ranck and value, and Tis to be feared least This prove a second Scanderbeg. But let's know what his Mother demandeth, and in so saying he commanded Capi-Aga, who was his Favourite, to take Polexander, and set him againe by Axiamira. The little Prince would not descend but by force, and shaking his head, set his hands on the Aga's Cimyter. The Aga only laughed at it, and, taking him from neer the Turk commanded the Queen his Mother to keep him with her. In the meane time Bajazet looked on Axiamira with a kind of pi∣ty; and at last, addressing him to the Princesse; Thy Petition is just (said he to her) and our word is inviolable. Tell me who is thy husband, and I promise to restore him to thee Before I part from this place. Axiamira (therewith)▪ shewed him Periander; and Ba∣jazet seeing whereto he was engaged, changed both his action and colour. After he had let work his first agitations, he resumed his Majesty, and touching the head of Axiamira with his Scepter: Thy husband (said she) shall▪ be delivered thee, But get thee hence farre e∣enough

from our face most justly incensed, and never dare to be so hardy as to present thy selfe againe before us. Assoone as this sentence was pronounced, Axiamira was taken with her Children, by some of the Sultan's Guard conducted back to her ship, and a little while after, foure M•…•…tes brought Periander to the Queen his Wife; but they brought him strangled. This cruelty was seconded by another. Those Hang-men questionlesse had order to take away Polexander, but (mistaking) instead of him they seized on Iphidamantus, for all the cryes and Teares of his Mother, and gave command, in the name of the great Tutk; to those whom the Basha of the Sea had put into Axiamiras ship, not to leave her till she were sayld far into the Mediter∣ranean. They dis-embarqu'd her on the Island Tenedos, with Polexander and Cy∣daria; and after they had treated her with all unworthy usage, return'd toward Constan∣tinople. Axiamira, that had no other object, then the Coffin wherein she her selfe had enclos'd the body of Periander, nor other thought then that of his death, and the ta∣king away of Iphidamantus, spent the dayes and nights in continuall teares and lamenta∣tions. Polexander, made shew of griefe enough, but it was a generous sorrow, and a griefe accompanied with threatnings. Comfort your selfe said he to his Mother; If I live, the Kings death shall be reveng'd, and the Tyrants offending you shall not go un∣punished. Notwithstanding, the desolate Axiamira return'd hither, and having promised to my selfe, but a mournfull successe of her Journey; I was not surpriz'd to fee her come on shore with the body of my dead Master. She swoonded assoone as she saw me, and in that case was caried to the Palace. Assoon as she came to her selfe, she ask'd where they had done the body of the King her Husband, and could not be in quiet till they had brought it into her Chamber. When she was a little recovered and setled; I earnestly besought her to be as well a good Mother as a good Wife, to divide her love between her Children and her Husbaud; and not to forsake those that stood in need of her to follow one who was no more in case to desire the proofes of her affections. Speak not to me (said she) of any thing in the world, but of perpetually bewayling the irreparable losses which I have undergone. I know what I owe to Polexander and Cydaria: For the last, I will have all the care which the weaknesse of her age, and the memory of Peri∣ander can exact from me▪ And for Polexander, I put him into your hands. The King his Father had chosen you to make him worthy that high fortune to which he is destinated. Let it appeare by your care and instructions, that the love you bare to so good a Master is not dead with bim. Above all, I give you in charge that Polexander never heare any thing of the Empire of his Ancestors, and that you never make known to him those un∣fortunate designes which have shortned the dayes of Periander.

I had many things to answer to Axiamira's Propositions, but she stopt me, and said, that unlesse I meant to make her run desperate, I should speak to her of nothing what∣soever but of the Kings death. When I knew her resolution I left her; and dedicating my selfe to the good of the charge of Polexander, I apply'd my dayes and nights to so honourable an imployment. When his Court was ordered, I causd an Assembly to be made, wherein the Deputies of all the Islands acknowledg'd him for their Prince, And between his hands swore to him their oath of fidelity. After that, I distributed the Go∣vernment of the Isles among the ancient Servants of Periander, and intreating them to continue to the Son the affection they bare to the Father, dismis'd them with all that was necessary to hinder all revolts and surprizes. In the meane time I confin'd my selfe to the Palace with my young Master; and after I had gotten from France and Italy, men of most eminency for the instruction of a Prince, began carefully and diligently to improve so rare a plant.

But I must confess that Prince (as I have already said) had almost neither need of teaching or Study. And I beleeve that Nature reveald to him all that the most able of men acquir'd not, but in growing old on their books, and in imployments. If his wit were admirable, his body was not much lesse. At the age of ten yeares he was so strong and active, that were it at the race, were it at wrastling, or any other exercises he was not out-gone by any of his owne age, or of others of some more yeares. To∣wards the end of his twelfth yeare the Kings of Spaine, but especially that of Portugall, made many attempts to drive him from the Canaries. By the intelligence of some

Merchants of Madera, his men surpriz'd the Isle of Palmes, and fortified themselves there so strongly, that it was impossible for the Governour to make them quit it; After I heard of these proceedings, and withall, seeing that it was of too dangerous a conse∣quence to suffer those Spaniards so neer •…•…s: I levyed a good Army to dislodge them; and to the end that the Kings presence should the more hearten the Souldier, and make them fight the more cagerly; I brought him to the Isle of Teneriffe, which is next to▪ that of Palmes: Presently webesiegd the Portugalls in their Forts. The beginning of the Warre succeeded marvellous well with us; for in two moneths, we burnt five and twenty of the Enemies ships, took nine, won two Forts, and put eight hundred Portugalls in chaines. But when we thought to make our selves Masters of the last Fort, the Navy of Portugall, strengthned by a great number of men and Vessells, set on the Isle of Teneriffe; and five or six hundred Portugalls landing in Polexanders Qua•…•…∣ter, attempted to it at full day. 'Twas on that occasion the Prince made known he was a man, and an extraordinary one, though he was but at the beginning of his thirteenth yeare. Assoone as he heard newes the Enemy came to assault him; my deare Gover∣nour, said he, let's go meet them: I answered, Sir, your Troops have command to give them good entertainment, but in asmuch as the chance of warre is alwayes uncertaine, tis not unfit that, for the safety▪ of your Majesty, we retire into the fortresse of Perian∣der, (tis a place which the late King caus'd to be rais'd opposite to that in which the Por∣tugalls would have secur'd themselves) what is't you would say (quoth Polexander) my deare Governour? no no, I will rather perish then my Enemies shall vaunt to have made me flye. You shall not flie [I repli'd] though you retire. What terme soever you give to that which you would have me do: [answer'd the Prince] yet will it be a busines dishonourable. Come, come, let's fight, it behoves us, & keep, here either by a faire death or a faire victory. In this [said]] may it please your Majesty, you are not to be hearkned to, for I am answerable, for your life, to the Queen your Mother, and to all your Subjects, and if any ilaccident should betide, 'twould be imputed either to my treachery or insuffi∣ciency. To what do you then reserve me said the Prince? Heaven p•…•…eserves your Ma∣jesty [I reply'd] for thousands of brave actions, when you shall make appeare the great∣nesse of your courage, assoone as you shall be of age to put them in execution. What age [said he] would you wish me to begin those brave exployts? I grant I am yong, but I am strong enough to make use of my sword. Admit it (said I) yet must you not rashly •…•…st your selfe into danger: Kings have another kind of Fate then their Subjects. The honour of Servents lies in the hazards to which they expose themselves, for the serv•…•…ce of their Masters; and that of Commanders, •…•…o preserve themselves for the safety of the servants that are left them. Never make me beleeve a thing so dis-apparent [answer'd Polexan∣der] in choler: For if Kings [as you your selfe have often told me] are the soules of their Subjects, should they not then watch, operate, and continually travell for them? And what say you, if bodies were not maintained in their being by the operation of their Soules, would they not become meere lumps of Earth and dirt? Do you think tis otherwise with our Subjects? truly no. They must, without doubt, perish when their Kings, like soules sick of a Lethargy, unworthily lye sleeping in their palaces, and suffer those mise∣rably to perish through their idlenesse, whom they should preserve by their 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Lets on then, lets on my deare governour, where our dutie calls us. Sir (said I) your Majesty is neither of age to doe what you would, nor your people reduced to the extre∣mity of axecting it from you. Kings ought to be alwaies of yeares to defend their peo∣ple, (replied the Prince) and their condition is such, that neither age nor danger ought to hinder them from preserving their Estates. You have so often taught me these truthes, that I wonder you will read to me now a new Doctrin•…•…i I have never told your Majesty any thing (I answered) which in my conscience, I believed not only to be true, but also worthy of your royall Soul: and this being so, I intended not to ruin, by a false dictrine, that which I had established by a true one. All that I desire now is, that your Majesty would turne your thoughts on your selfe, and thence carry them through all the histories you have read, to the end you your selfe may be Judg of the difference which is now be∣tween us.

The Prince presently apprehending, by the quicknesse of his wit, what I would say to

him; answered me, that he would not have our controversie to be decided by the examples of former ages. Other Princes have done what they pleas'd, and I pretend to have the same priviledg, and by consequence will goe on, without any consideration, right to the place where our Enemies are. What after this, will you oppose me? Ah Sir, (cried I throwing my selfe at his feet, and moystning his hands with my teares,) weigh what your great heart would make you undertake; and thinke with your selfe what a disaster it will be, if some dismall blow should take you hence, in the extremity of your youth.

My deare Governour (replied the Prince coldly,) this consideration proceedes not from a true affection, but it comes from an ill custome, which those, that are neare to Kings have gotten, to flatter them in all things. 'Tis true that I may dye by this occasi∣on, and dying lose a great many yeares, which by all likelyhood I have to live: but I know from your selfe, that none ever dyed before the time Heaven had prescribed him; besides I am perswaded, that a King never dies too soon•…•…, when he dies for the safety of his Subjects.

Whilst the King my Master, and I, thus contested, the Portingal and our men made on, and meeting some two leagues from our Quarters, fought with a great losse on both sides. The Canaryans made the Portingalls give back, and drave them before them into a vally, where, for want of mistrust, they fel into an Ambascado. There were they ill handled, and after they had lost more then their halfe on the place, saw 'twas then their turn to fly. The Portingalls being all reunited came furiously on the Canaryans; and their Cavalry making a horrible massacre of the •…•…nawaies, drave the rest even to our intrenchments. Polexander saw the flight of his Souldiers, and was very likely to have thrown himselfe down, from the top of a bastion, to go stay them. Ah my Governor (cried he) I beseech you do not indure I should lose my Honour, and see, my men slaine unsuccored. I renewed my remonstrances, but to no purpose: Of necessity we must (and did) bring him his Armes, and consent that he should fall on the Enemy. In the meane time I caus d all the remainder of our Souldiers that were in the Towne, to sally forth, who in spight of the Enemies, forced them to retire. Our young King, with fifty of his Knights, fell on the reere of the Portingalls, and thrust himselfe so farre in amongst them, that I was a long time without knowing what was become of him. His presence and actions gave so much heart even to those that had lost it, that the Portingalls were hack'd in peices, and from the Town even to the Sea Side, the high waies were covered with them.

The King should have returned from this conflict with an extream satisfaction, for he had done admirably well; and besides, he heard on all hands, applauding? some of joy, and some of praise. Neverthelesse a secret sadnesse made him droope the head, and unwil∣ling to heare the acclamations of the people. As I was about to aske him the cause: My Governour (said he) let me once make triall of what you have often told me; and whereof Sir (said I?) That the multitude is never govern'd by reason. Wee have done nothing but run after a company of people, that had as great a desire to fly from us, as wee had to overtake them, and yet to heare the shouts of the Uulgar sort, one would thinke we had gotten some important battle against all the force of Spaine. I smil'd at the Princes consideration: When presently, putting on a more serious countenance, besides (said he) I shal never be sat•…•…fied, til I see the King of Portingal with his sword in his hand. Certain∣ly that King is a very merry man, and very Gamesome, who, whilst himselfe lies as it▪ were buried in all pleasures and delights, troubles the repose and peace of his neighbours, by such of his subjects as ('tis not unlikely) he would faine be rid of. If I live, I will teach him to live quietly, or to come and fight himselfe. But til that happinesse betide me I am resolv'd to drive the Portingalls from these Islands; and to accompl•…•…sh it with the more facility, I will over into the Isle of Palmes with the rest of my Troops.

When he had told me his intentions I was more puzled a great deale then I was before▪ I knew well that my Authority and power were not able to hould in that yong Lion; I had therefore recourse to stronger. I writ to the Queen his mother, who persisted in her teares and solitude, and most humbly besought her, If she loved the life of the King her sonne, she would call him back to her. I intimated all the reasons which obliged me to write so, and made them so considerable and weighty to her, that for a quarter of an

houre, She violated the vow she had made of thinking no more on worldly businesse. She thereupon, writ to the King her son; that she desired to see him for some urging occasi∣ons, and conjur'd him by her letter, that leaving, for some time, the businesse of Warre, he should make a turne to the place of her retirement: she writ the same to me, and comman∣ded me to bring back to her the King her sonne.

The Prince, who was endu'd with all virtues in the highest degree, put it not in deli∣beration whether he should obey the Queen, but told me that wee were to retire to his Mother: the Honour wee acquire by Armes is worthyly to be desired, but I beleeve that to be no lesse which is gotten by doing what we ought. 'Tis true, (said I) and therefore you ought (if you please) to give [without delay] the Queen your Mother the con∣tentment she expects by your presence. Come (said he) let's give it her, but before we goe hence, try if we can see our Enemies. He needed not goe farre to be satisfied: for the day before our imbarquing, the Portingalls return'd on us, and fail'd little of surp•…•…i∣zing that port where the Kings ships attended him. There was a furious conflict, wherein, (without adding any thing to the truth) Polexander secur'd the Honour of his Armes, and dis-ingaged, both his men & shipping. The Enemies Fleet retir'd to the Isle of Palmes▪ I thought it had been out of feare, but the next morning I knew 'Twas out of cunning. The Kings departure was not so secretly kept, but that the news of it came to the Ene∣my, whereupon they resolved to fight with him at Sea, and by taking of the King to make an end of those warres wherewithall he threatned al Spaine. For mine one part, [who dayly took care for the conducting the Prince] I left al our vessels in the roade of Tenerif which was opposite to that of the Palmes; and one night crossing one of the Islands, caus'd the King to imbarpue himselfe at a port over, against that of Gomera. At daie breake wee set saile, and in a little time our vessel had gone by all the Canaries, but en∣tring into a sleeve or narrow passage, which seperated this Is•…•…and from the Fortunate, we discovered •…•…ve saile, which surely expected us. They made up; and the feare I was in, for the King my Master, redoubling my foresight, I commanded Presently our ship should take another course, and to regaine on the South, the Fortunate Island. These five shipps chas'd us all the rest of the day, and my Pilot was constrained to goe Roome∣ward to Sea, that they might not know the course he steer'd. Two vessels of provi∣sion which followed ours, were commanded to bestow some shot to amaze the Enemy. Polexander was almost enraged that I would not fight with them. He besought me to feare nothing, and casting himselfe at my feet, my deare Governour (said he) if you love my life, give not the advantage to our Enemies to publish, they have made us fly from them. What will they say of thee, unfortunate Polexander (he added in sighing) when it shall be known that five poore ships have enforc'd thee to fly as a theefe, and forsake a Part of thine owne Company to save thy selfe by their destruction! Ah! let me rather dye a thousand deaths! And in so saying, like one desperate, he ran through the ship to oblige the Pilot and Mariners to tack about. But the Command I had given, could not be chang'd but by me, and the Prince prevail'd not in giving any new. He took notice of it, and pre∣sently drawing one of his Guards Swords, and turning it on himselfe, however, (said he) yet will I not have the dishonour to live after the flight, and diobedience of mine one Subjects. I stop'd him ere he could wrong himselfe, and casting by all obsequiousnesse, told him that If he would not be govern'd, I should be constrain'd to make use of that autho∣rity which the Queen his Mother had given me. Doe so my good Governour (said he) do what you will with me, I will indure all, provided that I run not away. This while Night drew on, and with the Night a winde so contrary, that I repented me for not lan∣ding at the Fortunate Island. We were forc'd to strike all our Sayles, for feare of being put back to the place from whence we came. Which when the young Prince perceived, he shew'd an extreame joy for it, and told me that Heaven, more exorable then I, had heard his prayers, and would not permit that I should cau•…•…him to fly any longer. The night passing over with a furious Tempest; at breake of day we saw our vessell within a Cannon shot of two others. We knew thempresently to be Enemies by their flaggs. They made up, shot, and press'd on us, so that in spight of us we must fight. I wish I were able to represent to you the cheerfullnesse, wherewith the young Prince prepar'd him to the combat, and the con∣fidence

wherewithall he ordered others. My companions, said he to the Souldiers, see how the Justice of Heaven favours us, in exposing to your revenge those which have ex∣pos'd your families to all that their tyranny had, the most barbarous. Do not beleeve that these cruell Pyrates give us the chase; They would be glad to be further from you; But, the windes and the waves, which they would have so often made confederates in their robberies, bring them to you, whether they wil or no, to the end they might purge them∣selves, by such a delivery, of those crimes whereof you might accuse them. Consider be∣sides, that you are not, as these theeves, two or three hundred leagues apart from him for whom in particular you are to fight. You have your King not only for a witnesse of your actions, but also for a companion in your fortune. And in so saying he took a halfe Pike, and went and plac'd himsel•…•…e in the most eminent part of the ship.

The Artillery plaid, the best of an houre, on both sides; at last, the two Portugall Ves∣sells drew neer, and being grapled with us, there began a horrible fight. The Canaryans, seven or eight times repuls'd their Enemies, and forc'd above fifty into the Sea: Polex∣ander was in the midst of the combatants. Some he stir'd up by his words, others by his actions, & the least resolv'd ran into danger, at the sight of their Princes miraculous bold∣nesse. Neverthelesse, we were forc'd to forsake our sides, and (to resist a little longer) fortifie our selves on the poope. One amongst us (in the meane time) resolving a cou∣ragious and determinate act, charged a Culverin on his shoulders, and placing himselfe on the highest part of the poope, caus'd fire to be given to it. The blow was strange; It kill'd above twenty Portugalls, and the bullet striking through one of their ships, without notice taken of it, either by Souldier or Mariner, they were amaz'd in the height of the fight, to see that ship sink right down with all that was in her. The Portugalls were so infinitely terrified and astonish'd by that accident, that they utterly lost that eagernesse with which they strove to make themselves Masters of our Vessell. In this Intervall we re∣gain'd what we had lost, & knock'd our Enemies in again to the ship that was left them. Polexander▪ no way appear'd daunted in so great a danger, but alwayes avoyding me, was alwayes amongst his men, and still promis'd them the victory. Notwithstanding, their number was so diminished, that we had left us, both of Mariners and Souldiers, but fifty. The Portugalls, awakned from their amazement, took notice of our weaknesse, and about a hundred or sixscore of them flew into our Vessell. All the Mariners, as well as Souldiers, thought now on nothing but how to defend themselves.

The fight began afresh, and not a man of ours was slaine which had not before kill'd, (at least) one of his Enemies. Though Polexander was [as you may imagine) extream∣ly wearied with so long a toyle, yet resisted he couragiously that fatigation; and witnes∣sing the greatnesse of his heart, ran to assist his people. As I followed him, and had my Eyes only on him, he saw me fall at his feet by two thrusts of pikes which I received at once. Ah, my Governor is dead (cri'd he!) and in the same instant, preventing a Portin∣gall, who without doubt came on to dispatch me, thrust his sword through the others bo∣dy. He fell dead fast by me, but in falling, with a Mallet at Armes, gave such a blow on the Princes head, that he fell with him. Though I was sore wounded, yet I arose, and see∣ing the King my Master in so ill case, I carried him, all in a trance, into his Cabin, and dis∣armd his head, to see whether he had yet any life in him. Presently he came to himselfe, and streight ask'd me what was become of his Enemies. Alas (said I) what ere is become of them, they have their wish, and gotten enough by cutting off a Life that was to be so fatall to them. I spake it wholly transported with griefe, seeing all the Princes haire knotted with blood, so that I beleeved he had received so dangerous a blow, that it was impossible to save him, and so gave him for dead. I laid him along on me, and carefully search'd his head: wherewith, he clapt his hand on it, and seeing at the drawing it back 'twas all bloody; I perceive now (my good Governor) you feare I am much hurt, but let it not trouble you, for I feele no paine. After I had well search'd, I saw that he had no wound on his head, but that the Axe, wherewith he was struck down, sliding along his Helmet, entred into his shoulder, and from the wound it made there, came that blood, which, after he was fall'n, ran into his hayre. I streight disarm'd him, and finding the place where he was wounded, I thought the hurt not mortall, and so went about to stench the blood, which being done, I told that Heroe▪ it was fit he should rest a while

as he was, whilst I went to see in what estate our businesse stood, and would send some of his Servants to attend him. The generous Prince would have risen, but fainting with Weaknesse, he grew pale: and striving, for feare I should perceive how ill he was, since (said he) you think it fitting; I will stay here. I went presently out of the Cabin, and wondring to heare no more noyse, got quickly up to know the cause of their silence, Truly 'twas terribly fearefull, and tis possible you never yet heard speak of the like ad∣venture. Our Vessell seem'd to me a bloody Scaffold, on which had been executed a great number of unfortunate and miserable wretches. Of above a hundred and fifty Ca∣naryans and Portugalls, which I had left fighting, I found not one standing. Some were dead, others, wounded with mortall blowes, with sighes and groanes were giving a period to their lamentable Destiny. The Portugall Ship too, which was grapled with ours at the beginning of the fight, had either been forced off •…•…y some gust of Wind, or unhook'd by some of their own, who seeing their Companions so ill handled, had thrown themselves into her for their safety. After I had been a while, as it were, out of my self by so dismall a spectacle, I re-collected my wits, and perceiving, by this generall defeate, that the King my Master was in some safety, I gave thankes to heaven, and besought it with all my heart, that it would perfect what was begun, for the good of Polexander. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 view'd all the dead and wounded of our party, and found, amongst the last, a Young Canaryan that serv'd in the Kings Chamber. His Name was Diceus, and (for his age) he was an excellent Chirurgion. The need I had of him obliged me to see in what plight he was, and whither his wounds were deadly: I drew him from under many bodies that were faln on him, and laying him in a place commodius enough caled him so often & so much tows'd him that he opened his Eyes a little. I imagined there might be found some Essences about him, and therefore, rigging in his pockets and finding what I search'd for, made him take the half of a little glasse bottle. Presently he retook heart, and his affection rendring him the memory of his Master, he asked (without knowing me) what was become of the Prince. He lives (said I) thankes be to heaven; but Diceus (said I) he is in such a case, that he needs thy assistance. See what a true affection can do! Scarce had Diceus heard Polexander was li∣ving, and yet wounded, but he arose; and knowing me, my Lord (said he) bring me spee∣dily to the King. Prithee, (replied I) do thou take the paynes to help me to him, for I cannot keep my selfe on foot; and feeling a faintnesse, Diceus (said I) the King is in his Cabin, Go quickly and help him: So that thou savest his life, tis no great matter what be∣comes of the rest. With that I fell, and lost all perceivance and understanding. Diceus, fore-seeing that my swoonding would be long, left me, after he had commodiously seen me laid, and went to the King; whom he found in a heavy slumber, whereof he had no good opinion, and therefore awakened him, and telling who he was; Sir (said he) all your Enemies are dead. It is fit your Majesty should now relish the sweets of so brave a Victory. Whilst he spake thus, he perceived his wound, and having gently searched it was assured, that not a Ueyne was cut, nor Nerve wronged▪ and by divers actions intimated his exceeding gladnesse for it, and besought the King not to feare any ill successe of his hurt. I have none, [replied the King] all that troubles me is, that I finde a certaine weak∣nesse that duls me. Hereupon Diceus got him to take five or six drops of a Cordiall Poti∣on, which so strengthned him, that after he had closed and bound up his wound, he arose as cherefulll as if he had not been hurt. But as he was about to aske for me, he tooke no∣tice that Diceus was all bloody: Alas! poore Diceus [cried he] thou art sore hurt. Tis nothing Sir [said I] since we are sure of your life. There's no feare that ou•…•…'s will run a hazard. Yet let me tell you, Pimantus is in great danger, for I left him swoonded on the Hatches: be therefore pleased that I go to take care of him. Scarce had the Prince heard of my mischance, but he came where I lay, and finding me sencelesse, fell into such Lamen∣tations and teares, as had been able [had I been dead] to have revived me, had he found •…•…e dead. Diceus recovered me from my fainting and, not to hold yo•…•… longer among the many slaine and wounded, let me tell you that the King and his two Servants, by a mutu∣all assistance, were freed from that Fate wherein so many were involved. In the mean •…•…ime, our Ship [governed only by fortune, for our Pilot was slain in his Cabin] fa•…•…l'd at •…•…dome two dayes and nights.

The Third day a tall man of Warre assail'd us, and by consequence took us. Those that were abord her, were more astonished at their prize, then we were, of their setting on us. They knew not what to thinke of so horrible a Massaker, but they wondered more when they saw appear, a youth of about thirteen years who with a marvelous confidence demanded who they were, and whither they came, as Ene∣mies or friends. The Captaine of the straingers could not reply to the Kings question for he understood him not. Addressing himselfe therefore unto me (who was crept after Polexander, rather then I would forsak him) Father (said he) if by chance you understand my language I intreat you to tell me by what mischance you are falen in∣to the estate I finde you. By his speech I knew him to be a Frenchman, and concealing from him the Name and birth of the King my Master, related the accident which had lately betided us, and withall presented to him the King as for my Son; and shew∣ing both our wounds, besought him to conduct us to the Canaries. the French∣man (who as I understood that same daye) was a Gentleman of Britany, hardly be∣leeving what I had spoken touching the valour of my supposed sonne, took him into his Armes, a thousand times kis'd him, and highly praised that wonder of valour and spake of it as of a most certaine presage, that he should be one day a great war∣rior. I besought him againe▪ to bring us to our Islands; and though as it seemed he had another designe, yet for the love of Polexander he promis'd me to make that voy∣age, but fortune had otherwaies dispos'd of him. For the Briton who was come into our Seas only to inrich himselfe by other mens labours▪ seeing divers sailes a farre off, with an extreame hast got to the coasts of Morocco: and when he would have put to Sea againe, a South winde for fifteene dayes with such a violence perplexed him, that after the Tempest he found himselfe far beyond the Cape Finister in * 1.5 Spayne. He advis'd me then to goe with him into Britany, and to put by all diffi∣culties which I named in the voyage, told me, that our Islands as happy as they were estemed, were not yet more fotrunate then his Princesse Court; and that I should finde there such a repose, and abondance, that I should infallibly forget the delights of our owne country. Seeing there was no remidy, and I could not do better, besides perswading my selfe, that Heaven did absent Polexander from t•…•…e Canaries, but to save him from the cruelty of the Portingalls, I resolv'd to credit the Briton, and to let my king see the most renowned Courts of Europe, without his being known. Presently therefore Polexander, Diceus▪ and my selfe imbarqued our selves with the Briton, and taking out of our ship two Coffers wherein were the Kings Jewels, I left our ship to the disposall of our Guid. We sayled so fortunately; that the fif∣teenth day we came into the River of Loire▪ where the Gentleman Rover told us that for divers considerations he thought it fitting to conduct us right to his Prin∣cess Court. But to the end we might be receiv'd according to our quality, 'twas convenient we should put our selves in good equipage, and above all that I should forget nothing which might set out the gracefullnesse of my Sone. I answered him, that our present condition suffer'd us not to affect that curiosity, yet on condition that he would (assoon as pissible he could) reconduct us to our Islands, I would do all that he desired, and withall told him, that his voyage should not be unprofitable to him for (said I) I have ther such an abundance of al such thing, for which men sayle from one World to the other, exposing themselves t•• all perils of Sea and Land, that if I have the happynesse to see you in my Isle, I engage my selfe to give you for my ransome & my sonnes as much Gold as you can cary thence. The Briton o∣pened his eares at that promise, & imagining that I was a Prince of some one of the Canaries, renew'd his civilities & pro••e••ations of service. He impledg'd to me, honour & faith, never to forsake me, til he had brought me againe to my owne house, and told me very seriously that he exerciz'd not the trade of a Pirat, but only to accomplish a vow he had long a gon made▪ to be al his lifetime an Enemy to the Spanyards. I than∣ked him for his generossity, & for feare he might be tempted to take us for Spanyards▪ I drew out of my bosom a chain of Diamonds, which I had taken out of one of the Kings Trunks, and presenting it to him, in privat, see (said I) some earnest of the pro∣mise I made you. Keepe it for my sake and assure your selfe, there hath betided you

more then all you, could have gotten from the Spanyards.

The Britain seeing himselfe so much enrich'd in so short a time was even ready to cast himselfe at my feet to thank me for that excessive liberality, but I withheld him, and clinging him to my brest; Assure your selfe (said I softly) that this present is but the least part of what you are to expect from my gratitude. But if you love me truly and affect your selfe, make nothing publick of what you know. The gene∣rous Britain, by a thousand oathes confirm'd his promises; and landing us at a very pleasant Town, brought us the next day to another, which was the ordi•…•…ry residence of the Duchesse. Polexander was wholy cured of his wound, but I was not so well as to get on horseback. Diceus too was healing but because of his too much paines about the King, 'twas the more slowly. Our Conductor was therefore faine to get a Coach, for our Journey; and comming to the place where the Duchesse of Brit∣tany kept her Cou•…•…t we were lodged in a very faire house. There we refresh'd our selves some few dayes and by the kind entertainment of our Leader▪ lost all the remembrance of our forepassed miseries. The King was never in so good health and vigour as he found himselfe after his great toyle. The paines he had taken had un∣knit him, and he seem'd to me so much grown, that I was compell'd to belye my reason to give credit to my Eyes. One Evening, our Conductor related he had spoken of us to his Princesse; and though the affaires, of her Estate extraordinary∣ly took up her time, yet she would see us the next day. I besought that we might not be a trouble to him. No, no Father (said he) the hardest businesse is past▪ there is nothing remaines for you and your Son, but to be alwayes ready, for to mo•…•…ow infallibly I will bring you to the Duchesse. Hereupon, I imploy'd one part of the night in instructing Polexander, and teaching him how he should behave himselfe towards me, that they might take him for my Son. The next day I put him in a ve∣sture of cloth of Gold, inrich'd with Diamond buttons, after the fashion of the Canaries. His Buskins were of the same stuffe, and fastned before with buttons of Rubies. He wore a Cap of cloth of Silver, from whence, under its Band of great pearle, there hung a plume of the fairest Feathers which are brought us from Afri∣ca. To make an end of decking him, and to raise words of his value; I put on him a rich Scarfe which the Queen his Mother had wrought herselfe before she was a Widdow and in this habit he was presented to the young Duchesse of Britany. That Princesse who was not much elder then He, and who, for her age, was the most dis∣creet and accomplish'd personage I ever saw, gave her selfe not respit to hear or consider me. At the first sight she was so strooken with the comlinesse and beauty of Polexander, that she kn•…•… not how to make an expression. He, presently, comming up slowly neer the Chair where she sate, kneeld on one knee, and kissing her Gar∣ment, told her in his owne language, that he wanted one thing to make him per∣fectly happy, and 'twas, to be able to speak himselfe to her, understanding how much he was her servant. The young Princesse, after she had commanded his complement to be interpreted replied with so much wit, that I instantly wish'd there m•…•…ght is∣sue some great affection from the interview of those two young Princes. But it was not so ordain'd by Heaven. Al the Ladies of Britany came thronging to see my pre∣tended sonne, and Judging of his quality by his richnesse and, actions said; among 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that I was a Prince, who for some important consideration; had given over, and abandon'd my estate and Country. In a very instant all Britany▪ was fil'd with the newes of our arrivall: The Beauty and worthinesse of my King, was the discourse of all men. They said that at the age of twelve yeares, he had at the height of a great fight slaine two Portingal with his owne hand; and everyone adding wonder to wonder, they publish'd all those fables, in venred by the Ancients, to make of our Isles the abode of the Heroes, and men most fortunate.

Whilst wee lived thus, the talke and admiration of so many, the marriage of the Dutchess of Britany with the King of France was concluded. The Embassadors of that Prince came to conduct her, in an equipage proportionable to the greatnesse of their Master and was so brought to the place for her e•…•…powsall; & to have some-what

wherewithall to astonish all the French Court, she had, with her the Canaryan Prince for so she would have him called, If the Brittons admir'd him, the French came no▪ short of them; and being an extream obliging Nation, and great Lovers of Novelties▪ you cannot imagine the kindnesses and humanity Polexander received from them. The French King; a Prince of two or three and twenty yeares, at first sight affected my King; and, as if Nature by some secrer instinct, had told him he was of his blood, he entertained him not as a stranger Prince, but as his own Brother.

The Solemnity of his Nuptialls being seconded by the Coronation of his Queen and his entry into the Capitall City of his Realme, Polexander had the conveniency to see all those magnificences; and, to be one, himselfe, of their principall Ornaments. All that while he studyed and observed the manners, quaintnesse and tongue of the French; and profited so well, that in lesse then three yeares he became an absolute French-man. At the entrance into his sixteenth yeare the French King made a Pro∣gresse to one of his Cities caled Lyons & whilst he staied there, the Princes and Lords of his Court, made generally appeare and break out, their Honor, Spirit and Dex∣terity. The first Prince of the blood (who is now King of France) and some others, were Actors in some Turnaments and Iusts, like those so frequent amongst the Moores. There was not a crosse street, or eminent place in Lyons, wherein you saw not an Arch or Base of stone or mettall, which no Knight could passe till he had made tryall of it's adventures. The King my Master having learn't from the best Ryders of the World, all that Art hath invented to manage a horse well, yet found out (himselfe) a part of it, which appear'd so rare and stately, that It darkened the repute of all the others. I remember well too, that, to furnish all things fitting for this ex∣pence, I sold to the Merchan•…•…s of Lyons about a hundred crownes-worth of Iewells-Such persons as were of most Eminence taking notice of those expences, and seeing the courage, addresse, & courtesie of Polexander, doubted no more of his quality for all believed him to be a Prince. But som filly braines began to prattle 'that I was a Sorcerer, and how, by my inchantments I made things appeare that were not; or to make them reall, I used the Power of the Devill. During these Iusts, Diceus (whom we had secretly sent to the Canaries) return'd, with the best newes we could Wish. He told us, that the Queen was alive, and how, by the succour she had procured from Spimantus Prince of Scotland, and the incomparable Valour of one Alcippus a Cana∣ryan Knight, the Portugalls had been beaten at Sea and in the Ilands, and constrain'd to abandon the Forts of Palmes, Gomera, and Teneriffe. That all men passionately wished for the Kings returne, and to make it the more safe and glorious, Alcippus was comming with a Fleet of above a hundred sayles of ships. Within a few dayes after Posts came to the French King, advertising him that a powerfull naval Ar∣my was seen on the coastes of Britany. Those Messengers were seconded by others which confirmed it for truth, and by their newes put the Court into such an ap∣prehension, that they were ready to part from Lyons, and run hastily to the succour of Britanny. But the Arrivall of Alcippus taking away all cause of feare, made the ef∣fect of it to cease to•…•…. The King and Queen understood from him that he was the Admirall of the Fleet which they fear'd; that he was born a Subject to the King of the Canaries, and understanding His Master was in their Court, he came from the Queen his Mother and all his Subjects, to entreate and suplicate him to give a period to their feares and greifes by his speedy returne. This speech renewed the astonish∣ments of France: King Charles was pleas'd to take the paines to visit me, and to treate me as the Father of Polexander, and by consequence as King of the Canaries. I, who already heard of Alcippus arrivall, presently thought he had discovered that which I had kept so long concealed: and therefore throwing my self at the King's feet, I humbly besought his pardon for so long time concealing the truth of my conditi∣on from him, and told him: I was but the Princes Governor, whom I had made to •…•…e held for my Son. That it was he who was truly King of the Canaries and to knit strictly a perfect amity between those two Kings, I told him of Polexander's extract•…•…. on and his Predecessors Fortunes.

That Monarch was even ravished to finde so wo•…•…hy a Ki•…•…smar: and unable to

give limits to his Joy, made it break▪ forth before all his Courtiers, He oftentimes em∣brac'd Polexander, and made him many excuses for not entertaining him as a Prince of his condition: And thereupon re-embracing him, and calling him his deare Cosen and his deare Brother, brought him to the Queen. Alcippus was yet in the Privy-Chamber when both the Kings came in: Instantly he knew his owne: and un-accustomed to the respects and circumspections which are to be observed before the Princes of Europe, went and cast himselfe at Polexander's feet. In the first interveiw he gave him so many proofes of his Zeale and fidelity, that the Prince, by virtue of his inclination as well as by his sensibility of the great Services he had received from him, lov'd him at first sight, and ever since hath so particularly honor'd him with his favour, that he hath conceal'd no∣thing from him. That very day he put off the Personage which he had acted for three yeares; and although he was obliged to take on him with the Name of a Soveraigne, all that stately preparation and decking, by which Kings imprint a reverence and terrour in the hearts of their people, yet did he carry himselfe amongst those which were not of his condition, as courteously & familiarly as he had done, when he went for a private man. I pressed him continually to take his leave of the French King and, Queene: but He, who had other thoughts, put off his departure from day to day, and seeing himselfe im∣portuned by my solicitations, My dear Governor (said he) I know my duty to the Queen my Mother, and I understand whereto the quality of a King obligeth me. I will give full satisfaction to these two duties: but I will first repay the obligations I owe to France. I see the King my Brother on the point of a great Enterprize: He intends shortly to fall on Italy and force from the Spaniards the kingdome of Naples, which they have u∣surp'd from my Predecessors: Judge you whither I should leave him in such an occasion. No, I will passe the Alpes with him, and will, at least, have the comfort of seeing the Se∣pulchers of those great Kings from whom I have my being. The very same day, He, (who had no other designe then to give contentment to his generous humour, and re∣turn the favours he had received from France) offred himselfe to King CHARLES, and intreated him to make use of his Navall Army. Those who ruled the King; after long consideration on Polexanders offers, imagined they were but artificiall and cunning, and that, infallibly, he was advised to go to the conquest of Naples, to make his owne use of that occasion. If this Young Prince (said an Officer) see that things go fair for him, he will set the pretensions of his house on Foot, and, in declaring himselfe the next heyre to Charles of Anjou, may possibly turn to his side the Neapolitan affections, That indeed his age, virtue, and want of strength might take away these suspitions; but the reasons of State advise to live alwayes in distrust, and the ill was rather to be beleeved then the good. This ground laid: they thought it surest to give most civill thankes to the young Prince, and to send him home to his owne Islands the most honourably they could. The advice was followed, and the French King imployed all the fairest words were dictated to him to re-mercy Polexander: and being the Sonne of a Father, who had never taught him any other thing then this: that, He knew not how to raigne, that knew not how to dis∣semble, he so well practised his Fathers Doctrine, that Polexander no way doubted of his cunning and dissimulation. When he saw himselfe absolutely dis-engaged, he told me, that being acquitted from what he thought due from him to the French King, he was resolved to follow my advice, and to render to the Queen his Mother, and to his Subjects, that which they expected from him. But (said he) we must handsomely bid farewell to France, and since it hath given us so many Examples of Gallantry, tis fitting we should let them see that we are able to imitate them. He resolved therefore to entertain all the Court the Eve of his departure, and to joyne to his great feast, a Ball after the French manner, and a Maske after the fashion of his owne country. I should be too troublesome▪ should I tell you the particulars of that magnificence, for it would take a whole day to make you a description of the Halls where the Ball was kept, the feast made, and the Maske danced. Never were more Engines and inventions seen in one place: Art there surmounted Nature, and the day was imitated by the infinite Number of Lights which were not seen. But the most admired, was a Maske of twelve naturall Canaryans, where∣of Polexander was the Leader, all clad and dancing after the manner of their own Country. When these sports were ended Polexander accompanied the King and Queen

to their lodging, and took this leave of them both with so much spirit and grace, that he appear'd no lesse in that Adieu, then in his great entertainment. The Duke of Orleans, who had particularly consider'd him as one of the greatest lights of his house, staid to lye with him, to have the more time to give him the Farewell. The other Princes visi∣ted him, with great demonstration of Esteeme, and amity. Even the Princesses and Ladyes suspended their custome, to give him the departing complements. But among all those beauties, who had not, or at least made no shew to have any other then a simple well∣wishing to so brave a Prince, there was one either more sensible or lesse discreet then the rest. She was both of great birth and beauty, and of little more age then Polexan∣der. During the Prince's aboad at Lions, she had divers times written to him without making her selfe knowne: but receiving no answer, she thought she must hazard some∣what more then a few letters without subscription and signature. She therefore advis'd to employ a confident in this Amorous negotiation; and to make her selfe known by that mediation. Polexander hearkned to that Embassadresse, and understanding all that she had in charge, so generously treated her that she return'd much contented, though he had not ingag'd himselfe. She first deceiv'd her selfe, that she might the bet∣ter deceive her who set her on work; and so firmely beleev'd the King would yeeld to her prosecution, that she made no difficulty to assure her Mistrisse, she should have an entire satisfaction: But that assurance was found false by the suddaine departure of Po∣lexander. Assoone as he had rendred all the complements he had receiv'd, he took Post, and came to lye at a Town where usually they embarque that descend by the River of Loire. He found his lodging as richly furnish'd as that at Lions; and was there serv'd by the French Kings Officers, with a profusion that well witnessed the wealth of that Mo∣narch. The next day, as he was ready to put him on the River, he was staid by the Duke of Orleans, and many other young Lords, who were come poste, to give him that last te∣stimony of their affection. He receiv'd them with such courtesies as wholy won them, and so quaintly made use of that grace which he principally had in giving, that even the Duke of Orleans could not refuse a box of Rubies which he intreated him to accept as a token of his friendship. As soon as this brave Troop was seperated, Polexander thank'd, even to the meanest, all King Charles his Officers; and bestowing on them gifts proportionable to his quality and not to theirs, put himselfe into a great Boat, of purpose provided for him to descend into Britany. The Boat was fairely painted and guilt; there was in it a Hall, a Chamber, and a Cabinet, whose hangings, and other furniture was of China Sattin with great braydes of Gold and Silver. Most of the Boat-men were clad in the same Sattin, inrich'd with Silver lace, and rowed with Oares painted with the colours of their Liveries. At the first stroak, they began a Song, which they had accorded among themselves, and though 'twas none of the most charming, yet it pleas'd my Master the King, since it was a testimony of the affection which the French bare him; They row'd till towards two or three houres of night, with all the pleasure so pleasant a way of travelling could be accompanyed; and if Polexander could have had his will he had made no stop. But order being given, all along from Lions, for his Geasts, two Stewards of the French Kings, who attended him, got him be pleas'd to land where his lodging was provided. It was on the side of the River; and though 'twas but an Inne, they had so orderly disposed it, that it might have pass'd for a very faire Castle. The King presently after his arrivall, set him at Table, and ravish'd with the sweetnesse of the ayre and calmenesse of the night, shew'd he had a great desire to •…•…eimbarque after Supper. He had but begun to eat, when a most curious, cleere, and ex∣treame sweet voyce, comming from the river, strook his Eares, and so pleasingly touch'd them, that he arose from Table and ran to the Chamber window to lose nothing of so excellent a Musick. The person that sung was set on the banck of Loire, and intimated to be jealous of the Nymphes of the River, accusing them for ravishing a treasure which the Singers incomparable love was only worthy to possesse. Polexander stood as in∣chanted with so delicate a voyce, and when she had made an end of her ravishing com∣plaints; he turn'd towards them that were behind him, and ask'd, if there were no meanes to heare it againe: your Majesty needs but shew that you desire it, said one of the French-men. He; whom you please to honour with your commands, will not faile

to bring that Musitian to you. Tis not fit (replyed Polexander) for me to abuse the French courtesie; this Musitian would be alone, and we must leave him at his liberty; and not oblige him to a troublesome complying; Yet presently, a Frenchman by a slight, usual to that Nation, went to the Musitian, and telling, into what admiration the Song had brought the King and his desire to see him, besought, that he would not deny that con∣tent to so great a Prince. The Musitian, receiving very civilly the French man's proposi∣tion; My voyce (said he) payes me with too much use for the little care. I have taken in improving it. I expected from it no other recompence, but its assisting me in bewayling my misfortunes, and behold it hath acquir'd me the favour of a King, which I may terme the prime in all the world, if I were not borne French. I will go wheresoever you please to lead me; But if the Prince, who sent for me, so much love Musick, try to bring him hither. There is an Eccho in the Island which lyes before us, which is more worth then a whol consort. The French man getting the Musitian to promise that he would stay still there, return'd to Polexander, and relating what he had done, assu∣red him, the Musitian expected only his command to come to him. 'Tis better to go to him and follow his conncell, replyed the King. Presently he arose from table, and went with Alcippus the French-man and my selfe, where he was to find that excellent voyce. The night being very cleere by reason of the Moon, being almost at full, the Musitian perceiv'd him▪ a farr off; and comming to meet him, did (as all Musitians do, whether good or bad) excuse himselfe for his ill singing, through fault of a rheume, which he could not be rid of. The Prince gave him many faire words, for feare he should beleeve he came expresly to make him sing, and asked him whence he was, and whither he was going. My fortunes (said he) are not worthy to be known by your Majesty. Yet you will do me a favour to tel them me reply'd the King; and if I do not deceive my selfe, it will not be a small contentment to me. You are too generous (answer'd the Musitian) to take any pleasure in a thing that is so worthy of compassion. Be pleas'd Sir, rather to put by that curiosity, for it can bring you nought but trouble, and but serve to add to my afflictions. I am not come (reply'd Polexander, to molest you, yet (at least) you may tell me what your designe is. 'Tis in that (said the Musitian) I shall be most pestred. I confesse I have one, but to tell you what a one 'tis, is a thing to me impossible, for I change my resolution every moment; and without adding any thing to the truth, I sweare to your Majesty, that even now since I had the honour to be neere you: I think I have had above twenty, and all different. These riddles (reply'd Polexand•…•…r) need an explication: but since you would not speak so obscurely, but that 'tis your desire; not to be understood, I will not oblige you to an unfolding. Only tell me what way you meane to take. The very worst I can [answerd the Musitian] at least, the feare that beares me company wisheth me to it. But to testifie to your Majestie, how farr my intention is to please you, I will reveale what I never spake to any: I am going to see whether I shall be happier in Britany, then I was at Lions; and in uttering these last words, the Musitian sigh'd, and sigh'd so amourously, that it touch'd the King my Master even to the heart, yet withall, it overjoy'd, him to have the occasi∣on of not leaving the young man. He therefore promis'd to bring him into Britany, and to imploy all his credit, to give him the contentment he went to look for in those partes. I have often heard (said the Musitian) that 'tis for the greatnesse of Kings to promise all, & for their wisdoms to performe only what is most advantageous to them and I extreamely feare, least in that nature you assure me of your protection. But what said I? pardon me (great Prince) an impudence deserving punishment, did it proceed from a sound braine. Truly, of late I have not been Master of mine owne witts, and my reason is so darkned with an extraordinary passion, that I see but at halfes.

The King had too quick an apprehension not to comprehend the mysteryes of those words. He imagined the Musitian to be some man of indifferent condition, faln in love with a Person of very high quality; and by consequence beleev'd, his designe would have good successe. This imagination made him promise the Musitian againe, to assist him with all his credit; and by his offers won him to imbarque with them. The Musitian, de∣sirous to pay the Kings affection with some ayre that might please him, lead him to the place where he had sung, and repeated a Song, whose notes were so fitted to the

words, that they distinctly mark'd in it both joy and sadnesse, hope and feare. That done, Polexander return'd to his lodging and took the Musitian with him. He look'd on him by torchlight, and seeing him so young, so faire and well made; I confess [said he to the Frenchman that followed him] France produceth things extraordina∣rily rare. The musitian 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to see how earnestly Polexander ey'd him, drew back to a corner of the Chamber where there was not so much light; and taking a Lute from a Page that was by him, (plaid on it all the Evening, rather to hide himselfe some way from the curiosity of those who had their Eyes fix'd on him, then to have the quick∣nesse of his hand or cleanlinesse of his touch to be admired. A part of the night being thus plesantly overpast, the rest they gave to their repose.

The Musitian retyr'd with his Servants, and the next day came to the arising of the King my Master. He behaved himselfe so respectfully towards the Prince, and shewed such a feare as often as he was engaged to answer him, that the King knew not which to praise in him most; whither his extream beauty, or infinite discretion. After divers dis∣course, he intreated him along, and so took boat, Assoone as he was in, he called for the Musitian, and bringing him into his Cabin; if you love me, said he, you wil tell me who you are, and what 'tis that troubles you. And to witnesse I have not this curiosity but to assist you, I renew the promises I made you Yesterday at Even: and if it be in my pow∣er to make you happy, I engage my Honour, that I will lose all I have in the world, rather then faile of my word.

The young Musitian (whom I will call Hippolitus, since he told Polexander that his name was so) cast himselfe at the King's feet, and embracing his leggs, Sir (said he) I am much greiv'd, that I cannot make appear by some more humble and respectfull action, the sensibility I have of those assurances your Majesty vouchsafes to give me. I dare not doubt any longer of my good fortune, since your generousnesse hath determi∣ned of it: and were it not for some remainder of feare which holds my happynesse sus∣pended, I confesse, that I can wish for nothing more. But to the end, your Majesty may know what the cause is of my sufferings, & by that knowledg apply a remedy which may free me from them, I will tel you, all my miseries came from my loving too much: He blush'd in making that Declaration, and his bashfullnesse hindered him from going▪ on in his discourse. Polexander, to give him time to recollect himselfe, told him, that considering the age, beauty & other graces he was endow'd with, he could not with∣out an extraordinary diffidence to avoid the trap whereinto he was fal'n. For (said he) I have learn'd from those who have taught me, that youth and beauty, be it of the body or the mind, are dangerous company; and usally betraying those they love most, deliver them over into the hands of the most cruell of all the Tyrants, wherewithall our humane condition is persecuted.

Hearing you speak thus of love (replied Hyppolitus) 'tis easy to be imagined that you know it well. I know not (answer'd Polexander) what it is, and speak only by heare say. How! (said Hyppolitus) speak you of love but on the beliefe you have of your Tutors? no truly (replyed the King,) and even thinking oftentimes on that which they have taught me of it, I imagine with my selfe, that tis with love as with so many o∣ther fables invented for delight and instruction, and that indeed there was nothing which in spight of us, could make it selfe Master of our liberties, and force us to love what we ought to hate.

Ah Sir! what say you? cried Hyppolitus with a sight You are in an opinion exploded by all ages and Nations: Repent you quickly for being faln into this Error; and hold your selfe for a lost-man, if you persever in it. Polexander began to laugh at the feare Hyppolitus would have put him in, and told him, he spake according to his understan∣ding; and truly (said he) I finde nothing in me that teacheth I should give place to love. What (repli'd Hyppolitus presently) doe you then love nothing? Yes marry do I, an∣swered Polexander: I love all that is lovely, but my love is an untroubled, a calme love, an obedient love, a love that passeth not the bounds I prescribe it. Certainely (said Hyp∣politus) those shall be worthy a great deale of pitty, who fall in love with you. Who∣ever shall love me (replied Polexander) shall never repent him of his affection, for I will prefer my friends before my selfe. Their interests should be my interests, their joyes

my joyes, and their griefes, mine owne: in briefe, I will live more for them then for my selfe. Tis more then I expected (quoth Hyppolitus) from a minde which faines to be ignorant of love. Doe not beleeve I dissemble (continued Polexander) I know no o∣ther love, then a judicious and just desire to do good actions; to render to every one what is his due; to acquire a Noble reputation by legitimate waies, and, by a wise con∣tempt of a life of few yeares continuance, to a•…•…chieve that which shall be everlasting.

By hearing you make this distinction (〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hyppolitus) it seemes you compre∣hend not that which is properly to be called love. I say, that violent and imperious pas∣sion, which proceedes either from inclination or knowledg, and raignes •…•…o imperiously over our understanding, that it •…•…braceth the object presented as it were its soveraigne felicity. I meane not to admit of that love, (said the King) for I have condemned it from the beginning of my discourse. This may be (added Hyppolitus) because you feare the troubles and disquiets which accompany it. But you would not be sorry to see some young beauty passionately in love with you, and to give to another that passion you would not entertaine your selfe. I have as little intention (answered Polexander) to give as to receive any love; and since it falls fitly now to be spoken of, I will tel you tru∣ly, that if, by any fantasticalnesse of Fortune, it should betide me to be beloved, as you would have me understand it, there is nothing I would not doe, either to dis-beguile her that had made so ill a choice, or to hinder me from seeing her. And I [said Hyppolitus sighing alowd] would leave nothing undone to be never seperated from such a person as you, who knowes not so much as the name of love, and would fly from me as if I were his Mortall Enemy. I pitty you [repli'd the King▪] and advise you to what a ge∣nerous man should doe. If you cannot cure your selfe by any remedy, may please you, try those which seem to you the most dis-agreeable, and yet, which by their hidden virtue may be extreamely profitable unto you. I meane, if you cannot be holpen by the enjoying, cure your selfe by contempt, absence, or oblivion. Ah! Cruell and bunexperienc'd Councellor, cri'd Hyppolitus] O remedies more painefull then the disease it selfe! I am in the wrong [repli'd Polexander] 'tis true I should have stai'd the prescribing you those last remedies, till you had lost all hope. Forget them till there be need [deare Hippolitus] an in the meane time go on to relate to me your fortune. I have told it you all [repli'd Hyppolitus.] What have you told me [repli'd Polexander?] That I loved [added Hyppolitus] and lov'd a personage as insensible and as great an Enemy to love as your Majesty. I am very glad [continued Polexan∣der] for having that conformity with your Mistris: since without it, I know well you would leave me as some Barbarian, that could not polish or civilize himselfe in the a∣bode of politenesse and civility it selfe.

Thus ended the first converse of Polexander and Hyppolitus; and all the time of ou•…•… voyage, they had at every foot the like; and Polexander, alwaies desirous to oblige Hyppolitus to relate his story to him could never draw other thing from him but that he Knew it as well as himselfe, and how it consisted in this only, that he lov'd an in∣sensible beauty. In the meane time, Hyppolitus visibly lost that lustre and freshnesse which made him admired at the first meeting. He did seldome sleep or eate; He never sung but when Polexander pres'd him to it, and towards the end he sung so weakly, that we judg'd him entring into some dangerous disease. Polexander strove to comfort and cheere him; and to draw him from this depth of sadnesse, made him hope his Mistris would not be so insensible as he imagined.

To make me hope with reason [answered Hyppolitus] it behoves your Majesty to make tryall on your selfe, and acknowledg whither you may be capable of being sen∣sible. No, no, Sir, do not make a proofe so difficult. 'Tis done already, and in saying so he held his peace, and after he had some while mused: Dye, dye [said he] unfortu∣nate Hyppolitus] and by death finde that which thou couldst not get, ether by neg∣lect, absence, or oblivion.

At last we came to Nantes, where Polexander was receiv'd yet with a greate Mag∣nificence then he had been in any of the other Townes on the River of Loire▪ Hyppoli∣tus was the one cause of his disquiet: But he was too generous to abandon him in the State he was. He besought him to think on his cure, and call his courage and Fortune to

second his love. I would faine make use of your councell; said the languishing Hyppo∣litus, but my owne weaknesse opposeth it; and the more I endeavour to bring my pas∣sion to obedience, the more rebellious I find it. 'Tis your virtue Sir, tis that alone which I call to the reliefe of my infirmity: Have pitty on a wretch who implores your assistance. Lend your hand to one, from whom you have taken the strength of uphold∣ding him selfe! Be sensible by commiseration, if you cannot be so by love! and if you will not heale a heart which you have cover'd with wounds, yet give a testimoniall at least, that you have a feeling, and participate of his misery.

I speak to your Majesty in this manner, because I see so great a resembiance betwixt you and the Saint I adore, that I continually perswade my selfe, if I could but see you once touch'd with my afflictions, my Mistris would at last become exorable. Polexan∣der, who was exceedingly astonish'd at the beginning of this speech, came out of it by the artificiall conclusion. And to content Hyppolitus, he protested to him, he was ex∣treamely sensible of his miss-fortunes, and wish'd he knew the meanes to overcome them. These promises brought back a little courage to Hyppolitus, and in a moment He regain'd new strength and, beseeching Polexander to stay for him at Nantes two dayes, he parted thence with two Squires and a Page, and was a day and a halfe in his Journey. He return'd not more merry, but more resolute then when he parted, and then assur'd Polexander, he had an intention to follow his first advice, and to overcome by absence and forgetfullnesse, what he could not otherwayes subdue. He told him more, that having vainly attempted divers meanes to mollifie his Mistris obdurate heart, he intenended to forsake France, and in His company to seek the recovery from his malady. Polexander was so good, that without thinking on what he was, He often∣times imbrac'd Hyppolitus, promisd to make him happy, and to confirme him in his de∣signe, I will (said he) propose to you an exchange, of which 'tis possible you may ap∣prove: Leave an ingratefull Mistris for an acknowledging friend. Let friendship take the place of Love; and to give your mind an object worthy it, make it amorous of honor and immortality. Take the Exercise of Armes for a counterpoyson to that melan∣choly which devours you, and in lieu of shedding teares, poure forth the blood of your Enemies. Surely 'tis farre more honourable to command men then to serve a Child; and to acquire a name through perilous adventures, then to ruinate your virtue by wo∣manish imployments, or rather effeminate idlenesse. Let's leave Hyppolitus, let's leave to women what is proper to women; and since we are beleev'd to be men, let's try to do such actions as may not belye the opinion is had of us. The painting which be∣comes us best, is the dust, sweat, and blood wherewith we are cover'd in fight▪ and the wounds we receive then, are the beauties and charmes which should winn all generous hearts. I perceive well that you condemne this my opinion: but I know not how to help it, thus farre I am rude. Though there be a great difference (repli'd Hyppolitus) betwixt your Majesties humour and mine, yet shall there be no contrariety in our wills: I submit absolutely all my reason to yours. I condemne all you approve not, and how sweet soever Love exerciseth his Empire o're my heart, since you professe your selfe his Enemy, I will no more brag in being one of his slaves. Polexander replying not, but with a •…•…mile, at this gallant talk, told Hyppolitus, he lov'd him far more a Soldier, then he had done being an Amorist. The very day of this Declaration, Potexander departed from Nantes, and with Sailes and Oares hastned to his fleet. It would be trouble some to tell you all the Canaryans did to testifie to their King, the joy they had in reviewing him. He went into all the Vessells, prais'd the love and fidelity of the Captaines and Souldiers, told them he had not forsaken them, but to make himselfe more worthy their affection, and imbracing the most eminent, assured them he was ready to be their follower to the end of the world. By such an obliging and humane fashion of expres∣sing his mind, Polexander made his Subjects know he would faine have already been at the Canaryes. The Vessell prepar'd to carry him, cannot be compar'd but to the statelynesse of that, in which you cross'd the Ocean. Assoon as Hyppolitus, Alcippus, Diceus and my selfe were come aboord him, all the fleet was warn'd, by a Canon shot, to set sayle. Every one perform'd his charge in a marvelous good order, and with a very favourable wind we left the Coasts of France. When we were in sight of the Spa∣nish

shores, Polexander would needs make it appeare to his Enemies, that he was suffi∣ciently powerfull and couragious to set on them in their owne Houses. He therefore sent six of his lightest men of Warre, and himselfe entring into one of the Ports of Ga∣licia, burnt many ships, landed, forc'd a Town extreamly rich, took foure or five hun∣dred prisoners, and so set sayle again after he had left in Spaine so glorious tokens of his sensibility. After that the Portugalls felt what a dangerous thing 'twas to get th•…•…mselves powerfull Enemies: For Polexander abandon'd and gave in prey, as by right of reprisall to the Canaryans, all they could meet with in Portugall. He himself cast Anchor before Lisbone walls; and to terrifie the Inhabitants, discharged, in three dayes, above four thou∣sand Cannon shot on the Towne. Their King received that affront, without the meanes of repelling it, because he was surpris'd, and the King my Master before he would with∣draw, sent and told him by a Herald, that he would hold him for a heartlesse Prince, if he himself did not presently take armes, and be sensible of the injury had been done him, and so we presently set Saile and steerd on our course. He thought no more on Portugal or Spaniard, when his Sentinells discovered many Sailes at the entry of the Streights This Fleet, compos'd of many great Gallyons, and other vessells of Warre; put roome▪ ward to Sea, assoone as they had descried us, and getting the wind of us, made it ap∣pear they had command to fight with us. Polexander, unwilling to lose so faire an occa∣sion, put his Army in Batalia, and animating his Soldiers by a short and powerfull Orati∣on, went the first himselfe to assault the Enemy. The fight was indeed very long and fu∣rious, and though the Spanyards shew'd spirit enough, yet had they all been lost there, but that the night favoured their flying. The King seeing himselfe victorious, sent a squa∣dron of his ships after the run-awayes, which gave them a sprightfull chase, and himselfe the while having taken a view of his gayn and losse, retir'd to take a little rest after so long a toyle, But he was much hindred by a lamentable spectacle which presented it selfe to his Eyes, at his entrance into his Cabin. He saw there the faire Hyppolitus all in blood, and wounded in divers dangerous places. Imagine with your selfe (if you please) how great his affright was, and how much his Sorrow, to see in so sad a plight, a person that was so deare to him. He cried out as loud as he could, and being scarce able to stand, fail'd little of falling quite backwards. Hyppolitus who gaz'd on him with dying Eyes, (Imagined he would recover) and in that opinion, putting forth his right hand to him with such an action as was capable to peirce to a feeling even insensibly it selfe? Sir (said he) with a weake voyce, fly not the miserable Hyppolitus. She is as she ought to be, to be pleasing in your Eyes Polexander, at these words, melted into teares, and coming neerer Hyppolitus, Infortunate that I am, (said he to himselfe) what have I gotten that is to be compared to my losse? But deare Hyppolitus (he added stooping to see his wounds) do not despayre of life. your wounds, may be, are not so dangerous. At that speech Hyppolitus smyl'd, and taking the King by the hand, No, no Sir (said he) they are not dangerous, Nevertheles, since tis not in your power to undertake for what is to come, command (if you please) your people to retire, that I may discover to you a secret which ought not to be known by any but your selfe. Hereupon, Polexander, bid all withdraw except the two Squires and Hyppolitus Page. He rais'd himselfe a little by their help, and casting his eyes downwards as ashamed: Look on me well [said he to Polexander] and take notice of the unfortunate Princesse de Foix, who, to overcome your contempt and cruelty, hath been compel'd by her too violent passion, to take the habit of a man, and the name of Hypolitus. But I ought not to complaine of my change, since I am obliged to it, for the pity yow have had of me. Yea Polexander [said she in another tone,] tis to this habit onely that I ow thy compassion, for thou wouldst never have had any, if my disguize had not hindered thee from knowing me. I am now dying [ingrateful man] but I dye contented, since my life was not pleasing to you. But I deceive my selfe, or you are not to be beleeved. Now I please you, for I am covered with blood and wounds. Looke on me well therefore, and preserve that cruelty which I have so long contented withall. I now love it, when it is▪ advantagious to me. Polexander was so surprized to heare all this, and so lively touched with Hypolitus amorous and pitifull words, that he could not retaine his sighes nor teares. He kneeled downe by this dying Princesse, and ta∣king her by the hand Madam [said he] by what indignation of heaven do I see my selfe

guilty of the most horrible crime it ever punish'd: Hyppolitus, shewing the joy she recei∣ved from Polexander's greif, Deare Polexander [said she, interrupting him] I give thanks to my wounds, since they have purchased me farre more then J hoped; and I wish they were not mortall. Your compassion renders me my first hopes; and seeing you so good as to suffer me, curse my destiny that plucks me from the World. But what [said 〈◊〉〈◊〉?] No, No, I have lived long enough, and beleeve certainly, that some great obstacle opposing my possesing you, my precipitated end is an evidence that Heaven would not have me long time unfortunate. I have almost a desire to accuse death for being too slow, for I feare least having but a moment to live, it be wrong'd by some new disaster. But if my blood, if my wounds▪ and my approaching death do truly touch you, and that you spend no feigned teares, if you feel that sorrow you make shew of; promise me, that my memory shall be deare to you, and that you will not suffer any, in your presence, to blame the Love of the weake Princesse De Foix▪ Polexander, who was wel nigh dissolv'd in teares during the Princesse speech, forc'd his just resentment to answer to it, and holding her hands between his own; I swear (said he) by what is most holy, to do•…•… for your contentment, all that you can wish; and I would to Heaven, my life were pretious enough to redeeme yours! You might then be secur'd of a long life.

The Princesse shutting her eyes, and scarce being able to forme a word, Since I know you in that resolution [said she] I have liv'd long enough; Farewell, deare Polexan∣der▪ And with that word she dye•…•… The King gave such a shri•…•…k in seeing her depart▪ that wee all ran to him, to know what was betided him. When the Squires of the de•…•… Lady had related to us her adventures, we were no more constant then they: Every one bewail'd that losse, and Polexander, in particular, was so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sensible of it, that it went neere to cost him his life. Diceus, in the mean ti•…•…e, embalm'd the body of the Prin∣cesse, and, at the request of her Page which was a disguised Maiden, and her to Sq•…•…es, she was carried into another Ship. They i•…•…treated •…•…kewise Polexander to be pleas'd that they might return into Fr•…•… with the body of their Mistris. At first he denyed that leave, because he would have brought them to the Canaries: Yet at last, impor∣tun'd by their reasons, he permitted them to return homewards. He, on the other side, after his being three or four dayes in-exorable to the Petitions of his servants, suffered himselfe to be perswaded to the finishing his voyage.

All his Shipps then being returned with a great many prisoners, he stood for the Cana∣ries: But the King's griefe ceas'd not by the absence of the object which had caus'd it. He lamented the faire Hyppolitus as she had been his own Sister, or to say better; as if effectively he had guilty been of her death. His griefe spread into his followers, and made them lose all sence of joy for their victory. Those who considered Polexander, farre more then they did the King, went a great deale farther: for they found fault with their own good Fortune, and detested such happy successe as had been bought by the teares of their Master, and the blood of so rare a Princesse. But time, which to this day ne∣ver found malady which it could not cure, by little and little, gave remedy to our Master; and presented him so many new imployments, that he was forc'd [spight of him∣selfe] to forget those which sorrow had made so deare to him. When he was near the coasts of Morocco, he learnt of certaine Merchants that were sayling into Scotland, how the Prince Abdelmelec, eldest Sonne to the King of Morocco, had proclaim'd the most glorious Turney, that had ever been seen in Europe, or Africa. Our young Prince seem'd he would be glad to see this Moorish bravery, and breake a lance in memory of the Princesse De foix. To dash the businesse I exhibited to him the great necessity of his presence with his Subjects, and how much a delaying might be advantagious to his Enemies. We came from beating them [said he smiling] and I think they will not be able, in hast, to put themselves in case againe to assault us But Governour, [added h•…•…] how long do you think I intend to be on this Voyage? Within eight dayes, at most, I shall have seen all that I desire. 'Tis so little a time, that the least calme, or weakest Tempest, may make us lose more. After thus much spoken, he cal'd for all the Officers of his Army; and making a faire Oration, by which he immortaliz'd their valour and fidelity, intreated them to intimate to the Queen his Mother and his Sub∣jects, the newes of his returning; and when [said he] you arrive at the Canaries, di∣vide

equally al you have gotten from the Portingall and Spanyard.

His Commanders threw themselves at his feet, to beseech him to lead them whither he was going; but when he had made known, that his absence would be only but for three or four dayes, and desired not to be known in Morocco, they took their leave, & with al their vessells got to the happy end of their navigation. In the meane time, the King my Master, causing al the badges, and other things of markabout his ship, to be ta∣ken off, and his Servants to be clad in the French Fashion, entred with two little ves∣sells that followed him into the River of Tansif. He landed assoone as he could, and commanding me to wait for him in his Ship, took no other followers with him, then Alcippus, Diceus and ten or twelve Slaves. At his taking Horse, he commanded them expresly, to name him for a Frenchman; and began a journey, which instead of eight dayes lasted neer six Moneths. I confesse yet, that as long as I live, I shall repent me for not following him; for as I understood by Alcippus and Diceus, there will never beseen any thing equal to the wonders of readiness, valour, & courtesie, which Polexan∣der shew'd in Abdelmelec's Turney. 'Twas there the Wicked Angell, jealous of the greatnesses which were infallibly promis'd, made him see that dangerous picture which troubled his reason, dazled his eyes, and made him lose the fairest of his time, under a deceiptfull hope of an imaginary happynesse. But to tell you, in few words, what pas∣sed at Morocco; Polexander there overthrew Abdelmelec, and after two different Combats, compel'd him to renounce [at least publiquely] all the love which he seemed to beare to Alcidiana Queen of the Inaccessible Island; he came after back to me loa∣den with that princesse's Pictures; and to heare him speake, it seem'd those painted tables where treasures incomparably more pretious then all the Diamonds, pearls, and other riches which he had lately gotten from the Portingall. He had yet one of those por∣traicts in his hands▪ and made me take notice of al the strokes of the Pensil and beauties of it, when a young African Lady, very faire and desolate, cast her selfe at his feet, and besought him, by th•…•… honour he had wonne at Morocco, rather by that compassion to which his extream Noblenesse obliged him in the behalfe of afflicted persons, to take her into his protection, and aveng her of the most •…•…sereant and wicked man that A∣frica ever brought forth.

The young Prince look'd not to be twice intreated, neither suffring my Remonstran∣ces nor intreaties return'd with that Lady, [called Izilia, if I be not deceived,] and to accompany him, would have none but Alcippus and Diceus. I will neither tel you whither he went, or what he did no•…•… how he came back; for notwithstanding a•…•… the intreaties I could make to one and the other of those his two faith•…•…l servants; I have not been able to get from them any thing, but that Polexander most expres∣ly forbad them to speak of that Iourney. But whither his adventures were good or bad; so it was, that he returned so weake and pale, after more then five moneths absence, that I might easily judg he had been extreamely wounded, or extreame∣ly sick. I acknowledg now, that I abused his goodnesse much in the speech I had with him about that Journey: But his Heroick Soule, incapable to receive any alteration, endur'd my liberty without shew of being mov'd; and never oppos'd but his own naturall sweetnesse, to the sharpnesse of al my reprehensions. I must confesse, my deare Master, (said he) I have done amisse, and have not taken enough into my consideration, the Queen my Mother nor you. But you have so often taught me, that there is no voice which ought so sweetly to touch the eares of a virtuous Man, as that of a miserable creature which reclaimes his assistnce, and I made so certaine an experience of that truth, when the unfortunat Izilia related to me her afflictions, that I could not resist the violence wherewithal her complaints drew me to the place where she had need of my courage. But I wrong your in∣structions, to go about to justifie my action: I have done that which humanity commanded me. 'Tis fit now I should do what Nature, obligation, & Regality expect from me. Let us go then to my deare Master, wipe off [if it be possible] the •…•…eares of the best Mother in the world. Let's goe, and acknowledg the cares and •…•…ravells she hath taken for us; and essay to give •…•…o so many people which love us, some proofes of our sensibility. Assoon as this was sayd, he commanded to hoyse sayles▪

and after a long and furious tempest, cast Anchor in one of the Ports of this Island. But O Heaven! what strange alterations found he in his Court! How much did he repent the deferr•…•…g his returne! 'Twas told him at his arrivall, the Queen his Mother was more afflicted then ever, since some ten or twelve dayes before, the Princesse Cydaria had been by a great number of strangers carried away. Polexander, afflicted as much as possibly the best natur'd man in the world could be, came to his Mother, witness'd, by his unfained griefe, an extream sorrow for her affliction, besought her to pre∣serve her selfe for his and the Subjects good; and promis'd he would never be at rest till he had restor'd to her the Princesse her Daughter. You may well beleeve that Good Queen had receiv'd an extreame content in reviewing so worthy an Heyre of the great Periander, if the death of that Prince, and the rape of her Daughter had not made her incapable of all kind of pleasure. On the contrary, it was to her a redoubling of her vexation, in the estate wherein she was. For the presence of so accomplish'd a Son, re∣new'd the losse of a Father that was no lesse so; renew'd likewise her ancient sorrowes, and reduced her to the incapacity of giving any thing to the returne of the Prince, but teares. Yet dar'd she not discover to him the true cause of them, but, by a wisdome worthy her selfe, had rather Polexander should suspect it to be for her too much af∣fection to her Daughter, then that he should know, her extraordinary affliction was from the want of power to avenge the murder of the great Periander. The King my Master made the same construction of her teares as She desired; and thinking that the losse of Cydaria was the sole cause, He, by consequence, beleev'd▪ he might give her an ample testimony of his love, in forgetting his own interests for the safety of his Si∣ster. He understood the Prince of Scotland was gone after the Ravishers; and that news made him the more impatient, till he was shipped. The very same day he set sayle, and steering again his course towards Africa, met with many of his ships, which after a long vaine chase, were returning to the Canaryes. Some of them He sent back to the Quee•…•… his Mother, & commanding the rest to stand off at Sea, yet some twelve or fifteen daies, made along to the West, with an intent to saile to the Pyrates Island. But the next day after that resolution, his Vice-Admirall came to him, and said; that the Prince of Scotland, after he had given chase to those that stole away Cydaria, at last fetcht them up in sight of the fortresse of Guargetssem; and after a furious combat, the Ravishers, finding themselves the weakest, had put fire to their powder, and involved, in one same flame, the vanquish'd and the vanquishers. Vnfortunate that I am, cri'd Polexander▪ must my return be remembred by the losse of the Daughter, and desolation of the Mo∣ther? Deplorable Polexander! hast thou the heart to carry these sad newes to a person whose griefs should be more sensible to thee, then thine own? No, no, be not the sad bringer of so Tragicall an accident: Present not thy selfe before Axiamira, since thou canst not do it without increasing her afflictions. Whilst he was thus lamenting, I came into his Cabin, and seeing Alcippus durst not speak a word to qualifie his passion, I made use of the authority which my age and condition gave me. Hearkning therefore to him a little while: If (said I at last) I should condemn your complaints, I should find fault with the most just sensiblenesse that is in nature. When we lose those whom blood or affection makes deare unto us, we lose a part of our selves, and by cosequence, should seeme to be our owne Enemies, if we, for their losse, should make of shew of lamentation. But Sir, this sorrow must have its rules & bounds, and must not imitate the griefe of Children, who fal'n into the durt content themselves with crying, and never strive to get out. Besides these reasons, and others, which con∣cern your condition, you ought to take into consideration the Queen your Mo∣ther; you ought to give her the Example of comforting her selfe; and by your constan∣cy, facilitate the meanes of supporting her mis-fortunes: All things sort well with you, to go render her this necessary proofe of your good disposition. She now bewayls your absence, as well as your Sisters. Go and ease her of one part of her feares and disquiet; and since 'tis impossible for you to give her all she desires, give her yet (at least) all which she desires with reason. I know tis vexatious and irksome to you, to signifie to her the death of your Sister: But it is not of necessity, that you should, your selfe, bring her that unwelcome and heavy newes. Besides, Axiamira's virtue is no common

virtue; She is of proofe against the greatest Accidents; and Fortune, who hath often violently justled her, hath not been able to stirr her. At that word, Polexander inter∣rupting me, Governour (said he) I yeeld to so many reasons, and will not be •…•…pbrayded, that for being too nice, I forsook one sick, who might have receiv'd comfort by my care and diligence. Presently the Pilot had command to returne to the Canaryes: and, as if the wind had been govern'd by that Prince, it shifted in a moment from East to West, and so fresh a gale, that the second day we discry'd the prodigious Mountaine of the Isle of Teneriffe. There we met with an obstacle, which was as the presage of those hind'rances, where withall Fortune went about to oppose the prosperities of Po∣lexander. Four-Pyrate•…•…hips, which domineer'd in those Seas, discharg'd all at once on our two Vessells; and not thinking to meet with any great resistance, came close up to us, without any more. My generous Master, finding in this occasion wherewithall to exercise his great courage, made it appeare to the Rovers they had been very ill advised. He so affrighted them by the terror of his blowes, but particularly by the death of their Captaine, that they gave over the fight, and contented themselves with the losses they had sustained. Polexander was more hard to be pleas'd, and would not overcome by halfes: He hotly pursued the Run-awayes, sunck two of their ships, and, but for the ill weather which seem'd to envy his victory, it had not been unperfected. But of this I in∣tended not to accuse Fortune, if by a pernicious sequell, that Jealous-one had not made it appeare, she had a designe, not to save the Prince's Enemies, but to ruine the Prince himselfe. To bring it to passe, she arm'd the Sea and the Winds, and commanded them to wage Warr with him: and after she had held him many dayes and nights without hope of safety, cast him into a Port wherein he made a more dangerous shipwrack, then if his Vessell had been split upon some Rock. His ship then open and leaking in many places, and unfurnished in her principall parts▪ hazardously entred the mouth of a little River, which our Pilots knew not, and not finding water enough, insensibly ran in on the owze. The generous Polexander presently came to assist Alcippus, Diceus, and my selfe, that could no more; and assuring us, we were out of all danger, said, that if we had yet but a little courage, we might instantly enjoy our good fortune. Get out my friends, let's get out of this sad abode; and let's see whether the Land will be more kind to us then the water; and whilst our Mariners resume their Spirits, let us take the benefit of that rest which an extream pleasant shore presents us. Alcippus overcame his sicknesse to follow Polexander, went a land with him; Diceus follow'd presently after; and I, who had rather dye then be from my Prince, caus'd my selfe to be carryed on shore by foure of our slaves. The ayre of the Land streightwayes dissipating a part of our sicknesse, we found our selves comforted and •…•…as'd in lesse then nothing. Polex∣ander and Alcippus climb'd to the top of a Rock not farre from us, to see whether we were arriv'd in a place that was inhabited. But seeing neither men nor houses, and the night too approaching, they return'd where they had left me, and told me, we must set up Tents on the shore, to passe the comming night better then we had done the eight or ten precedent. Diceus receiving this order from me, went back into the ship, and commanded the Officers of the Kings Cabin, to go set up the Kings pavillion in the most commodious place they could find. All which was don with so much diligence, that, in lesse then an houre, we found our selves very well lodg'd. When every one had eaten, we set Sentinells on the parts that lead to us, for feare of being surpris'd, and gave them expresse order not to disperse themselves for what cause soever. This done, we went to Bed; Scarce had the Sun begun to whiten the top of the Rock, at whose feet we had pitch'd our Tent, when Polexander call'd Alcippus and my selfe, and told •…•…s we slept as profoundly as if we were in a friends Country. We streight clad us, and that while the Prince went to relieve the Sentinells, and put some little Court of Guard about his Tents, to make some little resistance, in case we were set on; and for∣bad us on paine of death, to observe him as a King before any person whatsoever that should hap to come neer him. This being thus ordered, he commanded his horses to be landed, but they had been so Sea-beaten▪ they could hardly uphold themselves. Yet there was a Barbary, white as Snow, which Polexander had bought to combate with Abdelmelec, that took heart assoone as he was landed, and refreshing himselfe on the

Grasse, seem'd by his neighing to assure the King his Master, that he might make use of him. The Prince, after he had taken a little repast amongst all his followers, took horse and Alcippus and Diceus following him a foot, travers'd a plaine which stretch'd it selfe along by the River, and grew broader in other Lands, as farr off as the eye could extend. After he had ridden three or four miles, he descended by a pleasant slope hanging of a hill, into so delight some valleys were it for the little Brookes which divi∣ded them, for the Fountaines which slid from the top of the little hills, for the meadow, coverd with a thousand severall kindes of flowers, or for the little woods which invirond them so that oftentimes considering them, I have said to my selfe, that the ancient Gre∣cians had good cause to chuse the abode of their Heroes Soules in the Islands of the At∣lantick Sea. If Polexander were ravished at so faire a Scite. he was farre more, in meeting with those that inhabited it. They were Shepheards so handsome, and Shepheardesses so fayre and neatly clad, that in seeing them Polexander thought on the Knights and La∣dies of the French Court, & beleeved he saw them represent & act some Pastoral in their rurall habits. The first he met withall not a jot wondred to see him so richly clad and so proudly mounted. On the contrary they came to him with the grace and civility of Courtiers, and questionlesse said many neat and witty things to him, but the Prince could not understand them, and by consequence, make no answer.

He made them speake oftentimes, to comprehend somewhat of their Language, and re∣taining some of their words: thought it had somewhat of the Arabick. He therefore spake to them in that Language, but they understood him not, so that, to expresse him∣selfe, he was constraind to make use of Signes, instead of Words. The Shepheards supply∣ing by the quicknesse of their wit, the obscurity of the Language by which Polexander strove to make himselfe understood, apprehended, that he ask'd the Name of their Island and the place where Strangers used to be received. They forthwith offered themselves to accompany him thither, and told him the Name of their Isle, But he could not divine what they said, two Young Shepheards leaving their flocks in the custody of their Com∣panions, put themselves before Polexander, and making a signe he should follow them, lead him from those Vallyes, by the most pleasant way that can be imagined. Al cippus and Diceus were ravished with their Adventure, and following merrily their Master and his guides, quickly got to the top of those Hills which kept them from the Mid-daies Sun. There they saw Plaines. but covered with Flowers, and cut crosse by many wayes, which outwent the fairest Garden-alleyes and parks of Europ, As they came neere to a Wood of Palmes and Cedars, they saw leap out of it, a Hind more white then snow. She was wounded above her right shoulder: The Arrow which had given the wound yet stuck in, it, & paind her so much that she fell on her legs at every ten paces, & ran her nose to the ground. The Shepheards staid to see the fal of the dear, & well deeming by whom she was hunted, made signs to Polexander, that would have said somthing of great importance. He soon knew it, for as he had his eyes fixed on the Hind he heard a horn, and turning his head towards the Wood, saw come out of it, amongst many Lad•…•…es on horsback, a Cha∣riot, drawn by fonre horses as white as his own. The Chariot was uncovered, and for shape almost like a throne. A very faire Maiden, clad like a Nymph, was the Conduct∣resse, and to guide the Horses, was set at the feet of another Nymph so richly clad, that 'twill be hard for me to describe it to you. She held a Bow in one hand, an Arrow in the other, and wore a Quiver crosse her shoulders. As soone as the Shepherds saw her, they gave a great shout in flying, and forgot (to our mishap) to make signe to Po∣lexander, that he should follow them: He stood firme, and desired to have the whole content. But as he was intentively beholding the Troop of Ladies, and noting her that was mounted on the Chariot, the Hind came and fell almost between his Horses legges, and by that unlook'd-for fall, so affrighted him, that flying from under Polex∣ander, he had almost given him a most sensible affront. But the Prince, who was the best and bravest Hors-man of his age, corrected him with so much art, and knew so readily to tame his fury, that the faire huntresses, and especially She that sate highest in the Chariot, making a stand, stood still awhile to behold the strangers readinesse. After he had made himselfe admired on Hors-back, he alighted, and delivering his horse to Alcippus, drew neer to the Chariot of the faire, and fatall huntresse. She cast her

eyes on him, and judging him a stranger by his habit, spake to two Ladies that were neer her, and withall commanded the driver of the Chariot to put on. The Horses, stirred by the whip, fell to their gallop, and the faire Troop riding with full speed, got out of sight, as if it had been a dreame or an inchantment. Polexander, on the con∣trary, stood fix'd, as if he had been trans form'd into a stone, and grew pale on the sud∣daine, as if he had been ready to have swoonded; Alcippus perceiv'd it, and ran to him. Ah my friend (said Polexander, what have I seen? The two Shepherds, who had left him, return'd as soone as the Ladies were gone, and seeing Polexander so wan, ima∣gin'd his horse had hurt him; and in that opinion intreated him, by their signes, to rest himselfe in one of their Cottages. Polexander, understanding by their gestures the curteous offers they made him, and besides desirous wholly to gaine them, yeelded to returne with them. He would not get againe on horse-back, but leaning on Alcippus, began to walk gently, and in going, asked him whither he had not noted (among so many faire huntresses) her, which stood up-right in the Chariot, and whither he did not remember whom she was like. Alcippus answering him, that he had not so much time; tis most certaine (said he) that either all we have seen is a meer illusion, or that admi∣rable huntresse must be Alcidiana.

The Shepheards turn'd their heads at that Name, and many times repeated it, by which the King my Master was assured of what he imagined, and by that lost himselfe. Zel∣matida, Smiling at the pleasant conclusion of the Viceroy; 'twas then truly Alcidiana (said he?) The very same, answered the good old man; and mark how Polexander had it manifested.. When the Shepheards had brought him to their Cottages, and entertain'd him there, not with all the magnifience, but with all the Gentilenesse of a Palace; One of them thought on somewhat which might contribute very much to the Princes contentment, and letting him know he went to fetch it, assured him that he would be back againe within two dayes at the latest. Polexander signified to him an extreame sensibility of his courtesie, and to omit nothing of that which might acquire him the favour of his hostes, pass'd over a part of the day in doing what they proposed to him. At evening, he retyr'd with Alcippus and Diceus, and giving the Later instructions of all he would have me know, sent him to me all night; and he find∣ing me where I was left, made me know the Kings pleasure, and to have it executed staid all the next day with me. We unloaded our Ship, and transported to the next Town all that was in her: Which done, Diceus return'd to receive new commands, but at his arrivall meeting the King in an estate farre differing from that he had left him in, forgot all he had to say to him from me, and thought of nothing but the means to help his sick Master. Polexander might well be term'd so, for since the fatall meeting with that divine huntresse, he was faln into such a deep melancholy, that even Alcippus had much adoe to draw a word from him. He sigh'd thrice and foure times in utter∣ing a word; and rather answering his own thoughts then Alcippus questions. Tis true (said he) Abdelmelec is as generous as he is rash; and since he had a mind to lose him∣selfe, he could not doe it in a more high enterprize. But how I pitty him for not ha∣ving seen but through a very obscure veyle, this so shining and lively a light, which makes him contemn all others. Certainly those pictures of Alcidiana which he hath are the works of ignorance or envie; and I may say, after what I have seen, that Prince adores a Divinity to him unknown. Alcippus, desirous to qualifie the disquiet of this new Lover, Me thinks (said he) that instead of lamenting Abdelmelecs fortune, you ought to extoll your own, and give thanks to Love, that since he hath inspir'd you with a desire to serve▪ ALCIDIANA, He hath not only made you worthy of her, but by a singular priviledge hath conducted you, as by the hand, where your service may receive their reward. Ah, flat•…•…erer, replyd Polexander; dar'st thou, who hast seen that Princesse, make me beleeve I am worthy to serve her? The love thou bear'st me, suffers the not well to consider me. Thou represente•…•…t to thy selfe all things to my advantage, and I doubt not but thou beleev'st thou doest it justly. But I, who am freed from the love of my selfe, and can be a good Iudge in mine own cause; I look on my fortune on that side it ought to be regarded, and am not dazled, as thou art, with I know not what luster, which a false light casts on it. Know my friend, that I am absolutely

unworthy of Alcidiana's chaines; that the least of her slaves hath those qualities to which I can never pretend, and that fortune hath thrown me on these inaccessible coasts for no other end, but to engage me in a dispaire, which surpasseth the dispaire of all that have been unfortunate from the beginning of the world. Wouldst thou have mor•…•… palpable, or more visible proofes o•…•… this truth, then the contempt wherewith Alcidiana cast her eyes on me? Think on the circumstances of her meeting. Examine al•…•… that pas∣sed in that little time she permitted me to see her. Weigh seriously her precipitated de∣parture; and thou wilt confesse with me, that her eyes and silence have declar'd me un∣worthy of the honour to be reckned amongst her slaves. I intend to contest with your Majesty (replyd Alcippus; For having not your light and knowledge I stop at things which sence makes me see, and cannot as you penetrate into soules and discover the se∣crets of thoughts. And not to lye to you, if your discourse had not taken off some∣what, which hood-winkd mine eyes without perceiving it, I should yet have drawn very advantagious consequences from the meeting with Alcidiana and maintaine stifly my be∣liefe of your giving her more cause of admiration then contempt. All her Nymphes, for∣getting the chase, and even not seeing the Hynde which fell at their feet, press'd to come neer you, and pointing with their fingers, seemd to say to one another, that they had ne∣ver seen your equall. As you love me Alcippus (said Polexander, interrupting him) make an end of this discourse. Thou makest me madde in thinking to comfort me. I know what my destiny is, but as sadde as tis, tis to me deare, tis to me glorious, since tis perfected by the hands of Alcidiana. By this answer, he impos'd silence on Alcippus, and beginning to walke in his Chamber, was about an houre in that exercise: At last he remembred himsel•…•…, and calling Diceus askd him whether he had brought Abdelme∣lec's bucklers. They are in your Majesties trun•…•…kes replyd Diceus. I would faine have them, said the Prince. We must goe for them then replyd Diceus. The place where I have left them is not so farre hence, but that I can be quickly backe againe. But Sir (said he) if the Viceroy presse me upon your staying, what shall I say to him? Thou shalt tell him (replyd the Prince all that thou thinkest fittest to keep him where he is. Diceus pre∣sently took one of his hosts Horses, and in full speed came to the Towne where I was retyred. I was wonderfully astonish'd at so quick a returne, and askd him the cause. Tis nothing (said he) nor no other then the curiosity of a great Lord of this Isle: He de∣sires to see Abdelmelecs bucklers, and I have ridden all last night that he might not long expect his desir'd contentment. After he had told me this tale, he took the two buck∣lers, and returnd with as much speed as he came. Polexander, seeing him come back, commended his love and diligence, and with an excesse of joy, forgetting what he was embrac'd him a long time in his armes. Then he set Alcidiana's Pictures in their best light, and considering them well: I am confirm'd (said he to Alcippus) in my first opi∣nion; These Pictures are nothing like Alcidiana. I saw the Princesse so little (replyd Alcippus) that my memory represents her not to me, but very confusedly. Yet, if that Idea of her which I retain hathany conformity with the Original, I find not these Coppies any way do resemble her. Assuredly (said Polexander with a litle passion) they are nothing at all like her. Where find you that sweet and majesticall livelinesse, which sparkles in her eyes? or that fresh and cleere whitnesse of her complexion and brest? No, no, there is nought here of Alcidiana. Only a man may see by some strokes, that tis the portraict of some excellently faire creature. In this discussion was the Prince, when the Shepheard who two dayes before had left him, entred his Chamber, and presenting to him another Shepherd, of a very good aspect for an old man, made him understand by signes, that, that was it which he had promised him. The old Shepheard presently beginning to speake, sa∣luted Polexender in Arabian, and by that language, made him sufficiently conceive the good office done him by the young Shepheard. The Prince went and imbrac'd him to signifie how sensible he was of that obligation. After that satisfaction▪ he streight did the like to the old man, and told him in Arabicke, that he was too happy in meeting with one to whom he might make himselfe understood. This venerable old man answe∣red him, his joy was not lesse; and should he reap no other fruit of his travells, then the tafting the sweetnesse of his conversation, he would (all the rest of his life) blesse that curiosity which at first made him to undertake them. Tis for me Father (replyd Polex∣ander)

to give thanks to fortune for shipwracking me on this Iland. Scarce had I set foot on this Land, but that I was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the happinesse it enjoyes, as one of its na∣turall proprieties. In three dayes I met with a thousand causes of conten•…•…ment but there are few of them, on which I set so high a price, as on the happinesse of your acquaintance. The old Shepheard thinking in his opinion he had not words good enough to answer these, replyd, by the teares which joy drew from his eyes; and to make an end of all Compliments, besought Polexander to beleeve, that if he could doe him any notable service, he would make more esteeme of that litt•…•…e time he had yet to live, then of his forepassed threescore and ten yeares. But (my Lord said he) I beseech you to beleeve my Protestation, without obliging me to perswade you by any Rhetorick. Father, I believe you replyd 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and without de•…•…ay, to put my selfe in possession of that good you so free•…•…y give me, I desire (if you please) to entertaine you to my full content, and at leasure the remainder of this day. The old Shepheard bowed, to intimate his readinesse to obey Polexander's commands. Alcippus and Diceus straight took the young Shepheard, and proposing to him some other diversion, to winne him cut of the King's Chamber, left their master with the old man. Polexander made him sit down by him for all his civilities and excu∣ses, and told him he was a neighbour to that Iland, a Canaryan by birth, and some∣what considerable amongst those of his own Country. That some two monthes since he shipp'd himselfe for Africke▪ but crosse windes putting him from his cou•…•…e had for•…•…'d •…•…s Vessell into a little River of that Iland, the name whereof he k•…•…w no•…•…. That he Intreated him to know what the Isle was call'd under what kind of Government the people liv'd and whither there might be acce•…•…e got ten for them neere any of the Princes or Magistrates. The old Shepheard w•…•…o •…•…ad been very attentive to all Polexander's demands, seeing he went no•…•… one •…•…pake to him thus: I have knowne by many experiments▪ that person equally credible have not been equally beleev'•…•…, and that Truth hath had need o•…•… an unusuall assistance to make an impression in our minds. If two men report one same thing, and the one of them is of a condition more 〈◊〉〈◊〉, or of greater merit then the other, the testimony of that person of eminence, shall be farre otherwise accepted, then the same from a person of a vulgar quality. The thought of this hath made me piuck out of my Ancestors Graves an o•…•…d Nobility, which I had there intombd together with my hopes; and to tell you that the habit I weare, is not a signe of my births meane∣•…•…esse▪ but of the benefit I have received by the study of Philosophy. I was borne in the •…•…plendour of a very ancient Family, bred up in the Court of the Kings of this Island; and growing old in the service of the last deceased, I retyr'd me into a very faire Village▪ a dayes journey hence, to recover among those Shepheards which in∣habit there that innocency and quiet whereof the •…•…te of Court had dep•…•…iv'd me. I think this to be sufficient to gaine credit to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 course, and to free you from wondring a•…•… the hearing my relation of such things as come not within the verge of a Shepheards knowledge. I will first therefore tell you, this I•…•…e is called the hap∣pie Island and that it is so, and with a great deale of Iustice our Ancestors have gi∣ven it that proud Name. Tis besides ca•…•…ld the wonderfull, and the inaccessible I•…•…and because, by a particular favour from Heaven and Nature, one might say, it privily withdrawes, and hides it selfe from the curiosity of those which search after it: And indeed, never any stranger arriv'd here, but as you have done I meane either by chance or tempest.

This I•…•…e is farre greater then it seemes, because it extends not in length as others doe, but properly resembles a Pomegranet. It is waterd with a great many Rivers, Brookes and fountaines. It hath Lakes, Ponds and Forrests of an extraordinary greatnesse. They have harvest twice a yeare; and at all times may be seen on our T•…•…ees, fruit appearing in the midst of blossomes, some ripening, and others already •…•…pe: We have Mines of all metalls, but the most abundan•…•… are those of Gold and Silver. Towards the South we have a plaine Strand o•…•… above thirty m•…•…es long, environd wit•…•… Rockes▪ whence are drawne very faire Diamonds▪ and Emeralds. Towards the East, the Sea ingulphs it selfe in the Land, and receives the Tribute of

many little Rivers, which all breed an infinite quantity of fish, within whose shells are found as great and orient Pearles, as those which are fishd in the Eastern Indies. But why doe I number our riches to you. Your curiosity is too generous to be de∣lighted among the excrements of the Land and Sea. I shall doe better in entertain∣ing you with the manner of our government, with our Lawes and Mannors. This Iland hath been governed from all times by Kings or Queens, for, both the one and the other Sex may indifferently raigne there. For our Lawes they have been estab∣lished, rather to put us in mind of those vertues which are naturall to us, then to refraine us from Vices. But I passe by particular Lawes to speake of those of State▪ The first commands us to believe but one God in Heaven, and by consequence to adore but one on Earth. The second forbid our Kings, to take any Stranger Prin∣cesses to their Wives; and declares, that if any one undertake to travell against the fundamentall Law of the State; and happens to marry with a stranger, the Children proceeding from that marriage, cannot succeed their Father in any inheritance, if they be not borne in this Iland. This old Law hath been exactly kept even to this day, or to say better, no occasion hath call'd on a necessity of putting it in practice. Yet the last deceass'd King, my good Master gave birth to one; but the Eternall wisdome, which works all for the best, strangled it almost as soone as it was borne. That great Prince (by name Alcidus) leaving the Isle to have the knowledge of o∣ther people and Countries then his own, saves himselfe reduc'd to the extremity, of either violating this fundamentall Law, or to leave among the number of the vulgar and private persons, a pretious gage which he had receiv'd from the love of one of the fayrest Princesses of the world. I will sincerely relate to you the History, since thereby I shall make answer to all your questions. To take it then from the be∣ginning; you may please to know there is in this Kingdome, a third fundamentall Law, which ordaines, that every yeare the King chuse one of his Sonnes, or some o∣ther person of eminent vertue to the end, that as Soveraigne Priest, he make a voy∣age to an Iland not farre from this, to pay the tribute of Love, and celebrate the Sa∣crifice of alliance, whereto our Predecessors, have engaged us towards the true God which is ador'd in this Island, under the forme of the Sunne. The King Cleonidas, Fa∣ther of the late King my Master, commanded that his son with an extraordinary stately preparation and equipage, should g•…•…e and present to that Deity, the testimo∣ny of his publike acknowledgement. The Prince went that voyage, but came not backe as he set forth. For transported with a desire to see the world, he cross'd the Ocean, and arriv'd in England, where he became desperately in love with a Princesse the Sister of King Edward. She was call'd Phelismonda, and tis to be confess'd, her charmes were so powerfull, her wit so admirable, and her vertues so extraordinary, that when the King my Master disclos'd to me his love to her; I was compell'd to tell him he could not have a more just affection. In that passion he made me his Confident, and Phelismonda chose for her's, an English Lady cal•…•…'d Thamiris. Our negotiation pro•…•…perd to the contentment of those that imployd us. But alas! the joyes which men gather from the satiating their passions, are pleasures very short and deceitfull. Phelismonda was no sooner married but she saw her selfe persecuted by the King of England, and forc'd to expose her selfe with us, to the mercy of an enraged Sea. O•…•…r vessell after it had been long time beaten by the Tempest, was driven to the furthest end of Scotland, where the King my Master caus'd the Queen his Wife to land, for she was extreamly sick, and under•…•…anding some dayes after that she was with Child, made an Oath, that he would not re-imbarke till Phelis∣monda were deliver'd. We were neere six months among the Savages of that Coun∣try, expecting when the Princesse should be brought to bed. But as I have told you, the Eternall wisdome who fore-sees even the least of our actions, had resolv'd the infortunate Phelismonda should give no Kings to this Island; for after the Princesse had undergone many terrible throwes, she dy'd (undelivered) in the armes of the King her Husband. As soone as Alcidus saw her expire, he did what he could to fol∣low her, and seeing himselfe hindred by all us that were neer him, he made shew of being comforted, the more freely to put in execution his tragicall designe. But see∣ing,

at last he was at liberty, he came out of his Cottage where we had got him to retyre, and whilst he saw us busied in preparing his Ship, he threw himselfe into the Sea. I by chance was come to the very place whence he cast him head-long down, and flung me after, either to save, or not to survive him. I was so fortunate, that be∣ing destin'd by providence to preserve so worthy a Prince to this Island, I met him at his rising out of the water, and catching him by the haire, drew him to shoare, depriv'd of all sence or understanding. All his Officers running thither, did all they thought fitting to recover him. The wisest of the company judging it conveni∣ent to make use of an occasion, so answerable to their intentions, carryed him into his Ship, and commanding all his followers to come aboord, presently left Scotland, and the body of Phelismonde. We had lost sight of that Countries high cli•…•…fs, before the unhappy Alcidus came to himselfe. At last he recover'd, and perceiving he was in a place so differing from that where he thought to have been; ask'd as by what miracle this alteration was betyded. We told him what we had done; and he pre∣sently accusing us of Treason and ingratitude, would needs make us guilty of Phe∣lismonde's death. Tis your malice (cryd he) or may be your poyson that hath thrown her into the Grave. And barbarous as you are, not contented to have pluck•…•…d her so cruelly from my embraces, you have forc'd me to leave her deare and precious re∣liques to the mercy of wild beasts! Many other words speake he to move us to compassion, and to oblige us to bring him back again to Scotland. But we op∣pos'd our reasons to his, and told him, that if he return'd thither, he would finde (in lieu of the faire Phelismonde) but a diffigur'd and frightfull Corps, that would ra∣ther terrifie him, then renew the memory of his former love. At last he consented to returne hither. We had a Pilot, who yet lives, his name is Lynceus, and I will say thus much in his praise, that never man knew better the Sea, and the windes, no•…•… was like him, capable of a long voyage.

As soone as we had made knowne the Kings pleasure to him, he took his course farre from Land, and after two and twenty dayes sayling, cast Anchor in the Isle of Madera. From thence he would have steer'd hither, but having vainely imploy'd his Art, and the flight of certaine birds, whose brood hath from all times been cu∣riously preserv'd by our Priests for the conducting those Vessells which return from the Island of the Sunne: he thought he might doe best to goe and land there, and attend the arrivall of those which should be sent for the solemnity of the yearely sacrifice, whereof I have told you. Alcidus was of his opinion, and thereupon our Ship bore right to that holy Island, and the fourth day entred the Port which carryes the name of the Sunne. The High-Priest receiv'd the King our Master, with tears of joy▪ and gaz'd on him as on a Prince, who after he had been long dead, was mi∣raculously rays'd again. Alcidus related his adventures to him, and thinking he had not sufficiently acquitted himselfe of the Commission the King his Father had given him in charge, began the sacrifices anew, and after he had satisfied the Obligations of his estate, he would likewise perfect his owne particular. He presented many rich offrings to the invisible Sunne; and for an eternall of his voyage, caus'd great ta∣bles of Gold to be cast, whereon his principall adventures were represented. We had been now almost five months in that Iland, when the Vessells of Cleonidas ar∣riv'd there. Never was there seen so sad and dolefull a preparation. All his Vessels were painted blacke, the sayles were blacke, and all those within them witnessed by their mourning, the extraordinary desolation that was in their Country. But this Funerall, solemnity, and s•…•…ate had scarce time to shew it selfe, for Alcidus presenting himselfe to the first that came on shoare, and being known of them, tur•…•…'d their sad∣nesse into joy▪ their habits of sorrow into robes of triumph, and their lamentations into songs o•…•… mirth and jollity, The Sacrifices were perform'd with an incompa∣rable Zeale, and the Altars besides the ordinary presents and offrings were loaden with other gifts and ob•…•…ations for Alcidus returne. We betook our selves presently after to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Sayles, and the sacred birds, the second day being let out of their Ca∣ges, guided us so well, that on the fourth we entred into a River, on whose bancks is built the Capitall City of this Kingdome.

I should be to tedious to relate the contentment Alcidus return gave to the whole I∣land, and the ravishing joy the King his Father received. The Feast for it lasted many monethes, and to make it more accomplish'd, Cleonidas married the Prince, to a Prin∣cesse of his blood, called Diana, (with more Iustice then she among the Greeks.) The se∣cond year after this happy marriage, but of small continuance, Alcidus mounted the Throne by the death of his Father, and the next yeare he had by his Queen a Daugh∣ter, who without flattery, ought to be placed among things celestiall. Tis not to say what She is, to say that she is faire, that she is witty, that she is virtuous. I shall not have saied enough of her; when I have told you that she is beauty it selfe, that she is the highest of the created Intelligences, and in short, should be taken for that extraordi∣nary virtue to which the ancient Philosophers gave the Sirname Heroicall.

This Princesse to have nothing equalize her on Earth, lost the Queene her Mother assoone as she was borne, To preserve the memory of his marriage, Alcidus, out of his owne Name and his Wives, composed that of the Young Princesse, and called her Alci∣diana, At that Name Polexander sigh'd, but fearing least the old Shepheard might disco∣ver the cause, he stifled within him more then the halfe of his Sigh. The Old Man taking no •…•…eed to it, thus went on with his discourse. Some few dayes after this Princesse birth, the Riner Arzilea overflowed his banckes, and rising hie, even to some old buil∣dings which were called the Tombes of the Prophets, cast downe a peece of a wall which inclosed the Vaults where the bodyes of the Prophets had been buried. When the River was retir'd into his Channell, some body mark'd that▪ ruine, and his curiosity lea∣ding him into those Caves, He saw a great Tombe covered with plates of Gold. Present∣ly he published this wonder through the City, and the King being advertiz'd of it, sent thither a guard, A little after, (thrust on no doubt by some divine inspiration) he went himselfe to those Sepulchers, made the plates of them to be cleans'd, and thereon found very ancient characters, by which he understood, 'twas neere three hundred yeares since the death of those Prophets. He had patience to read all that was there written, and hapned (on a plate separated from the rest) to meet with certaine predictions which gave him matter enough to meditate and ponder on. There was one, whereon it was manifestly spoken of his raigne, and of his House. I cannot relate to you the proper termes, but I will tell you the Substance. The Prophesiy spoke of Alcidus Voyage, of the short continuance of those two marriages, of a Sonne which he was to have by the first, which should be one day one of the most valiant Princes of the World, and King of a very great Kingdome, if he could be taken alive out of the Wombe of his dead Mother. It added further how of a second marriage, Alcidus should have a Daughter, of so much perfection and rarity, thar she should be esteem'd the miracle of her age, and be passionately desired by many Strange Princes. But that it behoved them to have a wonderfull care for the gard of that Princesse, because she was threatned by many Acci∣dents: and among others to be stolne away and forc'd in her owne Pallace, and to be one day the Wife of a Slave, sprung from the most barbarous of all the Nations of Af∣frica, To this prophesie there was joyn'd another, in which the Prophet seem'd to see that African Slave arrive in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Kingdome. He solicites him for his undertaking the de∣fence thereof against the enterprizes of many Strangers that would have lain it deso∣late, and promiseth the Queen (in the name of the Deity) that if she could resolve to take that to her Husband, the felicities of her Raigne should be farre more great then those of the precedent Governments. Hitherto we have seen nothing of all that which the Prophesie presageth us, except the death of our two Queenes, that of the King (who was taken from us at his age of five and forty, and (if the speech be true) the designe which a Prince of this country called Siziphus had on Alcidiana. But the late King who naturally was devout euen to superstition, gave such credit to these prophesies, that he caused the Princesse his daughter to be nursed in a Palace whereto no person could ap∣proach; and when she was past the brest, he chose many young Gentlemen of his Court to be o•…•… her guard. Of them he compos'd an order of Knighthood, obliged them by an irrevocable oath to dy for the defence of his daughter, and appointed them to weare great chayns of gold, to the end rhey might shew themselves to be the Slaves of Alcidiana

This Company hath almost still subsisted, and during the life of the King my Master some French and other Strangers, driven by tempests on our coastes, by their brave acti∣ons obtaind to be put in the number of Alcidianas Slaves. Some time, and not long af∣ter the death of Alcidus, the Princesse sequestred her selfe wholly from the conversation of men; and besides her publique Court which is composed of the Grandys of her King∣dome, and the Officers of the Crowne, She constituted a particular one, whereinto on∣ly Maides and Women are admitted. The Queen is never seen of men but when she is obliged to do some publique action, be it as a Princesse or a Prelatesse. Sometimes to re∣create her, She betakes her to the country, and there enjoyes the pleasure of Hunting. The rest of her time She remaines shut up in her palace amongst her Women. Thus the Old Shepheard instructed Polexander in all the State secrets he knew, and so fully satis∣fied all his curiositie•…•…, that he gave him not place to aske him any one Question. Seeing himselfe then so well informed, he tooke hold of, and went over againe with the Shepheards discourse, and to content his passion, he began to exaggerate the Majesty of Alcidiana, and the happinesse of her subjects, and ended his speech with new thankes and new Offers to the Old man, and to oblige him to stay yet, drew from his little finger a very great Diamond, and with a good grace presented it to him. The good Old man very civily refused it, and told him, that when he tooke on the Habit of a Shepheard, hee had put off not only the Hope, but the desire of riches, That he wanted nothing, because he could content himselfe with a little, and that if he found any one that would disbur∣then him of a part of the meanes his Ancestors had left him, he should walke on to his Gr•…•…ve with a merrier heart then he did. Polexander, admiring so solid a virtue, would not atake the paines againe, or try new waies to incline it. Contrarily, he thought it a∣misse done in putting it to that tryall, and imployed all the best words he had, to crown it as worthily as it deserved.

The old Shepherd was a little tempted by the Eares, as had he been by his Eyes. The Prince his praises put him into a confusion, and made him resolve to put somewhat in action that might oblige the Prince not to continue them. He therefore arose and making avery low reverence to the Prince, humbly besought him he might know whither he could be any further usefull to him, you will bee extreamely so alwaies replied the Prince, but for the present I intreat you one favour, and 'tis, if your affaires can permit it, you will do me the Honor to let me enjoy your company▪ till you have given me some knowledg in this Countries Languages The Shepheard (who had the generousnesse of a King) an∣swered that his businesse should never be taken into his consideration, when his good Fortune would present him, the occasion of doing him Service. That he should abso∣lutely dispose of him, and ever finde a readinesse to give proofe of his obedience. After Polexander had received those civilities according to his wonted courtesies, he gave a period to their first conversation, and lead the Shepheard to walke. The old man made shew of enjoying the strength of one of farre younger yeares; for though he was come that very day from a village neere twelve miles distant from that where Polex∣ander lay, yet stuck he not to walke till it was farre in the night, and made the Prince confesse his legs were the worst of the two. VVhen they were returned to their lod∣ging, they tal•…•…ed of the quaintnesse and bravery of many remarkeable Nations of Eu∣rope, and concur'd in opinion, that even the French or neater English, had no advantage o're the Subjects of Alcidiana. From thence they passed to the richnesse of the tongues, and the Old Shepheard made it appeare to Polexander by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 great number of Examples, that his Language had all the graces and copiousnesse of the Greek. It is very likely (•…•…aid he) that we have got thence a part of our words. For the most of our Names of men, of Townes, of floods, of Beasts, of Plants, are all Greek. Another part is Arabick, and the rest which we may properly call our own, is of so sweet and facile a pronuntiation, that it seems Heaven desirous to treat us more favorably then the rest of men, hath caus'd as care &▪ love to appear even in the Composition of our Language. Polexander, said he would learne without further defer•…•…ing; and Alcippus noted the first word, he asked the old Shepherd, was that of Love. For a whole moneth he gave all his time to that stu∣dy, and i•…•… his growing passion had not diverted his imagination, and rob'd the best

houres he imployed in that exercise, he had drawne dry all the old Shepheards know∣ledge. His disquiets pluck'd him at last from this idle life, and the desire to see Alci∣diana, againe exercising and stirring him day and night, he was constrained to leave the Hamlet, where he had been so long, and to goe passe some dayes in that of the old Shepheard, where he met with all that imagination could conceive might conduce to make up a pleasant life. But he, who had confined all his felicitie in the sight of Alcidi∣ana, converted into bitternesse, the sweets of his aboade, and nourish'd his melancholy, even with such things as should make an end of it. But Love, who had given the wound, would bring a remedy: for twelve, or fifteen dayes after Polexanders arrivall to the C•…•…te of the old Shepheard, Alcidiana came to a Pallace, which her Predecessors had built at the Entry of a Forrest, which was full of Stagges, and wild Boares. As soone as Polexander heard of her comming, he gave thanks to the Author of his passion, and not to lose the happinesse which he presented him, resolv'd not to put off the enjoying it till another season.

He therefore caus'd a Shepheards habit to be made for him, that under such a digguise he might come neer Alcidiana's Pallace, and see her as often as she went to, or came from hunting. He departed with Alcippus, disguis'd as himselfe and driving a flock be∣fore them, got to a Land of many Leagues, by which they went to the Pallace. The ve∣ry same day, he saw the Princesse, and that second sight, gave the fatall blow, whereof he will never be cured. The Princesse in passing looked on him, and marking through his habit, the Majesty which he had as it were hidden there, made the Ladies, which accom∣panied her to take notice of it. He the while, that would possesse as much as he could a happines so pationately desir'd, left his flock to the keeping of Alcippus, and shuffling himselfe among a company of servants, that look'd to the Hounds, made so good of that little knowledge he had of their tongue, that they not only receiv'd him into their company, as they were wont to doe other Shepheards that came, but also lent him what ever he wanted fit •…•…or a Hunter. When the whole Troop was in the Forrest, the Hunts-men did their charge, and first sever•…•…d the Hounds.

Polexander was sent with six to a stand for a relay far within the Wood. The desire he had to be alone, hindred him from saying he knew not the place whither they sent him. He therefore went on at all adventures, and when he thought himselfe well plac'd, got him into a bush with his dogges, and lay down at the foot of a green Oake. T•…•…s not hard for you to imagine the brave meditations he had in this attending and expectation. Sometime he made a comparison betwixt himselfe and the wounded Deare. Sometimes he accused the Stagge of more than a brutish stupidity, to flye the glory of being pier∣ced by one of Alcidiana's shafts, and oftentimes wished him in his place. With how much joy (said he) would I receive the death thou flyest from, and how happy would I esteeme my Fate, if, being wounded as I am by Alcidiana's darts, I durst promise my selfe to dye, as thou must, at the feet of that Princesse. Surely if in that desireable mo∣ment I were seen to shed any teares, they should be teares of joy, and my sobs should be so many thanksgivings to that faire hand, which should take me from among the living. After some two houres almost of his thus intertaining himselfe, he heard a noise, and turning his head the way whence it came, saw a great Stag in a rutt way, that went quite crosse the Forrest from one end to the other. There were neither Huntse-men, nor Hounds that followed the beast, and yet he saw well he had been very sore •…•…ayd to. For every foot he bow'd down his head, held his nose to the Earth, and instead of running, made many great slydings. When the Stagge was some ten or twelve pa•…•…es from the bush, wherein Polexander lay, he heard the Prince stirre, whereat streight he lifted up his head, and shut his angles to make it beleev'd he went with confidence, and was yet vi∣gorous enough. In that instant Alcidiana (mounted on a Horse as white as snow) came out of a thicke•…•… on the other side o•…•… Polexanders b•…•…sh. The Horse fierce and proud, •…•…ut fearefull, surpriz'd with the meeting of the Stag, cast himselfe hast•…•…ly into our Lovers covert, and the Deare in the same instant giving two bounds, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Alcidiana had not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ex∣tre•…•…mely nimble to cast her selfe a ground, she had run the hazard of her li•…•…e. Her horse payd for't, for with two thrusts of his brow-ancklers, he was layd flat on the sand. At

the shreeck Alcidiana gave (seeing her selfe at the mercy of the incensed beast) Polex∣ander (without thought of uncoupling his Hounds) cast himselfe, his sword in his hand between the Princesse and the Stag, who not to be reveng'd at halfes) came running with full bent, head at her. He setledly expected him, and by a happy rashnes, stopt him with one blow of his Sword. The beast wounded to death fell stumblingly on the dust; and Al∣cidiana who thought her selfe dead fell some twenty paces from Polexander. The Prince a thousand times more fortunate then he hoped to have been, ran to the succour of this new Diana, and comming neer, with a great deale of respect, besought her to tell him what service he might doe her. You have given me the most important (she replyd) that you can ever render me. But who are you (said she) for it seemes you are not of my followers? Polexander twice or thrice, had a desire to tell her, she knew not all that were hers. But his discretion not suffring him to take that boldnesse, he answered, that he was a stranger, and not long since by a happy ship-wrack throwne a shoare on her Island. At those words, Alcidiana considering him better then she had done: I think (said she much surpriz'd) I have already seen you, but under another habit, then that you were now. Polexander was much troubled at it, because he durst not avow that truth, and yet fear'd to wrong himselfe, if he did not confesse it. But many of Alcidiana's Ladyes, and some Huntsemen, (at that instant) comming in, redeem'd him from that trou∣ble. Hereupon the Queen arose, and all the rest alighting: thank this Shepheard (said she to her Ladies) but for his courage, you had found Alcidiana as ill handled as her Paifray. With that, the Nymphes environ'd Polexander, and after they had given him thankes proportionable to the merit of his action, began to praise him; this his good a∣spect, another his advantageous stature, this, his beauty, that his youth; and all were of opinion, he had nothing of the Shepheard but the Clothes, and apparent simplicity.

The Vice Roy had no intent to breake off his discourse here, and Zelmatida ravished with this beginning expected the sequell with a great deale of impatiency. But suddenly there fell such a violent raine, that to obtaine a satisfaction; He was obliged to returne to the Pallace with the Vice Roy.

The end of the third Booke of the second Part of Polexan∣der.

The second Part of POLEXANDER. The fourth Booke.

ZElmatida staid not till he came to his lodgings, that the Vice-roy might the sooner goe on with his discourse which the storme had interrupted. And meeting Garruca as he entred his cham∣ber; my friend (said he) thou maist well repent thee for not walking with us. Thou hast lost the bravest relation in the world; for Pimantus hath recounted to me a part of the won∣ders of Polexanders life. Truely, imagination how inventive soever, can finde out nothing beyond the prodigies of valour and judgement, which have accompanied the tendrest years of that Prince. I will relate them to thee at leasure, and to make thee more desire it, I would have thee heare the sequell of the bravest adventure in the world. After he had thus spoke he entred into his privy chamber with Pimantus and Garruca, and seating them neere him, Father (said he) turning to the Vice-roy, let me know I beseech you, with what recompence did Alcidiana acknowledge the great service Polexander did her. It was incomparable (said the Vice-roy) at least if the King my Master may be believed. Alcidiana calling him to her, asked m•…•…re particularly then she had done at first, whence he was, what was his condition, and whether he had an intent to abide in her Territo∣ries? He answered the Princesse, he was borne in one of the fortunate Islands, that the condition of his Predecessors was not without eminency, and had alwaies made pro∣fession of armes. For himselfe, he had beene naturally enclined to follow their exam∣ple; and though he found in the mediocrity of his fortune sufficient not to envy the greatest: Yet an ardent desire to attaine to honour by difficult wayes, had made him leave his Countrey, and to search among the perrills of warre, and the sea, somewhat that might satisfie his ambitious humour. That at first he had not found things as he i∣magined, and by an impetuosi•…•…y of youth had often murmured against providence. But being miraculously conducted by her to that honour he had alwaies desired, he con∣demned his guilty impatiences, and by a just repentance turned into acts of thanksgi∣ving at his distrusts and repinings. For to what greater honour (said he) could that in∣finite power which governes our adventures raise me, then that I receive this day, to heare my selfe praised by the sweetest tongue of the world? At those words Alcidiana smiled, and turning to one of her Ladies called Amintha: Confesse (said she) that all the politnesse and civility is not confind to our Island: Since I have beene convicted both by mine eyes and eares; I must needes give over the being too Idolatrous of mine owne Countrey, and stripping my selfe of part of that love I beare it, confesse that this stranger is able to impose a great deale of envy on the bravest men of your Kingdome. Alcidiana breaking that discourse, began againe what she had left, and addressing her to Polexander. Let us know your resolution (said she) and whether wee can oblige

you to make any stay in this Isle? Madam (replide the King my Master) I have learnt being •…•…red up neere the persons of Kings from my infancy, that it is for those sacred person•…•…ges, soveraignely to determine of the fortune of private men, and for those of a meane degree, not to propose to themselves any thing but the glory of obeying them. This being granted, (Madam) it belongs to your Majesty to pronounce (if you please) what you have resolved of my fortune, and to me, to receive the commands you shall please to impose on me, as Lawes written in heaven it selfe. If I were your lawfull Princesse (replied Alcidiana) you have reason to speake as you doe; but having no o∣ther power over you then what you give me your selfe, I cannot with justice exercise any Soveraigne Authority over you.

Polexander with a great reverence, making appeare to the Princesse he knew all that obsequiousnesse and respect obliged him to: I humbly beseech your Majesty (said he) to be pleased that I contradict your opinion, and remember you how particular men cannot lessen, nor suspend the right of Kings, and by consequence that they are al∣waies invested with that absolute power which the Lawes both divine and humane have inseperably fastned to their condition: And in what liberty soever nature gives us birth, wee lose that priviledge of birthright, as soone as wee are out of that limits of our native soyle, and dare enter on that which is subject to the sweet authority of Kings.

'Tis to no purpose (replied Alcidiana) to take armes against your selfe; and denounce so cruell a warre against your freedome; for I accept not the evidence you produce to your owne prejudice, and cannot doe lesse then preserve that liberty which hath pro∣tected my life. Yes, you are free, and a liberty so priviledged, that it is at your choice to abide heere, or returne to your owne Countrey. But if you have an intent to live in this Kingdome, you may promise to your selfe from our just sensibility, all that the greatnesse of your service hath cause to hope for. Our Pallace shall be open to you, no audience shall be denyed you, and by a very particular exemption, it shall be even per∣mitted you to be sometimes of our association, and to our sports. The Princesse Chari∣ot comming, as she ended her speech, she went into it, and losing the memory of the ha∣zard she had run, returned to the Pallace, I know not with what joy, more quicke and lively then that she was accustomed to shew.

That Lady amongst the rest which I named Amintha, made a particular compliment to our shepheard, and told him that if he had neede of her, he should know she could be and was a good friend. Polexander gave her many humble thankes, and very proud of his good fortune, returned to finde Alcippus. He related to him what had betided, but it was done so disturbedly, and out of order: so many interrogations nothing to the pur∣pose, and so much distraction, that Alcippus perceived the Prince not to be at all where he was.

My friend (said he to him) sighing from the bottome of his heart; why wert not thou spectator of my glory? O Heaven! How faire is Alcidiana! What a grace, what a Majesty, what a height of courage! If thou hadst seene her in the danger I be∣held her, thou wouldest confesse she hath nothing of her sex, but what it hath of rare and beautifull. Certainely she is incomparable, and whosoever can resist her charmes may brag (but to his shame) that instead of a heart, he carries within him a cold and in∣sensible stone. I see well now (answered Alcippus) that 'tis not lesse difficult to get out of this Island then to come into it: 'Tis farre worse, replide Polexander, and e∣specially for me, for I sweare to thee, nothing but death shall be able to make me get from it. But (said Alcippus) what shall become of your followers? What shall the Queene you Mother doe? A•…•… cruell Alcippus, replied Polexander, why throwest thou againe into my remembrance such things, which in the case I am cannot be pre∣se•…•…ed •…•…ut to increase my affl•…•…ctions. Yet I tell thee Alcippus, that that which is alrea∣•…•…y passed furnisheth me sufficiently for not fearing what may happen hereafter. My good mother hath preserved my estate during my first absence, and I hope she will doe it as well during my second. And if to assist her she have neede of a new Alcippus, I hope she may yet finde some one in my Kingdome. I hope no lesse then your Majesty (said Alcippus) and besides promise to my selfe, that if you will make good use of your

fortune, you will not repent you for loving the fairest creature of the world. How ea∣sily (replyed the Prince) doest thou passe from one extremity to another. But lately thou madest me feare even to the least accidents of life; for so I call the disorders that may happen in my fortune, and now thou wouldest have me promise my selfe such greatnesse and heights, that it would trouble the most disordered and unbridled ambition to ima∣gine. But without flattring my selfe with any hope, without proposing any end to what I undertake: Know Alcippus, that I will right on, where •…•…ve and reason, incli∣nation and merrit, equally call me. The Prince and his Fav•…•…urite thus discoursing drove their flock before them, and were so earnest in their talke, that they came to the entrance of their Hamlet, when they least thought of it. Their Host, from whom familiarity had no way taken any thing of his first courtesie▪ came to meet them with a countenance that openly witnessed the content he received in their aboade, and asked whether they had well acquitted themselves in their pre•…•…ship of being shepheards? Polexander, unwilling to have his passion knowne, answered the old man, that Alcippus was sloath∣full enough to please himselfe in the case of a pastorall life. But for himselfe, his blood was too hot, and he too •…•…uch affected noise and action, to put on a resolution of slee∣ping or meditating all day long. The old shepheard laughed heartily at that answere, and •…•…mbracing Polexander. You are in the right said he, 'tis for gray haires, and chill bloods to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 themselves to solitarinesse.

As he had spoake thus, he saw enter the Court of his lodging a very proper man, whom he knew by his chaines to be one of Alcidiana's sl•…•…ves. He met him with a great respect, and ask•…•…d whether he had neede of his service. Father said the slave, one of the Queenes foo•…•…men assuring her the shepheard who saved her life, was to be heard of heere, hath commanded me on her behalfe to visit him. The old shepheard replied, he had not heard of that accident, and intreated the slave to relate to him something of it. The slave presently satisfied him, & the shepheard streight thought Polexander had con∣cealed from him the best adventure of his journey. He then led him to the valiant shep∣heard, and the slave shew•…•…ng by his submission the credit our Prince had with Alcidianas Stranger (said he) the Queene wills, you should weare a badge wherby her Subjects may know what you have done for her and them. She hath therefore sent you this box, which by the whole extent of her Territories, will cause that honour to be given you, which your action hath deserved; and the•…•…e with he presented him a box of Diamo•…•…ds, which was not lesse costly for the graving then for the greatnes of the stones. You might see on it that in the midst a Phenix on her funerall pile, and the workeman had so wittily made use of the faire lustre of that Diamond, that it seemed, the bird was not only in midst of the fl•…•…mes, but that it selfe was all on fire. Polexander received the Present, after a protestation of his being unworthy of i•…•…, and tha•…•… he accepted it only to testifie his o•…•… edience, He then opened the boxe, but found nothing in it, save a piece of limming which represented a Phoenix rising a new out of her ashes, and about it some Arabick words, which said, that her li•…•… should be more miraculous then her birth. The slave thinking Polexander sought for somewhat else there: A Lady (said he) of the Queenes, called Amintha, gave me this boxe, and in delivering it, charged me to tell you there wanted the principall ornament, which was the Princesse picture; but it was a gratification you ought not to demand, since the Queene for some reason or scruple, only knowne to her selfe, would never suffer her picture to be taken. After this dis∣course, the King my Master, having nought else to doe but his humble thanksgiving put in use all that he knew of the Countrey language, and taking from his finger the great Diamond he would have given his Hoste, with a great many excuses put it on one of the slaves.

The man never thought Polexander had beene of a condition able to give Presents of importance. He therefore tooke his Diamond as a thing of small value, and retur∣ned with a resolution to make Alcidiana merry at sight of the shepheards liberality. But when he was returned to the Pallace, and had at leasure considered his Diamond, he could not believe what he saw, but imagined there was either some illusion or 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in Polexanders liberality. He came and gave an accompt to Amintha of his Commissi∣on, and to make her laughe, told her in shewing the Ring, that he had beene payd for

his paines in shepheards coyne. The Lady tooke the Ring, and the luster of it streight striking her sight; what (said she all amaz'd) hath the stranger given you this Diamond? Yes Madam, said the slave smiling. Doe not laughe replide Amintha, for assure your selfe, you have the fairest Diamond in the Kingdome. This Stranger must needes be more then he seemes. Tis the present of a King, and no ordinary person; and I tell you plainely betwix•…•… us two, the Queenes boxe is not worth much more then this Ring. She went presently to the Princesse, and related to her at large all the civilities and sub∣missions whereby Polexander received her Present. Besides, (said she) I am to ac∣quaint your Majesty with one thing, which may no lesse astonish you, then the Stran∣gers valour.

What is it said Alcidiana? See (replide Amintha) and withall shewed her the slaves Diamond, and told her 'twas Polexanders gift. The Queene stood amazed, and after some silence; I see (said she) wee have not to doe with a man that contents himselfe with a little: I•…•… wee consider what he hath bestowed on Pallantus, 'twill be a shame for us to offer him lesse then a Crowne. Whilst the Princesse talked thus of Polexander; he by his extraordinary joy made knowne he was not so hard to be contented as she i∣magined. As he had beene tide by the eyes, he stood gazing on the present, and decei∣ved by an amarous illusion, found shut up in a little boxe, all the greatnesse and treasure of the Universe.

He invited his Hoste to take part in his glory. He called Alcippus, sent for Diceus, and thinking himselfe unable to expresse alone, what he felt, commanded them never to give over publishing his most happy fortune. Their fullnesse of joy was not silent in so faire an occasion of speech. They extold the Princes happinesse beyond it selfe, and spoake wonders of Alcidiana's beauty and magnificence. But when they would have gone from her prayses to Polexanders, and make it appeare that if his fortune were good, his merit was no lesse; he called them flatterers, imposed them silence, and said, that the most extraordinary desert could not without impudence have any value, or to be thought on neere Alcidiana. He so much forgot himselfe in this discourse, that his Host, who had beene one of the finest Courtiers of his time, imagined the Prince was not mooved to speake as he did by the sole motive of Alcidiana's liberality. And Po∣lexander as soone caught himselfe in his fault, but 'twas too late: For when he would faine have shifted it from his Hoste, and made him believe Alcidiana's presence had beene cause of all these praises: I believe (replied the wise old man) that •…•…e Queenes liberality doth not displease you; but I am much deceived, if her beauty doth not more neerely touch you. It happened to Polexander that which usually betides all Lovers, which are discovered in their subtleties. He blushed, and but for the darkenesse of the place where he was, he had confirmed his Host in the opinion he had of him. In this manner ended a day that had beene so favourable to Polexander. The very next mor∣row he cast off his shepheards habit, and as he was ready to goe to the Queenes Pal∣lace, he understood she had suddainly left the Countrey, on the receipt of most impor∣tant newes, and was returned to the City of Arzilea, which is the Capitall of her King∣dome, that her presence might strangle a revolte that was ready to breake forth. Polex∣anders first motions were such as you may fancy in a yong Prince, amorous and ex∣treamly valiant. But they were moderated by the second, and all that reason permitted him to wish; was that there might chance some great occasion wherein he might make shew how much he affected the Queene. This prayer or wish was just, and it was heard. For a small time after, one of the greatest Lords of the Kingdome, called Siziphus, who had before beene convicted of an attempt against the Queenes owne person, put him∣selfe into the field with a mighty Army, and colouring his rebellion under a pretext that the State was not governed according to the ancient manner, made all good men see he openly aspired to a Tyranny.

Alcidiana looking on his rebellion as on a Monster never before seene in her State, accused her indulgency and mercy as the causes of it, and by consequence, judged, that to cut it from any further life, she was to make use of her utmost justice. She called to∣gether the Officers of her Crowne, and in their presence, gave command to the Gene∣rall of her armes, to goe meete the Rebells, and hinder her people from suffring any

violence. These orders were executed with so much speede and trust, that before Sy∣ziphus was come out of his Province, he saw him stopped by an Army halfe as strong a∣gaine as his. He shewed in that occasion, he knew how to make warre, for instead of precipitating himselfe inconsiderately to a fight, he intrenched his Army in a very ad∣vantagious place, and secured his back with the Towne, whose name he carried, and because he could draw thence all he needed for the sustenance of his Troopes, those of Alcidiana's party, saw themselves inforced to stay a long time encamped before the Enemy.

Polexander was no sooner assured of this warre, but he sent for me from the place where I had so long attended him, and putting himselfe into an equipage farre excee∣ding a private man rode towards the Army. He had learnt of many the affection Sizi∣phus •…•…ore to Alcidiana, and the refuse he had from her in an Assembly of the generall Estates of the Kingdome; the resolution that insolent man had taken to steale and force her away to avenge himselfe of that ref•…•…sall, the ill successe of that enterprice; and lastly the pardon Alcidiana gave him, after his being condemned to dye, as guilty of high treason. All this made him thinke on Syziphus, not only as a Traytour, and in∣gratefull; But as a Rivall. He therefore thought, that if he could by the way of honor make an end of that, he should all at once, get the good liking of Alcidiana's Subjects, save the Princesse a second time, and gloriously give satisfaction both to his love and jealousie. As soone as he came into the Army, he went to the Generall, and making himselfe knowne by the badges Alcidiana had given him, ingaged the Grandies to in∣tertaine him as a personage of extraordinary and high estimation. Some dayes after, he communicated his designe to the Generall, and getting his approbation, obtained permission to challenge Syziphus. The King at Armes was commanded to goe to the Campe of the Rebell and his Companions, and not to neglect any thing that might adde to the reputation of Polexanders defiance. I yet remember the challenge he sent by the Herauld. Twas thus:

The Stranger Polexander, to Syziphus thrice a Rebell.

AMbition is alwaies guilty, but not ever modest. All Lawes condemne Tyrants; yet there have beene many of them seene who by their dangerous magnanimity have exempted themselves from that condemnation. This Syziphus tells thee, that when any hath violated the Law, and troden Justice under foote, it behooves him by a famous death, or some great event to deliver himselfe both from the power of Law and justice: In the meane time, poore ambitious man, in lieu of following those proude tyrannicall Maximes, thou hast imitated the proceedings of common Theeves. Thou hast lost thy courage with thy hopes; thou hast shamefully begged pardon for a crime thou wert not able to perpetrate, and thy infamy is come to that height, thou hast been seene to implore with teares, her pity whose justice thou hadst (newly) most brutish∣ly provoked. After this unmanlinesse, I doe not believe there is left thee any sence of honour. Yet I will adventure this challenge, to see whether I am deceived, and if thou hast not lost all thy courage with thy integrity, thou wilt come with thy armes to justi∣fie thy selfe of those crimes this State accuseth thee by my Pen.

Syziphus received the challenge with a fury unworthy a man of courage, and yet to testifie he had enough, he accepted it, and told the Herauld that the next morning he would be in the Meadow betweene the two Armies, to make knowne by the death of one of his enemies, what he had prepared for the rest. The ensuing morne at breake of the day, there was proclaimed a truce on both sides for six houres only, and yet both sides for feare of being surprised stood on their gards.

At the houre of combate, the two Rivalls came out of their quarters, and presented themselves in the field with such armes as Cavaliers were wont to make use of in the

like duels. Polexander after his invocation of Alcidiana and love, came amaine on Sy∣ziphus, and incountered him with such a force, that it seemed the power of those Divi∣nities he had called on, had with their power effectively assisted him. Syziphus retur∣ning from his amazement, tooke him to his sword, and came up to Polexander with all the resolution of a man of courage. The victory was a while doubtfull, but at last it in∣clined to the just side. Syziphus covered with wounds growne desperate at •…•…is ill for∣tune, and tortured by the remorse of conscience, let himselfe fall at the feete of his Conquerour, to oblige him to give him his life; and confessed (with weakenesse e∣nough) the crimes whereof he had long since beene convicted. Polexander bounded his revenge within the confession of that timerous ambitious man; but he strove in vaine to preserve his life, for he dyed on the place, and by a ficklenesse too ordinary in Armies, that of Syziphus no sooner saw him dye, but renouncing any other party then Alcidiana's, sent Deputies to treate with the Generall. The accord was not hard to be made, since they demanded nothing, but that all might be forgotten which was past, and every man might returne to his owne home, without feare of being inquired after. As soone as the Treaty was signed, the intrenchments which seperated the two Armies were slighted, and before 'twas night, it had beene a hard matter to meet with any of those that were of Syziphus party.

This important newes was sent to Alcidiana, and with so much diligence, that the next morning as she went to the Temple, the Post presented the Generalls letter to her; she looked earnestly on the Messenger before she opened them, and reading in his countenance the good newes he brought. What, Syziphus is beaten, said she to the Gentleman? Yes Madam (he replied) but an extraordinary way. The Queene her self broke open the packet, and according to her manner, would reade the letters without referring her selfe to the fidelity of her Secretaries of State. She heard of the Kings challenge, the combate he had with Syziphus, and in briefe, all that I have related. Af∣ter she had ended her delightsome reading: All powerfull and all good Diety (cried she) into whose hands I have committed the fortune both of my State and my selfe, well may I call the day wherein the stranger Polexander landed in this Kingdome, the day of thy love and blessing! What act of thankes, Invisible Sun, what offrings can acquit me from that miracle which thy goodnesse hath pleased to shew f•…•…r the safety of my people, and mine owne particular preservation? This ejaculation of her heart ended, she turned to those which followed her, and without discovering any excessive joy, come (said she) let us goe and give thankes to heaven for the victory wee have obtai∣ned. It is the more admirable, since it hath cost no mans life, but that of the publique enemy. At those words there was a kinde of a humming noise, declaring the joy every one b•…•…d of so happy an event, and the desire to know the particularities, which were published, as soone as Alcidiana had done her devotion, and were intertained with so generall a contentment, that all shops were shut up, and all the Temples open as on some solemne festivall day.

Polexander, who had not beene knowne but by some persons of quallity for his first service done to the Queene, by this second made himselfe to be taken notice of the meanest of the people. His name was in the mouth of every one. They called him the tutelare Angell of their Queene and State, and some even proclaimed that he was the powerfull Protector, which the prophesies promised the Kingdome under the name of a slave. Whilst these rumours ran among the people, Alcidiana, (retired with Amintha) was assaulted by many different thoughts. You judged well (said she to her Confident) when you t•…•…ought this stranger was more then he seemed. For mine owne part, when I call to minde the Majesty which shines in his face, the discretion and courtesie that have made him so well esteemed by us, and those two actions he hath undertaken by an absolute effect of his generosity; I certainely believe him to be some great Prince, who to gaine renowne to his valour, and fill the world with the report of his wonders, thus travells through strange Countries. What thinke you of it Amintha? Your Majesty knowes well enough (replied the Lady) that it was my first opinion. That which he hath done against Syziphus addes nothing to the conceipt I had of him. I believed him at first sight as couragious as he is, and if your Majesty permit me to extend my selfe a

little beyond what is fitting, I will take the boldnesse to tell you, that heaven in retri∣bution of your good deedes, hath sent you this man, who possibly is the sole man on earth that is worthy to serve you. See, (said Alcidiana blushing) one of the pleasants fantasies that Amintha shall have in her life time. You are a foole, believe me, and thanke Syziphus for my pardoning your idle digression. I know how far you were his enemy, and by consequence should understand that the newes of his death is able to make you lose a part of your discretion. But let's talke of somewhat else. In your judgement, how should I behave my selfe towards our Liberator, and what fortune can I offer him, which may acquit my debt? One word from your Majesty (answered Amintha) may with usury pay all that the stranger hath done for you and your State. You are (may be) more in the right then you are aware of, replied the Queene; for I see not how any can pay otherwise then by words and actions of thankes, a man who makes a profusion of riches, and contemnes what others adore. After many the like words used by Alcidiana, she went to dispatch the Post which came from the Army, and by her answere to the Lievtenant Generall, not only commanded him to treate Po∣lexander as her owne person, but also to bring him to her as soone as businesse would permit it.

The Courtier returned with as much speede as he came, and by his returne obliged Polexander to prepare himselfe for the receiving the reward of his victory from Alci∣diana's owne hands. The Lievtenant Generall after the performance of all his charge, thought wholely of giving the King my Master all the honour prescribed him by the Queenes letters. They marched off with part of the Army, and I may truely tell you, that at that journey was a continuall triumphe. The Countrey people came to meet us, that they might have the content of seeing their Redeemer. The Inhabitants of Townes far distant from their high-way, came thither with presents, and he thought himselfe unfortunate, that had not the happynesse to be looked on by Polexander. In divers places wee meet with erected Altars, and sacrifices prepared to doe our Prince the more honour, and some more free, and daring then the rest, said aloud, that to pre∣vent the disastrous allyance where withall Alcidiana was threatned by the prophesies, she ought to resolve to marry with Polexander. After eight or ten dayes in this manner, wee came to Arzilea. Never did the King my Master shew himselfe as he did that day. His presence, his beauty, accompanied with the richnesse of his habit, made him admi∣red of all, and (as wee knew a long while after) Alcidiana could not refraine from say∣ing to Amintha, that the stranger would never have what he deserved, if he had not one day on his head one of the fairest Crownes in the world. In that (replide Amin∣tha) you may either perfect what fortune hath begun, or doe Polexander that justice which she enviously denies him.

At those words, Alcidiana could not refraine from blushing, and intimating she tooke no pleasure in Amintha's freedome, she forbad her to talke to her any more of Polex∣ander but when she gave her leave. This rigourous Law being thus established, Alcidi∣ana went out of the chamber where she had seene Polexander passe, and retired to be fitly dressed to receive him. At the houre appointed by her for that Ceremony▪, her great Chamberlaine, and the Captaine of her slaves, attended by all that were under their command, came to the place where our King alighted, and the complements be∣ing passed, told him they came from the Queene to accompany him to his audience. This was done with a great deale of order and ceremony. But when Polexander was come to the foote of Alcidiana's Throne, and that he saw her fairer, and of more luster then all the jewells that even covered her, all his boldnesse, courage, and reason for∣sooke him. He blushed, he grew pale, and as if his victory had been a matter of re∣proach and shame, he was seased on by a confusion, and moved with such a trembling as all the Court marked it; so did the Queene as well as others; but faining not to take notice of it, she witnessed by a well studied speech, the obligation all her people had to Polexanders courage, and at last addressing her to himselfe, told him that know∣ing not how to reward an action that was beyond all ballancing, she intreated him to give her the meanes not to live ingratefull. Amintha, that by chance was hard by Po∣lexander, without doubt was afraid lest his disturbance should last; and therefore spea∣king,

for most commonly 'twas by her that Alcidiana made knowne her pleasure, she thanked the King my Master for the death of Syziphus, and suppressing the insurrecti∣on, and so far extended her selfe in his praise, that she threw him againe into his former confusion. Yet he spake, and though he said very little, and that fearefully, he came (notwithstanding) off that action to the good liking of those who wished to see him pestered.

That publick audience was seconded by a private one, wherein Polexander had re∣ceived an incomparable content, had he beene powerfull enough to have mastered his passion. But such a temper was not to be expected from a minde that suffred under the extreamest intemperancy. The cause of it increased by the addition of Alcidiana's fa∣vours; and 'tis no wonder if the effects redouble. Neverthelesse they hindred not this passionate Lover from holding his part well in his conversation with Alcidiana and A∣mintha. He made the third, and so readily disintricated himselfe from that Laborinth, where all things combinde to lose him, that Alcidiana had no cause to lessen the good opinion she had conceived of him. The next day she sent him by the same slave who brought him the Diamond boxe, the expeditions of the Principality which Syziphus formerly possessed. But he refused them with such excuses and modesty as might have satisfied the Queene: But yet she was not, and absolutely would have Polexander re∣ceive her present, that she might not alwaies remaine obliged to him. Amintha was imployde to get him to accept it, and she made so good use of her eloquence, that the King my Master consented, and tooke the gratification. But he never made use of it, for as long as •…•…e was in the Island he never would be knowne by any other title or name then that of the stranger Polexander. A pritty while had he beene in this height of hap∣pinesse, I meane in discou•…•…sing with Alcidiana at his pleasure; when a new adventure drew him from the midst of all his contents to expose his life to new dangers. Syziphus had a brother called •…•…antalus, as vaine and ambitious as himselfe; but one w•…•…o by Court hypocrisie counterfeited the hum•…•…le and disinterrested, but attended rili Syziphus had tried the hazard, and orecome the difficulties, to the end, that arriving after the bat∣tle wonne, he might be at no more paine then in gathering the best part of the spoiles. But when he saw his brother dead, he changed his resolution, and desperately casting away his vizard of dissimulution, concluded he would be talked of. To this end he thought no better pretext was to be chosen, then the avenging his brothers death. Ve∣ry privately he sent a Gentleman of his to Polexander, and giving him to understand to what sensibility the death of his brother obliged him, laid before him his own generous∣nesse, that should not refuse any content to those whom had offended. Polexander no sooner received the challenge, but he prepared to give it a satisfaction. He 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Al∣cippus, and giving him order for what was necessary for the com•…•…at, went forth secret∣ly with the Gentle man,

Alcippus came to them at the place Polexander appointed, and without distrusting one another came all three where Tantalus expected them. At first sight he made shew of a great courage and much hope, and spoake so loftily, and altogether with so much falcity of his brothers death, that Polexander forgetting his usuall patience, told him in heate, that he wondred how he had so long time lingered, and not sooner beene sensi∣ble of this pretended murther, and with that drew his sword, and ingaged Tantalus to give over his revilings. As soone as Alcippus, saw them ready, he told the Gentleman who brought the challenge, that 'twas not honorable for them to be idle, whilst their Masters were so busied. The words stirred the generousnesse of the Gentleman, which by a dangerous consequence cost him his life. Polexander and Tantalus were the while hard at it, and because they fought on horseback, they had not so soone done as their seconds. Yet had Tantalus received three woundes, and Polexander thinking himselfe too much satisfied, intreated him to thinke on his safety, and to believe there was no •…•…oule play in the death of his brother. But Tantalus had done too much to stop till he had ended. He passed furiously on Polexander, and in passing gave him a wound which he thought would have ended the combat. Indeede the wound was great, for it went quite through the Kings arme, but 'twas neither mortall nor dangerous. The generous Prince finding himselfe wounded, renewed his strength and courage, and sheathing

his sword in Tantalus side, let out from his heart at once both his pride and life. The unfortunate man was not falne from his horse, when Alcidiana's Lievtenant Generall, her great Chamberlaine, and many other Lords came to their place of combat. They blamed Tantalus unjust resentment, and bewailed his misfortune. But those two things not much troubled them, they rejoyced with Polexander for his last victory. As he gave them thankes for their affection, they saw his arme all bloody, and thinking him sore hurt, made shew of all the forwardnesse, and double diligence that Courtiers use when there is any service to be done to a man in the Princes favour. Polexander assured them 'twas nothing, and though he would gladly have returned to the City without so much company, yet for feare of offending any, he was forced to undergoe that punishment. Before he came to a great causeway which crosseth the Lake in which Arzilea is built, there were assembled so many people to see him passe, that he could scarce get into the Towne. Every one called him the invincible, the Exterminator of Rebells; and mothers with their fingers shewing him to their children, told them, that for all their happinesse they were obliged to that Prince his valour. At last he got to his lodging, and all a voyding, to leave him at liberty: Diceus unclad him, looked on his wound, and having stopped the blood, applied the first dressing. With much a doe he got him to his bed; but as soone as he was laid, pondering on his action, and fearing lest Alcidiana might thinke he sought occasions to be talked of, would needes excuse it to her by a letter.

Presently he writ, and giving it to Alcippus, commanded him to deliver it to Amin∣tha, and be seech her in his name to do those good offices for him to the Queene, which he expexted from her noblenesse. Alcippus performed his Commission, and earnestly pressing the Lady to tell him what his Master might hope: All (replied she) provided he mistrust his good fortune. Alcippus was wary enough of relating her speech to his Master, for feare his explaining it to his owne disadvantage, might give him more dan∣gerous woundes then that which made him keepe his chamber. In the meane time A∣mintha did her best endeavour for the Princes contentment. The very next day she gave him a proofe of it, which raised him to the height of happinesse and glory, if the follies of Lovers deserve to unfold them, the use of tearmes so noble and serious. For that La∣dy came to him from Alcidiana. In the name of the Princesse, she made proffers to him a thousand times more considerable then the Principality she had given, and intreating him to hasten his cure, that he might himselfe be Judge of the recompence his virtue deserved, delivered into his hands Alcidiana's answere to his letter. You may imagine whether so speciall a remedy did not extraordinarily operate on our Patient. Had every word been as powerfull as the Magicians most mysterious spells, and all the Characters equalized the virtue of those which force dead bodies from their graves, and call soules out of hell, they could not have wrought greater prodigies, nor produced more won∣derfull alterations, by the hidden virtue of five or six lines, Polexander had lost all me∣mory of himselfe. He not only thought he was invulnerable, but immortall, and in that extasie, promised no lesse to absent Alcidiana, then the laying of all the Crownes of the earth at her feete.

Amintha; leaving him in this amourous heate, went questionlesse to tell the Queene, what miracles she had done by her answere. The Princesse continued them by her con∣tinuall sending to visit her Defender; and Diceus noted it in the supernaturall healing his Masters wounde. One day he told him, that indeede his hand dressed the wounde, but certainely (said he) 'tis cured by the secret virtue of Alcidiana's. Polexander was pleased with Diceus fancy, and confessed to his Chyrurgion that the honour he recei∣ved from the Queene did sensibly forward his health. As soone as he left his chamber, he went to the Pallace, and being permitted the entrance to Alcidiana's Sanctuary (if I may speake as foolishly as amorous people use to doe) ne found her in that fashion, which (by his only relation to me) I thought capable to touch even insensibility. She had layd by her habit and dresse of Ceremony, and in putting it off, disrobed her selfe of that stately and awefull Majesty which made all to cast downe their lookes that gazed on her. Love, sweetnesse, delicacy, and the graces had taken her place, and seemed to be expresly met together to sport themselves about the Princesse. Her habit lesse jealous

of her beauties then that was wont, laid open to Polexander those treasures which till then he could not see, but by the helpe of imagination. Her neck was bare, and if for forme it passed all the study and examination of the most famous Statuaries, for white∣nesse it obscured the very pearles, and cast raies of light, and such shining flashes, that Polexander confessed he stood dazeled with it. He cast downe his sight to recover it, but love maliciously stopped it, now on an arme, and then on her hand, which by their beauties and allurements seemed to dispute with the other parts of that wonder the po∣wer of blinding all beholders. At last confessing himselfe absolutely overcome, and lay∣ing his armes at the Princesse feete, she gave him his life, and to make it appeare that she tooke care of his preservation, asked him whether he were cured of his wounde. The King answered, that though it had beene mortall, the experiments of her excessive goodnesse had beene of power to have healed him. I should be very ingratefull (said she) if my service drawing you so often to the hazarding your life, I should not be care∣full for its preservation. Yes, I am, and would have the world know, that I have a par∣ticular vigilancy over it, and that my obligations to you are so great, that I thinke not my selfe of ability enough to acquit my selfe worthily of them. The more I consider what you have done for my people, and my selfe; the more am I in doubt whether my debt be greater to you as Queene, or as Alcidiana. Madam, you, both as Queene, and as Alcidiana so confound and disorder me (replied Polexander) that I can hardly re∣serve a little judgement to cleere •…•…e from those cloudes and mists which are raised and got together by vanity, to make me almost unacquainted with my selfe. But your Maje∣stie (Madam) participating with the nature of that All-sufficiency, whereof you are the lively Image, with a bountifull hand spread you favours indifferently on all, and pou∣ring them with prodigality on the worthy and unworthy, you hold it a thing far below your Magnificence to weigh the merit in the distribution of your bounties. If you have a minde (said the Princesse) to conquer Alcidiana, as you have others, she instantly gives you all her honours.

B•…•… if you desire she should enjoy that liberty you have preserved her, suffer her with∣all to make use of her understanding, and that in speaking of things as she apprehend them she yet once more may confesse, that she is infinitely engaged to you. Polexander fearing he might run into some incivility, if he too much continued his Cour•…•…ship, made her no answere, but with a low reverence, shewed, that respect had imposed on him an eternall silence. I should be too long, did I relate to you all their converse after this, and the Justs, Balls, Maskes, and other braveries, wherein Polexander made that passion breake forth which hedurst not discover, no not to his trusted Amintha. I will on∣•…•…y tell you, that at one meeting where the Queene was, he had opportunity to have her picture taken without her knowledge, by an Italian painter, which he had brought from Lyons. I believe you have seene that fatall portraict which cost the valiant Almanzor his life, and many other Knights. The King my Master possessing that piece, and know∣ing nothing else to desire but the possession of Alcidiana her selfe; so far forgot him in his good fortune, that he was often tempted to present him to the Queene, and to make knowne his aff•…•…ction to her. Amintha kept him from that fault, and assured him, that as soone as the Princesse should know his designe, she would command him out of her Kingdome.

To alter his determination, she proposed to him the petitioning her permission to be one of her slaves. He had long time before a desire to it, and was even ravished that he could please her: Y•…•…r Amintha thinking it unfit for her to make the proposition, Po∣lexander went to the chiefe Priest called Radiotez, who was particularly favoured of the Queene, and so absolutely won him, that he became engaged to serve him in that 〈◊〉〈◊〉. He did it, but without successe; for Alcidiana would never consent to that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the King my Master. When he heard of the deniall, he fell into so deepe a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wee all feared he would at last indanger the losse of reason. He put on 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and in this sadnesse continued, till Amintha expresly commanded him to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 i•…•…, to take him to his former fashion of life, not to hazard what was passed, and to handle very gently a thing which could never be knit againe, if it came once to •…•…e bro∣ken. Polexander was advised by her, and getting by little and little from that extremity▪

whereinto his impatiency, and the excesse of his good fortune had plunged him, he be∣gan to appeare againe in company, and to the Court. The Queene at that time had made a progresse to the most distant Provice of her Kingdome, and at her returne came to one of her houses, built in a Forrest, which they call the Forrest of white Hyndes. Whilst she abode there, Polexander had once more the happinesse to save her life; for the Princesse being gone a hunting, and Amintha desirous to drive her Chariot, the hor∣ses either affrighted, or ill guided, tooke their bits in their teeths, hurryed the Chariot cleane crosse the fields, and if Polexander had not happily arrived, and turned them by his voice and clamour, they were even running headlong downe a precipice, where all must needes have beene torne in pieces. The Chariot was overturned very neere the downefall, and what with the bruise and the feare, Alcidiana and Amintha lay as dead in the field. The King ran presently to them, and being not able to succour but one at once, tooke Alcidiana, and carried her all in a swounde to her Pallace. For Amintha she quickly came to her selfe, and returned without neede of any assistance. When the Queenes Physitians had by their gentle remedies, recalled those spirits which her fall and feare had dispersed, she seemed not to remember any more the accident that was betided her, and desirous to know all the particulars of that, ingaged Amintha to re∣late them.

Since (said she) I had my part in the mischance and affright, I can only tell your Majesty, your horses were stronger then I, and not being used to my voice and guidance, they would obey neither; but fling away with me in spight of my resistance, and with∣out Polexanders helpe they were hurrying your Majesty downe the precipice of the Cedars.

O stranger! (cried the Queene) fatall for my preservation, will fortune never leave furnishing thee with occasions to oblige me? She commanded they would leave her to her rest, and retaining none but Amintha with her, she kept her bed two or three dayes, and would see none but her women. When she thought her selfe as perfectly well as before her fall, she sent for Polexander, and with a becomming grace accusing him of all the accidents had betided her; I cannot doubt any longer (said she) after so many strange events, but that you hold intelligence with fortune, and that from time to time you command her to throw me into new dangers, to the end you may have the con∣tentment of freeing me. Polexander answered very respectively to so pleasant and nice a speech, and after was with the Princesse as he had lived before his retreate and melan∣choly.

Alcidiana being returned to Arzilea, our Prince was strucken with such a dulnesse of spirit, or bewitched by the philters and magicall practises of an old woman called Ste∣nelica, that he forgot his affection to Alcidiana, and seemed to desire no other happines then the enjoying that Sorceresse. He gloried in that prodigious change, he spoke of nothing but Stenelica, he talked dayly and hourely of that old womans virtues, writ to her twice or thrice a day, satiated her with presents, and sometimes making use of Al∣cippus, and then of me to continue that commerce, imposed on us a rigourous silence, whensoever wee offred to speake to him according to our wonted liberty. This extra∣vagancy (or if you will have it so) this false and mysticall shew beguiled us five or six moneths, and wee thought wee had Stenelica sure, and reduced her to satisfie Polexan∣der, she broake with him, sent backe his jewells, and some of his letters, forbad him her house, and threatned to avenge her selfe of his mockery. At that time Alcidiana went from Arzilea, to a stately Castle built on a point of Land, opposite to the fortunate Is∣lands. At the foote of it is an unwalled Towne, and because there inhabit a great ma∣ny fishers, and other seafaring men, I had caused our ship to be brought about thither, to trim and fit her well againe for a voyage. When wee came thither, I went downe to the haven to see what was done to her, and found her very well rigged and repaired. Our Marriners that had kept still with her, were overjoyed to see me, and though they wanted nothing whatsoever; yet they made a shew to me of a great desire they had that Polexander would bring them back againe to their Islands. To put them in some hope, I said, the King would surely part ere long, and charged them to keepe their ship in readinesse.

Certainely wee must believe wee have domesticall spirits which continually watch about us, who drawing from the very fountaine that truth which is hidden from us, make it glide into us by some unperceivable channell. For if it were not so, how came it into my minde to give our Marriners such unlikely assurances, and against my owne beliefe, talke to them of Polexander's going away as of a thing resolved on? In the meane time there hapned a strange adventure, for two dayes after Amintha was stolen away by a Portugall Pirate, driven by a furious tempest on the inaccessible Island, and so cunningly taken away, that her rape was not heard on till she was far at sea. Polex∣ander no sooner heard of the accident, but he ran to the sea, and finding an armed barke at the Castles foote, got into it with Alcippus. His affection and generousnesse were very fatall to him; for they tooke from him the thought of the place he went from, and hindred him from considering that in losing sight of the inaccessible Island, he instantly lost the meanes of returning thither againe.

Diceus and I, thought the Prince might have neede of his men and ships, and there∣fore wee got aboard her, and commanded to set saile. The winde was extreame favou∣rable to us, and quickly brought us up to Polexanders barke. Alcippus knowing us as farre as he could kenne, and causing us to come neere, advised his Master to leave the barke, which he did, and comming aboard his owne vessell, spent all the rest of the day in chasing the Pirate, whom he had infallibly taken, i•…•… the night had come on two hou∣res later. But the darkenesse taking him from our sight, he so absolutely stole away from our finding, that the nex•…•… morning wee found our selves in full sea without sight of land or vessell. Polexander meditated long on what he should doe, at last the secret Ada∣mant of Alcidiana's charmes drawing him to the inaccessible Island, he commanded his Pilot to returne thither. 'Twas easier for him to command it, then for the Pilot to o∣bey it.

He tooke his Elevation, curiously consulted with his Card and Needle, he would have returned by the same course he came forth, and thought surely that for this time Alcidiana's Isle should neither be inchanted or inaccessible. Yet for all this, after he had sailed all day, and kept him fast to his way all the following night, and so on till next noone, he found his art and paines unserviceable against the inchantments of Alcidia∣na's Island. It failed but little when Polexander knew his misfortune that he had not throwne himselfe over board; but seeing himselfe withheld by our reasons; Well (said he) since you will have it so, I will live; but it shall not be for my selfe, for I ne∣ver hope to see Alcidiana againe; it shall be only for Amintha. Wee were three or foure dayes in doing nothing but whirling round that tempestuous sea, and attempting new waies to get sight of our inaccessible Island. The very winde was moved with the teares, and despaire of Polexander, and willing to moderate his griefe by some diversi∣ons that might wholely take him up, cast him into such places where he met where∣withall to exercise both his cholor and his valour. Some six dayes saile from Alcidia∣na's Isle, if my supputation be right, there is in the way to those Isles which the Anci∣ents called Hesperides, another sufficiently great and fertile, out inhabited by people so barbarous, or rather so unreasonable, that of all Nations I have seene there is none so differing as they from the nature of man. The winde having driven us on the Coast of that savage Countrey; Polexander landed with fifteene or twenty of his men, but he was no sooner on shoare, when he saw a great company of those furious brutes. They never inquired his intention, they would not give him leave to speake, nor would they suffer him to retire peaceable backe againe; but on the contrary, making the aire re∣sound with their dreadfull shreeks and shouts, they camefuriously on our small company, and after they had given a volley of flints and arrowes, made Polexander suspend his u∣suall humanity, and repell force by force. He came up to them, his sword drawne, and with it layd foure or five on the earth. When he saw wee imitated his example without winning ought on those savages: retire (said he to us) and doe not imbrew your swords in the blood of these wretches. He had no sooner given that command, but he saw a yong Maiden, who running and stretching out her hands, besought him to take her into his protection, and save her from the fury of those mad men. His noblenesse made him streight alter his command. He made againe on those beasts in a humane shape,

and in spight of all their resistance, tooke from them the Maiden, whom they had over∣taken and staied in the midst of her course. He put her in my custody, and commanding me to see her a shipboard, staied with Alcippus, Diceus, and ten or twelve others to re∣sist the enemy. By little and little he got to the sea, and gave command to his Cano∣neers to shoot among those savages. He was no sooner obeyed, but the Cannon scat∣tred halfe of them in peeces about the strand, and the rest, to fly the more nimbly threw away their stones and arrowes, and hid themselves in great woods that came downe to the very shoare: As soone as the Prince was shipped againe, and had well laughed at our pleasant adventure, he desired to see the person he had given me in guard. I told him not who she was, but bringing her, he at first sight knew her, though she was disfigured with Sunburning, travell, hunger, and the outrages she received from those Barbarians. He shewed how joyfull he was for her deliverance; alas poore Eli∣da (said he) by what accident fell'st thou into the hands of these Monsters? Is not thy Mistris there? Tell me (I prithee) where I may finde her, and what I may doe for her service.

'Twas Amintha's Maide, and had been forced away with her. As soone as she saw Polexander, she was like to have •…•…lne to the ground, and being not able to speake, but after a long time: Ah my Lord (said she) how doth my good fortune amaze me! and how unable am I to tell you what you desire to know? Amintha did ever verily believe you would lose your selfe in striving to relieve her, and when her Ravisher gave her leave to be alone with me; the sole thing (would she say) of which I am most sensible, and chiefest to be thought lamented in my misfortune, is, that Polexander out of his generousnesse will not faile to engage himselfe in my disaster. He will leave our Isle to follow me, and never considering, that there is no returning when once he hath lost sight of it, will bootelesly adde his owne losse to mine. If thou lovest me (replied Po∣lexander) kill me not by these new proofes of Amintha's generous affection. Tell me who was her Ravisher, and whether he hath carryed her? My Lord (answered Elida) my Mistris is in the hands of a Portugall Pirate, who is no lesse mad then those you now came from.

Ambition and love have deprived him of more then halfe his reason, and yet hath e∣nough left to keepe him from being carried to the utmost violence against Amintha. A tempest throwing him upon the Isle of these inraged brutes, and necessity compelling him to land there, he went on shoare, and was received in the same manner as you. He lost many of his men, and was forced to put to sea againe in the height of the tempest. The aversion or •…•…islike I had to him, and the shewes I made him every moment of it, put him on to rid me away. He therefore by force plucking me out of my Mistris armes, barbarously exposed me to the fury of these incensed savages. I must needes relate to you the strange accidents which have bet•…•…ded me among these fooles. Thou shalt doe that another time, replied the King; but tell me now what is become of Amintha? That which I have told you (said she) may make you imagine I can certifie you nothing of my Mistris. Canst thou not at least (added Polexander) shew me as neere as can be, the way the Rover tooke? Even this same (replied she) and if I forget not, he is go∣ing to meete with other Pirates which have their place of refuge and retreate in an Isle of this sea. I know where '•…•…is (said the Prince) and presently commanded his Pilot to stand for the Islands of Cape Vert.

He was obeyed, and so happily that within few dayes after wee discovered the con∣tinent of Africa, to which he was forced against his will by the winde and the currents, and staied there longer then he desired; for they were so much becalmed right against the flourishing shoares of the Kingdome of Senega, that for three dayes together his ship was as setled as it had beene turned into a rock. The remembrance of the happi∣nesse he had lost, and the vexations that continually followed him, fed then extraordi∣narily on him. He disclosed those anxieties, impatiences and distasts, to which he had never beene knowne to be subject. He found fault with all, the calme was more insup∣portable to him then the tempest, he would not even see Elida; and scarce could Alcip∣pus and I draw him for a few moments out of this melancholy humour. There was but one thing that set him at rights, and 'twas the picture of Alcidiana. They talke of me•…•…

who (being possest by some ill spirits, and others distract of their reason) by the po∣wer of musick have beene freed from those ill Demons, and cured of their madnesse; and I believe it to be true, since I saw Polexander above a hundred times get out of that fury which visibly possest him at the only aspect of Alcidiana's picture, and to take on his former wisdome, and usuall temper. But to the common misfortune of us all, that powerfull charme, that admirable counterpoyson, that Talismon more virtuous then all that are sold at Tunis and Morrocco: in a word, that picture (which is hard to believe) was taken out of Polexander's hands. During the calme whereof I have told you, he being much disquieted, and growing weary of his ship, made himselfe be ro∣wed ashoare, and not desiring any company, no not Alcippus, there intertained his thoughts neere a Fountaine in the contemplation of the Queenes picture. 'Twas the last day of the calme, he came on shoare, and the sight of that •…•…aire portraict, and his reading of some Arabian verses composed by him for the Princesse, brought him into a sleepe, and whilst he lay so at rest, a yong Prince called Almanzor (as long after wee learnt) by a fatall fortune was unluckily led to the place where the King my Master lay sleeping.

From a farre off he perceived his guilt armour, and knowing not what it might be, his curiosity drew him to approach as softly as he could. The King slept still, and the o∣ther perceiving that famous boxe which Alcidiana had given him, staied to looke on the picture within it. He admired, was strucken, and became in love with it. Then ta∣king up the paper wherein the Arabian verses were writ, and retiring without awake∣ning the King, got on his horse, and fled away as fast as he could spurre. Polexander (informed by his Guardian Angell) awakened in the very instant that Almanzor was on horseback, and heard the noise he made in flying, but his understanding and memory be∣ing not yet well cleered of those vapours which cause sleepe, had not the liberty, the one of reasoning on the present, and the other of what was passed. Yet remained he not long in this kinde of darkenesse. His soule opened her eyes as soone as those of his body were unshut. He remembred his boxe and his verses, and put his hand where he thought to finde them. But deceived in what he attempted, •…•…e arose all startled, he sear∣ched upon and about him, he turned whence he came, his eyes are fixed on the sands, he tosseth and turneth all the leaves and flints, and scratcheth and removeth the least leafe of grasse.

Then he be thought him of the noise he had heard, and said to himselfe, that what he had taken for the flight of a Lyon or some other beast, was that of the Theefe, which had carried away all the remainder of his treasure. He would faine have followed, but knew not what way to take. Yet he ran to the Mountaine, and being got very hye, whether goe I? (said he to himselfe) what doe I looke after? Will these deserts and forrests tell me newes of it? Presently he returned to the sea side, got into his shal∣loppe, and commanded the Marriners to carry him aboard his ship. As soone as he was there, he entred his Cabin without speaking to any of us, and casting him on his bed: Thou couldest doe me no other outrage; (said he) But cruell Fate, thou ruinest •…•…hine owne power, in destroying those Subjects over whom thou exercisest it, and in depri∣ving me of that only thing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 desired to preserve, thou •…•…akest from me all that feare which hath so often made me have recourse to thy protection. Alcippus imagining by these words, that his Master had received some new displeasure, came neere and be∣sought him to make knowne the cause of his affliction. O friend (said Polexander) some one hath stolen from me Alcidiana's picture! Doe but reflect on that disaster, and oblige me no•…•… to unfold it to thee.

Alcippus, at first thought his Master talked idely; but hearing him a midst his sighes to cast forth the word of Theefe, of portraict, of Alcidiana, he thought (doubtlesly) the Prince had lost his boxe, and that the robbery of which he newely spoke was true indeede. He told it me, and I relating it to Diceus, it went quickly through the ship. One of our Marriners (at the same instant) saw a ship comming out of the River of Senega, and ignorant whether he spoke true or false, or whether he should speake it or no; cried out the theefe was running away, and 'twas fit they should make after him. The ship was thereupon made ready for the winde began to rise, and the sea men who

looke after nothing but confusion and prey agreeing with their companion, cried out with him that 'twas not fit to suffer the theefe to escape. Alcippus hearing these cla∣mours, came out of his Masters Cabin, and being told the cause of the noise, presently ran into Polexander to advertise him of it, and by that newes, false or true, drew him from his deadly melancholy.

Hereupon he left his Cabin, came on the deck, and understanding from whence the other ship came. Be confident (said he) that's the Theefe, follow him, and (if you love me) endeavour he may not escape us. Wee gave the ship chase three dayes and three nights, and comming up to her the fourth, engaged her to strike saile, and yeeld •…•…o our discretion. Polexander first boorded her, and offring his sword at the Commanders throat, told him there was no other way to save his life, but by restoring what he had stolne. I am ready to obey you said the prisoner; but remember (if you please) that I have but lent my hands, and an absolute power hath commanded me to undertake the theft.

Well, well (replied Polexander) restore it, 'tis no matter by whom it was comman∣ded or acted, so I have restitution, and with that urged his prisoner to performe quickly what was required of him. The poore man, all pale and trembling, drew out of his bo∣some a ring and a letter, and presenting the first to Polexander; see (said he) my Kings high prized Seale, and then giving him the letter: This is that (he added) which hath cost the death of the writer, and had we not beene met withall, and interrupted by you, was going to be the instrument o•…•… a more execrable Massacre. Polexander amazed at these things, and full of choller to see himselfe so far from his hopes; keepe thy letter and thy ring, said he to his prisoner, and give me the boxe thou stolest from me. The boxe which I have stolen, replied the prisoner? Ah, noble Sir, if it be your pleasure that I shall perish, doe not search for that pretext. I am guilty enough already, without the imputation of a crime whereof I am innocent. What (said Polexander exceeding∣ly angry) didst thou not steale it whilst I sleept on the banckes of Senega? I perceive now, said the prisoner, that you take me for another, and truely 'tis an admirable act of the eternall Providence, which continually watcheth for the preservation of Inno∣cents.

Doe then, (my Lord) doe what that commands you! Punish a traytour and assassi∣nate, who to satisfie his ambition, hath exiled from his breast all sence of honour and p•…•…o∣bity, and made himselfe the executioner of a Monsters cruelties, who hath but the ap∣pearance of a woman. Polexander thought then he was certainly mistaken, and was at the point of setting the man at liberty; but considering that such a freedome might be the cause of some great wickednesse, he tooke the ring and letter which till then he had left in the hand of his prisoner, and made him come with him into his owne shippe, where not knowing what to doe further, bid his Pilot steere whither he pleased, for all courses were alike to him. Whilst Alcippus, the Pilot, and my selfe were consulting of the speediest way for our quick returne to the Canaries: Polexande passed the time with his prisoner, and required from him an 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of his former speeches. The African knowing he had spoken too much •…•…o hide the rest, and the feare of death be∣sides, having brought him to a repentance of his •…•…ormer life, he made no scruple of discovering such secrets as he intended no more to make gaine on. I am (said he) a Subject to the King of Senega. The g•…•…ddy humours of that Prince, have many times throwne me from the top of all prosperity to the botome of all disgrace, and then a∣gaine raised me to the height of all greatnesse. This inconstancy made me feare some blowe that would prove mortall to me at last, and to avoid it, I thought it best to betray what most concerned him, to advance the interests of that famous 〈◊〉〈◊〉, whom he hath set in the place of the virtuous Almanzaira. This new Queene is called Zelopa, who extreamely politicke, knowing that Zabaim was not possibly long to be held in without a great many bonds, hath fettered him with such strong ones, that she •…•…eares no•…•… his flitting from her. She hath got him to proclaime his Queene guilty of high treason, and to condemn her to a prison unlimitable, but by the ends of her life. Nay she had wo•…•… him to have strangled with his owne hands the Sonne 〈◊〉〈◊〉 had by that unfortunate Prin∣cesse; but that Almaid a Lord of Senega hindered the murther, and plucked the 〈◊〉〈◊〉

from the blinde fury of the Father, and the sharpe sighted rage of his step-mother, who for a long time knew not what was become of the Childe; but her spies were so indu∣strious that at last they discovered he was bred up in King Benin's Court. As soone as she heard it, she resolved his death, and chusing me for the executioner, or at least the prosecutor, she put in practice all that she knew might conduce to the perfecting of her damnable designe. She forced Zabaim to write to Benin for the delivering his Sonne into my hands, and in case he should refuse it, forced to denounce war against him.

You may easily see all this wickednesse proved when you please to read the letter I gave you. But in as much as the African Kings never make denuntiation of wars; but they send the Ring which is the principall note of their dignity, I found a way to steale it from Zabaim. Now, to tell you, after so many villanies, that which hath beene the cause of my being now your prisoner; know, I parted from Senega expressely on a message to King Benin, and if that Prince had delivered into my hands the lawfull heire of Senega, for certaine (blinded as I was with ambition) I had executed Zelopa's com∣mand, and sheathed the sword I weare in the breast of that Innocent. Polexander af∣frighted at so horrible a relation, told his prisoner he gave thankes to heaven for his be∣ing mistaken, and that in his misfortunes he found a great deale of consolation; since the divine goodnesse had vouchsafed to make use of his errour for the hindring the death of the Prince of Senega. It belongs to me, answered the prisoner, (throwing himself at our Princes feete) to give thankes to the fountaine of all mercy, for the enlightning my soule with the raies of his love in spight of my obduratnesse. I therefore make a vow not to abuse it any more, nor ever to returne into my Countrey till it be freed from Zelopa's tyranny. You shall doe very well, replied Polexander, and to quit you from the sorrowing for the losse of your fortunes by this resolution, I engage my selfe to re∣store them to you.

The Prince infallibly had beene better then his word to him, but heaven seeing the holy and rigorous penitence of that sinner, was willing to recompence him more liberally then Polexander: For it tooke him out of this world, the very same day that wee arrived at the Canaries. I will not relate to you the sundry fights Polexander had with the Pirates, whilst wee strove to bring him back into his Kingdome. I will only tell you he was there no more happy then he was at sea. At his arrivall he heard of the death of the incomparable Axiamira. He bewailed her losse as much as it deserved, and after some moneths of mourning, from one part of piety •…•…ell to another. He be∣stowed all his time in hearing the complaints of his Subjects, to reconcile their diffe∣rences, and to free them from all feare of the Spanish forces. After all this, he deigned to cast his eyes on me, declared me his Vice-roy in all his Isles, and establishing me in that authority before his departure, commanded that in his absence, I should be obeyed as himselfe. Scarce tooke he any time of repose after so many travells and disquiets. Amintha's Confident, whom he had brought from the Islands of mad men, seeing him still to grieve for the losse of the picture, strive said she one day to get the thing it selfe, rather then the shadow. That thought (answered the Prince) comes on me a hundred times in a day, but I give no eare to it, because it proposeth to me a thing impossible. Tis so indeed (replied Elida) by ordinary meanes, but you must have recourse to such as are not so.

Alas! and what are those asked the Prince? I imagine to my selfe one (added E∣lida) that seemes to me infallible. I prithee tell that me, said the King. It behooves you then (added Elida) either under pretext of religion or otherwise, to get entrance into the Isle of the Sun, and when you are permitted to abide there, stay for the comming of Lynceus or some other of Alcidiana's Pilots. I intend so much (sadly answered Polex∣ander) but when I have attempted it, what will be the issue for my consolation. I make it no difficulty to get into the Isle of the Sun, since it is never denied to such as come thither to sacrifice. And I may too stay there, nay and meete with those that come from Alcidiana's Island; but all this is nothing, for I am certaine, the Queenes Pilots will never receive me into their vessell. What ground have you for that feare, said Elida to him? From some what you have spoaken to me unawarres, replied Polexander. I thinke

I know what you would say, answered Elida. Yet faile not to doe all that lies in your power, and leave the rest to fortune. If you gat•…•…er thence no other satisfaction, yet you shall at least have thus much, that you have not neglected any meanes of making your selfe happy. Well I'le believe you, deare Elida, said the Prince, and indeed fol∣lowed her advice so absolutely, that the very next day he put to Sea, and tooke with him that Maiden, Alcippus, and Diceus, and though his Pilot knew not the scituation of the Island of the Sun, yet he promised to finde it, provided it were not inchanted as that of Alcidiana. But the season being extreamely ill, and the difficulty which the Pilot thought to orecome, greater then he imagined, he was above two moneths contesting with his ignorance, and the frequent stormes. At last he drew neere to that Island, and Polexander being where he might discover a far off, perceived a vessell which came a∣way from the Isle. He made up to her, he carefully marked her, and finding by assured tokens that she belonged to Alcidiana, followed her, but in such a manner as he belie∣ved he made them not jealous of him.

Yet Lynceus (for twas he) perceived the Kings designe, and winding up and downe all the rest of the day, thrust himselfe into the Haven of the Sun, as soone as the obscu∣rity of the night had made him lose sight of the Princes vessell. The next morning he sought for her, he pursued her, he got with all the sailes he could make away from the place where he might have found her; in short, by often turning and traversing that sea, Polexander returned to the place from whence he set saile. Heere he spent a part of the winter, for all his impatiences. At last his strength being by little and little ore come by the weakenesse of his minde, he fell sick of a languishing disease. Oftentimes we thought him dead, but his good temper having wrestled neere six moneths with his dis∣quiet thoughts and melancholy he recovered, I may say from the grave. Yet was he a∣bove six moneths more wherein he could not put himselfe to the least effect, but he fell againe into his former malady. After so many relapses, he at last got strength whether he would or no, and recovering by the returne of the Sun a health more vigourous and setled then that which he had lost, he would sacrifice it as the other, to his passion, dis∣quiets, and new voyages.

And now seeing the season approach, wherein Alcidiana's ships used to set saile for the Island of the Sunne, he did what he had so often done before, without any other de∣signe then to end his life in quest of that happinesse he had lost. Whether it were that Alcidiana's ships were already gone, or that she had altered the time of sacrifices; so it happened, that Polexander found nought of what he searched on the coast of the Isle of the Sun. Whilst he was in this perplexity, one of Bajazets Rovers fell into his hands. He used him with a great deale of courtesie, and wonne him to stay sometime with him. During which, talking of divers things, he understood how valiant Baja∣zet was, how generous and magnificent, and of his being passionately in love with a great Princes•…•…, whose picture he carried in a boxe of Diamonds. At the newes of this imagine you see Polexander troubled, all in disquiet, and transported with the desire of revenge.

He certainely believes it to be the boxe that was stolen from him: And to be cer∣taine, describes to the Pirate the forme of the boxe, makes to him a picture of Alcidia∣na's picture, and forgets not the least stroake in it. The Pirate, who may be only spoke by hearesay, or but confusedly, remembred what he had seene, answered Polexander to his owne desire, and could so well perswade him that Bajazets boxe was the same he described, that he presently put on to assault him in his Island in the very midst of all his forces. But his good fortune was he found him not there. He was gone a roving with his f•…•…eete; and the Governour of the Isle understanding Polexanders designe by the Pirate he had let goe, would have staied him, not only as an enemy of his Governour, but as a man for whose redemption there might be payd a great ransome. Polexander, was therefore set on in his vessell, by all those the Pirates reserved for the guard of the Isle: Imagine now the Princes resolution when he saw himselfe in the midst of fifteen or twenty Pinnaces and Gallies. He made a fight that can never be worthily enough related, no not by the most eloquent pen in the world. He fought two dayes and two nights without intermission, and as a generous Lyon not only teares in pieces the toiles

that invirone him, but the hunters also that oppose his passage; so did this Heroë, either sincke force from fight part of the enemies vessells, and making a great slaughter of the Pirates, gloriously returned by the same way he came thither. The third day after this victorious retreate he discovered a ship, and thinking it belonged to the Rovers that had so traytrously dealt with him, he commanded them in it to strike saile. The Master not obeying, there began a fight with the Cannon, and was continued by handy blowes. Polexander in that incounter met with a hardy enemy, and 'twas that valiant Prince, the Sonne of Zabaim and Zelop•…•…, who as I have told you tooke away Polexanders box. The fight was equally maintained by the valour of those two Princes for the space of •…•…ven or eight houres.

Now was Polexander in Almanzor's vessell, and anon after was Almanzor in Polex∣ander's. They were imitated by their Souldiers, who came on or retreated, as they had more or lesse good fortune. That was the cause, when the tempest had seperated them, some of Almanzor's Souldiers were in Polexanders ship, and the Prince wanted of his, and amongst others that famous Italian Painter, who had drawne for him Alcidiana's picture. The storme taking him after the combate, he was very violently beaten by it for five or six dayes, but at last his Pilot knew, that the ill weather had beene very fa∣vourable to him, since in a small time with an extreame swiftnesse it had made him crosse a long space of the sea. The fi•…•…st day of the calme he discried the top of the prodigious hye Pike of Teneriffe, and advising Polexander of it, he was commanded to get in and cast anchor there. At his landing, all the Inhabitants of the Isle shewed so much joy for his returne, and so great a desire to enjoy him longer, that he resolved to give them that satisfaction. In the meane time he sent Diceus into the other Islands to make choice of the best ships in the Havens, and to cause ten or twelve to be made ready at all points for him.

His providence may be tearmed propheticall, for Diceus was no sooner returned with the ships, but the Portugalls appeared about the Isles. Their confederates they had yet among the Canarians, had without doubt given them advice of the losse of Polex∣ander, of the Queen his Mothers death, and the desire which many witnessed of retur∣ning into the Portugall subjection. They therefore believing they needed but to shew themselves, and so enter in possession of the Isles, drew neere without doing any act of hostility, and sent newes of their comming to those who had called them thither. The answer they received was not such as they expected. Word being sent how Polexander was safely returned. Neverthelesse they were advised to land in the very Isle of Tene∣•…•…ffe, to set on their enemy whilst he was weakest, and not to give him time to collect his Troopes. This counsell was followed, and 'twas so, but for the King my Masters greater honour. I dare say, that the forepassed times whatever they talke to us of their H•…•…roës and Conquerors, have left us nothing that may be compared with that which Polexander did for the safety of his Subjects. Greece vauntes she had a Prince so magna∣nimous, that he alone cast himselfe into an enemies City, and alone sustained all the as∣sau•…•…s and sha•…•…s of a Nation who wished his death. But Polexander did that by the greatnesse of his courage, which the other did by necessity. Instead of standing as simply defensive, he went on alone to incounter a great number of the worlds most va∣liant Souldiers; and what passeth all beliefe, in opposing his only sword and courage, to the •…•…ury and power of a whole Navall Army, disputed with it two dayes and two nights their entry of the port of Tene•…•…iffe, and gave time to his ships to come and par∣take in so wonderfull a victory.

The Portugalls perceiving well there was nothing but blowes to be gotten, fled after a short fight, and seeing themselves chased by our vessels, retired into the ports they have on the coast of Africa. Polexander had begū to take breath after all these turmoiles, whē a new enemy as much to be feared as all the Portugals together, ingaged him to exercise once more his valor. Twas the generous Almanzor Prince of Senega. I have told you he found Polexander sleeping neer the sea shoar, and how he took away his box, & Alcidi∣ana's picture. 'Twas a fatal theft to him. He saw himself takē as soone as he had takē; for Alcidiana's admirable beauty communicating to her picturs some beame of her light, & a part of her power stroke those with love that had never seen her, & flash'd forth flames

from a cold piece of copper, and a few dead colours. As soone as Almanzor had made tryall of that prodigious adventure, he coveted nothing, no not life, but for Alcidiana, and turned all his youthfull valour, against a Rivall whom he thought to be more gra∣ced then himselfe. Nor was he tormented with that sole Demon, for those of honour and renowne did not lesse afflict him. His generous disposition upbraided him with his these, and represented to him his poorenesse of spirit which could not sufficiently be condemned, for stealing and robbing a man that was a sleepe. These two motives with his jealousie and repentance, made him leave his owne Territories the very day of his Coronation, and forced him to crosse an unknowne sea in quest of Alcidiana and Polexander.

The last he met withall, as I told you, and fought with him unknowne. But after they were seperated by the tempest, he knew it from out Italian Painter which was left in his ship, and then he thought of nothing else but of finding him againe. As soone as he was in the roade of Teneiffe, he sent back the Italian to Polexander, and by him a letter so full of excuses for his fault committed, and so many testimonies of his repen∣tance, that by the accusation and humiliation, the King my Master knew the magnani∣mity of that Prince. At the end of his letter he spoake to him of the greatnesse of his love, and said, his passion had reduced him to that point, that he could not without death restore a thing which he himselfe confessed could not be detained without the losse of his honour.

Polexander, sent Alcippus to him with the Italian, to assure him of the estimation he held of his courage and intention, to intreate from him the honour, to enter his Terri∣tories, and assure him he would contribute to his contentment all that did not oppose the service he owed to Alcidiana. Almanzor grew almost desperate to heare all these generosities, and made shew of an extreame sensibility of what his Rivall had offered him, called himselfe a most unfortunate man to have to contest with so high a virtue, and at last told Alcippus, he most humbly besought Polexander to give him the happinesse to make an end on Land, of that fight which they began at Sea. Alcippus set all his wits on worke to alter that Princes resolution; but seeing 'twas all in vaine: I will (said he) goe, and make knowne to my Master the King the true cause of my voyage. I be∣seech you doe so (replied Almanzor) and after his imbracie would have loaden him with jewells. But Alcippus very civilly refusing them, got himselfe to be landed, and so went to give an account to his Master of what he had done with Almanzor. That brave and great King sent him back with new complements to his enemy, and till the day of fight treated him as if he had beene Zelmatida or Iphidamantus. The Indian Prince smiled at the old Pimantus addresse, and intreated him to relate the combate be∣tweene those two illustrious Rivalls. The particulars (answered the Vice-roy) deserve your curiosity.

Those two Princes met at one instant on the place of combate, armed at all points, and mounted on two of the best horses in all Africa. They threw away their speares af∣ter the first course, and with their swords beg•…•…n so furious a comba•…•…e that I cannot ex∣presse it to you; but in saying. it was the dreadfull effect of a prodigious cause. That fu∣ry and rage which yong men call love, in arming those two youthfull Princes dispoy∣led them of all judgement and humanity. Thinke after that, what they were capable to act. They contented not themselves in covering the earth with the bloody pi•…•…ces of their broaken armour, but made rivers of their owne blood, and becomming far diffe∣rent and unresembling the men they had beene till then, confinde all their former gene∣rous ambitions in the fearefull desire of each others destruction. At last Polexanders in∣vincible Angell compelled Alma•…•…zot's to contend no more against his fate, and to humble himselfe before a power that mastred his. Almanzor, covered with blood and woundes fell downe under his horse legs: Polexander was as quickly alighted, and to him with his sword in his hand; you desired (said he) to be overcome, confesse now, that you are so. That Prince seeing himselfe neere the losse of his life, contemning the threats of his enemy, cast his thoughts on Alcidiana, and addressing himselfe to her, made to that Queene a resignation of his life in such tearmes as drew teares from the eyes of his Conquerour. What said I, his Conquerour? No, the King my Master, in

hearing them, confessed himselfe vanquished, presented his sword to Almanzor, begged him his life, and avowing that he was only worthy to serve Alcidiana: he added; yes certainely you deserve that honour, and you are too sole vanquisher; for our combate having for object nothing but Alcidiana's service, he alone may justly be termed victor, who hath given the best testimony of his love and constancy. Polexander yet went further, for seeing Almanzor desperate of life, he left him his sword, and going away, as if afraid, strove to make it believed he had had no advantage ore Almanzor. That poore Prince would faine have died where he fell, but his Servants carried him back into his ship, and finding his woundes not mortall, omitting nothing to hinder de∣spaire from doing more then the sword of Polexander. But all their labour was in vaine, for Almanzor would absolutely dye, and after a languishing of many moneths percei∣ving he began to amend, he caused himselfe to be carryed into that stately Tombe which is to be seene in one of our Isles, and unmercifully turned on himselfe a weapon more cruell then that of his Rivall.

The King my Master heard not of his death till a long time after, by meanes of his forsaking his Realme, as soone as his woundes were healed, and rebeginning his errant life, to lose the sorrow for his victory, as also to tempt fortune againe, and meet some Angell, or some star that might reconduct him to the Inaccessible Island. But neither on the waters, nor in the skies found he ought, but what had conspired his ruine. Ne∣verthelesse he returned to the Isle of the Sun, and had long conference with some Priests whom he had wone by his gifts.

From them he got all that might advance his intention, and yet ran two moneths more up and downe the sea to try his fortune. He put in execution all that love advised, he observed all that the Priests of the Sun had prescribed him, and notwithstanding did nothing but increase his afflictions, and ruinate the remainder of his hopes. In this vaine travell having spent almost all the yeere, which was the fourth since he came out of Al∣cidiana's Island, he came to winter in this Island, and in the beginning of the spring put to sea with seaven good ships of consort. In this last voyage he perceived that perseve∣rance might overcome the malignity of fortune and the starres; for being a dayes saile from the Island of the Sun, he discovered three great vessells, and for feare of terri∣fying them commanded his Pilot to steere a contrary course to theirs till the beginning of the night, which was executed with so much art, that the three ships sailed without any suspition.

At sun set, Polexander hoysed up all his sailes, and was so fortunate, that at day breake he was come up so close to them, as he knew them to be of the Inaccessible Island. He saw Alcidiana's new arising Phoenix painted on the sailes of the tallest, and judging thereby it was the sacred vessell: Companions (said he) at last wee have found that wee have sought for these foure yeeres; but that we may not perish in the Haven, we must joyne wisdome to valour, and ability to affection. Let every one of you therefore contribute to my contentment, and make it appeare in this occasion the same obedience they have testified in all those that have preceded. I particularly desire from you this obedience (said he) because by it I will suspence with your valour, hold your hands, and take from you that wonted fervency wherewithall you were accustomed to assaile mine enemies.

You know these are none, and 'tis only the reverence they beare to their Lawes of their Countrey, and their Queenes command, which makes them turne their armes a∣gainst us. After he had thus spoaken, he caused five of his ships to make up, and com∣manded the Pilots to get the winde. Himselfe with two other made right to those of Alcidiana. They instantly severed, one tooke towards the South, another towards the East, and the last Northerly. This stratagem angred Polexander, and made him afraid of losing them, either in following them severally, or if he should give chase but to one. He deliberated a while what to doe, and thought it best to get his ships together, and follow all that which tooke her course to the North. It was the greatest, and therefore he thought her to be that wherein Lynceus was. Well after her he made; but the first and second day he could not come up within reach of the Canon. The third day he got to her, but that the night made him lose sight of her, and was the cause why all the next

day she could not be seene of them. The fift, he discovered his Canaries, and a Marriner which was in the scuttle of the Mast, cried out, he discried Alcidiana's ship. This newes infused new life into Polexander and his followers. They hasted all after the cunning Lynceus, and having singled and found him out among so many turnings the sea makes by reason of the Islands, laid him aboard in sight of that of Iron. He could no more have escaped us, but must be taken. Polexander was now (as he thought) the Ma∣ster of fortune, when a great vessell which lay in the roade of the foresaid Isle, came out, met with him, and staied him, and withall gave testimony that the inequallity of their forces should not binder him from fighting. Polexander cryed out to his men, that they should not amuse themselves about that new enemy, but closely follow Lynce∣us. But the Turkes in the great vessell forced them to fight for their passage. The King inraged at this obstacle, layd the Turkes aboard, and being unable to compell them to a retreat, came to handy stroakes with their Captaine. I will relate to you an admirable adventure: In the heate of the fight, some of our people crying out, that Polexander had the victory; scarce had the Captaine of the Turks heard that name, but he came and threw himselfe at the feete of the King my Master, presented him his armes, petiti∣oned to be chastised for his insolency, and in a word, made himselfe knowne to be the same Iphidamantus whom the Sultan Bajazet forced away the same day he caused Peri∣ander to be strangled.

Polexander astonished at the adventure, witnessed how much he rejoyced in seeing him againe, but remembring he lost Lynceus, intreated him to goe and expect his re∣turne at the Canaries, and suffer him to follow the ship wherein his fortunes were in∣closed. Iphidamantus after he had craved pardon for his errour, would repaire it in as∣sisting him to take Lynceus. They did all they could to fetch him up again, but in vaine, and in lieu of it found themselves pestred betweene two Navall Armies, which were ready to give battle. The one was Spanish, and the other made up of part Turkes, and part Moores.

The Vice-roy of Argier commanded in chiefe, who having passed the streights at the request of Abdelmelec and other Africans to make an enterprize on the Portugall, saw himselfe compelled after a bloody fight, to returne into the Mediterranean, and dispute no more for the Empire of the Ocean with a Nation, who by their late discoveries, and mighty fleete were gotten Masters of it. 'Tis fit before I proceed further, that I relate to you Iphidamantus life, as he himselfe told it his brother Polexander whilst they were together. Do not put your self to that trouble, Father, replied Zelmatida; I know it all. He himself made it known to me in the Pirats Iland. I know how he was bred by the Basha Achomat under the name of Soliman, that Melicerta and Histeria daughters of the Ba∣sha fell in love with him, and am not ignorant how the insensibility of Achomat caused the death of the one, and the banishment of the other. In briefe I know all that hath •…•…ided him to the very day he was taken by our deare Bajazet. Since 'tis so, replied the Vice-roy, I have no more to tell you, but that Polexander (after the battle betwixt the Turkes and Spanyards) finding againe the pretended ship of Lyncens, did what he could to winne her by faire meanes. But that being bootelesse, he followed her to the Pirats Island, fought with her, and at last understood he had taken all that paines only for an apparition and Chymera. For in effect 'twas not Lynceus, but a Rover called Cid Hamet, which scoured through the seas in a ship which a little before he had taken from one of Alcidiana's Pilots.

Judge now, great Prince if love be not a dangerous thing, or rather a malediction which heaven in its anger powres downe to chastice the sinnes of the earth. Certain∣ly tis the greatest scourg it can inflict upon us. O Sorceror which empoysonest by thy fa∣teries? O Basiliske which murdrest whomsoever thou beholdest! Accursed love, which whilst I live shalt be the object of my hatred and imprecations. By thee, the most vali∣ant and generous of all Kings hath lost the use of reason, the fairest time of his life, the desire of honour, and the hope of a thousand conquests. Through thee he goes like a mad man to assaile all alone a whole Nation, and expose himselfe to the fury and deri∣sion of a hundred thousand Barbarians. Through thee he hath altred the order of na∣ture, the necessity of his condition, and of a great Prince as he was borne, he is become

a new Monster of the Ocean, the playing toy of the windes and waves, the outcast of the rocks, and the prey of Pirates. It may be at this houre I speake he is tossed by some surious tempest, sees all the elements animated aginst his temerity, and findes himselfe at the point of paying by a sad shipwrack the contempt he hath had of that absolute power, which with an equall justice disposeth both of the calmes and tempest. The Vice-roy's feare was not only provident, but propheticall, for at the very time he spoke, Polexander expected, (but constantly) the shipwrack which threatned him. Yet he es∣caped it, and after the surmounting many perrills, landed in a little Bourg, which is but two dayes journey from Copenhagen. He came on shoare in that place to thinke advisedly on what he was to doe for his cloathing himselfe after the Danish fashion, to avoide the exposing his person in strange habits to the fight of the vulgar people of Copenhagen.

He had not much Danish, but he had enough for not being a stranger among that rude Nation. When he had put all things in order, he got on horseback with Alcippus and Diceus, and tooke the next way to the chiefe City. He lodged (first night) in a great Towne a little dayes journey from it, and rising about breake of day, which was then about ten of the cloack, he rid a great way before he baited, and having not past five houres of way more to ride, he entred into a great wood of firre trees, and had scarce gone two hundred paces, but he was ingaged to stay and read in a copper table fixed to a tree the way he was to take. Whilst he made that inquisition, he heard a great noice, and making a stand, lent his eare, and judged there were some theeves robbing of passengers, his innate goodnesse soliciting for their succour, he rid towards them, and leaving his way, tooke another far narrower, which seemed to lead to an old Ca∣stle which he saw on the knap of a mountaine. When he was come to some ruines which he saw in a little open bottome, he perceived a man with his sword drawne de∣fending himselfe against five who would either have taken or murdred him: Wounded he was in many places; yet did not his woundes deprive him of strength or courage. The King made in to second him, and instantly mingled amongst the murtherers, made them feele the weight of his blowes, and gave them not time to perpetrate that crime they had begun.

The Dane perceiving the assistance which was as 'twere miraculously betided him, tooke breath, joyning with his defender, fell'd on the earth the last of his enemies. He thought the combate done, when Alcippus and Diceus cried out, and he looking about, saw ten new cut throats came to charge him, who questionlesse had surprised him with∣out their advertisement. With that Polexander alighted, so did Alcippus, Diceus who was a Souldier followed them, and the Dane shewing himselfe more resolute, and un∣toyled then before, went foremost to meet those traitours, and no lesse terrified them by his threats then his blowes. Alcippus valiant even to rashnesse, flew on one of the theeves, but whilst he laid him in the dust, was charged behind, and so pressed that he could not turne head. He received so unfortunate a blow, that he lost the motion of his right arme, and by consequence the meanes of using his sword. He was even compel∣led to sit downe, and leave to others the taking of revenge which he was desperate of being able to performe himselfe.

Polexander no sooner saw him unfit for further combate, but he ran to him, and so manfully sustained the stroake of the enemy, that he deprived them of their obstinacy of fighting. The Dane had a great part in this defeate, and Diceus was not without acqu•…•…ing a greate deale of honour there. The combate being ended, Polexander went againe to see in what case Alcippus was, and thought him dead, when he saw him bleed so exceedingly.

But Diceus assured him, he had no other hurt then a veine cut, and that 'twas nothing. They quickly saw he spoake truth, for he stopped the blood by the first swathband. Pre∣sently the Dane came to Polexander, and seeming almost nothing weakened by his woundes: I cannot (said he) render you service, that may any way equalize the obli∣gations I owe you. Did I owe you but my life, I could be in hope of acquitting my selfe by offring you that little of it which I have remaining. But being engaged to you

for my honour and my life, I can neither finde words sufficient to expresse my grati∣tude, nor what to doe to returne a satisfaction. Neverthelesse let me know who you are, and what fortune, so favourable for me, conducted you to this wood. That little of life which my wounds have left me, beseecheth you not to retard that favour for which I petition.

Polexander, would have answered him so, as he might have beene contented; but some twenty paces from him he saw a woman of a very good countenance, though she seemed not young, who was mightily affrighted. As soone as the Dane saw her, he thought no more of what he had asked Polexander, nor may be on his woundes. He opened his lips to speake, but his strength failing he fell downe as dead: O! Heaven, cried the Lady, seeing him fall, must I needes be so miserable? And therewithall com∣ming neere to one of the slaine, and a while considering him perfidious Adolphus (said she) hast thou thus betraied me? Or rather see how thou hast betrayed thy selfe. Hea∣ven is just, and its wisdome permits not rancor and malice to have alwaies the upper hand of innocency. Which done, she ran to succour the Dane, whom Polexander had so well assisted, and after she had oftentimes called him her Sonne and her hope, commanded a Maiden that followed her, to run quickly to fetch her Essence, and call some of her servants.

The Maiden hastned and quickly returned with all she was sent for. The Lady then powred some drops of a very cleare water into the Danes mouth, and presently he came from his swound. Wherewith the Ladies servants lifted him into a coppered chaire, and would have carried him away; but he commanded to stay, and intreating Polexander to come neere, yeelded him thousands of thankes, then giving him a picture boxe, covered with Diamonds with a great deale of civillity: Be pleased said he to ac∣cept this boxe, for a remembrance of our meeting. But doe not imagine, I am so igno∣rant of the value of things, that I thinke my selfe acquitted of the debt I owe you by the worth of the stones on it; if I intreate you to accept it, tis for no other considera∣tion but that you may know if you come to the Court, the name of the man whom you have obliged. I dare not stay longer with you, Thamiris command, which calls me o∣ther where is too just to be obeyed. At first Polexander was somewhat nice to take the boxe, but perceiving by the Danes speech, what a discontent that might have been to him had he refused it, and besides conjecturing that token might be advantagious to him in his designe, he tooke it, and told him, that going to the Court, he would not faile to bring it him back aga he. After this promise, many great compliments passed, & assurd him, that if any other then the Lady who had so well assisted him, had commanded his carry∣ing thence, he would hardly have resolv'd to part with him. The Dane besought him not to be troubl'd for him & said, that whither he went he rā no hazard. Polexander expoun∣ded his words in the sence a Lover might give them, and for feare of disobliging, tooke his leave of him and the Lady, and so with Alcippus and Dic•…•…us went streight to horse, and recovering the high-way, got quickly into a great Village at the end of the wood, wherein he had met that bloody adventure. Of necessity he was to alight there, for Al∣cippus was so weake that he could ride no further. He had him to be brought into the best Inne, and commanded Diceus to treate him as himselfe. It hapned as fate would, that the Hoste was an old Souldier, who after his bearing armes many yeares without bettering his fortune, had retired himselfe thither, and married an old Hostesse very well accommodated.

Polexander, desirous to free the minde of his Hoste from the astonishment he had to see Alcippus in so ill an estate, told him, how in passing by the neighbouring forrest, they had been set on by theeves. You are not the first (said he) who have fallen into their hands. There is none that passeth that way, but he loseth his life or his money if he be not well accompanied. Those are the inconveniences the wars usually leave be∣hinde them, and the disorders which happen through the negligence, or purloining of such as are appointed the Souldiers pay masters. This mans discourse made Polexander believe that he might informe him of what he so much longed to know. He therefore in a small time grew to a great familiarity with him, and to win him absolutely, put him∣selfe to the trouble of inventing a thousand tales, under whose probabillity he was got

to be of his ancient acquaintance. Some fifteene dayes he was in that Inne, for Alcip∣pus cure, and one of them being wonderfull desirous to know who he might be whom he had ayded, and finding his Hoste in a good humour, asked him whether he went not sometimes to the Court? He made answere, he had beene there but too often, and how after his unfortunately living there five and twenty yeeres, he was constrai∣ned to retire to get his bread, and play the begger no longer. If so (said Polexander) there are then but few persons of quallity whose faces you know not? 'T were happy for me, said he, if I knew them lesse then I doe, and that their false semblances had not vainely abused my expectation, and worne out the prime of my youth. Whilst he was talking thus, Polexander opened the boxe which the Dane gave him, and taking out the picture shewed it to his Host. Scarce had he fully seene it, but he cried out, and clap∣ping Polexander on the shoulder, whence come you said he, that you know not this face? I come (replied Polexander) from wandring through most of Europe, and am but newly come into Denmarke. By chance found I this picture, and imagining it belongs to some great Lord, I would faine restore it, and that bred my curiosity to know him. You have good cause to prosecute your intention (answered the Hoste) for 'tis the por∣traict of one who is likely to enrich you for the least service you can doe him; his name is Phelismond, our Kings Heire and Favourite, or to speake more freely, he is indeed the very King of Denmarke.

At the name of Phelismond, Polexander was so supprised, that he changed colour, and was faine to sit downe to resettle himselfe. His Host tooke notice of it, and as∣ked whether he were not well? He replied, twas the remaines of a late sicknesse, and so cast himselfe on a bed, as well to dismisse the man, as to ponder seriously on so wonderfull an accident. After a long times musing, he rising, addressed himselfe to his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and told him he must participate of his astonishment, and know who 'twas whom they had 〈◊〉〈◊〉 from among the theeves. Tis (said he) Phelismond; surely I know by this •…•…at reaven delights in the confounding the judgements of men, and laughing at 〈◊〉〈◊〉 deliberations, will they nill they, brings on them all which it had de∣creed from all eternity.

I came of purpose into this Kingdome to kill that Phelismond, whom for Alcidiana's sake I have prosecuted as the chiefest of mine enemies, and yet the first adventure which presented it selfe heere, engaged me to hazard mine owne life to preserve his. After this miracle, I bow my head, and see cleerely that heaven cannot suffer our rash thoughts to oppose themselves against the secrets of its providence. My passion presented to me Phelismond as one of those happy Monsters, whome fortune takes pleasure to raise a∣loft, to shew how far pride and licence to doe any thing dare goe. But I know quite contrary, that this Prince is adorned with excellent quallities, and his courtesie is no lesse winning then his valour is redoubtable, without whose approbation there is not a virtue, but is a vice, nor courage, but is unmanlinesse. I am no lesse guilty then Phelis∣mond, since I have received other Lawes then those thou gavest me. Tushe, tushe, I re∣nounc•…•…e all these unlawfull motions, for since thou hast resolved it, Phelismond must pe∣rish.

When Polexander had ended, Alcippus began, and confessed there was something of he knew not what extraordinary good in this adventure; neverthelesse (said he to his Master) I admire nought at all these strange accidents which betide in what you have undertaken. You should not be the man you are if things did not befall you other∣wise then to other men. Well, well, (said Polexander interrupting him) tis enough; once, either Phelismond or I must dye. The sentence of our deaths hath been given by the mouth of a Judge, from whom it is neither lawfull for him or I to appeale. Come let's see whether he have as much courage against love as we have been witnesses he had against other enemies. Two or three dayes after this last resolution of the King, Diceus assured him Alcippus might get on horseback, and they all three departed from their Inne, and the same day betimes arrived at Copenhagen. They lodged neere the Pallace, and understood the very next day, Phelismond was by the Kings command brought into the City, and being absolutely out of danger, was seene and visited by e∣very one. This newes exceedingly pleased Polexander; yet resolved to attend his cer∣taine

health before he would make knowne to Phelismond the cause of his voyage, and thought it fit withall to restore him his boxe, and disclose himselfe, that so at his returne he might intimate to him that which lay on his heart. One morning therefore, taking Alcippus with him he went streight to the Favorites lodging, as soone as he came in, he noted there was nothing in that man but savoured of the greatnesse of his courage. His house was open to all men. No person hindred the entrance into his chamber, no not of his withdrawing roome. Tis true, he was so generally beloved, and the respect the whole Court had alwaies borne him was so strong a guard to him, that neither great nor lesse came to disturbe him but upon some very just cause. The first to whom Polex∣ander addrest himselfe to know whether that Prince was to be spoken with, offred to conduct him into his chamber, and Polexander accepting his courtesie, followed him. He went through great Halls very stately furnished, through chambers, and anti-cham∣bers far more magnificent, wherein he saw none but Phelismonds domesticall servants. This sollitude so much ravished him, that he could not hold from telling his Conductor, the Courtiers of Denmarke, were either very negligent or little ambitious, since they gave so much ease and quiet to the man, who only next the King might make them a fortune.

You see (answered his Guide) that our Po•…•…ters have no greate imployment, and there is no great crouding in our chambers. Yet tis not because our Couriers are not the most diligent, and ambitious of all men; but the Prince long since told them once for all, that he pretended not to be the most unfortunate in all Denmarke, because his Ma∣ster did him the honour to love him more particulaly then others: That he engaged himselfe to serve them as often as his credit could adde any thing to their merrit, or their Princes will; but he would not promise it but on condition they would suffer him to live at liberty. Truely replied Polexander, I understand dayly there are most eminent virtues in Phelismond, though he be of their number, with whom they have been thought (even till this day) to be incompatible. The mind•…•…s of the multitude must needes be very bad, since some of them have been to wicked as to finde fault with the actions of so great a personage., It may be (said the guide) some one may have cause to complaine of the Prince; yet I intreate you to believe they are much in the wrong who make him the cause of their publick miseries. He dayly toiles to put a period to them, and when he thinkes to be at the point of relieving the people, some spirits borne for their ages affliction, alter those good designes, and inforce him whether he will or no to raise the charges and impositions, to deter the intire desolation of the Kingdome. But let it suffice, I have not in command to justifie his actions, nor condemne other mens, and see, we are at the chamber doore.

I intreate you then (said Polexander) to see what the Prince doth, and if you thinke it fitting, to tell him, that the Gentleman to whom he gave a picture boxe, is come to restore it to him. At that word, the Guide smiling, left him, and presently returning, said, that Paelismond intreated him to come in. At his first step into the chamber, divers Gen∣tlemen came and saluted him, and all with a great deale of civility, led him to the Prince his bed side.

He raised himselfe halfe to embrace him, and received him with so great expressions of joy and sensibility, that Polexander had not been worthy to have lived, had •…•…e not been moved with his courtesie. He began his compliments by the boxe he presented him, and often besought his pardon for the long unacquitting himselfe of what he owed him. Phelismond, embracing him againe, tooke him from the continuing those civilities, and wringing his hand, I see well (said he) that you have no better an opinion of me, then of custome men have of such who are in the same degree of fortune with me. E∣very one believes, that no man can be a Favourite, but he must instantly forget himselfe. But if I might have the happinesse of seeing you often, I hope you would change your opinion, and finde, that I left not to be rationall when I came to be a Favourite. I aske your pardon for this ill discourse; but I am so much afraid to be taken for another, that by this declaration I begin my acquaintance and friendship. To this Polexander answe∣red with so much freedome and gentlenesse, as if he had not beene Polexander, or the o∣ther Phelismond; he felt within him an extraordinary deba•…•…e, and his virtue opperating

her accustomed effect, compelled him to love his Rivall, and Alcidiana's enemy. At last his passion, and that Princesses command got the upper hand. Hereupon he resolved his owne ruine, or to avenge both, and for that cause would be but a little with Phelis∣mond, who did all he could possibly to stay him: But Polexander came off so gently, that without any incivility he had the liberty he wished. When he was returned to his lodging, he began to muse on his fortune, and passing and repassing through his memo∣ry all P•…•…elismonds endowments; I am (said he to himselfe) reduced to two extremities, far differing from one another. If I put not in execution what Alcidiana commands me, I am a coward, a traytour, and ought to thinke no more on the meanes to finde the In∣accessible Island. On the other side, hath any man seene an example of brutallity e∣qu•…•…ll with mine, if I yield not my selfe captivated by all those generous actions where∣withall P•…•…elismond obligeth me to love him? But what of this? Alcidiana shall not then have satisfaction? Instead of excuting her commands, I shall become the censurer of her will, and have the impudence to accuse her of injustice when it accords not with my opinion?

No, no, she must be obeyed. Let those who know not how to love aright, reprove my ingratitude. Let them convince me of extravagancy, and take me either for some in•…•…m us person, that cannot indure the lustre of extraordinary virtues, or for an exe∣crable fellow, who would make himselfe immortall by some signall villany. Alcidiana is more to be feared then all these accusers. I will act what I ought; Phelismond can∣not blame me for it, and whosoever is truely generous, shall (at the same instant he de∣plores the misfortune of so accomplished a Prince) set downe among his first examples of Loyalty, the excesse of my blinde obedience. After this discourse with himselfe he began to thinke on the meanes of bringing his resolution to a good issue, and after a long meditating on it, came forth with Alcippus to revisit Phelismond, and met with his first Conductor, who assured him his Master was impatient till he saw him againe, and that all the afternoone he had entertained his visitants with nought but his ingenuity and cou•…•…age.

Polexander, answered as he ought, and so ascended to Phelismonds Chamber. He found him up, and was received with a great deale of joy and gentlenesse, behaviors ra•…•…e, in men of that condition. Long time the Prince embraced him, speaking, as he had knowne the secrets of his soule. When (said he) shall I have the happinesse to see you as really my friend as I wish it? Polexander, who could not betray his conscience, nor indiscreetly offend so generous a Prince, studied an answere that might satisfie him, and yet be no prevarication in what concerned Alcidiana: The sole cause (replied he) which deters me from receiving the honour you doe me, is a feare that when I shall be more particularly knowne to you then I am, you will be inforced to cut off a great deale from those favours you doe me.

Phelismond, at that word stopping him; assure your selfe (said he) that neither you nor all men breathing can by any action whatsoever take from me my intention and will to be entirely yours. But fearing least you may imagine that rather some other con∣sideration then that of your virtue hath obliged me to woe your friendship; I asked it you, without the knowledge of what you are, not what you can doe. These courtesies of Phelismond, so distracted Polexander, that but with a great deale of trouble could he frame an answere to so many noble speeches. In the meane time, Phelismond, who had a designe to gaine him absolutely, smiled to see him at a nonplus, and thus came on againe. Be•…•…ide what may, yet must I have what I intreate for. Doe you not know, that Love hath the priviledge to be resisted by nothing? See then what you intend to doe. If you be so good a husband of your friendship, as you will sell it, either it is ine∣stimable, or I have that which will buy it. Or if you •…•…e so liberall as to give it; I am ready to be wholly oblige•…•… to you for it. Polexander confounded with these new char∣g•…•…s, was even desperate of ever contenting P•…•…elismond, and admiring his generosity, (s•…•…id to himselfe) Alcidiana was unjust in desiring the death of so perfect a Prince. At last he overcame the agitations of his minde, and resolved not to discover himselfe, but to declare to P•…•…elismond the cause of his journey, and by consequence what 'twas which hindred him from accepting his friendship. See how he came off from so diffi∣cult

a straite, and under what tearmes he hid the truth of his life: Since (said he to Phelismond) you will have me absolutely accept the honour you doe me, or give you reason for my refusall, I will make use of the liberty you give me, and freely tell you, I cannot receive your offers, how advantagious soever they may be to me, nor yet pro∣mise you my service, till I am disingaged from an affaire wherein your selfe is in some sort interrested. Of what nature soever that businesse be, (replied Phelismond) I sweare to you, if you please to doe me the favour to trust me, I will ever conforme my selfe to what shall be most agreeable to you. This protestation full of candor and affection, obliged Polexander to trifle the time no longer, but thus to goe on with his Declarati∣on; I am a French man (said he) and my birth good enough for satisfaction. I have been bred up among the troubles wherein my Countrey hath laboured within these few yeeres, and fortune hath been so favourable to me, that I have had thence more then I expected. But when I adapted me to tast the fruites of my labours, she hath raised me a fearefull enemy, and would have put him in possession of all that good I promised my selfe.

Yet when she was in hand to put him the enjoying, she found her selfe too weake to performe it. That Favourite hath met with more obstacles in that he would deprive me of, then the greatnesse of his quallity could imagine. He hath seen his hopes, as well as mine, take their end when they should have had their beginning, and when I should have complained of his violence, he obliged himselfe to give me satisfaction by waies that were not honourable. Pardon me if you please (continued Polexander) if I name not my Usurper, for he is so well knowne in this Court, and you have so much cause to affect him (as I have been told) that I feare for his sake you will forget all your promises to me. Believe it not (replied Phelismond) I heere againe engage my selfe to make good what I have promised.

Since you are so generous (said Polexander) I will lay open the summe of all my bu∣sinesse: My enemy unwilling to have our quarrell decided otherwhere then before the King your Master, sent that he would meet me heere to give me full satisfaction, and that at farthest I should heare of him within a Moneth. See Phelismond my fortune, the cause of my voyage, and wherefore I dare not believe you can love me. You may per∣ceive by this that I am come into Denmarke to fight by the Kings permission; and to petition him that in his presence, I may force satisfaction for an injury which will not suffer me to live without its resentment. After this last overture, if you have yet remai∣ning disposition to oblige me, suffer me not to have made an idle journey. My Adversa∣ry is not now in case to make a joynt petition with me to the King, but he is a person so noble, that he would not for any thing faile of his word. If I therefore dare to hope ought from your goodnesse, or rather if my fantasticall designe hath made no change in your opinion, I conjure you once more by that virtue which is so habituall to you, to free me from my continuall molestation, and to imploy a part of that power you have with the King in getting me his permission for a combate. Phelismond, observing in all Polexanders discourse the mildnesse, and well temperature of his speech, answered him thus; I will make you see how much I value this your greatnesse of courage, which no lesse apeares in your resentment, then in all the rest of your actions; I therefore promise to serve you at what hazard soever, and either to lose all my reputation, or give you that content which you hope for by your combate. But (if you please) it shall be on condition, that you finding nothing in this which may hinder your being my friend, you will grant me that which I have often sued for. When Polexander saw his busi∣nesse goe on beyond expectation: I should (said he) be unworthy of the honour you doe me, did I not confesse that my desire to be your servant is equivalent with that of overcomming my enemy.

Notwithstanding, since it is very likely you would not treate a friend to lose him pre∣sently; let, (if you please) our inclinations rest in suspence, till the day which may by chance finish them, and besides thereto adde so much as may last us the rest of our lives. There must (replied Phelismond) needs be some hidden mystery in your reservednesse in a businesse which seemes to me so just, but I content my selfe with what you thinke fit; and will have so much command on my selfe, as to regulate my will by yours. In the

meane time I assure you that even to morrow the King shall know what he ought of your businesse, and that I may serve you effectually: I will take my time for it, when he pleaseth to doe me the honour to have me retired with him to treate of matters which concerne his service. How infinite is your noblenesse (replied Polexander) and how much more ought I to acknowledge what you have done for me, and otherwise then I have yet performed! Doe not speake so (said Phelismond) the respect I beare you is sufficient to make me performe impossibilities, and (if need were) to proclaime me an enemy to my selfe.

O valour! (cried Polexander, interrupting him) before whom all other things have nought but of what is base; why should a cruell and powerfull necessity bereave me of the meanes of acting what I ough•…•…? After this stirring, which in truth was not sea∣sonable, Polexander recalled himselfe, and besought Phelismond not to acquaint the King to hastily with his businesse, since he was certaine his enemy could not be in case to answere him for a moneth. He fained this excuse to give Phelismond the more time for his strength. The Prince paused a while before he answered him, at last he tooke him by the hand, and wringing it as if he knew his designe; I will doe whatever you please (said he) and till you command me, I will speake nothing of your affaire. Till that happy houre be (replied Polexander) with your leave I will take a view of this great Kingdome, and satisfie my curiosity with the infinite number of rarities where∣withall your Seas and Islands are replenished. I could wish (replied Phelismond, you had no such intention, and would trie to make you spend the time with more ease and plea∣sure; but since you desire to travell, I will not deprive you of that contentment, but on the contrary give you a guide, for whose fidelity I will be answerable both for your person, and the successe of your voyage. Polexander thanked him for that new fa∣vour, and the next day having made himselfe ready for his journey, tooke his leave of the Favourite. I should transgresse the liberty I allowed my selfe, if I related all the ho∣nour they gave our King, and his worthy intertainments in all Townes where he came. Tis enough to say he saw many strange things, and particularly all those varieties where withall nature pleaseth to disport her in that end of the world. After his being neere three moneths at sea, he landed againe at Copenhagen; where he found the Court, and was welcomed by Phelismond with such embraces and excessive favours, that he was a hundred times about to confine himselfe to some corner of Norway, to leave him the liberty of serving Alcidiana. But what cannot a true love doe? The re∣membrance of the most accomplished Princesse of the worlds beauty, soone made him alter his resolution.

The very next day he betooke himselfe in earnest to his businesse, and to stick constant to the execution of Alcidiana's commands, stopped his eare to all that reason, and de∣voyre could perswade him. He went to Phelismond at his arising, and assured him of his enemies arrivall, besought him to perfect his affaire. Phelismond promised he would, and that very day obtained all he desired. Presently he advertised our King of it, and demanded if there were any thing else to be done? Yes my Lord (replied Po∣lexander) tis not enough that we have leave to fight, but that we have the time and place assigned us.

Phel•…•…smond assured him how that very evening he would try to get the Kings consent it might be in his presence, and in the great place of Copenhagen. For the day (said he) tis fit wee leave him the liberty of appointing it you at his pleasure. Yet this one thing I will promise you, that you shall not be long in expectation. Herewith Polexan∣der left the Favourite to take order about his affaire, and returned to him againe to∣wards his bed time to know the Kings pleasure. He was told that the King put off the combate to the last day of the moneth, and that tearme is very short, for tis the day af∣•…•…er to morrow. See, at last you have your desire; but believe me, that with griefe e∣nough I have served you in this occasion; but since 'twas your will, I thought on no∣thing out your contentment. Polexander thanked him for the continuance of his fa∣vour, and besought him to believe that nothing grieved him, but his being constrained •…•…o engage the Favourite in his follies. As soone as he was retired to his lodging, he sent amongst all the Armorers of Copenhagen, for the choice of the best armes. He

had two of the best horses in Denmarke, and was troubled at nothing, but how he might become the Conqueror, and yet not afflict or disgrace Phelismond. At last the the day for the combate being come, Polexander went very early to Phelismond, and finding him ready, •…•…treated him to make a turne in the Garden. Phelismond agreed, and imagining Polexander requested it not without some designe, commanded none should follow him. When he was descended into a walke of Pines, Yewes, and Cy∣pres, he stopped, and intreated Polexander to speake freely to him. Our Heroë kept constant, and making no shew of any emotion or tartnesse, thus bespoake him: The first thing I have to say to you Phelismond is, that I am extraordinarily in love, and with the fairest Princesse of the world.

After this Declaration, I doe not only believe you already have excused me for all past faults committed in your presence; but that you will like wise approve of all my offences hereafter. I would not promise my selfe this grace from you, if you had ne∣ver loved; but when I call to minde the power Thamiris hath over you, I finde where∣withall to justifie the most remarkable crimes which love can possibly make me perpe∣trate. Is it not true Phelismond, that Thamiris beauty, and admired graces are by you held in that esteeme, that there is no man living, nay I say even the King your Master, whose enemy you would not declare your selfe, had he an intention to rob you of them? Heere he stopped, and did it of purpose to give Phelismond time to answere. Though I see not well whereto you tend (said that Prince) yet I freely confesse to you, I am of your opinio•…•…, and I love with so much fervency, that I would (•…•…f 'twere possi∣ble for me) set all Europe in a conflagration, rather then to make a cessiō of whom I serve to the greatest of Kings, or dearest of all my friends. I have well perceived (said Po∣lexander) your love to Thamiris is very violent, and tis by that example, which I would prepare you to judge favourably of such things as love commands me to put in execution. I will make knowne to you heere on what tearmes I am with Thamiris, nor what the cause is which makes me so much affect her. It shall suffice me, that you know, I love in so high a place, that all the virtues and beauties of the world have con∣spired together to compose the object of my love: Let the Reader imagine whether Polexander were sensible of these words or no, whether the jealousie they imprinted, were not power•…•…ull enough to make him forget all his Rivalls courtesies. He could not indure he should goe further, and had not reason assisted him, 'twas to be feared, that conversation had not ended as it began.

Polexander suppressed his first agitation, and returning into cold blood, thus went on againe. Ther's no more time left to conceale my selfe, and •…•…ide from you a businesse which you must necessarily know. I am Polexander, the servant of Alcidiana, and Phelismond is the enemy, I come (by her command) to seeke in Denmarke. After this short Declaration, he related to him at large the humours of that proud Queene, and told him word by word the tearmes she made use of, when she let him understand by one of her sl•…•…ves, her aversion to his su•…•…te and himselfe. As soone as he had begun this discourse, Phelismond lo•…•…t both his colour and countenance, and looked on Polexan∣der, as if he had been no more the man, to whom he had vowed so much amity. At last comming to himselfe, he very distinctly spoake thus to the King; I shall never be ca∣papable of contradicting Alcidiana's commands. Since you come from her, I am rea∣dy to bring you into the field to him, whom so great a Princesse holds to be so uncivill and barbarous.

Come Sir, you that are happy in all things, let us hasten her revenge, and satisfie her justice by the death of this Northerne Monster. This new proofe of Phelismonds ge∣nerousnesse, so cooled Polexanders blood, that it neither left him the power, nor the desire to doe what he had so often resolved. Neverthelesse after he had a long time contested with himselfe, it seemed to him that Alcidiana upbraided him with his thoughts of pity, and accused him of private correspondence with her enemy. This made him give Phelismond this answer. If our Princesse could be won by merit, or ra∣ther if the distance of places, had not been so ex•…•…reamely disadvantagious to you, I doubt not, but being one of the prime Princes of the world, you might have prevailed as much ore the affection of that faire Queene, as you have done ore the mindes of all

the North. Questionlesse I should be that Barbarian, which she hath a will to destroy, and you had received (in my place) the command which I am resolved to put in exe∣cution. But let us not amuse our selves (if you please) in condemning the disorder we finde in our adventures; but since that great Princesse will is the sole Law we ought to keepe; let us on where her absolute power calls us. Can I take armes (replied Phe∣lismond) without adding rebellion to rashnesse? No, there is nothing left for me to doe but to dye. Too sweete a tongue hath pronounced my sentence of death that I should desire life.

P•…•…lexander strove to bring him from this extasie, and perceiving how insupporta∣ble Alcidiana's disestimation was to him, he repented his naming the tearmes of Mon∣ster, and barbarous. After Phelismond had mu•…•…ed a while, in fixing his eyes on the earth, he at last cast them on Pole•…•…ander, and told him he would go to the King, to dis∣pose so well of all things, that Alcidiana should have cause to hold her selfe sa•…•…isfied, and after he had thus spoke he imbraced him, and besought him to doe nothing till he came back from the Pallace. Polexander promised to obey his command, and accom∣panied him to his chamber, where they discoursed a while of ind•…•…fferent things, but as soone as he was adver•…•…sed of the Kings being awake, he left Polexander in the com∣pany of five or six of his particular f•…•…iends. H•…•… stated above two houres with the King, and when he saw him ready to goe to the place of the combate, he returned to Polex∣ander, and told him, he had n•…•…w nothing to feare, and how he had obtained all that was fitting for his safety. Polexander tha•…•…ked his for all his fav•…•…s, and said aloud, he thought himselfe the most unfortunate man of the world, in putting him to so many troubles. Hereupon he tooke his leave, because twas late, and returned to his lodging to put things in order. After he had beene there an houre, there came a Gentleman from Phelismond to intreat him to come and arme himselfe in his lodgings, where he should meet with five or six Lords whom the King had sent to conduct him to the field. Polexander went to him, and after more then an houres being with the Prince, caused himselfe to be armed.

The King sent to tell Phelismond he was risen from table, wherupon Polexander, and his conductors got to horse, and came to the Justing place. The Windowes, the Terras•…•…s, and the Scaffolds were filled with men and women of the Court and the Ci∣ty, and the Kings guard stood about the railes. he had not beene long there, when Phelismond recompanied with five or six of his friends rid round about the field, and then placed himselfe right against his Rivall. As soone as the King was at the window of his pavillion, the Judges of the field sent to search the Combatants, and dividing the Sun betwixt them, set them one opposite to the other. Presently the trumpers •…•…ounded, and the word of letting goe together, the good Knight was given by the Danes King at Armes. Phelismond came on with his lance in his rest as if he would have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Polex∣ander through and through. Yet he made his intention appeare to be cleane contrary. For Polexander, he had resolved to over come him w•…•…thout lance or sword. When they were in the midst of their careere they lifted up their speares, and so passed without touching one another.

All the Assembly gave a great sh•…•…ute, and seemed to aske the reason of this novelty. In the m•…•…ne time the two Rivalls ran the sec•…•…d •…•…ime, and d•…•… as a•…•… first. Indeed their horses (who were ignorant of their intentions) i•…•…countred so furi•…•…usly, tha•…•… P•…•…lexan∣ders failed but little of being overthrowne. The other's was fo•…•…ced back to the earth on his crupper, and so broke his harnesse, that Phelism•…•… fell •…•…n tge ground. This disorder put him into choler, and made him change his resolution. When they had brought him another horse and that he was in c•…•…se to fight, he told P•…•…lexander, that it was not •…•…me to pacifie Alcidiana, and satisfie the spectators expectation. I am glad (said Polexander) to heare you of that m•…•…de. Let us on then (in good time) to alter the opinion which our first courses have given all the Assembly. With that they with∣drew from one another, and when they were at the end of the list, they turned head, and expected when the Judges would command the trumpets to make them start. As soone as they heard the signall, they ran against one another with an impetuosity, that made all the Spectators thinke their complements had now given place to their re∣sentments.

At their incounter, the lances flew in shivers. When that was done with∣out advantage on either part, they tooke new speares, and met with more vigour then in the preceding course. They broke their speares to their very gantlets, and held on with so much equallity to the eight course, that the people ravished with thei•…•… mighty brants, could not make shew of their astonishment, but by their silence. The King •…•…f Denmarke, and his Courtiers (who for the most part are excellent Tilters) confessed, they had never seen better performance, and asked one another, who that Knight might be, which had so •…•…ong time resisted him, that Phelismond by his relation made them conjecture to be the most valiant of the times. Whilst all were in these thoughts, the two Rivalls came on their eight course, but it had an event far differing from the other.

Polexanders victorions destiny unhor•…•…ed Phelismond. As soone as he was on ground, Polexander alighted, and putting not his hand to h•…•…s sword till he had seen Phelismond doe so, came towards him, but would not give the first blow. Phelismond tooke no heed to that complement; but made 〈◊〉〈◊〉 feele the weight of his arme, who streight imitated him, and pressed him very neere. If these two Rivalls had made shew in their courses of their dexterity and strength, they declared their const•…•…t foot fight, that their courage and vigour surpassed the beliefe even of those who saw the proofes of them. In a thousand places were their armes slashed and broaken, and their b•…•…ood which distained all the dust, had already converted into horrour and comp•…•…ssion the admiration of all the Spect•…•…tors. This combate continued from one of the clock till seaven at evening. At last the Danish Prince staggered and fell through weakenesse. When he perceived himselfe unable to rise he presented his sword to Polexander, and uttring his words with a great deale of paine, I confesse (said he) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is just, and only you of all the world d•…•…serve to serve her. Returne then to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (•…•…appy Polexan∣der) and assure her, that death was welcome to me, since I knew it was the sole meanes to content her. But stay no longer here, rather g•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of this Kingdome the soonest you may, you shall not be pursued whilst I am •…•…eere. Pol•…•…xander came neare to his generous •…•…my to comfort him, and to aske his pardon •…•…r w•…•…t had passed; but as he was stooping, both his sight and understanding failing him, he f•…•…ll •…•…s dead some three paces from P•…•…elismond,

The King of Denmarke pitted to see two so valiant men in that estate, and said to those who were about him, he repented of what he had granted •…•…o Paelismond, with∣all sent to see where he was, and thinking he was one o•…•… P•…•…lexanders Conductors, caused him to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for among that Troope, but they were •…•…re enough from fin∣ding •…•…im th•…•…re. W•…•… •…•…ey brought the Ki•…•…g word of his not •…•…ing there, he comman∣ded some Officers of •…•…is guard to inq•…•…ire what was •…•…come o•…•… hi•…•…. They went to all the hou•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…ked in•…•…o •…•…he p•…•…ace, then into 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉, and l•…•…ft no place unsear∣ched •…•…o 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…m, •…•…t 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉〈◊〉. At l•…•…st they re•…•…ned to t•…•…e King and assured him that no man c•…•…uld tell •…•…m what was •…•…ecome of Phelismond. How's this said he? Phelismond was n•…•…t •…•…ont to forget himselfe in things that concerne me. The night comes, and let it as fast as 'twill; yet should I stay he•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…omorrow, I will keepe my word.

After he had thus s•…•…d, he commanded torches to be lighted, and as soone as those of his pavillion were▪ presently all the windows throughout the place were full o•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Amidst the new pay which t•…•…e infinite number o•…•… •…•…ches m•…•…de, the Spectat•…•… began to clap their hands, and were abov•…•… two houres shewing 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by their silence, and then by their shoutes. The King 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 we•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…∣ing Phelismond, when from among the 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 suddaine all those which had been even 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 •…•…∣ly there was s•…•…ene to enter the field twe•…•…ty o•…•… 〈◊〉〈◊〉 men, 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 in his hand: Behinde which Troope 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 foure others, and seemed to be extraordinarily 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 where Phelismond and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 say 〈◊〉〈◊〉 out as dead; 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 •…•…er own h•…•…s she tooke off the Favourites helmet, and commanded on•…•… •…•…f her 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 much to Polexander. He was free from his •…•…ing, w•…•…en 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Lady came, and •…•…∣ner

felt the aire but he came to himselfe, So could not Phelismond, for he had lost al∣most all his blood, and was in so ill a case that they believed him dead. No body was seene so much grieved as the Lady, who so happily arrived; long wept she, and at last, said, it was not fit the death of so generous a Prince should be left unpunished. Af∣ter she had much vexed her selfe, she came to Polexander, and gazing on him as if she knew him, she called one of her women, and giving her a paper; goe (said she) shew this to the King, and tell him that Phelismond hath deceived him. The Damsell went, and was presently with the King. In the meane time the noise which was begun by the vailed Ladies arrivall, increased with clapping of hands, and unusuall clamours. During this tumult, the King came into this place, and drew to Phelismond. Polexan∣der was risen before he came, and as soone as he saw the King, stood still (as well as his weakenesse could suffer him) and perceived he was no lesse afflicted then angry. He cast himselfe on the body of his Favourite, wept long, and on a suddaine rising up in a rage: He shall dye for it (said he) that miscreant, who came to murther me in the person of Phelismond.

In saying so, he turned him to Polexander, and full of rage, thou shalt not have the honour, said he, to perish by so glorious a hand as that of Phelismond, and when he had thus threatned, he looked on the Captaine of his Guard, and commanded him to lay hold of Polexander, but before he had time to execute his charge, Polexander came to the King, presented him his sword, and in offring it spoke thus: I know what respect is due to Kings. Since your very Subjects protract time in obeying you, so much feare have they lest you should be accused of perjury. I will act what they dare not. Take here (if you please) this sword, the cause of your displeasure, and assure your selfe, that your just griefe shall advise you to nothing which I will not undergoe without a mur∣mure.

These words surprised the King, and cooled his choler. Yet his love not permit∣ting him to make use of his judgement; you imagine (said he) that your courage can finde nothing, which it cannot overcome; but since you have contemned my friend∣ship, I will make you see what my power is. Polexander could not answere him, for he had lost so much blood since he got up, that all his strength failing him againe, he fell so, as the King was faine to prop him, or he had run the hazard to have fallen with him. He therefore commanded five or six of his guard to take and carry him into the great Tower of the City, which was instantly performed whilst he was in his swound. The King of Denmarke freed from the object of his choler, cast his eyes on his deare Phelismond; While he thought of nothing but to have him carried away. Alcippus and Diceus rushing out of the croude, where they concealed themselves, came and fell at his feet, and besought his eare. What are you, said the King? We are (replied Al∣cippus) servants to that Prince whom you treate not conformably to the Covenant, whereby you permitted him the combate.

But in the name of Heaven Sir, hearken to reason how just soever your resentment be, and call to minde what you have sworne! The keeping of your word ought to be no lesse deare to you then the preserving your Authority. But if you thinke you have no cause on this occasion to stick to it, reflect on the greatnesse of your prisoner, and decree nothing against him: till you have well pondered who Polexander is. I know what I have to doe, answered the King. In the meane time, I command you to get out of my Court within these foure and twenty houres, if you will not run the fortune of a man who within these two dayes was but a meane Gentleman, and now forsooth must be taken for one of the prime P•…•…inces of the world. But I sweare to make of him an example, and at once give condigne punishment for the imposture, and the murder. Alas! Sir (replied Alcippus) I beseech you humbly not to suffer your selfe to be trans∣ported by your indignation. Your Majesty shall pardon me if you please, should I say you would lose the respect I owe you. The King justly offended at Alcippus indiscreet zeale, grew more in rage then ever, and commanded him with Diceus to be carryed to prison. Both of them thanked him for that favour, and (uncompelled) went whither they would lead them. They were shut up in the same Tower where their Master was, and presently after they sent him Physitians and Chyrurgions to see his woundes, which

they found to be great and dangerous. But Diceus was not of their opinion, and desi∣red he might dresse his Master. Those good people that were no more cunning then they should be, thought this request was not to be denied, and therefore gave way he should looke to him, which he did, and neglected nothing that might prevent those accidents which cause woundes to become mortall. In the meane time the King of Denmarke was much troubled for Phelismond. He had commanded six of his Gentle∣men to take and carry him, and not only went with him to the Pallace, but had him laid in his owne bed, where he was visited by all the Court Physitions, and looked too for all things necessary, as Heire to the Crowne.

Neverthelesse, for all they could doe to his hurts, they were so dangerous that till day breake, all thought them incurable. His Master went not to bed that night, and swore, if Phelismond died, he would instantly command Polexanders head to be stroake from his shoulders. After 'twas day Phelismond grew sensible, and (as soone as he could open his mouth) •…•…asked where his King was, and what was become of his ene∣my. The King kissed him often, and shedding teares for joy to heate him speake, my Phelismond (said he) take heart, and aske after nothing but thy cure. He for whom thou inquirest is where he wants nothing, since I saw by the letter thou writtest to Tha∣miris, thy desire he should be treated as thy selfe. Ten or twelve dayes slid away, du∣ring which time, the two Rivalls woundes, threw forth part of their fire, and cast them into such violent Fevers, that their youth was the best preserver of their lives. Phe∣lismond now grew to be out of danger as well as Polexander, when he called to minde he was not to faile of his word given him. That consideration moved him to supplicate the King his Master, he would be pleased he might be carried to the place where Po∣lexander was: Phelismond (replied the King) whilst the greatnesse of your woundes, made me feare what would become of you, I dissembled my resentment, and would not thinke of your offending me; but now you are out of danger, I will tell you my minde, and command you, as I am your Master and Father, to invent no pretext for having any cause to contradict me. I have so much affected you Phelismond, that in my life time I would have setled the Crowne of Denmarke on your head. This extra∣ordinary token of my love, should intimate how deare your safety is to me, and indeed it is so much, that there is nothing which I would not doe to give you all the satisfacti∣on you can desire. Yet there is one thing I receive to my selfe, and for which I will neither lend lend eare to my affection, nor your intreaties. 'Tis the life of that stran∣ger, who without doubt hath bewitched you, since you love him even after he hath de∣clared himselfe your enemy, and without regarding so many generosities which should perswade him, hath done what in him lay to deprive you of your life. Phelismond the most noble of men, answered so advantagiously for his Rivall, that his Master imposed him silence.

I will hold my peace, Sir, (replied he) since your Majesty commands me; but I must submi•…•…ly beseech you to believe that my life is inseparably knit with that of the King of the Canaries, and had rather dye, then be the cause so great a King as you should not fullfill what he hath promised. Verily Phelism•…•…nd, replied the King, tis too much, anger me no more, and call to minde that my crowne and amity deserve your care of pleasing me. Phelismond would no longer exasperate his Master; but put off further discourse of that businesse till another time. Polexander was this while in prison very well treated, and served with as much care as if he had beene even in the Island of Alcidiana.

Besides, Phelismond who was not able to be wearied with shewing his generous∣nesse towards him, sollicited his deliverance, but his Master grew obstinate in refusall. One day, when the Favourite had but two or three woundes yet open, he would needs try his last indeavour, and utmost power, to see whether his Kings minde might be changed, and to that end made to him a long and well laboured Oration, desirous to remonstrate by all waies of reason, as well of State, as of what was seemely and be∣hoofull, that he ought very honorably to send home Polexander. The King answered according to his custome, and Phelismond replied according to his owne, so that at last they grew both so hot, that they were long time in contestation. But when the King

saw his reasons were too obstinately disputed and opposed by those of Phelismond, he arose all in choler, and being unable to containe himselfe any longer: Content your selfe (said he to him) that you have displeased me, and never speake to me more of a man who shall feele how heavy that Kings arme is, who will not be wronged without a just punishment. Phelismond then growing calmer, and more humble, as his Master waxt hotter: Sir (said he) tis most just, you be obeyed, and most of all that I receive an infliction for my losse of respect; I therefore here vow never to supplicate for ought that may displease you. This humility of Phelismonds met with the King so much transported from himselfe, that it won nothing of him. He walked with hasty strides in the chamber, without turning his eyes towards Phelismond, and on the sud∣daine thrusting open a window which looked into the Pallace great garden, he lea∣ned there about a quarter of an houre, musing and disgesting his choler. Longer had he beene there, but for the shriecks which on the suddaine were heard behind him. He turned his head, and saw that Phelismond servants and Chyrurgions were round a∣bout his bed, and held him for dead.

He ran thither, and found that poore Prince in the most pitifull posture could be i∣magined. He was fallen in a swound, or to say better, as it were drowned in his own blood. His woundes were all open and the bloud which came not out but drop by drop, was a certaine signe there was not much more behinde in his veines. His body was halfe out of the bed, and his armes and head almost touched the floore. They jud∣ged he had done himselfe that violence, because he held yet one of his swathes which because it was knit about his arme, fell not with the rest. The King yet tooke no heed to it, for he was so transported, that he could not utter a word. When the first astonish∣ment was over, he commanded the Chyrurgions to use all their art for Phelismonds safety, who poore Prince lay all that day without any signe of life. The King in the meane time was extreamely afflicted, and asked every one the cause of this new disa∣ster, but no body could satisfie him. The Chyrurgions, and servants told him, that com∣ming into the Chamber to dresse Phelismond, they found him in that deplorable manner. The King began to weigh what might cause this affliction, and could attribute it to no∣thing but his owne generousnesse.

I will (said he then) save Phelismond, though I never receive satisfaction, nor con∣tentment. After these words, he set himselfe at his beds head, and stirred not thence till he heard him sign, and thereby gave hope he had some life in him. Halfe of the night was spent ere the King retired, and yet slept not, but sent hourely to know in what estate Phelismond was. He was at the extremity the first three daies, nor was he much better the foure following, and so lay betwixt life and death till the seaventh. As soone as he began to speake ought at all, the King asked him the cause of his vio∣lence on himselfe. 'Twas the feare of displeasing you (said he) and if your Majesty think it not fit that I importune you againe, tis in vaine for you to endeavour the saving my life. He so often repeated the same discourse, that he made it appeare he was ear∣nestly resolved to dye or to free Polexander. And the King howsoever, fearing to lose so incomparable a Successor, resolved absolutely to give him that satisfaction, without which he saw there was no meanes of curing him. He came then in person to visit Po∣lexander, and could with much dexterity colour his rashnesse, that our Heroë confessed he deserved to be far worse dealt withall then he was. The King imbracing, and cal∣ling him his Sonne, said a hundred times that he rep•…•…ted of what had passed; but that the circumspection of his authority, and the ordinary mutining of his Subjects permit∣ted him not to doe otherwise. That he was not ignorant how far the promises of Kings should be inviolable, and principally when they were made to Princes. But that he knew withall, that the Law of Nations gave no security, nor exempted from any ri∣gour in strange Countries, the greatest Princes of the Universe, when they came thi∣ther concealed, and would not be esteemed for what they were. This being so (said he) you will grant with me we are both equally in fault. You for not making knowne your quallity, and I for being too quick with you. After Polexander had heard him speake so judiciously, he replied, 'twas he alone that was in fault, and therefore asked his pardon, and humbly besought him to believe, that had he not been compelled by a

necessity more urgent then all kindes of considerations to fight against Phelismond, he had not so slightly come to disturbe the Court of so great a King: The Prince replied, he would not dive into his secrets, nor engage him to discover them: But (said he) we trifle too long, let us goe visit Phelismond, and get him from that passion wherein he lies, and render to him that quietnesse he enjoyed at the very time he knew you were a prisoner.

With this he tooke Polexander by the hand, and lead him to the Pallace. Alcippus and Diceus went out with him. When the King of Denmarke was returned to his Court, he retooke Polexander, and leading him to Phelismonds bed side; see heere (said he to him) your friend, whom I have (my selfe) been to fetch to you. I will not relate to you the apparant alteration Polexanders presence wrought in the incompara∣ble Phelismond. He wept for joy, and found not words enough to expresse his expor∣tation. His Rivall he called the second cause of his life and his honour, acknowled∣ged by an excesse of humility that all the honour of the combate was due to him, asked his pardon for his ill treating since, and assured him, his King had been forced by very great reasons to cause him to be staied. Whilst Phelismond was thus talking to him, the King made divers turnes in the chamber, and after he had long mused, he came to Phe∣lismond, and asked if there were any thing else to be done to content him. Phelis∣mond tooke hold of his hands, and transported with joy, raised himselfe halfe way up in his bed to thanke him.

Phelismond (said the King) take heed your joy bring you not into the same case your griefe had reduced you. That which is to be done by you and your friend, is to consider how you will live your selves hereafter. For my part, I promise you both that I will follow your intentions, and in all you desire there shall neither be found difficulty, nor delay. The two Rivalls thanked him with an equall resentment, and Polexander for his particular intreated him to be pleased he might speedily returne to the Canaries. The King replied, he was at his owne liberty to doe what he pleased, and when he had a minde to depart he would furnish him with men and shipping. Sir (said Polexander) since your Majesty will so much favour me, I beseech you humbly to doe it intirely. I came into Denmarke with a Gentleman and a servant, and I desire (if it please you) to returne so.

You shall doe as you list, replied the King, and finde in Denmarke as many friends, and as much observance as in your owne Territories. These complements ended, Po∣lexander resolved to be gone as soone as he could, to the end he might returne againe to his wonted and unprofitable inquiry. Phelismond shewed an extremity of griefe to see him so neere leaving him, and did all he could possibly not only to retaine him, but to perswade him that his Master bore him a great deale of affection. Phelismond (said Polexander) I will not contradict those reasons, whereby the King your Master may justifie his act, nor I assure you will I ever complaine of it. For your selfe, believe it, you never have had a servant or a friend, whose love hath been more true then mine. Al∣cidiana shall know (if I can possibly) your value, and her aversion cannot be of that force but it may be surmounted by the infinite number of your virtues, when they shall once be made knowne to her.

When Phelismond heard his Rivall speake thus, he raised himselfe to imbrace him, and when he was as it were glued to him, made this answere. I know what I owe you, and am not so much an enemy to true honour, to fancy to my selfe I can pertake with you of any in our combate. It is intirely due to you Polexander. Go then and gather the fruits of it, and (if you please) assure Alcidiana, that the fortune of armes having confirmed the sentence of death she hath pronounced against me, I will not faile to execute it my selfe. If I toke time to doe this execution, tis for no other cause but to serve her in that person, which of all the world should be most deare unto her, and to undergoe the longer time the pennance for my offence committed, in daring to adore her without being first worthy. Phelismond (replied Polexander) if the greatnesse of your courage, were not knowne to me as it is, I should hardly suffer a discourse that wrongs the wonderfull actions of your life. Live happily, and doe not so great an in∣jury to our great Princesse judgement, as not to expect from it a recompence proporti∣onable

to your deserts. Hitherto you have not beene so well treated only because you were not knowne. But when Alcidiana shall understand what Phelismond is, and heare it even from the mouthes of such whom she cannot suspect, assure your selfe she will change her opinion. Grant me then the request I am to make you before your seperati∣on, and tis that you intend you recovery, and be not transported to any dispaire, till you have received a new command from Alcidiana; it you doe otherwise, I denounce on her behalfe, you shall not only offend her virtue, but demonstrated by your owne disobedience you never truely loved her. To how many new Tortures (answered Phe∣lismond) doth your request ingage me? But I refuse nothing (said he) raising his voice, since tis for the honour of Alcidiana, and the increase of her renowne. Yes, you most generous man on earth, I will punctually observe what you p•…•…escribe me. Yet (if you please) it shall be on condition that I may enjoy your company yet for three dayes. Po∣lexander granted it, and unable to be wearied in the admiration of his valour, continu∣ed with him the time he desired: During which, they almost spoke of noth•…•…ng but the virtue and beauty of Alcidiana, of the impossibillity of getting to her Island, and the number of Lovers her pictures had acquired her in all parts of the world. This inter∣taining had not ceased, but that by the King of Denmarkes presence it was often inter∣rupted.

At last the three dayes being expired, the businesse was of taking of leave. Phelis∣mond, though ex•…•…reamely weake, went out of his chamber to doe his Rivall the more honour, and wished a happy succe•…•…e as well to his love as in his voyage. The King came betwixt this Farwell, and shewing a great deale of griefe for the departure of his second P•…•…elismond (for so he called Polexander) promised to preserve preciously in his memory the voyage he had made into Denmarke, but principally, because of his happy successe. This said, the three P•…•…inces made mutuall promises, and reciprocall presents, and the two Danes accompanied the Canarian to his ship. The Pilot unwil∣ling to lose a North winde that was so good for him, left the Coast of Zeland, and in a little time got into the Germane Sea.

The End of the fourth Booke of the Second Part.

THE SECOND PART OF POLEXANDER. The fifth Booke.

OUR Heroe, over-joyed at his happy fullfilling of Alcidiana's com∣mand, sayl'd through the vast extention of the Germane sea, and driven by a winde, which Love seemed to fanne with his owne wings, forsook the unhappy climates of the North, to returne to the delicious countries of the South: and, seeing himselfe so much smil'd on by Fortune, he conceived no thing lesse then the infallible hope of quickly finding the inaccessible Island, and in his compla∣cency with himselfe, durst even promise to him the possession of Alcidiana. This contentment, though imaginary, too pleasingly deceiv'd him for not incensing the Demon which had resolved to crosse all his happiness. Hee was therefore troubled from the first daies of his navigation, for as he entred the Sleeve which separates France from England, hee was like to have been lost, by meeting with an adventure extreamly tragicall. A contrary winde stopping him right against Calice, he was forced to aleere up and down a whole night, to avoid his returning back againe: As hee was in this troublesome exercise, a ship, driven by the fury of the winde, strook against his, yet so fortunatly, as hee received no other hurt then the bruising the side of his ship. This shock, awaking the most sleepy, made all think on more then was betided: Polexander would needs know who 'twas that so secretly assayl'd him, and therefore commanded his Pilot to make after. At day-break they descryed the adverse ship, and presently came up and laid her aboard. Our Heroë was the first that leapt into her; but hee was amazed when he saw nought there but an horrible solitude. Never was there presented on the sea, though it be the theater of prodigies and novelties, any thing so strange as the spectacle which astonied him. When hee was come so far as the maine mast, hee saw a most faire Lady, richly clad, ty'd to it by the hands and the feet; before her were four posts, on which were nayled the heads of four men, so fresh, that it might easily be guess'd, they had not been long severed from their bodies. The miserable spe∣ctatresse on these dreadfull objects, pitifully turned her eyes now on one, and then on another of them; and though Polexander presented himselfe before her, shee interrupted not her mournfull exercise. The Prince, noting her admirable beauty, even through her afflictions and teares, was extreamly mov'd to see her in so deplorable an estate; and imagining, because of the neernesse to France, shee might understand him if hee spake French; told her in that tongue, that hee was come to offer her all his utmost ability, either for her consolation, or revenge. The poore distressed Lady made no shew of hearing him, but kept still her eyes fixed on the distruncked heads. This attention and fixednesse doubled Polexander's astonishment, and commanded some of his followers to goe into the Cabines and descend under hatches, to see if there were any that might un∣derstand him. Alcippus and Diceus searched every where, and neither finding any one dead or alive, returned, and assured the King their Master, hee should learne nothing of that adventure, if hee had it not from the mouth of the bound Lady. Hee therefore came againe to her, and employing the best words his desire to make her speake could

furnish him with; besought her to take heart, to think of avenging her on the cruelty of her enemies, to make use for that revenge of the assistance which heaven had sent her, and promise to her selfe from his arme a part of the satisfaction which the resentment of her griefs ought to make him wish for. He added many other considerations to these, and so pressed the miserable woman that shee cast her eyes on him, but in such a manner, that a man might say, shee saw him not: and after shee had often sighed, Why (said she sadly) come you againe to fore-slow the end of my miseries? Are you sent by that pernicious enemy, who hath brought me to the extremity I am in, to the end she may glut her malice in making me die often? Madam, (reply'd Polexander) I know not the monster of whom you speake; and would your griefe give you leave to heare mee, you should know, I come not hither for any other cause then to free you from all your torments. Your ge∣nerosity is great, (reply'd the Lady) but it can availe me nothing, unlesse you could give back againe the lives of those unfortunate wretches whose heads you see here. I wish them their lives, because I have been the cause of their deaths; and desire it, because they would disapprove my most cruell enemy, and justifie my innocence before a Prince too credulous and too easie to be deceiv'd. Polexander would faine have insensibly drawne her on, and engaged her to relate him her fortunes, had hee not been hindred by the approach of a tall ship, which streight denounc'd warre against him: Our Heroë therefore went back into his owne vessell, (but kept still the desolate Lady's grapled with his owne) and made answer to the enemies signes, by others, which stay'd the fury of those which would have assaulted him. Initantly they sent him one of theirs in a shalop, who coming up to them, asked who hee was, and for what end hee had stay'd the English ship. Polexander made reply by Alcippus, hee was a French man, and an enemy to those that would not joyne with him in the avenging a Lady whom some accursed miscreants had expos'd to the mer∣cy of the sea. When the Messenger heard that answer, hee reply'd with a great many in∣juries, and after divers threatnings, hee return'd towards his companions. No sooner was hee got on boord againe, but they fell on Polexander, and quickly repented them of their rashnesse; for our Heroë, giving them at two vollyes an hundred Cannon shot, brought them to implore his mercy. Polexander, promising their lives, commanded the conquered vessell to come neere, and entring her, found there so few souldiers, that hee was neere to put them to the sword, for daring to assayle him; but at last his clemen∣cy getting the upper hand of his resentment, he pardoned all; and seeing one of a better aspect and presence then the rest, called him aboord his owne ship: Hee asked him in particular, why hee would not accept of friendship when hee had offer'd it him, and what interest hee claimed in the barke that floted before them. The other humbly be∣sought, that, before hee reply'd, hee would doe him the honour to make known whether the Lady in the other ship were yet alive: our Heroë assured him shee was when hee left her. Try then (said hee) to get to her againe, that you may the second time preserve her life; for had you not broken the designe for which wee set to sea, shee had been, by this time, at the bottome of the Ocean. Goe then, goe (if you please) and finish what you have begun; and doe not think, in succouring that unfortunate Lady, you doe onely an act of Charity, for you execute likewise another of Justice. You will protect innocence against Calumny; and a wretched, and disarmed goodnesse, against a powerfull, and re∣doubtable villany. Polexander, unwilling to heare any more of that discourse, till hee had freed from danger the persecuted Lady, got her bark againe, which had but turned, and by consequence, was not gone farre off. As soone as hee had her, hee went aboord, and his prisoner with him, who presently ran to the Lady, and making himself knowne, Be of good heart, Madam, (said hee) your innocence is acknowledged; the accusations of your stepmother are found untrue, and the Prince, your husband, is even desperate for not knowing how fortune hath disposed of you. The Lady, by a modest smile, seeming to be pleased with what was spoken, lifted her eyes to heaven, since she could not her hands; and after shee had some time kept them fixedly open, sweetly let fall their lids, and droop'd her head on her incomparable breast. Polexander, thinking shee was swounded, cut the cords from her armes, whilst the Prisoner did the like to those on her legs; and wh•…•…n shee was unbound, laid her all along. Diceus presently came in, and looking on her, told his Master shee was dead. The King could hardly beleeve that ill newes, but being confirmed

by his owne sense, hee could not otherwise then bewaile the losse of that innocent Lady, and wish from heaven a just punishment on her persecutors, which instantly hapned; And thus Polexander's mariners, descrying an English ship bearing up to them, called out, they were like to be set on. Before our Heroë was disengaged from his pious and charitable endeavour, hee saw the English vessell fall fiercely on his. His Prisoner infallibly doubt∣ing the businesse, My Lord, (said hee to Polexander) let not the coming on of these men trouble you, they come for her assistance who is not now capable of it; and if heaven doe not av•…•…rt the sequele of begun mischiefes, I foresee yet more violent ensuing deaths then the former. Scarce had he spoken these words, but hee heard most fearfull and lamentable cries from the English ship; and presently after saw a man of a good aspect, and middle∣aged, who violently drawing an old woman by the arme, forced her to follow him. Come (said hee to her) cruell, and jealous mother; come and see the innocent Eolinda in those miserable torments which thy calumnies have inflicted on her. Excuse not thy self by the excesse of love. Eolinda's afflictions are the product of thy envy and ambition. The love thou feign'dst to beare me, is but a cunning and deceitfull vizard, under which thou hast alwaies hidden hatred to this innocent. Polexander, having some glimpse (of what had passed) amongst so much obscurity, thought that the English man who complained had need to be arm'd against those which the death of Eolinda, and despair were about to throw on him. Hee therefore, with his Prisoner, went to him, but before hee could speak a word to him, the English man perceiving the Prisoner, Altoph, said hee to him in fury, what have they done with Eolinda? My Lord, answer•…•…d the other, and then pointed to Polexander; hee whom you see there had sav'd her from the rage of her executioners; and you should have bin at the end of your afflictions, i•…•… heaven had not otherwise dispos'd o•…•… h•…•…r. How, cry'd hee, is Eolinda then dead? Ah barbarous mother! O inexorable hea∣ven▪ and, in saying so, would have gone into the vessell where the Lady was, for whom h•…•…e lamented. But the old woman, whom he drew alter him, resisting, hee was forced to give a strong pull to make her follow him, and when hee had his foot on the side of the vessell, his heart failing him, hee fell down, his head foremost, between the two ships, and dragg'd his mother a•…•…ter him. Every man did his best to save them, and to that end severed the vessells. Some of the mariners leapt into the sea, though it was not altogether calme, and search•…•…d so well, that one of them coming from under water, lighted on the English mans mother. Those that were gotten into the shalops, seeing him come up, made to him, and tooke him in with his booty. But the taking her out of the sea sav'd not her life, for whether she had hurt herselfe in falling, or that her age had not •…•…rength enough to resist the harmes shee had received: shee dy'd as soone as they had her into that Lady's ship, whom shee had so cruelly afflicted; for her son they saw him no more after his fall, he having the happinesse in his unfortunate end, not longer to survive his deare Eolinda. Polexander griev'd very much for his losse, because hee judged by his actions, (which hee saw) and by the words hee had spoken, that hee lov'd much and was very generous. This consideration giving him a desire to know his adventures, he called his Prisoner, and told him, hee should not returne into England till hee had pay'd him his ransome: But doe not imagine (said hee) that I will have an ordinary one; you must tell me the beginning of those things, of whose lamentable end I have been a spectator. After he had thus de∣clared his minde to the English man, and saw him ready to pay his ransome in the coine he demanded, he commanded his pilot to steere on his first course, and to all the English to follow him. This order being given and presently put in execution, Polexander shut himselfe into his cabin with his prisoner, and intimating his desire to heare him, obliged the other to begin thus: Henry the Seventh, that now reignes in England, is come to the crowne, by waies which some hold very honourable, and others very faulty. However, he was compell'd to make the body of his predecessor a staire to mount up by to his throne; and to ruine many great families, not onely to take from his enemies the power of ma∣king head against him, but likewise to conferre on his adherents such dignities and for∣tunes, as were proportionable to the services he had received. Hee, whom you lately saw buried in the sea, by these revolutions, being rais'd from an ordinary Gentle-man, to the degree of a Prince, and from a man much necessitated, to immense riches, thought of no∣thing more then of giving his curious and voluptuous senses, things fitting not onely to

satiate, but to keep them in a perpetuall appetite. Amongst all his passions, that of love was the most violent: this torrent, which had beforetimes been restrained by two power∣full damms, travell, and necessity; having at last broke through them both, by the assi∣stance of wealth and peace, so spread it selfe beyond his bounds, that it ran through all the English shires, and thence into France. For this Prince enquiring after some beauty, on whom hee might fixe all his affections, was so nice in his choice, that among the infinity of beauties which flourish in our Isle, he thought none worthy of his perseve∣rance. Hee therefore sent those, of whom hee made use in those plots of love, into Scot∣land, Germany, and France, to chuse him some beauty, not onely of capacity to vanquish him, but to continue also a long time victorious. They found not in Scotland, nor Ger∣many, any one from whom they could promise him that miracle. France was the place which in the opinion of these new Judges of beauty, had wherewithall to content the nicety of their Master. After they were come from the court into the Provinces, they met with this rare and to be lamented beauty, whom inconstant fortune, by an abhorred trea∣son, depriv'd of an heart whereof she should have been eternally victorious. But I speak not as I ought, Eolinda hath lost nothing of that glory which her charmes had acquir'd her. You have seen her depart the world with palmes in her hands, triumphing over all calum∣ny, cruelty, and jealousy, and, in a word, over all those enemies who had plotted her ruine. But I am too long in the relation of an adventure which cannot be too soon end∣ed. The English Prince's Negotiators sent him word, they had found the Phoenix he had been searching in so many severall countries. That how nice, nay how loathing soever hee were, hee would approve of their choice, and even find in it such rarities as his ima∣gination could not figure to him. That the beauty they had discover'd was of lustre, live∣ly, and full of majesty; of an age that had nothing of infancy, but the freshnesse, and sweet, and round fulnesse; of an admirable wit, but milde, and obsequious; of an illustrious birth, but by the mediocrity of her fortunes, ignorant of all pride and insolence. At the only recitall of these wonders, our Prince became passionately in love: he burnt, he grew impa∣tient, and would even have abandon'd the place he held neere his Soveraigne, to go testifie himselfe to that visible Angell, with what flames of love shee environed him without the seeing her. But those who had power over his inclination, and principally his mother, re∣strained his first agitations, and strove even to smother this growing passion. He grew an∣gry at their remonstrances, and without neglecting the respect which nature obliged him to preserve; he discreetly made knowne to his mother, that love was a thing more imperi∣ous, and of greater power then maternity. In briefe, he wrote to his Agents they should make all necessary overtures, but not engage themselves till they had sent, and he received her picture. He was obeyed in it, and so conformably to his intention, that he accus'd his Confidents of stupidity, or envy, for describing the faire French Lady far lesse attractive then hee found her. He presently sent them commission to treat with the Parents of that beauty, and the conditions he propos'd being infinitely beyond their hopes, he was recei∣ved with a great many thankes; and the faire and innocent Eolinda being delivered into the hands of the English, was soone after presented to her lover. I will not speak of his overjoyednesse, his transports, and extasies, at the sight of that beauty. I cannot better ex∣presse the greatnesse of it to you, then in telling you it cannot be done. Once the admirable Eolinda was brought to London, and receiv'd, not onely by private per∣sons, but by the King and Queen, with so many tokens of estimation, that she could conceive her happinesse to be but a dreame, or an enchantment: Oh, how happy had she been, had shee dy'd in those fortunate times! Truely, for her quiet sake 'tis to be wished it had hapned then, but it had not been so much for her glory: For the proofes of con∣stancy, and generousnesse she hath since made evident to the world, (if we consider well of things) is the most faire and noble part of her life. Within a little while of her arrivall, her marriage was celebrated, and that with such justs, turnies, maskes, and other gallan∣tries, as the Kings owne was not more magnificent. You may well imagine what the Prince's joy was for that day; 'twas incomparable, and followed by a satisfaction which had lasted till this day, if it had been possible, a man extreamly in love, and exceeding knowing in the worlds corruption, had been capable of possessing, without jealously, a Lady so wonderfully desired. Yet this poore Prince, (at least I will beleeve so) had

been free from that cruell fate in marriage, if even those, who were obliged to divert his suspicions, had not fomented them. He had not been married a yeer, I speak according to mine owne accompt; for according to his 'twas not a day, when his mother who was a Scottish woman, and who with her milk had suck'd in all that could be of hair-braind, savage, and cruell in Scotland, became jealous of the power of her daughter in Law, and enraged with the diminution of her authority. She kept it secret, or made it known but to her most particular Confidents: For to undertake any thing against Eolinda, was to put her self to the hazzard of her owne ruining; and in that this stepmother placed the height of her misfortune. But after she had a long time undergone it, she resolv'd to quit her self of it at what price soever; and falling into all those extremities whereto a wicked woman is incident, intended either to perish her self, or to ruinate the authority of her rivall. In the meane time, this young Princesse was admir'd of all; desired of many, and serv'd, but without her consent, by two young Lords, who flattered themselves with the hope of winning her, either by the profusion of their riches, or by the greatnes of their ser∣vices & constancy. They are now dead, and I may therefore speak of them without being accused of flattery. I will say then, take from their lives the fault of attempting against the honour of a married woman, there could be nought found in them but exceeding rare qualities and most eminent vertues. This unhappy love, which disturbes the most perfect harmony, and makes desolate the most flourishing families, with one selfe-same arrow pierced the hearts of these two young Lords. They sighed one griefe, they burnt in one desire, they attempted one designe, and yet concealed that from one another, and never spoke of the disease which they equally suffer'd. The youngest was an Earle of an high heart, daring spirit, and so free an humour, that hee, thought he committed an offence, not in affecting any faire subject, but to affect it and not make it knowne. The other, who was two yeeres elder then he, was no lesse free and generous; but he affected fame lesse then vertue, and so that he performed worthy actions, it imported him not whether it came to the knowledge of any man or no. Being of this humour, 'twas no hard matter for him to hide his passion, observe silence, and keep that respect whereto Eolinda's vertue, and the quality of her husband ought to oblige him. The one then by a prudent boldnesse, and the other by a generous timorousnesse advanced unperceive∣ably his designe; and let no day passe without trying to make knowne to Eolinda there was in their civilities something more then that which is spoken onely by way of dis∣course, and cometh from franknesse of humour. She no sooner doubted of their inten∣tion, but she dextrously avoided their converse, and behav'd her selfe more coldly to∣wards them, then the agreeablenesse of the Court permits. But when she saw these re∣medies were not strong enough to cure so great an ill; she feign'd she was sick her selfe, and was neere two moneths from visiting the Queen, that her long absence might heale those whom her presence had wounded. But 'tis bootlesse to pretend by resisting to have the upper hand of generous spirits. Those two young Lords perceiving that Eolinda's sicknesse was a disease that might prove mortall to their affection, had recourse alike to preservatives and speciall remedies. They prepar'd themselves to suffer for a long time, to dissemble much, and to grow obstinate against all difficulties. They even gave thanks to love, that in Eolinda they met with a vertue able for a long time to exercise their great courage. On the other side, Eolinda beleeving they thought no more on her, left her chamber, return'd to the Queen (who could not almost live without her) and came againe with a lustre which she had not before her feigned malady. If the ordinary gal∣lants did redouble their sighes at the sight of this new Sun, imagine what the two true Adorers did. Their quality gave them accesse every where where the King was, and their gentlenesse had acquired them so much familiarity amongst the Ladies, that the Queen her selfe missed them as often as they were not in her matches and associations. These priviledges were the cause why Eolinda could not avoid the occasions of seeing them. She must in spight of her selfe endure it, or make it knowne, (and by conse∣quence make a noise) and she found no lesse perill in the one, then in the other. For on the one side, she considered, that should she endure this research, without disclosing it to the Prince, and he should come to the knowledge of it by some other who might dis∣cover it, he would have just cause to beleeve she was very well contented with it. On the

other side, she represented to her selfe, that in making shew of her discontent, she should be the subject of all the Court talke, give a faire pretext to all detraction to invent what it lift for her destruction; and what more troubled her, she should engage the Prince her husband in those broyles, as could have none other then a dismall successe. On these considerations, she took a way, worthy a soule, high and faire as her owne. Shee re∣solv'd to endure all the extravagances, all the talke and prattle, and all plaints of those two lovers, as long as they could be interpreted to her advantage, and thought on but as the ordinary freedome of entertainment or gallantry of young men. But if ever they hapned to make known their love to her, or to search for occasions to see her in private, she resolv'd with her selfe to discover it to her husband. After this resolution for six moneths, was she forced to suffer the follies of those two lovers. She heard them every day sighing by her, she saw them blush, waxe pale, and muse in beholding her, and many times she was compell'd to shift place, that she might not heare the excessive praises which they gave her beauty. But heaven having denoted the fatall point, where the mis-fortunes of so many illustrious personages should have their beginning; the Earle broke his long observed silence, and, by mischance, seeing Eolinda as she was going in to the Queen, stay'd for her at the going forth of that chamber where she was to leave her squire and women. He intercepted her in the passage, and humbly besought her to accept of his attending to the Queens privy chamber. She trembled from head to foot, seeing her selfe in a straight which shee had so often, and so carefully avoided: and standing steadfast, was so some small time without walking and answering. The young Lover in∣terpreting this disquiet to his owne advantage, thought he was no indifferent man with the Princesse; and to oblige her by his discretion not to be frighted another time. I see well, Madam, (said he) I have committed an incivility, in thinking to tender you a small proofe of my most humble servitude. I will doe penance for it; and, to make it an∣swerable to what the greatnesse of my fault requires from me, I condemne my selfe to passe the rest of this day, without the being enlightned by those faire eies which onely give me sight and life. In saying so, he made her a great reverence, and so left the inter∣dicted Eolinda. The mother in law to the Princesse, at the same instant coming out of the Queens chamber, entred into that where our Lover took leave of his Mistresse: The dan∣gerous Scottish woman saw the last complement, perceiv'd her daughters confusednesse, noted she blusht at her seeing her; and when she came neere, she found her so troubled, shamefac'd, and confounded, that had she bin lesse wicked then she was, she would not have forborne to beleeve there were very particular intelligences between that Princesse and the young Earle. Presently she resolv'd to draw a great advantage out of that meeting; and in her malice causing in her some thoughts of the Divinity, which could not be o∣ther wise then as of a man as wicked as her self, she gave thanks to it for what she had seen, with a prayer to be assisted in what she went about to enterprise for the ruine of her daugh∣ter in law. The unfortunate Princesse being a little come to her selfe, would have made her some excuses, but the abominable hagge spoke thus: Doe not trouble your selfe to seeke for excuses, that's for me to doe, for coming so unseasonably to trouble you: and with that went her wayes directly to her son, to give him, under pretext of affection, the mortall blow which hath so tragically made him expire before you. He was not at home, and though the old woman sent on all sides to find him, and to effect his coming her as speedily as hee could: yet for that time her devilishnesse had no successe, and got not the Prince to swallow her poyson, till after Eolinda had strengthned him with an excellent Antidote. The Princesse seeing her selfe falne into that misfortune she so long feared, did nothing all the while she was with the Queen, but consult with her self in what manner shee might make that ill potion pleasing which she was to give to the Prince her husband. Presently shee turn'd her thoughts on heaven, implor'd assistance from thence, and its testimony in so tender a businesse; and petitioned to be from thence furnished with words which should be proper for the confirming the Prince in that opi∣nion he had continually held of her chastity. Shee had no sooner made this prayer, but her agitations and feares left her, her mind retook its former serenity, and as her face was sensible of the troubles of her soul, so did it also resent the recovery of her quiet. Shee was with the Queen all the evening, and was so pleasing in her conversation, that

her husband who came thither with the King, could not sufficiently admire her sweet humour. The King and the Queen being retir'd, the Prince and Eolinda did so too, and being come home, severed themselves for different businesses. The husband entred his withdrawing chamber to dispatch his most urgent affaires, and the wife into her Oratory to implore againe assistance from above; and petition for that powerfull and necessary art whereby truth may be beleeved by her greatest enemies. Whilst she was in this exercise, her husband came into the Oratory: I know not (said he) what my mother would have with mee, shee hath sent five or six times, man after man, and intreates mee to goe to her before I goe to bed, about something that concernes me more then my life. What doe you think it should be? Eolinda, who was risen as soone as shee heard her husband, My Lord, (said shee) I will tell you if you please; but since 'tis a thing which should not be knowne to any but your selfe, be pleased I may shut the doore, that I may the more freely speake to you. The Prince did it himselfe, and holding her between his armes, with as much joy as a covetous man fixeth his eyes on his treasure: Tell mee (said hee) this strange businesse, and falsifie it not, for feare you anger me: what bitternesse soever there be in it, I shall there finde sweetnesse, since I have it from thy faire lips. Eolinda considering the kind speeches of her hus∣band, as so many witnesses of that miraculous assistance shee was to receive from the goodnesse shee had implor'd: took a crosse which was on her deske, I desire (said shee to him) to lose that part of salvation which was wrought on that tree whereof this is the figure, if in the matter you command mee to relate, I either adde or diminish any thing for my justification. The Prince much astonished to see his wife at the end of so blithe a humour to fall into an act so serious: Is it in good earnest, or in jest (said hee) that you have put on such an austere countenance? Those things I make use of (repli'd Eolinda) are too sacred and venerable to be imploy'd for so profane an use. My Lord. I speak in earnest, and I humbly beseech you to beleeve, the businesse is the most serious and important that you ever had yet in handling. Without doubt (repli'd the Prince, smi∣ling) my honor is in question; my mother hath discover'd that Eolinda hath her gallants. Well, well, henceforward I shall take better heed to what concernes me. Ah! my Lord, (cry'd Eolinda) if it be true that I am dear to you, and that I hold of your heart by stronger bonds, then those of I know not what you call beauty; I beseech you not to jest with that which regards your honour, and to grant me at last the request I have so often made to you. What request, repli'd the Prince? 'Tis, my Lord, that you would take me from Court, and draw me by a most pleasing absence from thence out of a tor∣ment which every day renewes it selfe. The Prince laughing now with a better heart then he had done, I see then (said hee) that I have divin'd it; and thereupon embracing his wife againe, Tell me (said hee) who are your gallants and how many be there of them? I will waite on them, and bring them to thee. Eolinda, that could not un∣derstand this scoffing, got from her husband, and casting her selfe at his feet, Doe not make mee beleeve, my Lord, that we are no more the same we have been hitherto. Doe mee justice, examine my life and my offence, and throw me not headlong by your indifferency from the top of all felicities, where your onely goodnesse had rays'd mee. The Prince desirous to give his wife the content she desired, grew to be serious in spight of himselfe, and granted her all the audience she requested. Eolinda forgot not the least particularity of her meeting with her lover, and her mother in law; and having related all, would have falne on long justifications. But the Prince her husband stopping her, You are a foole (said he) and if respect could permit it, I would say that my mother is not very wise. You both vainly trouble your selves, the one for having too much experi∣ence, and the other for having too little. But I will take order this trouble go no further, and get not to mee. I confesse, my Lord, (repli'd Eolinda, sighing) I have but little ex∣perience; yet have I enough to know that of the like sparkles which have not been quenched in their births, there have proceeded such flames, that the least distrustfull have been the first involved in them. Never trouble your selfe about it (repli'd the Prince) I will so well smother these, that they shall neither fear nor hurt you. Do you so too, and suffer not a poor lover whom you burn so.—He could not make an end of his new gybe, for Eolinda put her hand on his mouth, and wept with so much violence, as if her hus∣band

had made her undergoe some cruell effects of a true jealousie. Hee so left her to comfort her self at leisure, and went to his mother, who after the long discourse to him of a cunning and scandalous old woman, ended it by this pernicious conclusion: That that man hath neither honour nor courage, who suffers his wife to take those freedomes which may be ill interpreted. Then shee filled his head with examples of fore-passed times, represented to him how much the present were perverted, how dangerous the Courtiers were, and what a hard thing it was to preserve a great deale of vertue, with a great deale of beauty. This discreet son gave his mother leave to speak as long as shee would; but when she was weary, and yet not satiated with depraving the innocent Eo∣linda, in these few words hee answered her: I must needs take a liberty to me, which at first will not seem respectfull enough to you. Yet could you retire into your selfe, and make your selfe mistris of that choler which hath as it were plucked you thence, you would acknowledge my freedome to be very just. Be pleased not to interrupt me and permit me to tell you, I never expected from a person, so filled with honour and vertue as you, a discourse so declining, and so much an enemy to them both. 'Tis the annotation, or signe of true goodnesse, to interpret all others actions to the best sense; and not to beleeve them ill, till a long time after there is no permission to doubt them so. But now, in lieu of calling to mind who you are, and of observing those lawes im∣posed on you by your owne vertue, you would become a slanderer, and insteed of judging my wife by your selfe, your judgement of her is no otherwise then if it had come from one of the pratling gossips of the Court. If through too much love of me you have so grosly erred, I beseech you to lessen some part of your affection, to the end you may not hazzard the making the like slips; and to beleeve, that Eolinda, having you for her domesticall example, will preserve alwaies an infinity of vertue, to accom∣pany an extremity of beauty. The old woman growing mad at her sons wise remon∣strances wonderfully upbrayded him, reviled him, and threatned him with her maledi∣ction, protesting shee would never take any more into her consideration either him∣selfe, or his affaires. The night will better advise you, (repli'd the discreet Prince) I en∣treat you to be led by it, and when your choler is over, to reflect on your self and me, that you may know who is most faulty. In the meane time I bid you goodnight, and so presently went away. The old woman, all enraged, being got to her bed, and unable to take any rest, by reason of her rage and malice, which equally deny'd it her, spent the best part of the night in devising new plots for Eolinda's destruction. When she laid the ground of her abominable devices, she rejoyced with her selfe at her good inventi∣on, and turning her thoughts on the small regard her sonne had to her advertisements▪ His father did the like, (said she) the first time my enemies would have made him jea∣lous. But a little while after he made me know well enough that he had swallowed the poyson which in all appearance he had utterly rejected. All manner of men, how ge∣nerous and wise soever they be, nay, though they have never so good an opinion of their wives, are apt to be caught in this trap, if they be brought to it by a dextrous and cun∣ning contriver. My sonne, who now laughes at my advice, and would for a need turne Knight errant, to maintain the honour of Ladies, shall not passe this night without think∣ing more then once on the young Earle. He will represent him to his owne thoughts, yet more faire and gallant then he is. He will say to himselfe, that man leanes on a weak prop, who trusts to the vertue of a woman; and I dare lose my life, if the first journey hee makes, he wake not in the night, to ponder on what may be done at Lon∣don; and going further on, My wife (will he say) may now doe somewhat else then be∣waile my absence. This accursed woman, having spent all the night in these execrable meditations, arose with the Sun, and resolv'd the same day to begin, and wholly betake her selfe to her 〈◊〉〈◊〉 designe. Scarce was shee drest, when the Prince, her sonne, sent to know 〈◊〉〈◊〉 she did, and to aske leave to visit her. She had resolv'd before in the night to come in to him againe, because, without that good correspondency, she saw no meanes to ruinate Eolinda. She therefore told her sonnes Gentleman, she should be glad to see him. As soon as she heard it, he came to her, and accosting her with all the excuses and submissions which a good sonne should make use of for the satisfaction of those who brought him into the world, kissed her oftentimes, and entreated her to for∣get

•…•…hat had passed, to pardon his quicknesse, and to live lovingly with his wife. She •…•…eigned she had no grudge at all at her, but that she loved the Princesse as if shee were her owne daughter. To perfect this reconciliation, shee went and dined with her son, and so cunningly forced her humour, that the innocent Eolinda overjoyed at the cheri∣shings of the old woman, thought her selfe at the height of her happinesse. She related to her with the sincerity of a pure soule, all the affliction she had suffered by her to Lo∣vers, besought her to be a meanes for their period by one way or other, and to take that businesse into more consideration then the Prince her son had done. The old woman seeing so good a beginning to her enterprise, doubted not of the successe; she therefore promised her daughter in law all her assistance, assured her of her affection, and then changing her minde and discourse, according as her malice prompted her, forgot what she had told her sonne the evening before, and read to her daughter lessons of far higher licentiousnesse, and Court gossiping. The innocent Lady blushed at the indiscretion of her stepmother, and to let her know, that she was not so simple as not to discerne what the befittingnesse of her condition permitted, from what it permitted not: I con∣fesse (said shee to her) it is impossible to live in the Court as in a cloyster; wee must be seen and talked withall whether we will or no. But 'tis not fitting, that by the affecta∣tion of some gesture or ornament which is not usuall, wee should draw on us the eyes of young men: For my owne part, I have ever been of opinion, that none can with∣out blame, (though it be not done of purpose) contribute any thing to the extravagan∣cy of so many fooles wherewithall the Court is composed. The old woman perceiving Eolinda's minde was not to be infected by the contagion of her maximes, sought for some spirits lesse strong to corrupt them. She had prefer'd to her Daughter in law a Gentleman-usher, and a Gentlewoman of her chamber, and thought those might be very fit instruments to set her engines on work which she could not agitate her selfe, without discovering her designe. She therefore spoke to those two whom she had got∣ten from the most savage of the highland Scots, that is, from among beasts lesse ratio∣nall then wilde bores or beares; and commanded them to have recourse to her as secret∣ly as they could, to heare of such things whereby they might in short time attaine to great fortunes. Pantaira, so was the Chamber-maide called, fail'd not the next day to be at the old womans uprising, and to make knowne her hopes solely depended on her, declaimed against the French pride, and the imperious severity of Eolinda. The old woman, delighted with these depravings, told Pantaira, that if she had been heark∣ned to, her son had never fetched a wife from the enemies of her nation. But (said she) why doe not you speak to me of your Mistris subtility, as well as of her pride. She doth not think her selfe meanly faire, nor is she of those who neglect their beauty to avoid the importunity of Lovers. Ah! Madam, (repli'd Pantaira) I have something to re∣late to you of good importance on that subject. What? hastily asked the old woman. 'Tis (answered Pantaira) a secret not yet vented. The Earle of Lettidur is desperately in love with my Lady: I cannot tell you whether she know it, but I may well say, hee doth his utmost to winne me for him, and solicites me by the best of my friends: hee promiseth me what I would aske, so he might have my service for him to my Lady, and deliver her his letters. Thou wouldst say, the Earle of Trinobant, repli'd the old wo∣man. Pardon me, Madam, (said Pantaira) 'tis the Earle of Lettidur, who, within this yeare and halfe, is returned from Italy. The old woman entertaining with all her heart this new occasion for Eolinda's ruine; And is that Earle (said she to the perfidious Pan∣taira) so enamoured on thy Mistris? He is so farre gone (repli'd Pantaira) as he would gladly winne her favour with all the meanes his father hath left him. He is continually prosecuting his intention; and when my Lady is where hee cannot see her, hee present∣ly comes to my friend; and never comes thither but to discourse of his love, and to ob∣lige her by his gifts to perswade me to serve him. That woman is become rich with his presents within two or three moneths; and but for the feare of disobeying you, I had had a good share in his liberalities. Thou hast done well (said the old woman) in not engaging thy selfe in that commerce without my knowledge. But now when 'tis be∣hoovefull for my sonnes satisfaction, that wee know all the Earle of Lettidur's intenti∣on, deale boldly with him, promise thy service, let him see what credit thou hast with

thy mistris; in a word, take all he will give thee, and make him hope he shall possesse all he can desire. After she had so well instructed the chamber maid, she dismissed her; and the very evening of the same day, finding a convenient time to speak with Eolinda's Usher, Lycambus, (said shee) I begin to complaine with thee, for the small benefit accrewes to thee from thy service: had I thought my daughter in law would have done no more for her servants, I had been more wary of taking thee from thy former place, to make thee loose thy time in serving so ill a mistris; but there is an occasion presents it self, wherein, without being beholding to her, thou mayst raise thy self an honest fortune. I will assist thee in what I can, and promise thee withall, the same from my son. Be then thine own friend, hazard thy self for thy advancement, and make use of the means I will shew thee. The Earle of Trinobant is extreamly in love with thy mistris, and hath an intent to imploy thee in his suit; my sonne knowes it from a good hand, and inas∣much as he is confident of thy fidelity, and that it much imports him to know all the Earles pretentions: he desires thou wouldst prevent him, and handsomly go offer him thy service. Fit thy selfe therefore to make good use of this occasion, obey punctu∣ally thy masters commands, and worke those furtherances which may be necessary for thee to screw thy self into the Earles trust, and confidence. Lycambus who had no more braines then a horse, ne're thought of asking time to give an answer to her propositions The first thing he took hold on was that of gain; he grew dazled with the lustre of his approaching fortune, and scarce being able to contain himself in his excesse of joy, was like to expresse the height of it by throwing his armes about the necke of the old wo∣man. She hindered that brutishnesse, and told Lycambus he should yet have more then he expected, provided, he were vigilant, ready, faithfull, and above all extreamly secret. Lycambus laugh'd at these conditions, as at things which were easy to be perform'd, and so returned to his mistris, with a firm resolution to bet ray her assoon as possibly he could. In the mean time the innocent Lady beleeving she had fully justified her selfe and shut up for ever those winds, which are wont to trouble the calmes of wedlocke, sail'd securely on an unfaithfull sea. And inlarging her self from her usuall severity, at the intreaty of her husband, and counsell of her false mother in law, tooke delight in tricking her self, and to make it appeare that the French beauties are not parallel'd but by themselves. She was the glory of the English court; and acquiring still new charmes by the quietnesse of her mind, and the extream love of the Prince her husband, made as many conquests, as there were sensible hearts. But amongst so many different passions, there were none like those of the two Earles, their desires increased every moment, and their impatiency made them have recourse to the most extraordinary remedies, to get them some little lessening of pain in so great a malady. Pantaira and Lycambus fol∣lowing the order prescrib'd, offered themselves to these sick men, and so highly ex∣toll'd the goodnesse of their drugs, that they sold them at their owne price. Pantai∣ra, receiving at first a quantity of jewells from the Earle of Lettidur, took a letter hee had written to Eolinda, and promis'd to deliver it to her. I dare sweare she durst not so much as name him to her, much lesse deliver his letter. Yet she made that Lover beleeve, it was receiv'd and read with a signe of affection, and by the answers shee made him her self by word of mouth, oblig'd him to write above a dozen; all which she shewed to the pernicious old woman, and by her counsell, hid them in the bottome of a cabinet wherein Eolinda's jewells lay. On the other side, the Earle of Trinobant beleeving he had found a treasure in acquiring Lycambus friendship, wholly reli'd on him; and indeed he was so well serv'd for his money, that Eolinda went no where but he had notice of it. 'Twas to small purpose her seeking out the Churches least frequent∣ed for feare of meeting him, for being betray'd by her Usher, the Earle was alwaies there before her, She could not make a visit, but she there met the same displeasure, and if by chance she scap'd his importunities, she was sure to be persecuted by those of the Earle of Lettidur. Who, poore abused Lover, imagining (according to Pantaira's assurance) that she affected him, oftentimes would let slip some words, and intreat Eo∣linda not to treate him worse in publick, then she did in private. She that was far from understanding his speech, could not but be offended at it, and told the Earle one day, he wrong'd such personages as were powerfull enough to make him repent of it. I have

done, (repli'd the Earle) and since you are so scrupulous, I will not take the boldnesse to entertaine you any more, but by my usuall mediatour. Eolinda was as far from know∣ing what he meant by these words, as by the former; yet she fear'd lest there were a great deale of venome hidden under them: and as soon as she was alone with her hus∣band, renew'd her complaints to him, and entreated he would goe passe away some moneths in a faire house he had some twenty miles from London on the side of the Ri∣ver Thames; but hee gave no more heed to her request now, then he had done before. Yet, a while after, by the diabolicall subtlety of his mother, perceiving some commerce between Pantaira and the Earle of Littidur, and the like between Lycambus and the Earle of Trinobant, he began a little to suspect, not the vertue of his wife, but the per∣fidy of those two mercenary soules. He therefore set a watch on their deportments, and since these watches had order not to hide themselves from him, 'twas an easie matter for him to take them in the manner, as he did Pantaira, coming out from her copesmate, who gave her a letter which she had newly receiv'd from the Earle of Littidur. He read it, and finding therein some passages, not only of one amourous, but of an amourous man much belov'd againe; he was like to have cast himself headlong in the Thames, on whose banckes he walked and read the letter: But he with-held, and would not act so notable a folly, after he had made shew of so much discretion. He kept the letter, and commanded Pantaira to say nothing of what had betyded her on paine of her life. When he was come home, he shut himselfe up in his closet, and after he had a while suffered himselfe to be swayed by the impetuosity of his anger, he recollected himselfe, and con∣sulting as hee had been dis-interessed in a businesse of so great weight: I see not yet (said hee) but some light presumptions; for to beleeve a thing so beyond appearance, 'twere not too much to have the testimony both of mine eyes and eares. I must not make known my resentment, but to very good purpose, nor discover this secret to my mother, but in case of extremity: For hating Eolinda as she doth, she will never leave till she have forc'd me to work her confusion. Let me reserve to my selfe the knowledge of this matter, and not give that advantage to my enemies, to publish to them my self, my weaknesse, and dishonour. In this good resolution he abode some few daies, and had power enough over his thoughts, to disclose nothing of so intricate and perple∣xed a businesse. But Fortune, or rather the Justice of heaven, which would deprive this poore Prince of those felicities, for which he had been unthankfull, let him fall into the pit he had digg'd himselfe. The King, who had been inform'd by some of his spyes, of the Earle of Littidurs practices, told the Prince of it, and advis'd him not to be so farre a good husband, as not to take into his consideration the preserving his royall house from dishonour. Imagine whether this counsell touched him to the quick or no. He went straight out of the Palace, and walk'd towards the Earles lodging, expresly to work him a mischiefe. 'Twas at twilight, and by reason of the ill weather, there was no body in the streets. When he came within twenty paces of the gate, he saw come out of it Pantaira's brother, who betook him to his heales and ranne away as fast he could. The Prince now doubted no more of the losse of his honour. I must needs praise either the wisdome or love he shewed in so cruell a combination. He went to his wife, and inventing some cause of discontent against Pantaira and Lycambus pray'd her very ear∣nestly to dismisse them. Eolinda, who was the best mistris of the world, took in hand the cause of her servants, and besought the Prince to tell her wherein they had offended him, promised to reprove them soundly, & did what she could to obtain their pardon. If they be so fitting for you (repli'd the Prince) I will not discontent you so much as to put them from you, but you shall do me a great kindnes, if you could be without them. My L. (repli'd innocently Eolinda) if I had brought those two servants from France, I would presently have consented to their sending back again, for fear lest in retaining them, I might be suspected of some ill correspondency: but since they were prefer'd to me by the Dutchesse your mother, to have an eie over all my actions, I fear their putting away; and that apprehension throwes me at your feet, to beseech you thrice-humbly not to put from me such people as are so needfull for my quiet. The Prince left her without make∣ing any answer; and that grace which he had too long neglected, abandoning him in that fatall instant, he lost with her all the virtues which bare her company. This unfor∣tunate

man suffering himself to be carried away by his fury, and to be governed by two passions alike blinded, made as many falls as he made paces, and one error drawing on a∣nother, he came not to himself till it was to no purpose, but altogether unprofitable for him to do so. In this case he went to his wicked mother, who throwing brimstone into a fire already too much kindled, put him forward to those extremities which shall for ever be the grief and opprobry of England. This fourth Fury was not contented to have made him suspect the vertue of his wife; but she would withall justify her complices, and said to that poor Prince, how Lycambus and Pantaira were very excusable in their crimes, since they had not offended but out of fear of disobeying a personage who in the very instant of their disobedience, would not have failed to ruine them. This reason had been of no validity, if the Prince's wisdom had been as at other times; but in the blindnesse he was, it pass'd for a convincing argument. He return'd home thence, and made a mighty hurly-burly; and not desiring to see Eolinda, bur only to afflict her, went to lye in the towne, and stay'd three daies ere he came home againe. During that time, he was almost alwaies with his mother, and secretly sent for Lycambus and Pantaira, interrogating them, and learnt more then he desired. The businesse was, how so many accusations could be verified; and then his wifes cabinet of jewells was the most certaine proof of them. He sent to take it thence, broak open the lock, and found the Earle of Littidurs letters in it. After so many evidences, beleeving there was no more doubt to be made of his wifes dishonesty, he was so imprudent, that he never so much as ask'd those wretches how long it was since Eolinda had been engaged in affection to those two Earles; what favours they had obtained from her, which of them was best loved, where was their usuall meeting place, or at what times they met together, and many other the like particularities, which all had serv'd for Eolinda's justification. But the houre of his miseries was come: For the punishment of his sins he must be imprudent, blind, and enraged. He resolv'd with his mother to bring his wife to a castle of his by this seas side, on one side Dover; and to that end he went the next day to take leave of the King, who liked not the suddennesse of his departing. Yet hee would needs follow his owne brain, and all the supplications Eolinda could make, were not able to obtain any thing from that furious man. When he was come to his house, he shut up his innocent Lady in a chamber, whose windowes on all sides were grated with iron barres; and keeping her there two or three daies, he came at last with his mother to see her. He threw the Earle of Litridurs letters to her, and, Regard them well (said he to her) thou infamous woman. Your sport is found out, therefore aske me no more the cause of my anger. Eolinda opened the letters, read some of them, and not divining from whence they should come, because they were not sign'd: My Lord, (said she to her husband, with her wonted moderation) have these papers any thing common, or in relation with or to my disgrace? From whence come they? To whom are they directed? Why do you shew them me? See (said the old Dutchesse to her son) how cunning she is! O, how well she is vers'd in her trade! Madam, (re∣pli'd Eolinda discreetly) I know you are my accuser, doe me the favour not to be my Judge too. The furious Prince causing his wife to be silent, by a cruelty beyond exam∣ple, Thou hast no other accuser then thy crime, (said he) nor shalt thou have any other Judges then my mother and my selfe. Answer us therefore without any falsification, and tell us what privancies you have afforded your Gallants. There is no other way to save thy selfe but that confession. My Lord, (repli'd Eolinda modestly) is it possible you should beleeve that which you aske me? But art thou thy selfe so impudent (answered the Prince) to make me that question, seeing so many witnesses which accuse thee of that crime whereof thou feignest to be ignorant? If these be the witnesses which ac∣cuse me (repli'd Eolinda) they are false witnesses, for we never had acquaintance with one another. How, wretched woman, (said the Prince) can'st thou deny that the Earle of Littidur writ thee these love-letters? At the words Eolinda gave a great shriek, and melting into teares: But rather, my Lord, can you possibly beleeve it? If you have but only suspected it, Eolinda is then no longer innocent; she hath done worse then that whereof you accuse her; she hath prostituted her self; she hath lost her honour, and deserves not to live one quarter of an houre longer. This was all she said then, and since

that time, for all their threatnings, and all the tortures presented to her, she never spoke but once when the Prince came to her chamber. Two or three daies after this cruell proceeding, that unfortunate Prince was inform'd that the Earle of Trinobant was abroad in the country with a great many of his friends, and the Earle of Littidur, disguis'd like a Fisherman, had pass'd in a barque divers times under the castle. This news startled him, and made him looke as well after his owne preservation, as well as the ruine of his pretended adulterers. After hee had meditated on diverse evasions and was to avoide that mischief, hee found none better then to force Eolinda to write to them; and under a pretext of an amourous appointment, to make them fall into the trap where he desired to catch them. To give more colour to this assi∣gnation, he sent back his mother to London, and putting his wife into the custody of an old gentleman, who had alwaies very faithfully serv'd him, prepar'd himself to re∣turn to Court. He took horse at full noon with all his houshold, but at the first lodging he feign'd himself sick, and put one of his Confidents into his bed to amuse the world. In the mean time he got on one of those admirable gueldings which will run you some hundred or six score miles in ten or twelve houres, and so in two and an half return'd to his house. At day-break he came into Eolinda's chamber, where he found her at pray∣ers at her beds feet. As soon as she saw him she arose, came towards him with such a respect and meeknesse as would have mov'd the heart of the most barbarous man alive; and falling at his feet, My Lord (said she to him) I hope much since I and you are a∣lone in this chamber. Thou must (said he rudely) obey me, if thou wilt hope with reason. I never had any other intent (amourously repli'd Eolinda). Hear me then (said her husband) and bethink thy selfe well of the answer thou wilt make me. The Earle of Littidur and the other of Trinobant are not far hence, and without doubt, are come upon some advertisement thou hast sent them. If thou wilt save thy life thou must write to either of them according to my minde; but doe not look to be much in∣treated, for I condemn thee either to write to them or dy. My Lord, (repli'd Eolinda) I do not fear death, since it is the certain repose of innocent creatures: but had I com∣mitted that treason, which my enemies have constrain'd you to alledge, I should be so faulty, that I would think my self worthy all the torments prepared for the damned. Ah impudent woman (cri'd the Prince) what yet more testimonies of thy incontinency? I endure these injuries (repli'd Eolinda sweetly) because heaven hath given you all autho∣rity over me; but since I am not thereby commanded to obey you, when your com∣mands are offences, be pleased that for this time I may be disobedient. Thou must then dy, said the unfortunate Prince. I am ready prepar'd, (repli'd Eolinda) strike bodly, my Lord, (said she) modestly opening her breast, I will receive the blow without fear, and blesse the hand that gave it me. I will have thine own to be the executioner (said he:) That is not yet permitted me (replied Eolinda:) besides, it would give you the greater satisfaction if you your self avenge your honour, since you beleeve I have wrong'd it. These words penetrated the hardnesse of the unhappy mans soule. In that very moment he remembred what he had been before-times. The standish and ponyard which he held, fell out of his hands, and pitifully looking on her, Would to heaven (said he) thou wert innocent! I am so, (she repli'd) yet I deceive my self: No, my Lord, I am not, since you have been capable of mistrusting me. The unfortunate Prince, not deserving the grace of coming to himself, departed the chamber, overcome, but not perswaded. He lock'd her up, and keeping about him the keyes of the door, went to walk in his Parke, to deliberate on what he should lastly resolve. As long as 'twas day he did nothing but go and come, and was above thirty times to see what Eolinda did, through a little hole in the door, and found her still on her knees, holding her eies and hands towards hea∣ven, and understood plainly once that she beg'd thence a pardon for her persecuters, and that it would have commiseration on her husbands error. Those words almost wrought that miracle which she would have requested from heaven; and the unfortunate Prince began to be himself, when his wicked mother arrived, according as they had agreed at parting. He told her what he had done, and alledg'd the new doubts Eolinda's words had wrought in him. The abominable hagge sharply reprehended him, to suffer him∣selfe to be so easily seduced; and to confirme him in his former resolution, said, That it

behoov'd him to send Pantaira and Lycambus to the two Earles, that by the successe of their voyage, he might draw the last manifestation of his wifes incontinence. Those two wretched agents were hereupon sent, and so well instructed by the old woman, that for the further misery of many innocents, their journey took alike effect. Ly∣cambus met with the Earle of Trinobant, and propounding to him the facility of de∣livering his mistris, and by consequence, of enjoying her; he wonne him to hazzard himself in that enterprise, with all the rashnesse of a man very young and very valiant. The brutish high-lander conducted him even to the place where his master lay in ambush to surprise him: where he was enwrap'd overloaden with cassockes and cloakes, gag'd, and so led away to the Castle. The Earle of Littidur, with the same easinesse was ta∣ken in his fisher-boat, and as unworthily handled as his rivall. They were presently shut up in two chambers, and severally examined by the Prince himselfe. They con∣fess'd they were to blame, and had no other excuse for their offence, but the extream beauty of Eolinda, and the tyranny of love. But the Princesse (said they both) had other meanes enough to free her self of us, without blemishing her vertue by so base a treason. She needed but have made known the aversion she hath alwaies had to us; (though some traytors have told us the contrary) and we would have shewn to her by a faire death, that our lives were lesse dear to us then her favour. You shall neither of you save your selves by these crafty excuses (said the Prince). Confesse your crime, if you will have pardon. Our offence (repli'd they, each one in particular) is already confes∣sed. We do infinitly love Eolinda, and would willingly give our lives to have some small part in her good opinion. It hath not cost you so much (answered the Prince). There∣fore prepare your selves to wash away with your bloods the staine you have thrown on the house of your King. We dare die (said those unfortunate illustrious Gentlemen) but we protest to you for the discharge of our consciences, that if the intention be not a crime worthy of death, we shall die innocents. The most condemnable Prince, having lost all humanity with his reason, and being truly possest with the Devill of blood and fury, which serv'd for a soule to his mother, hastily resolv'd the death of those young Lords; and brutishly had them ponyarded by foure Irish men. After this execution done, he would have gone to the innocent Eolinda's chamber, either to have cut her throat, or done her some other bloody indignity; but as he was in a place of the staires, whence you might see Eolinda's chamber doore, he heard somebody call him by his name, and forbad him to goe further. He cast up his eyes and saw in the doore of that chamber a young English Gentleman of his houshold, who with his sword and pistoll in hand, threatned him to throw by all respect if he came any neerer. The Prince ask'd him the cause of his extravagancy. Aske me rather (repli'd the generous Englishman) the cause of my just resentment, and I will tell thee, blind and enraged Prince, that I am here to protect, as farre as my life can, the innocent Eolinda, against the persecutions of thy wicked mother. The Prince threatned to have him punished according to his desert, and commanded two of his murderers to seize on him. A great Irish villain stept forth with a partisan in his hand, but when he came within a few paces of Eolinda's generous defender, two pistoll bullets stopt his journey, and roul'd him to the bottome of the staires. His fellow, beleeving that the brave Englishman had no more fiery wea∣pons, furiously came up towards him, with an intent to strike him through with his halberd, but he had not time to perform that brave thrust, for he received a like chastise∣ment with his companion for the like offence committed. They perceiv'd then the va∣liant English man had forgotten nothing of what was necessary for his long defence. Indeed, he had yet three pistolls charged, and was so advantageously placed, by reason of the thicknesse of the wall that he could not be set on but before. The Prince would have obliged the two other Irish men to revenge the death of their companions, but they would doe nothing unlesse they had peeces: They therefore brought them two long fowling peeces, and the villaines discharg'd them both on Eolinda's courageous martyr. O heaven (quoth hee, feeling himselfe shot in so many places) receive my soul and my life, which I have freely expos'd for the defence of vertue! and with those words fell downe dead; yet, for all that remained vanquisher: For the unhappy Prince, having had leisure to bethink him of the execrable murder he would have committed, or else

with-held by the last words of the heroicall English man, return'd from whence hee came, and told his cruell mother he would never kill one whom he had so much affe∣cted. The damnable hagge, after she had some time grumbled, told him, he worthi∣ly deserv'd his dishonour, since he took pleasure in preserving the cause of it. The Prince, offended with this reply, entred the great hall of his Palace, and the first that came before him was the execrable Lycambus, who very likely came to demand the reward for his treason: And art thou there then, thou infamous and perfidious slave, by whose assistance I have lost mine honour and comfort? The miserable Scot cast himself at his feet, and the Prince, taking him by his long haire, dragg'd him about a great while, and then (with a brōad sword that he had) stroke his head from his shoulders. The tray∣tor, to save his life, would have accused the old Dutchesse, but before he could speak a word, there was neither speech nor life in him. The Prince then called for Pantaira, but she was so close hidden, that it was impossible to meet with her. His mother see∣ing him in such a fury, ask'd him if he could not distinguish between the guilty and the innocent: You should discharge your choler (said she) on that lascivious French wo∣man, and not on those wretches who durst not disobey her. Never doubt it (said he) Eolinda shall have her punishment with the rest; but it shall be so, that no one whoso∣ever of mine shall besmeare their hands in the blood of that miserable woman. Present∣ly, his wit furnishing him with a new kind of punishment, he commanded that barque to be made ready, wherein you saw, the innocent Eolinda die, and cutting off the two Earles heads, and that of the charitable English man, made them to be nayl'd (with the other of Lycambus) in that manner as you saw them. Then went he into Eolinda's chamber, and though she fell into a swound at his entrance, yet he caus'd her to be car∣ried into the vessell, and set her in the same posture you found her. That done, he commanded all his followers out of the barque, the sayles being all hoys'd, and tow'd her into the open sea by two shalops, and then abandon'd her to the mercy of the winds. See a great many tragicall events, yet am I not at the end of all; for scarce was the Prince got up againe into his chamber, when Pantaira (it may be repenting she had been the cause of so many murders) came to him, and beseeching him to heare her, confess'd, that neither Lycambus nor her self had done any thing but by the command of his mother. Protested boldly, that Eolinda never knew ought of their practices, nor done any thing misbeseeming the vertue and honour of a most chast Lady. That shee had never seen, but in publick, any of the two Earles; and that the letters which were found in her cabinet, had been conveigh'd thither without her knowledge, and that she had never seen them. She had told more but that the old Dutchesse flew on her, and in the fury she was, would have strangled her, if she had not been taken out of her hands. The Prince in the meane while, filled with horrour at what he had heard, re∣flecting presently into himself, What hast thou done, (cri'd he) unnaturall mother? I now doubt no more, Eolinda is innocent! and with those words fell into a swound, and had not I borne a part of his fall, he had infallibly broken his head against the floore of his chamber. We laid him on his bed, and whilst his faithfull servants bewail'd his misfortunes, and strove to recover him from his fainting his wicked mother caus'd Pan∣taira to be strangled, and sent to make ready a ship of warre which lay in the rode, with a secret order to her most Confidents to make after Eolinda, and to throw her in∣to the sea. All this could not be done presently. In the meane time the Prince reco∣ver'd his spirits, and spying me at the head of his bed: Altoph (said he) if my faults have not taken from thee that amity thou hast alwaies borne me; goe quickly, and strive to save Eolinda. If thou bring'st me her not alive, be secure thy Prince is dead. I presently went forth, not knowing where to finde a ship to goe after Eolinda; but as I came out of the Castle, those whom the old Dutchesse had sent to make an end of the innocent Lady, told me the ship was ready, and if I would be of the party, I should follow them. Though I was ignorant of their designe, yet I took hold of the occasi∣on, and imbarqued my self with them, and understood the command they had, a little before our mariners had descri'd your ships. I can tell you nothing of what past betwixt the mother and the son after my departure; but by what hath hapned in your presence from the one and the other it is very easie for you to imagine how matters pass'd be∣twixt

them. Thus the Englishman ended his mournefull relation, accompanied with many a sad teare. Polexander let fall some to the memory of Eolinda, and having bla∣med the imprudency, and bewayled the misfortune of the Prince, sent back all the English, and commanded his Pilot to put off from the coast of England. If the notes which are left me of the life of this great King, have beene carefully written, there hap∣ned not to him any adventure worthy to be published, from the coast of France, to those of Spaine, which are the neerest to Africa. But it is remembred how in that place he made use of that incomparable valour, and greatnesse of soule, which had ever made him triumph over all dangers, all fortunes, and even of death it selfe. He was beset with above thirty sayle of ships, which falling in upon him, without any observance of the ceremonies used at Sea, assayled him so hotly, that he had scarce time to put his men in case to defend themselves. He fayled not to carry in a combat so unequall the same ma∣jesty of spirit he was wont to shew in his other combates. But seeing no way of safety, he would at least dye in one of the enemies vessels, and make himselfe a glorious tombe of their bodies whom he had slaine. Through sword and fire therefore he made up to the greatest vessell, and grapling with her, leapt in, to make a terrible but chery of his infa∣mous affailers. He had no sooner put his foot into the ship, but he was knowne by him that commanded her. Hold, cryed the Captaine to all, (he was clad after the Turkish fashion) lay downe your Armes, tis the King of the Canaries. These words went from one end of the ship to the other, and flying from ship to ship, all the fleet knew in an instant, they had beene like to have ruined the famous Polexander King of the Cana∣ries. In the meane while, he who had first divulged this verity, intimating to our Hero a great deale of joy: My prayers are heard, said he, I have somewhat satisfied the obli∣gations I owe your Majesty. You once gave me my life, and I dare say, this day I have preserved yours. For, I most certainly know, that at last you would rather have chosen an honourable death, then an ignominious servitude. I am the same Hamet, whose life you preserved in the presence of Bajazet, Iphidamantus and Zelmatida. Know more Sir, you are here amongst your servants, since all of us know no other Soveraigne then the great Bajazet. Hamet (replyed Polexander) this meeting is so strange, that I can scarce beleeve what I see and understand. But tell me, I prethee, where is Bajazet, and why lyes his fleet on this coaste? Sir, (said Hamet) my Generall is sick in his Island, and sick with griefe that he cannot recover the treasure he hath lost, which if fortune and our diligence render not the sooner to him, this Age will lose the rarest Jewell it hath next your Majesty; and chiefly to prevent that mischance came we to Sea. My compa∣nions and my selfe have altered our condition, and suspending for Bajazets sake our for∣mer trade, we are no more Pirates, but to get into our hands the fairest women. We flye up and downe to every place where fame tels us the most beautifull are, and not dreading the hazard we run in so difficult and fantasticall an enterprise, we place out highest felicity in the preservation of our Generals life. Since you parted from our Island, we have sent him twenty of the fairest women of the world, but she whom he longs for is not among that number. Two dayes since we tooke one in Portugall, who is certainely the rarest and most wounding beauty can be looked upon. She will not tell us what she is, and that makes us believe it may be the same which Bajazet desires. Hamet could say no more, because ten or twelve of his companions came and did obei∣sance to our Heroe. He entertained them with a courtesie which charmed the most barbarous, and by a brave speech, amplifying the fortune they had made him run, told them, twas not without cause, their meeting was more feared on the Ocean, then that of rocks and shelves. The Pirates answered this commendation as well as they could; and the aged Achaim among the rest told him, it was farre from any intention of theirs to turne their forces against him, for (said he) we have an expresse order from our Ge∣nerall, to obey you as himselfe, and to follow your Majesty in all occasions, wherein you please to do us so much honour as to make use of us and our armes. Tis not yet fif∣teene dayes, since at the sacred name of Polexander, we released one of the fairest ships we ever tooke. She came from that inaccessible Island, whereof all the world talkes, and no body can see. The Pilot which guided her, a very venerable old man, assured us, he came from the Island of the Sun to see you at the Canaries, and impart very impor∣tant

newes to you. At these words the bloud flashed in Polexanders face, and he felt a beating of his heart which was not usuall with him; and being not able to suppresse this amorous emotion, entreated Achaim to tell him, what course he had seene that vessell steere. We left her on the coast of Morocco, (replyed Achaim) and the Pilot told us they went then to the King of Senega. Polexander had gone away presently, if his ship had beene in case. But she had received so many Cannon shot, that the highest sayle or top-gallant saile, the maine mast, and that which bore the sprits saile were shattered; the maine sheet, and the greatest part of the yards were torne and broken; the very body of the ship was shot through in many places; & it required time to rectifie all this, which Polexander was forced to give, in spight of his impatiency. To divert him, Ha∣met propounded to his companions the shewing him their faire prisoner, and his advice being approved, Polexander went out of that ship into the Rover Selims, and there into a Cabin where the faire Captive was kept. Hee understood by Hamets dis∣course whence she was, and therefore did all his complements in her owne tongue, and so pleased her, that to shew what contentment she tooke in his company, she put in practise all the best of her language. Polexander replied with his accustomed coole temper, and told her, he thought himselfe very happy to be in place where he might do her service. And I, replied the Portugall Lady, shall be more happy then you, if after the recovery of my liberty by your meanes, I might carry yours with me into Portu∣gall. You are not charitable (said Polexander) in rendring evill for good; but I see you sin out of custome, for it being so common a thing with you, and so easie to capti∣vate and make slaves, you thinke to do it still, even during your owne captivity. I con∣fesse (replied she) I do very much affect to make captives, but desire from them nothing but good deeds; and that you may have a desire to be one, I would have you know, that the great Emanuel King of Portugall thinks it an honour to be in my fetters. Her free∣nesse of humour and talke lasted till night, so as if Polexander had not bent all his thoughts on Alcidiana's Island, he would have found in his meeting with that Lady wherewithall to have entertained himselfe with a great deale of delight. When their first discourse was ended, and that those two excellent wits had begun a more regulated conversation, Polexander besought the Portugesse to tell him who she was, and by what mischance she was fallen into the hands of the Pirates. She replied presently, I am the daughter of the Count of Ebora, my name is Ximena, and by that denomination have acquired so much fame and glory, that there is nothing neither in Portugall nor in Spaine it selfe, which can be compared to me. From my infancy I have beene highly affected by Emanuel. He hath been inflamed for me as much as he could possible; and burnes yet with the same fire, so that had I not preferred his greatnesse before mine owne, he had lost (to have enjoyed me) far more then the Crowne of Portugall. The very day he was King, he resolved to divide with me that power to which my generous∣nesse had raised him; but I loved him too well to give consent to my owne advantage, I opposed the reason of Sate to that of love. I told him, his fortune was but begun, and to place himselfe at that point where he deserved to be, he should marry the daughter and heire of Ferdinand and Isabell. This alliance which might have brought him five or six Crownes, was at first word odious to him. He called me his Crownes and fortune, and told me he was powerfull enough, so he might have the happinesse to reigne with me. This generous answer had overcome me, if I had not yet beene more gene∣rous. I commanded him to obey me, and at last inforced him to marry the Princesse of Castile. She hath beene his wife two yeares, but in that time Emanuel is growne twen∣ty yeares elder. He eternally complaines of that absolute power whereby I have thrown him into that irkesome slavery; and comforts not himselfe, but in the assurance he hath that the Queen his wife cannot long live. Tis above a month since I left my house and came to lie at Court, to give some intermission to his afflictions. I went to Lisbon, and was at the great feast which was solemnized at the departure of the navall Army, which should have reconquered all the Canaries. Polexander was about to have inter∣rupted her at that word, to know what was become of that fleet; but the power he had on himselfe, made him appeare to her, as one to whom an intelligence which so neere∣ly touched him, had nothing at all concerned him. Ximena therefore continuing her

discourse. After the fleet (said she) was under saile, I retired to a very faire Castle, which the King had given me, some two leagues from Lisbone. I have seene him there often, and two dayes since having sent me word, he would come to me by Sea, I got me into a little Galley to go meet him. The night overtooke me on the water, and the calmenesse of the ayre being as great as that of the Sea, I intended not to retire till day breake. But when I was come within a mile of my house, two Barks comming from behinde a rock set on my Galley, and being overcome, notwithstanding my servants resistance, I was taken and brought where now I am. See in short all that you desired to know. The name of the faire Ximena was knowne to me, said Polexander, but I may well say, I knew not what I did know before I had the happinesse to see the faire Ximena her selfe. The King of Portugall is too happy to have so winning and generous a Mistris, and were it not for feare to offend the worthy subject of his passion, I would accuse that Prince of two much reason and obedience. Of a truth Ximena is a faire piece of Nature, for the honour of whose enjoying there is neither glory nor Empire which is to be taken into consideration. This speech displeased not Ximena; and Pole∣xander, (after he had some time continued it) thus went on: I entreat the faire Xime∣na, not to take in ill part my curiosity; I would humbly entreat her to let me know what is become of that fleet which is gone for the Canaries. The newes of them is not good, replied the Lady; for the famous Polexander fights there though he be absent. His Genius is, where he cannot be himselfe, and conquers for him in those places where he cannot be in person. Besides, tis related that a Prince of the new world, called Zel∣matida, is (unhappily for us) in the Island of Lancerotta, and defends it with so much valour, that our Souldiers have no lesse esteem of him then of Polexander. To this they adde, that within these fifteene dayes, there is got into the Isle of Teneriffe, a Prince called Iphidamantus; that he hath already given two great on-sets to his advantage, and knock'd our troups back againe to their shipping. You have well satisfied my curio∣sity, (said the Prince) and tis but justice that Ximena should be so too. After this dis∣course, he took leave of her, and went to the Pirats. He told them who Ximena was, and entreated them to send her back to the King of Portugall. You shall not (said he) lose her ransome, for I will give you a hundred thousand cro•…•…s assoone as we arrive at the Canaries. His last words were very harmonious to the Pirates eares, and they all said to Polexander, he might dispose of Ximena as he pleased, and that they forgave him her ransome. No, no, (replied Polexander) you shall not if you please refuse me. But I tell you, that summe is but the earnest of a greater payment. Yet, before I discover to you what I conceale, I pray send back Ximena; Alcippus shall conduct her into Portu∣gall, if you will lend me but the least of your vessels. Hamet offered his; and whilst they were providing to goe, our Hero withdrew in private with Alcippus, instructed him what he should say to the King of Portugall, and appointed him to goe thence to Fez and Morocco, and so to Senega, if at the two first townes he heard no newes of Al∣cidiana's ship. Enquire (said he) every where for it, neglect nothing; and never think of returning to the Canaries, if thou bring me not some good newes, and I will stay there for thee. Ximena understanding by those that guarded her what Polexander had done for her liberty, gave him extraordinary thanks, and after she had bid him farewel: I was not yet weary (said she) of being a prisoner in the hand of so magnanimous an E∣nemy. Our Hero as bravely answered her; and assoone as he saw her under sayle, he sent to entreat Bajazets chiefe Officers to come aboard him. They did so, and when they were come together: My companions (said hee) there is a faire occasion offers it selfe to enrich you. The King of Portugall hath sent a fleet to invade my king∣dome. If you will set on them, you are sure of their defeate. Let's flye then to so cer∣taine a victory, and by the great number of prisoners and vessels which cannot escape you, make your selves more formidable then you are to all the force of Spaine. The Pi∣rates all at once arose, and laying their hands on the guard of their Cymeters, See, said they to Polexander, wherewithall to confirme the good opinion you have of our cou∣rage. Let's on then my Lord to these Portugals, who are certainely lost if they dare to attend us. The Councell being thus ended, they thought on the meanes of rightly put∣ting it in execution. Our Heroes great ship was all new fitted in lesse then foure and

twenty howres, and all the rest put in good equipage for fight. A favourable winde arising the second day, Polexander and the Rovers set saile, and in a marvellous good or∣der steered towards the Canaries. They were six dayes ere they could see it; the se∣venth, they descried the prodigious mountaine of Teneriffe, and the eighth, they began to distinguish the Isles. Polexander held a counsell of Warre in the fight of his deare Countrey; and finding one same heart, and one same will in all the Pirates, bore up right to his enemies. Did the copiousnesse of my subject permit me to expatiate my selfe in the description of combates by Sea and Land, of sieges, of assaults, of taking of places and vessels, of duels, of considerable deaths, and other glorious adventures which accompany the act of warre: I should have in this warre of the Canaries, sufficient mat∣ter to obliterate the illustrious and proud events wherewithall the renowned Cities of Troy, Thebes, Carthage, Hierusalem, or any else have furnished their Poets. But I must smother all those brave acts; and besides, having consecrated my pen to the honour of Alcidiana, I veyle without sorrow a part of Polexanders, his brothers, and Zelmatida's. That which comforts me in the wrong I doe them, is, they praise my ingratitude, and had rather I should speake of their misfortunes, then of their achievements. I will there∣fore imitate their example in this warre, and relate it with as much nimblenesse as they executed it. The Portugals being advertised of the forces were comming on them, for∣sooke the great Canary, since they could not keepe it without their owne losse. They dismantled in the other Islands the sorts which were not yet defensible, or too hard to be kept, and leaving a good Garrison in the rest, shipped themselves; to encounter Po∣lexander, or at least wise not to have at one time their Enemies both before and be∣hinde them. Our Hero trifled not the time, but put himselfe in battalia within Can∣non shot, and compelled them to forgoe their usuall slownesse. The fight was bloudy on both sides, but incomparably more on the part of the Portugals, then Polexanders. I must needs expresse, to the praise of the Portugals, that to know how many they were, there needed but to count the dead and the prisoners. There was not a vessell saved, for all that were aboard them had made a vow to overcome, or to dye. Ipidamantus and Zelmatida at the noise of this battaile, left their postes, got a shipboard, and comming fitly in, performed so many heroicall actions, that the least of their glory was to come off victorious. The Pirates fought as people who were certaine to carry away all the booty; and indeed, though the recompence were great, yet was it below their Service. The fight being ended, Polexander highly praised them, and sent away that very day to Bajazet to give him notice of his victory, and the hardinesse of his followers. Zelmati∣da and Iphidamantus, who during the battell, had often admired the incomparable va∣lour of our Heroe, (who had likewise his eyes for witnesses of theirs) came up to him in the Port of Teneriffe. Their joyes, their civilities and praises were great and recipro∣call. Polexander oftentimes asked Zalmatida's pardon, for so long time abusing his goodnesse; called him the Defender of the Canaries, and the revenger of the growing slavery of his world. Zelmatida in lieu of an answer, onely sighed, and gave way for Iphidamantus complements. Polexander forgat not to render that testimony he ought to his courage; and said aloud, that to be master of his Art, he was bound to be taught by his younger brother. Iphidamantus modesty hindered the continuation of that speech; and that being done, they landed on the Isle of Teneriffe, and because it was that, wherein the Portugals had most fortified themselves, he resolved to make there his beginning of driving them out of the Islands. The Canarians were not idle, whilst their Masters laboured so happily for them. Some of them cut the throats of their Gar∣risons; others went and assaulted the Forts which kept them in awe, and those of the best sort came to the three Princes Army. Some Portugals defended themselves in their holds, even to the extremity, in hope there would arrive a new fleet. Others more judi∣cious, knowing they could not be relieved, yeilded themselves to the discretion of the Conquerour; so that in a month all the Isles were free, and no other Portugals were seen there, but such as they sold in the markets, and carried hither and thither, to end their lives in that servitude which their ambition had deserved. Polexander yet was not satisfied with the driving so unjust and obstinate Enemies from his dominions; but would needs fight with them within their own wals, and by some great and remarkable

losses imprint in their minds for a long time the feare of his Name and Armes. After he had therefore a while refreshed his Troopes after their long travels, with Zelmatida and Iphidamantus, he joyned his own fleet with the Pirates, and having paid them even to prodigality for their service done him, and principally the ransome he promised for Ximena's liberty, he embarked himselfe with a favourable winde, and staid not till he came before Lisbon with an Army not only victorious, but invincible by his presence, and that of the other two Heroes. All the coasts of Portugall felt his arrivall. Many townes were pillaged, many burnt, and an infinite number of young and old, of poore and rich, were sacrificed to the just resentment of the Canarians. Lisbon it selfe was got to the point of her ruine, and the fire and sword were about to make of it a horrible place of buriall; when our Heroe considering this neere desolation, staid his anger, and was moved with the horrid object which had followed the sack of so stately a City. Let us pardon the guilty (said he to himselfe) for the innocents sake. Let those live who have provoked us, for the love of them who never offended us. Let us not arme against our selves the cryes and teares of a great number of orphanes, of widowes, and virgins. The astonishment which his arrivall had cast as farre as into the heart of Spaine, was so great, that Ferdinand and Isabell shut up in Valledolid, were a great while without knowing how to oppose this tempest. They imagined that all the Moores were againe comming out of Africa into Spaine, and to reconquer it in farre lesse time then they had lost it. But Polexanders departure calmed all their troubles, and dissipated their ap∣prehensions; and if he returned without being King of both the Spaines, twas because his justice, and noblenesse would never consent to it. He returned home by Africa, drove the Portugals out of all the places they were possest of, and razing the fortifica∣tions, would have both the Christians and Moores to know that he came into the world onely for the extirpation of tyranny. The King of Morocco hearing of our great Con∣querors being so neere his territories, sent him a solemne Embassy. It was received after a new way of State, for twas at Sea, and in the midst of a fleet, consisting of above three hundred saile. The Embassadors having had their Audience, and done the accustomed complements, returned loaden with presents. Polexander seeing them upon parting, asked Iphidamantus if he would send no newes of himselfe to his old servant. I doe not think (replied Iphidamantus) but that after the turne I shewed her they would be very welcome to her. Truly said Polexander, you cause me to remember a promise you made me long since. You must now acquit your self with putting it no longer off. And in so saying, and taking Zelmatida by the one hand, and his brother by the other, he shut himselfe with them into his Cabin. Zelmatida understanding whither he was led, and to what purpose, was wonderfully joyed at it; and pressed Iphidamantus as much as the King of the Canaries, to tell him how he fell into the hands of the King of Morocco, and by what meanes he got thence. The brave Prince not able to deny two so dear to him, and so considerable; told them, he had no other will then what they might command; but (withall said) he had already so often troubled them with the recitall of his fortunes, that he could not resolve to go on. Yet (added he) since I see you wil abso∣lutely have it, I am ready to obey you. Know then, that after the mis-haps which hapned to me at the siege of Lepanto, and after the tragicall end of the too constant Hysteria, I left all the pretentions I had in the court of the Grand Seignior, and made a vow never more to present my self to my most dear father and worthy Lord Achomat. In speaking which words, Iphidamantus fighed often, and Polexander noting it; You sigh (said he) if I be not deceived, and at the remembrance of your losses, what a change is here? What is become of that insensibility which equall triumph'd over all things? Hath Ba∣jazet turned that heart of marble into a heart of flesh? You may justly jest, replied Iphi∣damantus, sighing againe, but let's give over this talke, if you please, and give me leave to relate what you desire to know. Assoone as I was at Sea, I called to minde that which the generous Basha Achomat had told me not a yeere before, touching my birth, my captivity, and the misfortunes of our house. This remembrance, bred in me a desire of returning into my native Countrey, to the end I might learne, whether or no I were the sole man left alive of our race. With this intent I came to Argier, and habit and language having gotten me a great many friends in a small time; I understood, the

Canaries had not changed their master; and how the great Polexander of whom I heard so much spoken in Constantinople, was not only king of them, but what more astonied and extraordinarily pleased me, was, that Aladin Bashaw Vice-roy of Argiers assured me, that that Prince was the son of Periander and Axiomira, and by consequence, the unfortunate Iphidamantus had the honour to be his younger brother. Polexander having smil'd at the quaint phrase of his brother, We will, said he, make an∣swer another time to these fine words; for the present, Zelmatida and my selfe have no other designe then to heare you. Proceed then, if you love us, and plainly satisfie our cu∣riosity. Iphidamantus, resuming his discourse, thus continued it:

THE ADVENTURES OF IPHIDAMANTUS.

AS soon as the Vice-roy of Argiers had intimated to me the prosperity of Peri∣anders worthy successor, I got to sea again, and with the most diligence I could sail∣ed along the coastes of Barbary: I was like to have been lost in the straights of Gibral∣tar, and but for the extraordinary skill of my pilot, my ship had been split in peeces against the point of an Island in the midst of the straight. At last I got into the open sea, but 'twas to be beaten with new tempests. The second day that I was got into the Ocean, my mariners, who had never sailed but on the Mediterianean sea, were intertained by a winde they knew not, and against which by consequence they could not defend themselves. The billowes went so high, that for three daies we were every foot carried from heaven to hell, and from hell to heaven. At last the winde threw us on the coastes of Morocco. 'Twas there, that the storm redoubling, and that the elements having made a particular combination to punish my offences, turned topsy turvy (if I may say so) the first order of nature, reconciled contrarities which should be everlasting; found nourishment for flames in the water; composed two rights of what should be one day, and made both the land and the sea equally dismall unto us. Ma∣ny leagues on this side Morocco there is seen a rock, on which is built a Castle which they call Guargetsem: the tempest bore me right against it. Twice did my ship strike a∣gainst this fearfull rock, and by the impetuosity of the shock, not only opened it in the mid'st, but was thrust off farre into the sea, that of all those aboard, there was not one who saw not his certain death before him. Every one therefore got hold of what he could, to hinder their sinking with the vessell, but the storme made all their forecast bootlesse, for the justling of the waves, which confounded themselves one within a∣nother, swallowed up all my mariners and souldiers, with that which they had gotten to save themselves. I only (who without doubt had not suffered enough for my many offen∣ces) was frustrated of that quiet which my companions found in the armes of death. Having therefore (without faining) no intent to preserve my miserable life, I was thrown by a wave into a Cavern which time and the surges had digged under the rock of Guargetsem. When the sea is very high, or that there is a violent storme, as there was then, the water enters into the bottom of that Cave, and throwes in what it brings with it; but when the waves retire, or that it is calme, the place is dry; and hath some resem∣blance with those grottes which Art hath invented for the imbellishing of Gardens. For an hour or two I was but ill at ease within that cave, for I was upto the neck in wa∣ter, and knew not where to place my selfe better. At last the sea went out, and then I found I was out of danger. The Sun which inclined towards the West, and was then ve∣ry near to the Tropick of Cancer, suddainly striking through the thicknesse of those cloudes which had been so fatall unto us, enlightened the most obscure corners of my retreat. I set me at the mouth of it, to injoy the suns heat and dry my clothing. A∣bout an houre after I had been there, I perceived some fishermen: who questionlesse

were got out in their boates to gather the remaines of our shipwrack. I will not tell you that surely chance was the Author of the good fortune befell me at that instant, but will let you know, how those fishermen being desirous to get a chest which floted on the waves, and which I knew to be the same wherein my servants put my best habili∣ments) drove right to my Cavern. As they were about to take it in, I cried to them for helpe; and my voice on a suddan comming out of that cave, so affrighted them that they left the chest, and betooke them to their oares. I besought them to take me in, and told them, the chest which they were about being mine, I would freely give it them, if they would bee so charitable as to carry me to the next shore, and tell me on what part of Africk I was shipwracked. My habit and language make∣ing me passe for a Musulman, the fishers believed, that Mahomet had sent them thither to exercise the hospitality which he so strictly recommended to them. They therefore tooke me into one of their boates, set my chest by me, not permitting me to open it for their reward; and betaking them to their oares, brought me to a little-port, which is as the entry of a Suburb by which they ascended to the fortresse of Guargetsem: There the fishers dwelt, and they received me into their Cottages built of clay and straw, with a great deale of humanity; and carried my chest into a place under ground, whereof they gave me the key. I refused it, and to obliege them to the continuation of their affection, tooke out of my chest some chaines of gold, and rings, which I distri∣buted amongst them: They grew ravished at the richnesse of my presents, and judged by them that I was a person of great quality. I thought it not amisse to keepe them in that opinion; and to that end, I went presently to put off my spoyled sea weeds, and take on others of cloth of gold, enriched with buttens of rubies. When I had fitly clad my selfe with the richest cloathes I had, I came in to my fishermen, and astonished them farre more by this second sight, then he had done at first. They lifted up their hands; they whispered together, came and peered me in the face, handled my cloathes, my belt and Cymiter, and asked me often whether I were an Angell, or a man. When all their wonder was over, they told me in what place I was, and assured me, their King would already have sent to entertaine me according to my desert, had he been advertised of my arrivall. I asked them where he was; and after they had by their answer informed me he was come a few dayes besore into the fortresse of Guargetsem, I thought there was no better course for me, then to make my selfe knowne to that Prince. I there∣fore sent one of those fishers to the Castle, and expresly charged him to relate truly how I was shipwracked. He went up, and presently came back againe with Moores. The first that saw me, blinded with the lustre of my Jewels, or surprised with seeing me, stopped on the suddaine, and turning to his companions; Ennoramita (said he to them) Ennoramita. The rest gaz'd on me, and all with one voice cried out, that I was Ennora∣mita. Straight they cast themselves at my feet, kissed my hands, called me their Prin∣cesse, and entreated me to go to their King. They drew me out of my cottage, and causing all the mountaine to ring againe with the name of Ennoramita, carried me whe∣ther I would or no up to the fortresse. Some of them being run before, to advertise Hely of my arrivall, so ravished him with the newes of it, that forcing his weake legs to uphold him, maugre their feeblenesse, he came to meet me, welcomed me with a great many pleasant huggings, repeated a hundred times over the name of Ennoramita, would even adore me, and gave me the title of a Goddesse, and sometimes that of an Angel. He entreated me straight to tell him how I escaped out of the hands of the cruell Nephizus, brought me into a chamber, the best furnished I ever saw next to those of Zelmatida, and Bajazet; and entreating me to take my bath, withdrew, with a great deale of respect. Presently came in diverse white Eunuchs, and seven or eight black. The last fetched all that was necessary for my chamber; and the women having brought me into a great withdrawing roome, shut the doore on us all. If I were wonder-strooke at what I had seene and heard, I was farre more when I saw my picture (done like a wo∣man) hanging under a cloth of Estate, made of cloth of gold. I asked those who would have undressed me whether I would or no; for whom that picture was made. They an∣swered me all at once, twas for the Princesse Iphidamanta. At that word I was like to have falne downe, and certainely believed I was got into the house of some one of those

Enchanters, which every day worke so many prodigies in the townes of Africa. I knew not which way to be cleered of my doubts. In the meane time I was in an extreame perplexity. But perceiving that Hely and his servants had no other intent then to serve me, I said to my selfe, I should be very unwise to dis-obliege them. I went therefore into the bath, but so dextrously, that I discovered not the difference betwixt Iphida∣mantus and Ennoramita. Assoone as I was dried, persumed and clad, Hely reentred the chamber where I was, and shewing me my picture: See (said he) that which hath pre∣served my life in your absence. At that speech I put on a very serious countenance, and told him I had beene in so great an astonishment, by meanes of that which had betided me since I was taken out of the Sea, that I could scarce reserve to my judgement suffi∣cient to know whether I were yet my selfe or no. But let me tell you. I am a man. He∣ly smiled, and shooke his head, hearing me say so; and taking me by the hand, faire En∣noramita Iphidamanta, replied he, do not think to hide your selfe from those eyes which love hath made so clear-sighted. You have now nothing to feare. The traytor Nephizus is not in this countrey, and Abdelmelec hath acknowledged his offences. You are absolute Mistris of me and my Estates. Command solely, and you shall be punctu∣ally obeyed. I grew almost mad to see my selfe treated like a maid, and in that choler, I spoake to the King any thing that came first to minde. At last recollecting my wits: I cannot imagine (said I to Hely) how you came to know my name to be so neere to Iphidamantus. But you may know that that Iphidamantus was born a Prince, and bred up in the Port of the Grand Seignior, by the name of Solyman. I see (said I) you do not beleeve me; but since your credulity is so wilfull, I will make you both an eye and hand witnesse that I am no woman. Presently I unbuttoned my robe, and would have shew∣ed him my brest, that he might know I wore not garments unbefitting my Sex: but he clapped his hands on his eyes, and protested, he had rather dye then engage me in any action which should displease me. No, no, (said I) I will do nothing unseemely. Come, see, and disbeguile your self. That old foole, holding his hands still on his eyes, told me, he was too certaine of who I was to desire new testimonies. Should my eyes (said he) now tell me the contrary, I would say they lied, and hold them for Impostors. Be therefore still (if you please) what you have beene. Be Iphidamanta, be Ennoramita, be a Shepheardesse, be a Princesse; you shall still be that visible Divinity which Hely will adore whilst he lives; and the onely beauty he will enjoy in that Paradise which his great Prophet prepares for him. Nay, Iphidamanta shall be the chiefe part of my beatitude. She shall be the most delicious dish I will taste of in the eternall feastings, and her divine allurements will make me look with contempt on the miraculous Pom∣citrons which our Prophets Angels will give to his believers for the accomplishment of all their pleasures. And to speake truth, how rare soever the beauties of those celestiall fruits are; what is there in them that can be compared to the charmes of Iphidamanta? This discourse, composed partly of that poor Princes errors, and partly from those of the Alcoran, gave me good cause of laughter. Yet I could not hold, but at last grew angry; and had I given way to my first thought, I had made Hely repent him of his ex∣travagancy. But when I called to minde, that I should avenge my selfe on a poore man whom age had deprived of judgement: I said to my selfe, I should be more senselesse then he, if I went about to wrong him. For three months together, I had as much of this as was possible. I patiently endured the Kings highest impertinencies. I coldly re∣ceived his Idolatries; I gave care even with pleasure to his supplications, his idle talke, and his wayanentings. In a word, I almost became the same which that foole tooke me for; and tooke in hand as well the rest, though much against my will, the needle and the spindle. At last, Hely brought me to Morocco, and caused me to be received with an incomparable magnificence. But after I had beene there a while, and was growne of so ridiculous a life; I resolved to beguile, or to bribe the Guard that was night and day set over me; and to take my time, when some strange ship should be ready to set saile. There chanced an excellent combination to perfect my designe. Postes came from Thu∣•…•…is, from Argiers, from Fez, and many other places; who all solicited Hely to bring in∣to the field those troupes which he had promised for the invading of Spaine; and assured him, that within few dayes, the Grand Seigniors fleet would be at the generall Rendez∣vous.

These newes a little suspended my old Dotard's follies; and made him turne his thoughts on more important businesse. Hee sent notice to Abdelmelec hee should be in a readinesse. Who answered him, he staied onely for the ships which the Vice-roy of Argiers had promised him for his troopes. That his Army was brave and very resolute, and that ere long he would send him farre better assurances of that verity, then words and letters. I understood from Hely how the Grand Seignior (offended with the Portugals beginning by their East-Indian Navigations to breake the trade of Spice, which from all times before had beene through his Dominions) was resolved to invade Spaine, and by a continuall warre, take from them the meanes of sayling into the East. Twas for that intent this great preparation was made. You have seene the event in the battaile which the Turks lost; it will be therefore superfluous to relate the particulars. Assoone as Hely had made good his promise, and drawne out of all places all that were fit to carry Armes; he brought me back againe to Guargetsem, that he might be farre enough from the noise of warre, and by a sound repose satisfie his ridi∣culous passion. After we had beene there a month, Abdelmelec sent to the King his Fa∣ther a great Gallion which he had taken from the Portugals, and with that vessell above three hundred Christians of severall Nations. When I saw that vessell, I said to my selfe, the Prince of Morocco had rather sent it to me, then to the King his father, and in that moment, put on my last resolution of freeing my selfe. Hely having extolled to me Abdelmelec's valour, and desirous to let me see the proofes, brought me into a very great roome where he had put all his slaves. I looked on them, and though they were all wounded, yet I found them exceeding constant in their adverse fortunes. I bid them (in Spanish) to be of good heart, and told them I would take care for their safety, and labour for their delivery. They gave me thanks, and one amongst them, of an exceeding good aspect, said softly to me, that if he and his companions could but get weapons, he assured himselfe (as incommodated as they were) to get againe what they had lost, and something more. That mans freenesse was like to have ruined him; for Hely suspecting what he said, gave command he should be presently strangled. I besought him to spare his life for my sake: and I had no sooner requested but it was granted me. From the prison we went to our ordinary diversions; and from that day set my wits on worke for the advancement of my Enterprise. I promised so many things, and gave so much to two of my Eunuchs, that by their industry I secretly got Armes out of the fortresse, and as closely sent them to the Christians. Assoone as they were in case to make use of them, and that they had as many as they needed, they broke open their prison, cut the throats of the small Guard they had, and got aboard their ship in the roade of Guarget∣sem. At the same instant the tumult began, I got to the secret staire that went downe from the fortresse to the Sea, and by which my deare Cydaria saved her selfe as I con∣jectured by the ordinary discourse which Hely had with me. When I was got downe, I found a boate ready for me, and my two Eunuchs in it. We got speedily to the ship, and being aboard, the question was, what way to steere, to avoid the falling againe into the hands of our enemies. All the Christians having chosen me for their Commander, besought me still to be their Releasor. The fafest course for us (said I) is to make off from the coast of Africk, because of the great number of Turkish ships which get thi∣ther. But since our ship hath all the markes of those of Turkey, and that our Armes, our Turbants, and the rest of our cloathes, may make us passe for some of their party, let us not lose sight of these coasts, nor engage our selves in a Sea we know not. This ad∣vise was followed; but had it not beene for the ignorance of our Pilot, who the very first night was run out of the way, it had cost us our lives, or at least our Liberties. For Hely assoone as he heard of my escape, sent forth foure great barkes well armed, which he had for the defence of the place, and commanded those that went aboard them, to follow me to the worlds end, rather then let me scape away. Our Pilots error having preserved us from that danger, cast us into another as great. For, we lost sight of land, and were two or three dayes wandring up and downe the Ocean. At last we descried the high mountaine of Teneriffe, but knew it not; and as we were about to land there, a storme cast us on the sides of a little Isle, where I learnt (said he, addressing himself to Zelmatida) at the cost of my bloud, how fatall Polexanders valour is to those that pro∣voke

it. Our Hero being oblieged to answer to these words, extraordinarily praised Iphidamantus; and related to Zelmatida particularly with what generosity his brother had taken Alcidiana's Pilot into his protection, and with what boldnesse he came alone to assaile his whole fleet. After this discourse was ended; Iphidamantus intreated his brother he would be pleased to let him prosecute a design for which he had left Bajazet; and that taking again the ship which he brought from the Pirats Island, he might make an end of his unhappy destiny. Polexander imagining by his words, he laboured under some great perplexity, and loath to use the authority his age gave him over his brother; told him, he might do what he pleased: though (said he) Zelmatida and my self would gladly enjoy you longer with us. But since you are cal'd otherwhere, go when you please. And, who knows but love may be the cause of so speedy a separation? Iphidamantus fighed at his brothers last words, and having taken leave of them both, caused his men to make towards the mouth of the Straights. Achaim, Hamet and many other Cap∣taines of the Pirats, came likewise to bid adieu to Polexander; and giving him extraor∣dinary thanks for the honour and riches whose acquiring he had beene the chiefe cau∣se, swore to him many times, they would eternally preserve the memory of his benefits, and a desire to merit them by their services. Our Hero having bid them all farewell, had now no other thought (if we except the commanding and perpetuall thought which •…•…nseparably linked him to Alcidiana) but to bring back his victorious fleet into the ha∣vens of the Canaries. This resolution was attended with all the happinesse which ac∣companied him when he tooke paines for the contentment of others; and his returne was such a plentifull sourse of delights, as his Isles, how fortunate soever they have beene alwayes esteemed, were ignorant of knowing any the like till to that day.

The end of the fifth Book of the second Part of POLEXANDER.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Avec bea•…•…∣coup plus de re•…•…gnation
• * 1.2

  Puis qu. aver asez de resigna∣tion.
• * 1.3

  The Author tells us not how Abdel∣melec came by Alcidiana's Picture, twice, for Polexander took one from him in the ship, and how got he a second for the Iusts?
• * 1.4

  I remember no man speakes here but the author nor any else to whom Zel•…•… ida gave the copy but to the author.
• * 1.5

  The Author calls it Fine Terre, I think he meanes Fi∣nister.