Clelia, an excellent new romance the whole work in five parts, dedicated to Mademoiselle de Longueville / written in French by the exquisite pen of Monsieur de Scudery, governour of Nostredame de la Garde.

CLELIA: The Fifth and last Part. BOOK III.

LOVERS scarce ever forbear to speak of their passion to their Mistresses when they find op∣portunity for it; wherefore Cle∣lia was no sooner retir'd, but Amilcar seeing himself alone with Plotina and Cesonia, us'd such discourse to them as suffici∣ently manifested the sentiments of his heart. I know well (said he to Plotina) I am requir'd by reason to leave you, but for my consolation I will go pass the evening with Cesonia, that I may speak of you, and that with a person who loves you. For my part (said she to him) I am so weary by having watch'd so long and pass'd over the Tyber without a Boat, that I dare not promise you the like; for how melancholy soever all my companions are, I believe they are so sleepy, that should I desire to speak of you, I should find none to hear me. But dispense with me at this time, even for thinking on you; for sleep has the priviledge to make us forget every thing, without a crime. How∣ever (said Amilcar) permit Cesonia to tell me all which I desire to know concerning you. I consent to it (answer'd she as she was going away) but take heed your curiosity give you not more trouble than pleasure; and besides it is not incident to persons ad∣dicted to jollity to have great adventures; but all ex∣traordinary events are reserved for the melancholick. Assoon as Plotina had said this, she follow'd her com∣panions, and Amilcar went with Cesonia. When he came into the Chamber of this amiable Lady, he pray'd her she would please to relate to him all she knew of the adventures of Plotina's life. As for her birth (said he) I know it already; but that which I earnestly desire of you, is the History of her heart; that is, in one word (added he) I would know by whom Plotina has been lov'd, and whether she ever lov'd any person much. Being Plotina has permitted me to content your curiosity (answer'd Cesonia) I will do it, and the rather because I have no great num∣ber of events to relate to you, and I am well in∣form'd of all that has pass'd in Plotina's heart. And so Cesonia giving order for none to disturb her, began in these terms to speak to Amilcar, who dispos'd him∣self to hear with extraordinary attention.

The History of Plotina.

WHereas you know already how Plotina be∣liev'd her self Niece of that wise Friend of Clelius (whose name is Rutilius) and accounted his Wife, Ersilia, her Aunt; I need only tell you that my Mother's house (for my Father was deceas'd) was next to that of Rutilius, and that there was a great friend∣ship between Ersilia and she to whom I owe my life. I will not detain you with describing the manners, customs, or gallantry of Ardea, being I conceive you may easily judge there cannot but be very commenda∣ble people in the place where Plotina could become such as you see her. For it must be said to her glory, she ows none of her perfections to Rome. Besides, I remember Plotina related my adventures to you here∣tofore; and so I doubt not but she told you, our Ci∣ty was built by Danae, though some conceive it was a Son of Ulysses and Circe that founded it: but this last opinion has no other ground, but that as Ulysses was ve∣ry eloquent, and Circe well skill'd in the knowledge of all the Vertues of Herbs, so they speak more politely at Ardea than in any other City, and better understand the good or bad qualities of all Plants. I know also she told you that since the shower of gold Iupiter made use of, such women as affect glory accept nothing from a gallant in which there is gold; and that for mag∣ficence, elegancy of manners and gallantry, it exceeds all other places in Italy; and that Poetry and Pain∣ture are more in request and famous there. This being suppos'd, I am to tell you, that Plotina has always been so amiable, that assoon as she was six years old, her wit was spoken of with admiration. She us'd to speak a thousand surprising and ingenious things, and that with all the graces of childhood, and with so charming an air, that it was not possible to see her without loving her. Though I was two years elder, I could not live without seeing her; all her answers were pleasant, innocent and witty, every thing in them was natural, and she spoke nothing but of her self. She had a quick fancy and a sprightly wit, she danc'd grace∣fully even before she learnt; and whatever she did, it was becoming and pleasing. As she was one day in a Temple, where the whole History of Danae is admira∣bly represented, and beheld the golden shower falling into the Tower where Danae was inclos'd, she ask'd what the meaning of it was. Hersilia telling her that Iupiter being become amorous of Danae transform'd himself into that precious rain for her sake, that so he might get to see her; she said this invention did not please her. Because (added she) it would have been a better course, for Iupiter to have imploy'd his gold to corrupt those that guarded Danae; and then he might have appear'd with the more grace before his Mistress. Another time, observing one Cupid repre∣sented with a Torch in his hand, and another with a Bow, she was askt which of the two she lov'd best: at first she said, she lov'd neither one nor other, as all children use to do. But when she was press'd to tell which of them she thought to be the most dangerous, she answer'd immediately, I fear him that burns more than him that wounds; for I have heard a shot with an Arrow may be cur'd, but if my heart were reduc'd into ashes, I believe there would be no remedy for

it. I could tell you a hundred more pleasant things of Plotina's childhood if I would, but 'tis best not to in∣sist upon them. Yet I cannot but tell you something of a conversation which we had together when she was about twelve or thirteen years of age, and how impatient she was to be no longer treated as a child by them which discours'd with her. For my part, my dear Cesonia (said she to me one day as we return'd from a great Feast) I am so weary of being a little Girle, that I wish I could have bought the two years by which you exceed me, with the ten last of my life. I assure you (said I to her) I account your place better than mine; and in reference to years, 'tis better to be preceded than to precede others: for you will in∣fallibly be fifteen years old if you live, and I am pass'd being thirteen any longer. For my part (answer'd she with a pretty discontent.) I was a thousand times more happy when I was but six, for I did not care then in what manner I was treated. I play'd with a thousand little trifles, and provided I were not hungry, sleepy, chidden, or too much instructed to have a good carriage, I was the merriest person in the World. But now I am thirteen years of age, and to my unhappiness have my reason of seventeen years at least. I am displeas'd almost with every thing, and I see scarce any people whom I do not hate. But wherefore do you hate them? (said I to her) all the World commends you, caresses you, and speaks to you. 'Tis true (answer'd she) but all the World com∣mends, caresses, and speaks to me as to a child. So that I had rather a thousand times, be neither com∣mended nor caressed, nor that any person would speak to me. But, I beseech you (said I to her) what are really your discontents? In the first place (answer'd she) all men I meet with are nothing but Fortune∣tellers concerning me, foretelling the future, but speak∣ing not the least word of the present. All the Girls which are but sixteen years old, scarce take any notice of me at all. Assoon as I come into any place with Hersilia, they speak of giving me some edibles to em∣ploy me with, and think I would be displeas'd if I did not eat; and as for men, they, as I told you, do no∣thing but make predictions of me; though these are the most civil, for the others, minding their affairs, look upon me as a little child, to whom they know not what to say. But who are these Fortune-tellers? (said I to her, laughing, and pretending not to under∣stand her.) All men which I know and which you know (answer'd she:) yesterday Turnus, only seeing me enter into your house, cry'd, Ha! she will be a dangerous Lass one day. Periander the other day said in my presence, I would certainly be very handsome, when I became a little more fatter and taller. Ly∣castes added, I would shortly be of a handsome stature; Martius, that when I came to have my Neck longer, I would be much more charming; Livius, that assoon as I knew I was handsome, I would be infinitely more amiable; and my Mother also, speaking of me to her par∣ticular Friends, says sometimes, I shall one day be witty if I will: so that all my charms are in the future. But if these Prognostications (added she) speak true, and that I prove terrible, hereafter, unless they be dead of age before, I will make them all dye of love, and so ill treat them, that I will be fully reveng'd on them for the little care they have at present to please me. If I be not deceiv'd (said I to her) it will one day be in your power to revenge your self. Well (answer'd she hastily) do not you make Predicti∣ons of me too as well as the rest. Thereupon I laught heartily at the choler I had put Plotina into unawares; for indeed she never lov'd that kind of commendation which regarded only the time to come. You may judge by what I tell you that Plotina had a forward wit, and was already very agreeable. But in a little time she made it appear sufficiently, and most of those that had made such advantageous pre∣dictions were in a condition to speak to her only of the present time, and of the torments her beauty caus'd them to suffer.

This passage (said Amilcar interrupting her) puts me into the greatest fear in the world; for I am ready to dye out of conceit that you are going to tell me Plotina has been lov'd by many more deserving per∣sons than my self; and I am afraid too, you will inform me she has lov'd some one of my Rivals more than she loves me.

Do not fear so much as you pretend (answer'd Ce∣sonia) lest I tell you Plotina has had more worthy Lovers than your self; and for the rest, you may judge what you ought to believe of it, when I come to the end of my relation. I shall therefore proceed to tell you (added she) that the merit of Plotina soon made a great report, and she saw all those makers of predictions speak to her only of the time present. Yet it must be said to the honour of Plotina that she did not suffer her self to be dazled with the applause of the World, but with very great modesty receiv'd the first praises that were given her. And indeed she was very debonair without folly, pleasant without extravagance, young without imprudence, witty without pride, and handsome without affectation. Then it was that I began to converse with her as with a true Friend; I first intrusted little trifling secrets to her, and perceiving she us'd them discreetly, I im∣parted to her the greatest secrets I had in my heart. Whereby our friendship became so great and inti∣mate, that in speaking of us people were many times pleas'd to mention us by the name of the two Friends. At that time there were very many worthy persons at Ardea; for besides Turnus, Periander, and divers others, there were three of undoubted merit. The first was named Martius, the second Lycastes, and the third Clorantus. This last has a noble, but very sweet and civil aspect, though sometimes his air seem a little cold and careless. He has brown hair, a very hand∣some head, somewhat a long visage, a pale complexi∣on, black and small eyes, but nevertheless his looks are very ingenious, and even his silence speaks him such; for in discourse, he hears, like one who admi∣rably well understands that which is spoken to him, and who could speak more than he does. All his de∣portments are such as become a man of his quality, and his mind is perfectly fram'd for converse with the world: he loves ingenious composures and their Au∣thors; he has a melancholy aspect, and nevertheless loves all pleasures. His Soul is naturally passionate; and though the outside of his person and his mind speak him one of those faithful Lovers which the world so rarely affords, yet he is always a serious wanton, or if you will, a tolerable inconstant; for no doubt some are not such. However he maintains confident∣ly that he is faithful, because he says he never deserted any woman who gave him not cause of complaint. He is one of those who account it no infidelity to make little affections occasionally by the by, which arise in their heart during their greater passions. But this is constantly true, where he loves, he loves ardently, he minds nothing but his passion, he is very inclinable to

jealousie, he resents the least unpleasing things with a strange vehemence; and, in fine, is acquainted with the greatest delights and the extremest rigours of love. As for Martius, he was a man who lov'd very passio∣nately, was incapable of relinquishing one Mistress to love another, but whose affections could only abate by time. He was very handsome, infinitely ingenious, and endu'd with a pleasing kind of wit. And then for Lycastes, he was a very agreeable person, but he was naturally so inconstant, that it was reckon'd amongst the wonders of Love, if any one could engage him to love constantly once in his life. Being we were known to all the virtuoso's of Ardea, and there were few in the City more consider'd than Plotina, and I, we were present at all the Gallant Feasts which were made. One was made at that time in honour of Circe, who is termed Goodess in Homer, in which were represen∣ted divers of those prodigious transformations which are attributed to her, and in which Plotina appear'd so charming, that her beauty and debonarity made the discourse of all persons. That day she made two re∣markable conquests, which caus'd her to be call'd for some time after the new Circe. For she who some∣times wrought such extraordinary changes by the ver∣tue of simples whose proprieties she so admirably un∣derstood, never did any more deserving wonder. But to manifest this, you must know, that till that time Lycastes had made publick profession of being inconstant, and that Martius had formerly been ve∣ry amorous of a very fair Lady by whom he was also lov'd; yet afterwards according to the general course of the world, it was believ'd this passion was grown so temperate, that it could be call'd love no longer without doing him a favour. So that when she was dead, he appear'd very much afflicted first, but suffer'd himself to be comforted by time and his Friends; and indeed it was thought he lamented her rather like a Friend than a Lover. 'Tis true, after her death he had not appear'd amorous; yea, he seem'd very indifferent; but at length on the day of this famous Feast of Circe, Lycastes and Martius ceas'd to be what they had been before; that is, the first learnt to love constantly, and the other ceas'd to be insensible, and began to love again. But such be∣ginnings of love being usually not so discernible as to be known the first moment they attacque the heart, Lycastes and Martius did not believe they could be very amorous of Plotina, and their Friends perceiv'd it before themselves. Now Plotina being of a free and merry humor, these two Lovers were sufficiently at a loss for an occasion to give her seriously to un∣derstand they lov'd her, when they perceiv'd it: for she so handsomly put off all that they said to her, that it might seem their love was nothing but a piece of Gallantry, in which their hearts were unconcern'd. But at length they found that they lov'd ardently. For their passion began to manifest it self by jealousie: they could no longer endure one another but with trouble, they minded nothing but Plotina and how to please her. They frequented none but her, aban∣don'd all their acquaintances, and in brief had nothing but their passions in their heads. On the otherside, Plotina having always been averse to Marriage, and now unwilling to commit a criminal Gallantry, did certainly all she could to deprive these two Lovers utterly of hope: but this rigour augmented their love in stead of diminishing it. Wherefore Plotina being loth to trouble her self longer to no purpose, left them to follow their own inclinations, without being kind or favourable, or considering one more than the other. Yet one day she gave Lycastes a se∣vere check in the presence of Martius, Persander, and Lucia (who is a very amiable Lady) for she pro∣fess'd it absolutely impossible for her to love a Lover that has been inconstant. If any of those rambling Lovers (answer'd Lycastes) should become a faithful adorer of you, wherefore would you not love him, provided he have otherwise desert? Because (re∣ply'd she hastily) that which has hapned once may happen a hundred times, and nothing would be more insupportable to me than to be abandon'd by a man to whom I had given permission to love me. There∣fore, not to venture that mischief, 'tis best avoid giving it to any: for the world is so full of incon∣stant Lovers who dissemble fidelity, that it is easie to be mistaken. Plotina spoke this with an air that intimated to Lycastes, it would be a hard matter for him to win her heart. Nevertheless, he found he had so well shaken off his old inconstancy, and that he should love Plotina faithfully, that he hop'd time would mollifie her. For my part, I confess my in∣clination then led me to favour Lycastes; and though Martius was a very worthy, handsome, and agree∣able person, yet I was more concern'd for his Rival. But I perceiv'd one day Plotina was not of the same mind, but had a little more inclinati∣on for Martius than for Lycastes. However, she carefully conceal'd it; but for all her care, not only I, but Lucia, Lycastes's Kinswoman and Friend per∣ceiv'd it too. This person had formerly seem'd an intimate friend of Martius's Mistress, she saw the be∣ginning, progress, and end of this love, in which she had an interest, which I shall tell you presently. As we were both one day with Plotina, we hapned un∣wittingly to speak of the power of inclination. For my part (said Plotina) I do not believe it so powerful as 'tis reported, at least I am perswaded I never yet lov'd any thing without reason. You believe this (an∣swer'd Lucia smiling) and yet at the same time I am speaking to you, your inclination prepossesses your reason, to the disadvantage of one of my friends. Per∣haps, 'tis yours (reply'd she) which is prepossess'd. If you will let Cesonia be judge (said Lucia) I will ex∣plain my self more clearly. I assure you (said I to them both) I am very equitable. 'Tis a great vanity in you to believe your self so (answer'd Plotina) for I know nothing more difficult than to please others and ones self too, and 'tis observable that such as speak best of Justice are usually most unjust. But I beseech you, why do you accuse me of suffering my self to be prepossessed by my inclination? Is it not true (said Lucia) that I have heard you say a hundred times, you could never endure the affection of a man that has been inconstant? I confess it (answer'd she) and 'tis for that reason I am not mov'd with the merit of your Kinsman, and never shall be. But wherefore (said Lucia) will you suffer Martius more favou∣rably? I assure you (answer'd Plotina) I do not treat Martius much better than Lycastes: but if I did, I could maintain it were out of reason and not through inclination; for Martius has never been inconstant. Martius never inconstant? (re∣ply'd Lucia hastily) Ha! Plotina, you are but badly skill'd in inconstancy, if you believe as you say; for I maintain on the contrary, that that inconstancy, which Martius may be reproacht with, is more cri∣minal than that whereof Lycastes has been accus'd before he lov'd you. But I do not remember (said I

then to Lucia) I ever heard it said that Martius lov'd any person but Plotina, since the death of Lysimira, of whom he was so amorous, and who was indeed infi∣nitely amiable. 'Tis true (answer'd Lucia) but after Martius had lov'd that amiable person five or six years, and receiv'd a thousand testimonies of innocent affection from her, he came by degrees to have only so luke-warm an amity for her, that she is dead with grief, although he was not perfidious to her, but pre∣serv'd his formalities to her. Perhaps (reply'd Plo∣tina) that person as lovely as she was, had some bad humor, which caus'd the Love in Martius's heart to be extinguish'd: but though it were not so, yet I should not conclude that Martius ought to be call'd inconstant; for 'tis so ordinary to see time abate Love, that I still make a great difference between Ly∣castes and Martius. For my part (said I) I confess I term all changing, inconstancy; and 'tis a mistake not to call any inconstant but such as love several per∣sons. For is not that luke-warmness which comes after an ardent love, a kind of inconstancy? and is it not sufficient to deserve the name of inconstant, if we cease to love that which we once affected? I know not very well whether you have reason and I am mistaken (answer'd Plotina) but I know well, I do not re∣gard Martius and Lycastes alike. That's it (re∣ply'd Lucia) you are unjust in. Should you say (added she) Martius is more ingenious, deserving, and agreeable, I should be patient; but to treat Lycastes ill for inconstancy, and to suffer Martius, who ceas'd to love one of the most charming persons in the world, is a thing which I cannot approve. But Lycastes (said Plotina) has forsaken a hundred. I grant it (answer'd Lucia) but should he have forsaken a thousand, he would be less culpable than Martius who has deserted but one. For Lycastes never did more than begin to love, till now; his heart no sooner inclin'd on one side, but it was sway'd to the other by some new inclination; wherefore having promis'd scarce any thing, nor lov'd long enough to cause him∣self to be lov'd, his inconstancy seems to be free from a Crime, though it may be referr'd to levity. But as for Martius, he lov'd, divers years together, he was lov'd again, and that ardently, and possess'd her heart whom he lov'd. A thousand respects ought to have fastned the tyes of his affection; and nevertheless, without cause, reason, or pretext, his passion has ceas'd to be passionate; that which formerly delighted him no longer affects him, his Mistress is scarce his friend; and so changing his sen∣timents without any extrinsecal cause, he becomes in my opinion, the most criminal of all inconstants. But, perhaps you will except, that he was not lov'd correspondently as he lov'd; to prove what the passion of that unfortunate Beauty was, read, I be∣seech you, an Elegy, which that charming person made under feigned names, during a short absence of this Martius whom you would excuse. And that you may judge her more passionate, know, that after Martius had given a thousand testimonies of Love for several years, and receiv'd as many from that in∣comparable person, he came by degrees to have an unequal Love (if I may so speak) that is, to do things sometimes which denoted a violent passion, and sometimes others which might make him suspected of having almost an indifference in his sentiments. Yet he lov'd her all this while, and sometimes even unto fury; but after all, there were ti••es in which his passion lay hid, and wherein he was willing to find occasion to complain. During one of those intervals of his Love and his absence, the Elegy I am going to repeat to you was made.

ELEGY.

HEnce, dismal melancholy from my breast, Which hast too long my quiet dispossest. Those pangs I feel, I can no longer bear: My pleasures past but cause my present fear. And my afflicted Soul, since hope is gone, Sees and presages nought but griefs to come; Griefs, which distract me, and continue still To murder daily what they cannot kill. Love! cruel Love! the source of all my tears; Unhappy they in whom thy power appears. But happy he, in whose untroubled breast No storms of Love disturb his Halcyon rest; Not blest with pleasures, yet secure from woe, And jealousie and rage that with it go. We should not then by dear experience see, What fits of heat and cold in Love there be; How near the brink of death and dire despair, Th'imagin'd sweets of Love and pleasure are: Nor those eternal torments should we know, Which who least merits most shall undergo. 'Tis true, a sad and cold indifference Makes us behold the World with negligence; That without love there no desires can be, Without desires too, no felicitie. That even with fortune we are drunk; and cloy'd With plenty, which by surfeit is enjoy'd. But 'tis a poor and despicable grief, So light, from tears it seeks for no relief. Slight cares, which the wild notes of birds allay, And purling streams that o'er the pebbles play. But yet that jewel liberty is kept, And the lull'd Soul of too quick sense berest. The headlong passions hush'd in careless dreams, Fall from the force of their too fierce extremes. Then 'tis the pleasure of the day's our own, The glorious Sun, and all he shines upon. But yet is this a life depriv'd of love; And can the Soul a greater torment prove, Than not to love, or not belov'd to be, And all its passions circumscrib'd to see Within it self? without the joy to know The price of sighs and tears that gently flow, Of amorous regards and thousand charms That change to pleasures, griefs most fierce alarms? Ev'n sorrows have their pleasures, tears their time Of joy: Vain Fools, that think sweet love a crime. A constant love will still a vertue ••e. Then let us Daphnis still affect, though he All cool and temperate, with equal fires, Meets not my flames; my more refin'd desires Feed on those pleasures which my love inspires. Wretch that I am! but is it just my love On swifter measure than his passion move? Suffering such ills his careless heart can ne'er Resent, that heart which ought those ills to share: Whom duty binds for me alone to live, And no just cause for my complaints to give. He that a thousand solemn Oaths hath swore, He knew no bliss, but only to adore; That time and age should find him still the same, His heart for ever burning in my flame;

Nor should his passion ever know an end, Or any else to love so well pretend: Yet this ingrate my absence can support, Whilst my weak spirit makes its last effort, To bear his want; would he my sorrows weigh; Obdurate as he is, he could not stay. But judging Elismena's heart by his, He ne'er can understand her miseries. Insensible, he never feels my woe, Though yet, methinks, he cannot chuse but know The griefs I bear; careless of my complaint, Perhaps he makes a Court to some new Saint. His absence shews he must inconstant be; That day, kind powers, let me never see. Obliging fate first end my days, before I hear the perjur'd Daphnis loves no more. Away fond jealousie; he cannot prove A faithless lover to a faithful love. An amorous heart can ne'er forego its chains; Since for his sake I suffer amorous pains. Daphnis, my causless jealousie forgive. Daphnis for me, and I for him do live. Our faith shall late posterity approve, And ours shall be the measure of their love. Yet (spight of hope) suspicion and despair, By turns my hearts divided Empire share. But still those chagrins, doubts, despair, and fears, Injurious words, hard thoughts, and sighs and tears Are loves effects, and with one voice they cry, Daphnis, for thee, Daphnis, for thee I dye.

As soon as Lucia had done repeating these Verses to Plotina, Ha! Lucia (said this amiable Virgin) if you think you have hurt Martius by repeating these Verses to me, you are mistaken; for, I find them so dear and passionate, that I am perswaded he that could inspire a very excellent person with such amo∣rous sentiments, must needs be such himself, and one that knows how to love; for such Verses as these would never have been made for an indifferent. How? Plotina (cry'd Lucia) can you reason in this manner? and esteem a man, who has been capable of changing his sentiments, and having only a faint and languishing affection for a rare person whom he ar∣dently lov'd, and by whom he was always dearly af∣fected? For a person, I say, who had absolutely given him her heart, and who (as you may see by the Verses I have recited to you) had the most tender sentiments in the world for this inconstant Lover? Be it how it will (said Plotina) I cannot place a Lover who ceases to have an ardent love, in the rank of in∣constants. If you account him not in that rank (an∣swer'd Lucia) then you must reckon him amongst the perfidious; for as I conceive, 'tis perfidiousness to cease to love a person who always loves you with the same ardency. For my part (said I) I am perswaded all change may be term'd inconstancy; and though a man become not servant to another Mistress, yet if he cease to love the first without cause, he is inconstant. I know not very well (reply'd Plotina) whether accor∣ding to exact reason, that which you say be inconstan∣cy; but I know the custome of the world calls such a man as Lycastes unconstant, who has lov'd several Mistresses one after another, and sometimes several together; but such a one as Martius is not so term'd, who has only diminish'd his diligences. But would you like well (said Lucia) that Martius should cease to love, after you had married him? I should not (answer'd she) but I conceive the Lovers who cease to be such after they have married their Mistresses, are not always in fault; for indeed most women, when they are married, are negligent, refractory; and perverse towards their husbands, and many times too guilty of levity and causless jealousie. So that it is not to be wonder'd, if the husband finding them so different from what they were before marriage, change their sentiments towards them. Flatter your self, Plotina, flatter your self (said Lucia with some earnestness) 'tis the custome of all fair and young per∣sons to believe their charms will have more power than those of others; but let me tell you once more, Martius is an inconstant person, and more dangerous than Lycastes. In truth, Lucia (answer'd Plotina) I do not much fear either of them, for marriage is so much fear'd by me, that I hope that thought will help me to defend my heart against the merit of these two Rivals, and I dare say too, against any light inclinati∣on I have for Martius.

Thus you see what Plotina's sentiments were, and how she defended Martius to the disadvantage of Lycastes. In the mean time they both lov'd her ex∣treme passionately; nevertheless, they durst not de∣clare it openly to her: but without having such design, they did this office one for another, al∣though there was now as great a secret hatred be∣tween them as there had been formerly friendship. For it hapned one day that these two Lovers were in a garden amongst many other persons of Quality, and both of them by the instinct of their affections en∣deavour'd to approach to Plotina: but Lucia meet∣ing them fell into discourse with Martius, that so she might oblige Lycastes whose friend she was. On the other side a Kinswoman of Martius observing the cunning of Lucia, made as if she had some impor∣tant affair to speak to Lycastes about; so that these two Rivals were alike unhappy for more than an hour; but at length Martius quitting himself some∣thing rudely from the conversation of Lucia, came to find Plotina with whom I was walking and another of my Friends: but being the walk we were in was very narrow, Martius soon became alone with his Mistress; for I stopt to entertain that friend I men∣tion'd, though we stay'd still in the same Walk. Plo∣tina being of a very pleasant humor, at first fell to tell Martius several divertising things she had observ'd in the company. For my part (said he maliciously to her) I have seen nothing more remarkable, than Lycastes so employ'd in speaking to a friend of mine in a place where the amiable Plotina is present. But perhaps (answer'd she smiling) Lycastes does not talk to your Friend, but your Friend to Lycastes. Be it how it will (reply'd Martius) if he lov'd you as much as he would have you believe, he would be as in∣civil to the Lady who entertains him, as I was but now to Lucia who held me in discourse. But to speak truth (added he) professed inconstants, such as Lycastes, have no violent affections. But who told you Lycastes is in love with me? (demanded Plotina) I have not perceiv'd it. Being I know no person whatsoever (answer'd Martius) who does not or has not lov'd you, I suppose a man who is accustom'd to love, out of inconstancy only, cannot fail but love the most charming person in the World. And moreover, amiable Plotina (added he) the eyes of a Rival, and a constant Rival, discover things much better than those of other people. I assure you (reply'd she making as if she did not hear Martius)

I have not perceiv'd that Lycastes loves me more than the other Ladies he converses with. However (an∣swer'd Martius) I know if he does love, he will not love you very long, for it is not possible for him to love the same person any considerable time: and I remem∣ber I have heard he once writ to a Lady in the Coun∣trey to desire a private conference with her; but when the answer arriv'd, and permission to go see and speak with her in private was granted him, he had no longer any thing to say to her, because he had chang'd his sentiments towards her. Ha! Martius (cry'd Plotina, blushing, as if she had been angry it could be believ'd that any one could not love her long) that which you say can never come to pass.

I ••••'er inspire but an immortal love, And such, (if any) will Lycastes prove.

Then I am very miserable, Madam (answer'd Martius) by being out of all hope ever to be cur'd of the ill which torments me. But where had you those two Verses which denounce to me not only that I shall love you as long as I live, but always have not one but a thousand Rivals as dangerous as Lycastes? I assure you (reply'd she) they came into my mind without thinking of them, and I spoke them unawares; for I would have you know (added she, minding to turn the discourse into railery) I do not at all pretend to Poetry; but to speak truth, I could not allow you to believe that I cannot keep a heart when I have con∣quer'd it. And besides (contined she smiling) I take so little care in conquering them, that I am something jealous of my power. After this, she stood still and call'd me; so Martius could discourse with her no longer, but was oblig'd to go and entertain himself with other Ladies. By this time Lycastes, having disengag'd himself from her that talkt with him, came to us, and that so opportunely, that Plotina going to pass over a little Bridge which lay cross a Brook, gave him her hand, and so he continued leading her after∣wards. Being a person infinitely ingenious, and subtle to prejudice a Rival, I know not (said he to Plo∣tina looking upon her) whether the conversation you have had with Martius, was very divertising, but he talkt with you in a place, where what passion soever he has for you, he ought rather to have sigh'd out of grief than love; for I have been told, that the first time the fair and charming person whom he destroy'd declar'd she was very willing he should love her, it was in this very place, where perhaps he entertain'd you with the love he has for you. I know not whether Mar∣tius loves me or no (answer'd Plotina) but I know how to make my self so much respected as that none dare speak any thing to me but what I am willing to hear. What? Madam (cry'd he) can you eternally hinder such as adore you from declaring it to you? No, no, (added he) if Martius has not yet told you he loves you, he ought to have done it. But I confess to you, that to prove to you, that he knows how to love, it behov'd him to entertain you only with sad discourse in this place. I beseech you (said Plotina) tell me in what place of the World you have had opportunity to speak of Love, and have not done it▪ you, I say, who are accus'd of having made a thousand declarations of love! But, Madam (answer'd he) I have lov'd only women that did not love me; but as for Martius, he has been lov'd again, and lov'd constantly, and the abatement of his affection has caus'd the death of the person whom he lov'd so much. As for what you say (reply'd Plotina) that you have never been lov'd again, it is not much to be wonder'd at, for you do not give your Mistresses leisure to love you. Ha! As for you, amiable Plo∣tina (cry'd he) I promise to give you all the leisure you can desire; for I perceive I shall love you as long as I live. If it be so (answer'd she smiling) I shall not be much displeas'd, because it will give me occasion to revenge all those that you have deserted, and to manifest that there may be eternal rigour as well as eternal love. Plotina spoke this with a certain deri∣ding air, which sensibly afflicted Lycastes, so that he could speak to her no more all the rest of the day, because she joyn'd and continued with the rest of the company. After that time Martius and Lycastes neglected nothing which they thought fit to do, to please Plotina; yet they continu'd a civil respect one towards another, because they knew she desir'd it, and nevertheless us'd all artifices to their mutual disad∣vantage. Lycastes knowing Lucia had several Letters of Martius to his first Mistress, and from her to him, importun'd her to shew them to Plotina, as she had the Elegy before. And accordingly Lucia going to visit her one afternoon, and finding her alone, acted so cunningly that she made her curious to see the Let∣ters she pretended to have. I will shew you them (said Lucia to Plotina) but if you profit no better by them than by the Elegy which you have seen already, no doubt I shall repent of it. For is there any thing more ignoble, than after the death of a person infinite∣ly amiable, and infinitely vertuous, to see the most secret testimonies of her affection become publick through his negligence who receiv'd them? I con∣fess (said Plotina) if people could always think of being liable to this danger, they would never write any thing but what might be seen by all the World; but the mischief, at the time such obliging Letters are pen'd, they have so good an opinion of them to whom they are written, that they fear not the falling out of such a misadventure. There are some women no doubt who write all that they think, through the rea∣son you mention (answer'd Lucia) but there are o∣thers, who out of natural imprudence and the desire to have flattering and courting Letters, write not to one alone but to many men, and spend one half of their lives in writing Love-letters, and the other in recei∣ving those of their gallants. There are some too that know how to disguise their hands several ways, and others who never write in their own, that so they may deny all when they please. As for these women (said Plotina) I allow that their Letters be shewn to all the World, for certainly they are not wor∣thy to be discreetly dealt withal. But as for a vertu∣ous person, in whose heart is nothing but an innocent affection, 'tis inhumanity to publish such things of theirs as may be ill interpreted. Yet this comes to pass so frequently, that I think to refrain from writing any thing too kind, 'tis best to forbear to love; for pru∣dence is not much listened to by such as love, and di∣strust is so contrary to perfect love, that scarce any thing which is not criminal can be refus'd to a person that is lov'd. I believe also, that the more an affecti∣on is innocent, the more the Letters are obliging; for they that rely on their own innocence, write with more liberty: therefore to avoid being expos'd to such a great unhappiness, and to forbear writing, it is requisite for me (as I said before) to keep my self from loving. But that I may be confirm'd in this sentiment (added she) shew me in what manner Martius writ to Lysimira, and how Lysimira writ to Martius. I will

Madam (said Lucia) and the better to manifest to you how deceitful or inconstant men are, I will shew you Letters written at divers times, from Martius to Ly∣simira. See here then a Letter which Martius writ to Lysimira some time after she had permitted him to love her, and he had requested some slight favour of her which she refus'd him, at which he seem'd an∣gry, and left her rudely. And so Lucia read to Plo∣tina that which I am going to read to you, for I kept copies of all Martius's Letters, because they appear'd to me very amorous.

Martius to Lysimira.

I Do not defer, Madam, to acknowledge, re∣pent of, and beseech your pardon for my fault, till you reproach me for it. I have of∣fended, I confess, I am culpable, I cannot plead any thing in excuse of my capricio, but excess of love. For who am I, Madam, that I should not be contented that the divine Lysimira knows I love her, though she give me no testimony of an affection equal to my own? Have I deserv'd the other kindnesses you have had for me? would not a thousand persons of greater merit than I be satisfied with the condition you per∣mit me to enjoy? Alas! I cannot deny it: But, I beseech you Madam, be not offended with me, and add not more rigorous and cruel punishments to those I cause to my self. If ever person lov'd more tenderly, more respectfully and more ardently than I, I am willing that you refuse the pardon to me which I desire of you: but since that cannot be, grant it me, Madam, and believe I shall with eternal fidelity own the command you have laid upon me to be faithful. Yet I cannot divine wherefore you recommend∣ed it more to me the other day than at any time before; but can you divine that I am more so this day, than ever I was in my life? when you tell me your secret, I will tell you mine. But, alas! whe shall I have the joy to speak to you? I know I shall this day have the honour to see you, but in a place where I can do nothing less than en∣tertain you with my love. Pity me therefore, Madam, pity me, and imagine how great a torment it would be to you, if you were oblig'd to hide the most violent and innocent passion in the World.

I confess (said Plotina) Martius's Letter is very amorous, and 'tis hard to conceive how a man that writ in this manner, could cease to love without cause. See this other Letter (answer'd Lucia) for 'tis something more passionate than the first: and ac∣cordingly Plotina read this following.

Martius to Lysimira.

HOw I love you, Madam! what an ami∣able person you are! and from how great pains has your Letter of this morning deliver'd me! What can I do to repay you as much joy as it has given me? Tell me, Madam; for if no more but dying for your service be re∣quisite, I will not refuse it. Nothing can e∣qual the delight of being lov'd by the most ex∣cellent person of the World; and being I love you as I do, I am sometimes extremely sorry, you cannot receive a pleasure equal to mine. But I beseech you, Madam, let this pleasure ac∣company me to the grave, let Fortune never ravish it from me, but make her learn there is a felicity greater than all she can give, over which she has no power. In acknowledg∣ment of such a multiply'd goodness, Madam, there is nothing which I refuse, not even the constraining of the violent passion I have in my soul, though it be altogether innocent, if at least it be any thing displeasing to you. Let us not then afflict our selves before the time; Fortune perhaps will favour our love, and we shall not be so unhappy as you apprehend. And though we should, you know what I told you in the begin∣ning of my passion; I am not now capable of denying, that it is the most predominant of all my faculties, and is to me instead both of soul and life; Only love Martius, who will be eternally yours, in spice of all obstacles in the World; and let his great love Madam supply his want of merit: pardon him if he dares speak to you of the goodness of the divine Lysimira, he does not therefore esteem himself less unwor∣thy of it; and this confidence diminishes no∣thing of his respect, though it infinitely aug∣ments his love.

Ha! Lucia (cry'd Plotina) I will not have Marti∣us write to me; for certainly he writes too passio∣nately and too well for me; but I beseech you shew me one of Lysimira's Letters. I am going to shew something more (said Lucia) for I will let you see the Verses she made during Martius's absence, who a little while before he departed gave her a flourish∣ing Myrtle set in one of those earthen pots which are so admirably made at Rome. For using to entertain her melancholy near that Myrtle, to which she ad∣dress'd thus.

Fair Myrtle, often water'd with my tears; Fair Myrtle, witness of my griefs and fears; Upon thy wounded Bark let Daphnis see An heart more wounded than thy Bark can be. Tell him what fears my Love-sick heart have rent, What griefs I suffer'd since my Daphnis went; Tell him I feel whatever torments Love, And joyn'd with absence, strong desires can move. Then if thou canst my amorous flames express, May happy Lovers characters still bless Thy sacred Rinde; no tears be ever known To water thee, but what Heaven sheds alone.

These Verses are undoubtedly of a very passionate strain (said Plotina) but how came they to Martius's

hands? At the return of this Lover (answer'd Plo∣tina) he found the excellent Lysimira had so favoura∣bly spoken of him during his absence, that all her other Lovers were jealous of him. So that the first time that he visited her, this amiable person was at∣taqued with railery by some of the company in his presence. Which at first she put off very pleasantly; but, truth being a thing of powerful operation, she was at length constrain'd to pretend she had forgot something in her Closet, that so the disturbance of her mind might not be observ'd in her countenance. On which occasion Martius desiring to speak a few words to her, follow'd her and jesting with her, as he was going, because she could not endure the railery made to her. But as he follow'd her, he took up these Verses which she had let fall unwillingly; and so get∣ting them without her knowledge, he folded them up, and did not read them till the evening. You may imagine what joy they gave him, and the next morning he writ Lysimira the following Letter.

Martius to Lysimira.

THe jealousie of many Friends and Rivals, has no other effect, Madam, but increases my love; and my joy is great beyond expression, when I consider I possess a heart, in which so many illustrious persons esteem me happy to have a place; a heart, the most ge∣nerous and noble in the world. Ah! Madam, is not this too much for Martius? Yet I swear to you he had rather dy than be content with less, and should infallibly dye, if any other could have as much honour as he. No, Madam, that unhappiness shall never befal me, your admira∣ble Verses assure me of it, and I cannot forbear to give a thousand kisses to those favourable testimonies of the tenderness of your heart. Should I undertake to render you the most humble thanks I ow you, it would be impossible for me. I shall only tell you, or to speak better, I shall swear to you, that I will eternally love the divine Lysimira, but so as she desires and deserves to be lov'd. Moreover, to return you two Verses in stead of your own, which I account for a hun∣dred thousand, be pleas'd to know that whilst my journey lasted, I said a hundred and a hundred times.

'Tis a weak love which absence can deface; Mine is immutable by time or place.

Ha! Lucia (cri'd Plotina) I can no longer believe Martius loves me, because whatever you say, I can∣not think he has ceas'd to love Lysimira, as dead as she is. Yet you see him very pleasant in your presence (answer'd Lucia) had but he been unfaithful only to the ashes of Lysimira, the practice of vulgar Lovers might be alledg'd to excuse him. But, in fine, after a thousand Letters more obliging than those I have shew'd you, his love could insensibly abate, though he continu'd civil to her. But certainly by becoming happy he absolutely ceas'd to be a Lover; and since the loss of Lysimira, which notwithstanding he sensibly regretted, then, you see your eyes have afforded him sufficient consolation. In good earnest, Lucia (said Plotina) you are a cruel person, and I will be re∣veng'd upon Lycastes for all the mischief which you do to Martius. You will be unjust if you do so (an∣swer'd Lucia.) Believe me (reply'd Plotina smiling) injustice is something agreeable in certain occasions. However, I declare to you (added she) I will see no more of those Letters, for they would force me either to love or hate Martius, and I am resolv'd to do nei∣ther. There is no great resemblance between those two passions (added Lucia.) I grant it (answer'd Plo∣tina) but yet I feel my mind capable of both. That you may avoid both (reply'd Lucia, smiling) love the poor Lycastes, who adores you, and have only indif∣ference for Martius, who has too much merit to be hated; and too little constancy, to be lov'd. As for Lycastes (answer'd Plotina) I declare to you that I can neither love nor hate him; for he is too agreeable a person to cause hatred, and too inconstant to excite my love. If it be so (said Lucia) infallibly you will love Martius. I should be very sorry then (answer'd Plotina) for I desire to love nothing but honour, my friends, and my self. They that love themselves well (reply'd Lucia) sometimes love others too for their own sakes. I assure you (answer'd Plotina) I am per∣swaded that such as understand their own interests well, affect no person in the way of love; but as for friend∣ship, our lives would be irksome without it. 'Tis so difficult to have Friends at your age (repli'd Lucia) that you are very prone to have disguis'd Lovers, and be of the humor of those women who are not offended but with apparences, and admit of love under the name of friendship. For my part (said Plotina) I am not oblig'd to examine the hearts of my Friends so nar∣rowly, provided they tell me nothing that displeases me. But I am not gone so far yet (added she) and but hitherto I have had only acquaintances, and would not yet make choice of Friends. Nevertheless I per∣ceive my heart inclin'd to have some; and if my reason did not oppose it, I should have one already. How∣ever (said Lucia) take heed of the disguised Lovers I speak of, for there is nothing more agreeable or more dangerous than a lover that resembles a Friend. I shall endeavour to make use of your Counsels (answer'd Plotina.)

Thus you see, Amilcar, how the mind of this ami∣able Virgin stood affected towards her two Lovers. The next day after this conversation, Martius hapning to be at a Walking where Plotina was, and from which Lycastes was absent, found an opportunity to speak to her a little more openly of his love than he had done. At first Plotina rejected him with suffici∣ent rigour; No, no, Martius (said she to him) do not conceive that your merit shall hinder me from for∣bidding you to speak to me of your pretended Passion; for if you love me not, you do me an injury to tell me so; and if you do, I have such a respect for you, as not to cherish you in a fruitless hope. But, do you think, Madam (answer'd he) 'tis in your power to ex∣tinguish the passion you have excited in me, or so much as to hinder me from hoping? Love is far more capricious than you imagine (added he) it entertains hope against reason; and you attempt in vain to keep me from believing that one day you will love me, whether you will or no. Yes, Madam, the greatness of my passion, and my perseverance will infallibly molli∣fie your heart. There is much boldness in your words (reply'd Plotina:) I assure you, Madam (answer'd

he) there is more love than boldness, since I trust only in the greatness of my passion. But, Martius (said Plotina) think you I can ever love a man that could cease to love a very amiable person, by whom he was ardently lov'd? Who told you, Madam (said he) I ever ceas'd to love the charming person whom I have lost? All the World (answer'd she) and be∣sides, I gather it by my own observance; for if you had not ceas'd to love her, you would love no∣thing but your grief. Ha! Madam (cri'd Martius sighing) why will you force me to reveal a secret to you which I had resolv'd never to discover? I assure you (answer'd Plotina) I have no intention to force you to tell me any thing of private concernment. Yet you force me to it (repli'd Martius) by reproach∣ing me that I have ceas'd to love the person whom I have lost, thereby to have a pretext to forbid me to love you. Nevertheless it is certain, if I had not lov'd her beyond the grave, perhaps I should not have been your Lover. But, Madam, believe me upon my word, without obliging me to give you a particular account of things. Plotina being then sufficiently curious to know what Martius meant, treated him so fiercely, that he became constrain'd to tell her more than he was otherwise willing to do. I beseech you charming Plo∣tina (said he to her) hearken to an unhappy person who adores you. Yet I find much regret to relate what I am going to inform you of; for I must renew all my sor∣rows, and cannot avoid bringing my self into danger of being suspected of vanity and little discretion. Know then, that I was undoubtedly lov'd by Lysimira, who was one of the most amiable persons in the World; and I can swear to you, I have not ceas'd to love her a moment; 'tis true, after our affection was ratifi'd by a thousand Oaths, I chang'd my deportment towards her, because decency and her self requir'd it: but as for my heart, it continu'd immutable. Nevertheless (such was my unhappiness) Lysimira believ'd Lucia had formerly not hated me, and did not hate me still; so that by degrees she came to be possess'd with a se∣cret jealousie which destroy'd her. How? (interrupted Plotina) has Lucia, whom I know, lov'd you, and does she love you still? At present (answer'd Martius) I believe Lucia hates me, but at that time Lysimira be∣liev'd she did not, and fear'd I lov'd her, though 'tis most certain my affection to her was no more but a certain civility which a sincere man may dispense with where he thinks he is not hated. In the mean time Ly∣simira being willing to dissemble her discontent, and keep me from conversing with Lucia alone, chose ra∣ther to see her every day though she hated her, than not to see her and be in fear lest I visited her in pri∣vate; so that she became inseparable from Lucia. I will not stay to tell you, Madam, how great discontents the poor Lysimira endur'd, without communicating any thing to me (for she had a great mind, and car'd not to complain) and how great disquiets I caus'd her in∣nocently by the civility I shew'd to Lucia, who as you know, has a very commendable Wit. 'Tis sufficient to signifie to you, that Lysimira by little and little became very languishing and melancholy. At which I was much afflicted, and enquiring the cause of her, I understood her mind was as sick as her body. I entreated her, I begg'd her to let me know the cause of her discontent; but she would never tell it me. The Gods are witnesses, I omitted nothing I believ'd might please, cure or comfort her. I did one thing too of no small difficulty; for having at length understood by an intimate friend of Lysimira the true cause of her sadness, I never saw Lucia but when I could not avoid it, and I gave her all the assurances of my affection I could express. But (to her own unhappiness) she doubted the sincerity of my Oaths, and fell into a sickness which shortly af∣ter ended her days; at her death she persisted in her jealousie to her last breath, and left me written with her own hand in the Tablets which her Friend gave me after her decease, the sad words which I am going to recite to you.

I have liv'd enough Martius; since I have testifi'd to you that I lov'd you more than my life; But if I have had any power over you, use your ut∣most endeavours to marry Plotina when time shall have dry'd up your tears. She is the only person whom I can suffer to succeed me in your heart. Do not refuse me this last favour which I desire of you. And if you cannot win her affection whom I have nam'd to you, love nothing but my memory, I conjure you.

But, Martius (said Plotina) can this which you speak be true? I will let you see it, Madam, when you please (answer'd Martius sighing) I assure my self (added he) you conceive well the unfortunate Lysimi∣ra design'd principally to hinder me from loving Lu∣cia, by commanding me to use my utmost endeavours to marry you; for she did not know you intimately. But she needed not to fear it; for considering Lucia as the cause (though innocent) of Lysimira's death, I went no more to visit her after I had lost that amiable per∣son, whom I regretted with a sensibility of heart which I am not able to express. Indeed I resolv'd never to love any person more; and though she had command∣ed me to do what I could to marry you, yet I made a determination to be faithful to her ashes, spend the rest of my days with very great indifference. But (as desti∣ny is inevitable) after time had diminish'd my grief, your beauty, the charms of your mind, and a thousand agreeable qualities which all the World admires in you, dispos'd my heart to obey Lysimira; so that find∣ing my duty conjoyn'd with my inclination, I have lov'd you, and I love you both for the sake of Lysimira and your own. And judge now, charming Plotina, whe∣ther I am an unfaithful Lover; for I swear to you with all the sincerity of a man of honour, that besides your self I should never have lov'd any thing but the ashes of Lysimira; and unless Lysimira had permitted me to love you, I should have so timely oppos'd the passion I have for you, that perhaps it would not have over∣power'd my reason. Moreover, one unhappiness there befel me which afflicted me sensibly; for amidst the disorder whereinto Lysimira's death had brought my reason, I was rob'd of a Casket, in which Lysimira and I had put all that we had written to one another, be∣cause she durst not keep my Letters: and for my part, I have ever believ'd Lucia caus'd it to be stoln from me, that so I might be depriv'd of everything which should put me in remembrance of Lysimira. I express'd so great sorrow for this loss, that my intimate Friends know well that I am not an unfaithful person. Marti∣us related this with so passionate an air; and so like a man that spoke truth, that the novelty of this adven∣ture made a sufficient impression upon Plotina's mind. She call'd to mind then all that Lucia had said to her against Martius, and in favour of Lycastes; so that not doubting but that it proceeded from the secret inclination she always had for Martius, Plotina became a little less severe to this Lover. Nevertheless she did not permit him to love her, but yet did not so abso∣lutely forbid him as to make him despair of obtaining her permission one day. And accordingly he us'd

so much care to please Plotina, that she suffer'd him sometimes to tell her something of the sentiments he had for her, which yet was always in such a manner as engag'd her to nothing; for being of a merry hu∣mor, she easily evades all difficulties. Now after her conversation with Martius, Lucia became wholly out of her favour; and whereas she conceal'd nothing from me which befel him, she told me all she had learnt from Martius, and I perceiv'd by the air with which she spoke, that this Lover was happier than he thought. Not that Plotina had a great passion in her heart, but he had always the advantage to be better thought of than any of his Rivals: and therefore she told me he was her first Friend. In the mean time Ly∣castes was very unhappy, and if Lucia had not com∣forted him, and continually encourag'd him with hope, I believe he would have cur'd himself. But this per∣son designing to serve Lycastes, chiefly that she might prejudice Martius, omitted nothing to bring her purpose to pass; for though Plotina lov'd her no lon∣ger, yet out of prudence she continu'd to visit her. Martius became more chearful as he became more happy; so that he took care every day only to give Plotina new divertisements. Nevertheless, he was sometimes discontented to see he made no more pro∣gress in the heart of this fair person: but the unhap∣piness of Lycastes was a very efficacious consolation to him. About this time divers pleasant things fell out; but because I do not love long narrations, I will shor∣ten this as much as I can. Yet, I must not omit to tell you, that Plotina and Martius having laid a Wager, my Friend lost, and gave Martius a very prety Seal, which he receiv'd with joy; but how careful soever he was to keep it, he dropt it once as he was walking in a Meadow with some Ladies; but it was his happi∣ness that I found it again and restor'd it to him. Some days after he lost the Writing-Tablets which I gave him, and which had been Plotina's; but he was so happy as that Plotina found them and return'd them to him; but she sent him these Verses with them which had reference to a conversation they had toge∣ther the day before, in which Plotina maintain'd that a lost friendship might be reviv'd, but never a lost Love for the same person. The Verses were these,

'Tis true, good fortune is your constant friend, And what you lose, still back again doth send. Howe'er 'tis fit henceforth more care you show; Remember that Plotina told you so. For if an Heart in Love's Realm goes astray, Poor Heart, 'tis lost for ever and a day.

Martius answer'd to this gallantly, with very much wit; but because I do not well remember either his Verses or his Letter, I will not attempt to repeat them to you. Shortly after, being these Verses were not made any secret, they made Lycastes so jealous, that he quarcell'd with Martius; and that in so high a degree, that it came to a Duel. So they fought, and were both wounded; Martius, but slightly; but Lycastes so dangerously, that it was presently judg'd he would die. Whereupon, though he had been the Challenger, Martius was forc'd to flee from Ardea, and that with∣out bidding adieu to Plotina, who would not grant him a private conference. So that he was fain to be conten∣ted with writing to her, and receiving only an An∣swer of some Lines. Some days after his depar∣ture, Lycastes dy'd without being lamented by any of his Mistresses excepting Plotina, who piti'd him, and was very sorry he dy'd, chiefly because his death banisht Martius. During his absence, he writ very diligently to Plotina: but being Lucia knew that in love, absence is the fittest time to prejudice a Lover, especi∣ally when it is long, and the Mistress is very young, and loves mirth and pleasures, she did not despair of being able at length to ruine Martius in the heart of Plo∣tina. Now it hapned that a Brother of hers return∣ing from a long Voyage, and having seen Martius for some time in the place which he chose for his re∣treat, she oblig'd him to gratifie her by committing a wickedness. He was young, and of no very good nature; he did not love Martius neither, he delighted to cause disturbances, he did not hate lying, and had lov'd Plotina a little from his Childhood: Wherefore Lucia having plotted with him what he should say concerning Martius, he came to make me his first visit; and being told I sate for my picture that day to give it to Plotina, he came to the place where I was; but because it was at the house of no ordinary Painter, and the Conver∣sation which was made there chang'd Plotina's mind toward Martius, I must tell you something concern∣ing that excellent man.

His reputation (said Amilcar) has no doubt ar∣riv'd at me; for if I am not deceiv'd, he is a man that makes pictures in black and white Crayon, and in little, and his name is Nelanthus. 'Tis the very same (answer'd Cesonia.) But is it possible for such pictures (said Amil∣car) to be as like & as lively as those that are drawn in colours? I assure you (answer'd Cesonia) a Looking-glass does not more exactly represent those it reflects, than the Crayons of this excellent man; for he dives in∣to the very hearts of people, to animate their pictures. He makes their minds and humors visible, he expresses even the least motions of their souls in their eyes, the smallest observable Action does not escape him; he pre∣serves too the perfect resemblance of the cloathing, with his black and white he makes brown hair distin∣guishable from fair, lively colors from pale complexi∣ons; and, in fine, all his portraits are inimitable: he knows so well how to dispose light and shadows, and so perfectly represents the air and life with his Pencils, that all the skilful in Painture are amaz'd at his work. The heads he makes are so round (or rising) that the eyes are mistaken in them, and they are drawn with a certain softness which so admirably imitates Nature, that he cannot be sufficiently commended. As for his person, Nelanthus is tall, well proportioned, and of a good presence; he speaks well of every thing, he de∣lights those he draws with the variety of his discourse; he loves ingenuity extreamly, and has written the pre∣cepts of his Art very commendably. Moreover, he makes very agreeable and exquisite Verses, when he draws a person that pleases him, and whom he would commend; but which is strange, at the same time he makes his admirable Crayons, which deserve to be ad∣mir'd by all the world, he talks with the same jollity and freedom of mind, as if he had nothing to do but to divert the company; and nevertheless there is nothing more handsom and exact than that which he is doing. And therefore he has drawn all the persons of high quality, illustrious and learned in Italy. And this is the man at whose house I was one day with Plotina to sit for my picture, when Lucia's Brother I told you of came to find me. Being it is an usual custom to make questions to a man who comes from a long voyage, I set my self to enquire divers things of Celius (for so is Lucia's Brother call'd) but Plotina having a secret de∣sign,

made mockery of my demands, and counsell'd Celius not to answer me at all; or if he did, not to tell me the truth. For indeed (said she to him) me thinks there is nothing more troublesome than to be oblig'd to give an account of your Travels, to every one that you meet. For is there any thing more tedious than to meet such people as desire to know even the least Cir∣cumstances of the Country which you have seen, who expect you should know the difference between the Pismires of Egypt (so fam'd for bigness) and the Pismires of Italy, and who raising questions upon questions know not wherefore they would know that which they enquire of. But for my part, who care neither for the Elephants of Asia, the Pismires of Egypt, nor the Crocodiles of Nilus, I will only ask Celius whether the women of Italy are as lovely as those he has seen elsewhere; and whether the honest men of this Country do not equal those of other. Be∣ing to speak to the two most charming persons in the world (answer'd Celius) I have not liberty to say there are any elsewhere that equal them; but if I were to speak in another place, having first excepted you; I would freely acknowledge that the Greek Ladies have something very attractive, and that their glances are so amiable, that his heart cannot see them much without loving them, unless the heart be otherwise pre-engag'd. Then you have lov'd some Greek beauty? (reply'd I.) Having been so long absent (answer'd he) 'tis easie to imagine that I cannot but have lov'd in some place of the world; for certainly people be∣come amorous more easily in other Countries than in their own; for such as are absent, are always free from business; and idleness is a great preparative to love. Yet I know some Absents (reply'd I looking up∣on Plotina) who I dare swear are not amorous in the place of their banishment. In truth (said she, blushing) that is not to be spoken so affirmatively; for few know how to deport themselves in absence as they ought. And yet I know nothing more obliging than to do as I mean. But to speak truth, I do not find many persons but who accustom themselves to dispense with seeing such as they love best. Which nevertheless is that which would displease me most of any thing in the world (added she) for as many as I esteem, I am con∣fident time could not accustom me to want patiently the sight of a person whom I lov'd much, but I should be always more sad and carelesly dress'd, desire his pre∣sence every moment, have no delight in those very pla∣ces where others find most, and every day would en∣crease my melancholy. For all this, we usually see, two days after a Lover is out of his Mistress's sight, he is comforted, he decks himself as formerly, he walks, converses, diverts himself, every day less remembers the person he loves, and is no longer afflicted than while he is writing to her. I confess (answer'd Celius) most men do thus; but you must confess too that most women comfort themselves as speedily as men. I con∣fess it sincerely (said Plotina) but according to the hu∣mor I am of, if I were so unhappy as to love one of those contented or comforted Absents (if I may so speak) and knew it, I should so well comfort my self with his loss, that perhaps I should in time render him incapable of Consolation; for most of such absent per∣sons speak at their return, as if they had been all the while the most miserable men in the world. 'Tis true (said Nelanthus then continuing his work too) most part of Travellers are great Lyars; for one day I saw an absent Lover who oblig'd me to copy in little, a great picture of his Mistress whom he left at Volaterra, whence he was. And being he took some pleasure in seeing me work, he came very frequently to visit me; and I remember one day among the rest, I beheld him very merry. He related sundry divertisements to me, at which he had been present in the preceeding days; he sung, he made pleasant Verses upon a picture which I had drawn, as I did also in my turn, and feign'd my self an African to divert him and my self: after which, he remembring it was the day on which to write to Volaterra, he ask'd me what he should write about. When he had half done his Letter, one came to seek him to go to a walking appointment; whereupon he left his Letter half finisht, and went to walk with certain Ladies, without minding the finishing of his Letter, though he could not have the like op∣portunity till four days after. When he was gone I took the Letter which he had begun, and withal, I con∣fess I read it. But I was surpriz'd to find that he was writing to his Mistress, as the most sad, melancholy and afflicted man in the world by reason of his absence. For he told her, he avoided the world, took pleasure in no∣thing, and led the most irksom life that ever was. And which was rare, at his return from the walk he came to my house again, and without thinking of his Letter, desir'd me to lay aside the picture I had begun, and the next morning to begin that of one of the Ladies he had been walking with that afternoon. And there∣fore ever since, I have not given much credit to the Letters of absent persons. For my part (said Ce∣lius) I never yet saw an absent person long melan∣choly. Yet I know one (answer'd I) whom you cannot have seen very chearful; for being he is ba∣nisht about an unhappy affair, I imagine you must have found him sad. I perceive (reply'd Celius) you mean Martius; but since they report (added he maliciously) his heart is a Conquest which the amia∣ble Plotina has rejected, I shall not fear to say that I have seen a fair person in the place where he is who boasts of being greatly lov'd by him. I say, who boasts, because she is a woman, that easily enough publishes the Conquests which she makes. They who boast so easily of taking hearts (said Plotina blushing) seem not to understand the art of conquering them. Be it how it will (answer'd he) she shew'd some very pleasant Let∣ters, and I stole one from her without her perceiving it. Martius writes so well (reply'd Plotina) that I have a great curiosity to see some of his Letters, especially concerning love, for I have not seen any. Celius seeing Plotina's mind so dispos'd as he desir'd, shew'd her accordingly a Love-Letter of Martius which Lucia had given him, for she had a hundred in her keeping which had no names to them. So that Plotina know∣ing Martius's his hand and stile, believ'd he was inconstant, and did not suspect Lucia of this guile of Clelius. Wherefore being of quick resentment, and high-minded, she regretted this adventure more than you can imagine. But she resented it with in∣dignation; and in stead of complaining to Martius of his inconstancy, she took a resolution to do all she could to drive him out of her heart. And the next day she answer'd only in these few words to a very ob∣liging Letter he had writ to her.

Plotina to Martius.

THey who divert themselves very well in the places wherein they reside, need not seek pleasures elsewhere. Therefore for your own conveniency and mine, forbear to give your self the trouble of writing to me any more; but for∣get not, I conjure you, that I told you heretofore,

That when an heart in love's Realm goes astray, That heart is lost for ever and a day.

You may judge how extreamly this Letter sur∣priz'd Martius, who was really very faithful. Not but that there was a fair person in the place where he resided, who gave pretext to the lie of Celius; for she was one of those gossiping women who have a thousand little inventions to force virtuous men to say more to them than they would, and than they think. Martius nevertheless writ several times again to Plo∣tina, but she answer'd him no more. And therefore I often told her she was unjust to condemn Martius upon the bare report of a man who was a kind of Lover, and who besides was Brother to Lucia, who sought only to prejudice Martius. I believe perhaps more than you (answer'd Plotina) Martius is not so culpable, as I make semblance to believe: but to speak truth, being I should be loth to have a great passion in my soul, now my reason is a little stronger than it was, I seek my self to accuse Martius, and to improve my anger. I thought heretofore (continued she blushing) it was possible to be lov'd by a virtu∣ous man without loving him more than was conveni∣ent; but I have now undeceiv'd my self, and I find that unless I take care I should come perhaps to love Mar∣tius more than he lov'd me. Therefore to avoid so great an unhappiness, I conjure you never to tell me any thing that may serve to justifie Martius. He is absent, I may suspect him of inconstancie, I am sensible of my honour, I love liberty and joy; so that there needs not much more to cure me. Plotina spoke this with a certain fierce and angry air, which made me be∣lieve she would have more difficulty to drive Mar∣tius out of her heart than she thought. However, I did as she desir'd, and spoke no more to her concerning Martius.

After this, many alterations hapned in Plotina's fortune (which I will not detain you with relating) both by reason of his absence whose Daughter she be∣liev'd her self, and by the death of her whom she took to be her Mother. But at length, when I chang'd my condition, Plotina came to live with me, a little before Tarquin came to besiege Ardea. This adventure so a∣maz'd our City, that I cannot represent to you how great a terror there was at first amongst the people. But for that the inhabitants of Ardea are very coura∣gious, they soon took heart again, and resolv'd to make a stout defence. As things were in this posture, Martius making use of this occasion, and knowing an attempt was to be made to bring a supply into the Ci∣ty, he put himself in the head of those that guarded it, and did such brave exploits, that it may be said 'twas he alone that procur'd the entrance of the Convoy into Ardea. Assoon as he came thither, he went to the Go∣vernors of the City, and with much eloquence and boldness told them he was come to desire to die for his Country. This Action seem'd so noble, that in spight of Lycastes Relations, Martius had liberty to stay in Ardea, where there was great need of such per∣sons as he. Whereupon he addressed again to Plotina, but found not such reception as formerly. At that time Horatius had brought Clelia to Ardea, and all the world was so charm'd with her beauty and virtue, that though she was very melancholy, she caus'd her self to be ador'd. Plotina and I were the two persons to whom she testifi'd most goodness, she made us privy to all her unhappiness, and we promis'd to serve her in every thing we could, though Horatius guarded her very carefully. Martius in the mean time was in de∣spair, because he could not regain Plotina's heart, though he sufficiently manifested his innocency. For Celius himself, who was not over-valiant, fearing to be treated like Lycastes, and being at feud with his Sister, justifi'd him whom he had accus'd; for his love for Plotina was one of those young peoples affections who believe their honour lost unless they counterfeit them∣selves Lovers. Nevertheless though Plotina perceiv'd well enough that Martius was innocent, her heart was not affected towards him as it had been. But wherefore, Madam, (said he to her one day) do you not restore me that beginning of affection you had for me before? Be∣cause I will not, and cannot (answer'd she.) As for my esteem, I give it you entire again; but that kind of af∣fection full of I know not what disquieting tenderness, I cannot recal into my heart if I would. Anger expell'd it thence, and my reason being become more strong, will hinder it from returning. Ah! unjust person that you are! (cry'd Martius) you cause me to undergo the most cruel adventure that ever was, and Lysimira's death was not more grievous to me. She dy'd loving me, she commanded me to love you, she took nothing from me; I cannot but commend her constancy, her memory is still dear to me: but as for you, I lose you without any fault of mine. I see you more ami∣able than ever, but I see you without hope of being lov'd. Yet if I had never had hope, I should be pati∣ent; but you have confess'd your self, you have had some kindness for me. I confess it again (answer'd Plo∣tina) and if I had had less, perhaps I should have had it still; but to speak truth, after I found my heart so near engag'd that I should have been no longer Mistress of it, if I had continu'd but a little longer to love you, I am beholding to my anger which has cur'd me. But, Madam, that anger was ill grounded (reply'd he.) But, Martius, (excepted she) we are not bound to love all those that have not betray'd us. 'Tis true (an∣swer'd he) but I conceive they that have begun to love any person, ought always to love him. If I had promis'd you so (reply'd Plotina) I would have kept my word; but I never acknowledg'd to you that I lov'd you till now I lov'd you no longer, and resolve not to do so. Ha! Madam (cry'd he) you carry your cruelty too far, and I believe never any adventure was like mine. In good earnest (said Plotina) nothing prejudices you in my heart but your merit, and the tenderness which I have had for you: and I confess to you ingenuously, you are the only man I have seen whom I have judg'd worthy of my affection. But I assure you at the same time, I was so much asham'd to understand my own weakness, when I believ'd you lov'd another, that I am not resolv'd to return ever into the like condition. But in acknowledgment of the affection you have had for me as far as I can, I assure

you also that I am resolv'd to defend my heart as long as I live, & therefore never to marry, for to marry and not love those we marry, is in my judgment the most foolish and mischievous thing in the world; and to as∣sure ones self of the affection of any one, is the greatest rashness possible. Therefore Liberty is the safest course; and if you believe me, my example will be of use to you. Besides, 'tis very just that you be faithful to the Ashes of Lysimira. Alas! (answer'd Martius) 'tis easie for an indifferent person to advise indiffe∣rence. But how comes it that having not hated me be∣fore, you hate me now? If I hated you (reply'd she) I could love you again; but, Martius, I esteem you, and I can have a certain solid friendship for you, which may engage my mind, but not much more my heart. Ah! Madam, I desire not that friendship (answer'd Martius) and I like hatred a thousand times bet∣ter. 'Tis in vain that you would be hated (reply'd Plotina) for I esteem you too much. How? Madam, (said he hastily) is it an equal impossibility for me to obtain your hatred and your love? Yes, (answer'd Plotina) and as I love my self too much to love you, I esteem you too much to hate you. But to discover the bottom of my heart to you, know, I have the greatest Obligation to you in the world, for that you will be the cause that I shall without difficulty resist the affection of all those who perhaps may hereafter have a design to please me; for after the danger whereto you have expos'd my Liberty, I shall pro∣vide so timely for it, that it will be no more in hazard. What? Madam, (cry'd the afflicted Martius) will you deprive me of hope for ever? Ah! Madam, (added he) you do not know your self well, and perhaps your heart will do me justice even against your will. No, no, Martius, (answer'd she with a very serious air) you will never see me engag'd in an affection of that nature; I love joy, quiet and glory, and I will preserve them as long as I live. After this, say no more to me, for I shall not answer you. Martius would have disobey'd her, but she hindred him from speaking; and from thenceforward so carefully avoided to give him occasion to entertain her apart, that he could not find any. He knew well she spoke her mind, and when she shun'd him, she told him smilingly that she fear'd him; so that he was an hundred times more mi∣serable. For it was true, that at that time Plotina more countenanced Damon, Sicinius and Acrisius, who were become amorous of her, though she neither lov'd nor esteem'd them, than she did Martius, for whom she had a very great esteem. And this was matter of no small joy to Lucia. But wherefore do you not shun Acrisius? (said I to her one day.) Be∣cause he is too great a talker (answer'd she) and so I cannot fear that he will ever please me. Why then do not you decline Sicinius? (reply'd I.) Because he speaks so little (added she) that I cannot apprehend he is likely to perswade me; and as for Damon, I have as little reason to fear that he will cause me to change my sentiments towards him. But how comes it (said I) that you heretofore so much resisted those that en∣deavour'd to divert you from following the inclina∣tion you had for Martius, and now you have more reason to love him, you love him no longer? Because at that time (answer'd she) my inclination was strong, and my reason weak; but anger having cur'd me of my pre-conceiv'd opinion, I have taken a wise resolu∣tion to spend all my life in liberty. I will indeed en∣tertain a certain free friendship (added she) which shall not perplex, but divert me no less than love: but as for great affections, I will not admit of any at all, for they cannot be entertain'd without disquiet. The way you intend to take (said I to her) is perhaps as dangerous as that you would avoid: for many of those friendships of gallantry approach very easily to wantonness, if heed be not taken to them. You shall see (said she) I know how to avoid so dangerous an extream, and understand better than you think, the bounds of all the several sorts of friendship that can be had. But wherefore have you not one of these kinds (said I) for the poor Mortius, for whom I now intercede? Ah! Cesonia, (answer'd she smiling) do you not know there is a Proverb which says,

That in the Seas of love, on the same shelf, No dextrous Saylor 'twice ere splits himself?

You speak so little seriously (reply'd I) that I care not to speak any more to you. In good earnest (an∣swer'd she) I declare clearly what I think, and pro∣fess that I will have no kind of affection as long as I live, which may disturb my quiet. When I began to have an inclination for Martius, I was so young that I wanted strength to oppose it, but at present I am as∣sur'd I shall defend my heart better. For, in fine, I am so resolv'd to love my self, and consequently to love quiet, liberty and glory, (as I said at another time) that I will never love any of those people who cannot be lov'd without hazarding those three things which undoubtedly are the most agreeable in the world. But could not you marry Martius? (said I.) If I would marry any one (answer'd she) I confess Martius might oblige me thereto; but, Cesonia, I have so great an a∣version from marriage, that I cannot consider him as one that is to be my husband: and I am so resolv'd ne∣ver to marry, that I believe nothing can make me change my sentiments. For I judge nothing better, than to resolve to live free; and when I consider all the con∣sequences, which almost infallibly attend a wedded life, they make me to tremble. Not but that I conceive there may be some marriage happy; but, Cesonia, where shall we find two persons, who have wit, constancy, good∣ness enough one for another, and a sufficient resem∣blance of natures to live always well together? Some there may be, but they are few; and I do not think my self fortunate enough to meet with so great a feli∣city. 'Tis therefore more easie for me to take a resolu∣tion to live in liberty. As she was speaking this, by a strange chance, all her Lovers came one after another to see me, and were together in my Chamber. So that Plotina being in her jolly humor, told me smilingly, that she had a desire to undeceive all persons, and make a publick Declaration of her sentiments. And there∣upon in a very delightful way of raillery, she told them all she had absolutely resolv'd not to love any person much, and never to marry at all; and that the most which could be hop'd from her, was to please her, to obtain her esteem, and to have some part in a kind of calm friendship which she was resolv'd to have as long as she liv'd. For in truth (said she) I will never run the venture of meeting with indiscreet, unfaithful, capricious, lukewarm, inequal and deceitful Lovers, nor bring my self in danger of having a jealous, cove∣tous, prodigal, humorsome, imperious, surly, foolish, or little virtuous Husband, nor consequently of having deformed, vicious, ingrateful and wicked Chil∣dren; and I incomparably prefer to spend my whole life with the liberty of having such Friends of either Sex as I please. For I find that if I should marry, I

should be so good a Wife that I should thereby be miserable. All Plotina's Lovers oppos'd her senti∣ments, and especially Martius; but she answer'd them so well, that they knew not what more to say to her. And so she continu'd firm in her resolution.

But now, there being no great pleasure in living in a besieged City, three or four of Plotina's friends and mine resolv'd together with us to make use of Clelia's occasion to go out of Ardea; for Horatius would not stay there, out of a belief that Tarquin would take the City. So that Plotina, without con∣sidering what grief she should cause Martius, im∣ploy'd him to manage this affair, and to bring it to pass that, we might be guarded by the same convoy which attended on Clelia. The conversation of Plotina and Martius was very extraordinary, and I know not how Plotina was able to be so inflexible as she was. For he us'd all imaginable blandishments and endearing expressions to move her heart, but she continu'd inal∣terable in her sentiments; and all he could draw from her, was, that he should never see her love any person more than himself, and that she would never marry as long as she liv'd. And indeed if the poor Martius had liv'd, I declare to you, that you would have had less interest in Plotina's heart; but you must know that when we went out of Ardea with Clelia, this generous Lover, notwithstanding his regret, came himself to conduct us; and deported himself with so heroical and passionate an air, that Plotina esteem'd him much the more for it. Now being it was fear'd that we should be sooner discover'd by the enemies if we had any considerable number of people with us, Horatius, Martius and eight of their Friends took upon themselves alone the charge of conducting us. But, such was our ill fortune, we met with Hellius, one of the Ministers of Tarquin's cruelty, who came in the head of a Party of twenty to set upon Horatius, Martius and their Friends.

How? (interrupted Amilcar) was Martius amongst those whom Hellius fought with, when Aron∣ces, Herminius and Celer (from whom Artemidorus, Zenocrates and I parted that morning) arriv'd and carri'd away Clelia who was at the foot of a Tree with you? Yes (answer'd Cesonia) and the unfortunate Martius was slain by Hellius in the beginning of the Fight, though he was very valiant. And indeed 'twas his courage occasion'd his death; for he charg'd with too great violence into the midst of those who came to take Plotina and her Friends. I will not tell you the particular passages of this encounter, for you have understood from the mouth of Aronces how Horatius and Hellius perceiving others were carrying away Clelia, joyn'd together to recover her; and how Aron∣ces, Herminius and Celer resisted so many enemies at the same time. Yes, generous Cesonia (answer'd Amil∣car) I know all that pass'd in that great occasion. I know what Clelia did, putting her self couragiously before those that would assault her three protectors, I know how terrible a Combate it was, in what man∣ner Aronces fought with Horatius, and how the gene∣rous Herminius defended both his life and liberty, and spoke to Hellius, and with what generosity Aronces as∣sisted the wounded Horatius, whom he found by night in a Wood: but I know in what manner Plotina lamen∣ted Martius when you were taken, and carried to Tar∣quin. Do not enquire so much of her grief (reply'd Cesonia) for perhaps you will think it too violent; for in good earnest, no greater affliction can be resen∣ted by any than was by Plotina for the death of Martius. But at length (constitution prevailing) she comforted her self with the thought, that perhaps if Martius had liv'd, she might have had the weakness as not to be able to defend her heart; and since that (you know) your converse has reviv'd joy in her soul.

Cesonia having done speaking, Amilcar thank'd her, for having related to him that which he had so long desir'd to know. Not but that I am almost troubled (added he) that Plotina could never begin again to love Martius; for if ever I should unwittingly in∣cur her displeasure, and she should deprive me of her friendship, I see she would never restore it to me again any more than she did to Martius. In my opinion (answer'd Cesonia) you are so little accustom'd to be ill-treated, that you do not fear so much as you pretend, that you could not make your peace with Plotina if you should happen to be out of her favour. On the contrary (repli'd Amilcar) I have scarce ever been very happy, and I am not so now; Plotina has certainly only a tenderness of friendship for me. But is it possible (said Cesonia) that Amilcar has been almost perpetually ill-treated? Since I am not capable of false boasting, (answer'd he) I confess sincerely, I have seldom been much lov'd. I have many times had the advantage to be acceptable even to those women who have ill-treated me: but my merry and jovial humor has done me more injury in serious gallantry than I can express to you. However, since it has caus'd me as much delight as the favours of my Mistresses could have done, I do not complain of my destiny. Yet I would know (said Cesonia) whether any very intelligent person has ill-treated you? I lov'd one in Greece (answer'd he) who is one of the most amiable Women in the World. She is brown then (repli'd Cesonia) being she is a Greek. That consequence is not always infallible (answer'd Amil∣car) but it is true the amiable Nerintha I speak of has hair of the goodliest black that ever was seen; a black shining and bright, which becomes her admirably well. She is of a very handsome tallness, and well propor∣tion'd; her Eyes are black, sparkling, full of fire and spirit; and though she has no wantonness in her looks, but on the contrary has a very modest air, yet when she smiles, she has an amiable aspect which pleases in∣finitely. Ncrintha's visage is oval and of good symme∣try, her mould handsome, her cheeks agreeable, her nose well shap'd, and she has an air of beauty which renders her very graceful and lovely; and though her complexion is of no extraordinary whiteness, yet her beauty is lively and capable to excite love. But besides all this, Nerintha is infinitely ingenious, and of so clear a perception as keeps her from speaking things at random. She is gentle, civil, good and obliging, she is serious and debonaire together without inequality; and though she is perfectly virtuous and even severe, yet she converses gallantly with her Friends, and suffi∣ciently loves all reasonable divertisements. She is a good friend and very generous, very regular in all her actions, and very careful to satisfie all the duties of civility and friendship. She never jests dangerously, she blames no person; and having a mind naturally soci∣able, she never speaks that of another which she would not have spoken of her self. Nerintha has a very sweet and pleasing voice, she sings very agreeably, though she does not much care for it. She speaks ex∣actly, writes handsomly, and in brief is so charming, that though she would not accept my heart, yet she shall have my esteem and friendship as long as she lives. Perhaps (said Cesonia) she had had neither the one

nor the other, if she had accepted your affection. I am not of your opinion (answer'd Amilcar) but I confess to the glory of Nerintha, I am always her Friend though she would not have me for her Lover. There are so few people amiable (said Cesonia) that me-thinks such as are so, ought to be always lov'd. It has been a complaint in all past ages (answer'd he) and will be in all to come, that there are not virtuous people enough: And yet I believe the number is almost equal in all times. I am not of your opinion (reply'd Ce∣sonia) for I think there never were fewer than at present, of such as make reckoning of persons of me∣rit. No, believe me (said Amilcar) the World is not yet so poor of virtuous people as they report, and there is also more liberality and gallant generosity than is imagin'd. For during the time I was at Syra∣cusa, there hapned many things to a young Lady of that place, which prove that which I say. Know then that this person is of noble birth, but her fortune is sufficiently bad; her heart is generous, she makes profession of being good, and without ostentation of wit has gain'd a greater reputation than she sought; know, I say, this person has had divers adventures which prove that virtue is yet in request. For (not to reckon up the number of Friends she has) many presents were made to her after a particular manner; and be∣cause it was known that she delighted more to give than to receive, an unusual contrivance was practis'd. For one morning while she was yet asleep, a crafty man deceiv'd the slave that open'd the gate to him without telling who sent him, and left a compleat furniture for a Chamber (the most agreeable and gallant that could be seen) in her Court; and though great search was made to find out the author of this liberality, yet he could not be discover'd. Yet the person who receiv'd it imagin'd she knew by whom she was thus oblig'd, but one of her friends so per∣swaded her that it was forbidden her to conjecture, that she was forc'd to suppress her gratitude and con∣fine it within her heart, without daring to publish the glory of her Benefactor. To this same Lady a great Princess of a very remote Country (who is both illustrious, of a great beauty, wit, and heart) has written divers times very eloquently in a lan∣guage which is not natural to her, and sent her a Brace∣let of her Hair which is the goodliest in the World, with a clasp of Diamonds the richest that ere was seen. The chief Vestal has also made her several agreeable presents after a very ingenious and obliging manner; so have the generous Amalthea, the Princess Elis∣monda, a noble stranger, and divers of her Friends of either Sex. 'Tis true, all these liberalities do not make her Fortune; but her humor is such that she likes them better than if they were of another nature, I have known as much as this (answer'd Cesonia) but four or five persons make no great number in a great Country. After this, Amilcar and Cesonia talkt very sadly of the pitiful condition in which the twenty fair Roman Ladies were, who were to be sent back to Porsenna. Yet there was nothing to be fear'd from that King but only in respect of Clelia, who he believ'd escap'd from his Camp only because she knew some∣thing of the pretended conspiracy of Aronces and Mutius. But the next morning it hapned that Publicola was inform'd that a certain man had met Mutius very melancholy upon the way to Praeneste, and therefore he believ'd that this despairing Lover, knowing that the great Festival of Fortune was to be celebrated within two days, was gone to that famous Temple, to see whether the Lots were more favourable to him; for 'tis reported that on that day the Decisions were more infallible than on any other of all the year. Wherefore he determin'd to request Amilcar to go thither, who accordingly accepted of this Commissi∣on. Yet he did not depart till after he had seen Clelia and all her companions gone, to be reconducted to the Camp; but to the end the people might not tu∣mult at so sad a spectacle, they were caus'd to pass through the most unfrequented streets that was possi∣ble. No doubt they were very sad in the bottom of their hearts, especially Clelia; but their sadness was discreet, and Clelia amongst the rest testifi'd an admi∣rable constancy. All their Lovers follow'd them as far as they could; but at length it behov'd them to take leave. Horatius would have gone to present them to Porsenna, thinking to speak something which might conduce to their safety; but Publicola thought not convenient, and made choice of a Kinsman of Cle∣lius, who was more advanc'd in years, and was both prudent and resolute. So these fair Virgins took the way towards the Camp, and Amilcar that towards Praeneste. As he was going thither he met with Thea∣nor and Aemilius the Lovers of Terentia and Aure∣lisa, who had at length resolv'd to refer their fortunes to the Lots of the Temple of Fortune. Amilcar be∣ing a person known to all Porsenna's Court, they were very joyful to light upon him, and he (being no lover of solitariness) was as well satisfi'd to meet with such agreeable company. Their first discourse was a me∣lancholy reflection upon the misfortunes of Aronces and Clelia; but as the most generous easily enough turn away their minds from the unhappinesses of others, they came by degrees to talk of matters indifferent. Theanor set himself to extol Hetruria above all o∣ther Countries, Aemilius to commend Greece where he had liv'd a long time, and Amilcar to praise and disparage all the Countries he had seen. For as there is no beauty so perfect (said he) in which something is not to be desir'd, so there is no Country but has its defects. In a place where the Climate is temperate, the people are light and inconstant; in another, the people have much wit, and are accus'd of little fidelity: in one Country many times we find Sciences and Vices, in another innocence and rusticity. In one place no∣thing is to be seen but Cottages, in another nothing but Palaces. So that as a hundred Beauties are requisite to make up a perfect one, so you must select the ex∣cellencies of a hundred Countries to form one accom∣plish'd. You must take the mildness of the Climate of one, the Rivers and Seas of another, the Flowers and Fruits of another, yea the very Birds and Butter-flies; you must fetch the Sciences and Arts from one place, Valour from another, Honesty from amongst people of less nimble Wits, and exact justice from Heaven (for in truth there is not much to be found upon earth.)

Amilcar, no doubt, has reason (said Theanor) but however I dare affirm Hetruria has almost every thing that can be found elsewhere. The Climate is gentle, mens manners good, ignorance begins to be ba∣nish'd from it, and excellent Arts to be carefully pro∣moted. As for excellent Arts (answer'd Amilcar) I much doubt whether you can prove that they flourish as much in Hetruria as in Greece; for I confess with sincerity to the shame of my Country, that Africa possesses them but imperfectly, and the proud Car∣thage yields in this to the least Cities of Greece. Then you have not seen that stately Tomb which Porsenna is

building (said Theanor?) I have heard of it (an∣swer'd Amilcar) but whatever has been told me of it, I have not fanci'd it to be an extraordinary piece. Yet it is such (repli'd Theanor) that I question whether the Labyrinth of Crete and the Pyramids of Egypt excel it; for, in fine, it is a Master-piece of Archi∣tecture. All the stateliness which the imagination can conceive, is seen in it. This proud Tomb is above three hundred foot on each side, the form of it is square, the stones are of a prodigious greatness, and admira∣bly well polished. In the base of this Monument is a Labyrinth greater and more intricate than that of Crete, for it is impossible to expedite your self out of it, unless he that built it give you one of his ser∣vants to guide you; and there are so many turnings and windings, and so many places which go one into another, of which all the ornaments are uniform, that 'tis impossible to find the right way. Upon this spaci∣ous base of above twelve hundred feet square, stand five great Pyramids one at each corner and the fifth in the midst. They are triangular, and are sixty feet broad at the base, and a hundred and fifty high. Upon the point of every of these Pyramids is plac'd a Cop∣per-Globe of prodigious greatness, contriv'd so ar∣tificially, that the wind entring into it at several holes which are seen in it, makes a sufficiently agreeable harmony, which is heard at a good distance. Upon the top of each Globe is a kind of Obelisk, and upon it is seen another harmonious Globe like the former, according as the wind moves that which makes the harmony: and upon this Globe appear four other Pyramids of a hundred feet in height. But do not think I am at the end of my description; for these four Pyramids support a great terrass, upon which stand five other Pyramids as high as all the rest of the Tomb, so that the points of them seeming to touch the Skie, make a very magnificent spectacle. 'Tis true (said Aemilius) this Tomb is the stateliest thing in the World, and 'tis true also that the gallant house of the illustrious Cleonymus will be the goodliest place of the earth when it shall be finish'd. As for Cleony∣mus (answer'd Amilcar) I know he is a man of ex∣traordinary merit, whose birth is very noble, whose imployments are the most considerable in Hetruria, whose heart is perfectly great, virtue sublime, and ca∣pacity infinite. But I confess I have not given too much credit to all that Lucilius and Theomenes told me once concerning the fair house you speak of. Ne∣vertheless 'tis true (reply'd Theanor) that there is nothing handsomer in the world. As they were dis∣coursing thus, they arriv'd at a place where they were to refresh their horses, so that they were constrain'd to stay there. This place was so wild, the prospect of it so bounded and little agreeable, and the reception so incommodious, that having taken but a slight re∣past, they went to seat themselves on certain stones which were at the foot of a steep mountain near that place. They were no sooner there, but Amilcar be∣ginning to speak, I beseech you, Theanor, (said he) fill my imagination with handsome idea's, by the de∣scription of the goodly house of Cleonymus: for my eyes are so little delighted with what they behold, that I have great need of your help: besides, I love no∣thing more than the representation of handsome ob∣jects, and I assure you I shall be much oblig'd to you for it. For the generous Melintha being friend to Cleonymus, I interest my self already in every thing which relates to him, I shall tell you then that Val∣terra (said Theanor)—But Volterra (interrupted Amilcar) is, as I conceive; a great city sufficiently remote from Clusium. You say true (answer'd Thea∣nor) but I said Valterra, and not Volterra: 'Tis true, these two names are near alike, and Valterra bears a name resembling that of that famous City you speak of, (which was founded by the Tyrrhenians, as well as Aressa and Clusium) because this City has so many waters about it, that there is no gate or place in which the•• are not fountains; so that the confor∣mity of the waters has occasion'd the resemblance of the names. But to proceed: when you require the de∣scription of Valterra, you demand a thing of greater difficulty than you imagine; because this place has so many surprising beauties, that they cannot be con∣ceiv'd without being seen, nor represented well after having admir'd them. It was begun and finish'd by a man who does nothing but what is great, and the vast extent of whose mind is not capable of framing small designs: by a man, I say, who devoting his whole life to the service of his King, will have even his pleasures serve to the embellishment and glory of his country. But though he employ in the build∣ing of Valterra only such hours as are necessary to recreate his mind from great cares, to which the wel∣fare of the State engages him; yet at the same time he is making a thing which one would believe could not but take up his whole life. For it is not to be imagin'd that Valterra is one of those places which are embellisht almost by Nature alone; but 'tis no hyperbole to say Cleonymus has absolutely chang'd it, and there is no part of it to which he has not added some new grace. He has divided a River into a thou∣sand fountains, he has re-united a thousand fountains into torrents, and he has so judiciously contriv'd every thing which he has done at Valterra, that the judg∣ment of him cannot be sufficiently extoll'd, who knew so well how to intermingle the beauties of Art with those of Nature, and so industriously to diver∣tise all the ornaments of so goodly a place. 'Tis true, this handsome Desart being design'd for the habita∣tion of one of the fairest persons in the world, ought to be such as it is, to be worthy of her; for you must know, the prudent Artemira wife of the illustri∣ous Cleonymus has one of those grand Beauties which continually encrease admiration: and that which I esteem most, is, her virtue redoubles the price of her beauty; for, as wanton a person as you are, I am con∣fident you will grant that these two things suit admi∣rably well together. I confess it (answer'd Amilcar) therefore tell me a little more particularly what you know of the fair Artemira. Ha! Amilcar (reply'd Theanor) I tremble only in thinking that I have un∣dertaken to describe Gardens and Fountains to you; judge then what I should do if I should undertake to tell you all the Grand qualities, and all the virtues of one of the most accomplish'd persons in the World. Be contented therefore if I perform my promise to describe Valterra. But before I tell you, what it is at present, I must relate a little adventure to you, which is necessary that you know, to understand the description I am to make.

Know then, that a fair and young person, Kinswo∣man to the King of Hetruria and much lov'd by him, sometimes hapned to excite love in a man of Quality, of a violent and imperious humor; who judging that he could never be favour'd, resolv'd to carry his Mistress away by force. Which accordingly he did one day as she was walking in a Grove; and diver∣ting her self by causing a Squirrel to follow her from

tree to tree, which she had kept from a little one, and which lov'd her with more ardour than a Dog can have for his Master, though the Dog is an Em∣blem of Fidelity amongst all Nations. This violent act much surpris'd the whole Court, and especially an honourable person of Clusium, whose name was Cleoranthus, and from whom the illustrious Cleony∣mus who built Valterra is descended; for you must know, he was very amorous of her, though he durst not declare it by reason of the King. But in this un∣expected occasion, he could not hide his sentiments. Wherefore suddenly gathering together some of his Dependants, he went to seek this stoln Lady. The King also sent out most of his Court to the same purpose, and went himself; but this search was made unprofita∣ble, and Cleoranthus had been as unhappy as the rest, if the Chance which guided him to a Cottage of Shep∣herds had not shew'd him the little Squirrel which his Mistress lov'd so much, and which stuck to her in spight of her Ravishers. At first he believ'd it was another; but the little Animal knowing him, skipt down from the window where it was with that nimbleness which is natural to it. Whereby Cleoranthus, believing his Mistress might be there, or at least had pass'd by that way, askt a young Shepherdess where she was to whom this pretty Animal belong'd. He had no sooner made this question, but he who had carry'd away that fair Virgin (coming from enquiring the way he was to take, because he had fail'd to meet his guide) ap∣pear'd with his Sword in his hand, follow'd by six of his Attendants; and at the same time four men, who had stay'd to guard that fair person, issu'd out of the Cottage with their Swords drawn too. But Cleoran∣thus, instead of being terrifi'd by so many enemies, became thereby more fierce and couragious. And so he attacqu'd his Rival with such valour, that not∣withstanding the inequality of number, he flew his enemy, and three others, and put the rest to flight. After which, to compleat his happiness, he understood by one of those he wounded who lay upon the place, the secret of a great Conspiracy against the Prince. Thus Cleoranthus deliver'd his Mistress, and saved all Hetruria by his valour. But which was remarkable, at the end of the fight, the Squirrel made him a thou∣sand caresses, and would not part from him. Where∣fore when the King was inform'd of all the Circum∣stances of the business, and of Cleoranthus passion for this fair person (whom notwithstanding he restor'd into his power without signifying any thing of his love) was so mov'd with his Virtue, that he suppress'd the inclination himself had for her, and caus'd her to marry him. But to eternize the memory of this gene∣rous action, as Hector, Aeneas, and many others since, caus'd Lyons, Roses, Doves, and divers other things agreeing either to their valour, merit, virtue or for∣tune, to be painted upon their shields, he order'd that Cleoranthus and his Descendants should bear a Squir∣rel for their Arms. And accordingly they of this Fami∣ly bear a Squirrel in their shields to this day. I desire your pardon for having amus'd you with speaking of this adventure; but you will see in the sequel of my dis∣course, that I have not related it altogether imperti∣nently. I am next to tell you that Valterra is situated half a days journy from Clusium, that the way between them is very pleasant, and that to encrease the surprize, the beauty of it is not perceiv'd till you arrive at the fore Court, which is stately, fair and spacious. It hath four great Pavilions at the four Corners, with other Courts on the two sides. The two faces which stand upon the stately Moats of Valterra, end in three great Archades of Architecture, through which are discover'd two large low Wings of Building, which have been built for Offices to the House, and two Gardens which lie on the side of those two Wings. When you are in the fore Court, you behold the front of the Palace, which is built upon a Mountain of Ar∣chitecture (if I may so speak) for the Perroon which takes up the whole breadth of the second Court, has four seats, and rises above twenty steps. So that this gives much Majesty to the Structure. Which be∣fore I describe to you, I must lead you back again into the fore Court, and tell you, that after you have pass'd through it, you come to the Bank of the Moats which are large, handsome, and the water of them clear as Crystal, and arises from a Spring. These Moats are beset with Rails on both sides; and near the Bridge which lies over them, are seen the Muzzles of Ly∣ons casting out water into three Scalop. Basins, which shed it one into another till it fall into the Moats. When you have pass'd the Bridge, and come into the midst of a little half Moon adorn'd with Rails, you may see that the second Court, which is very large and handsom, has a terrass on two sides rais'd three steps, upon which are plac'd two spirting Foun∣tains, which make a very handsom shew in that place. For when you are at the end of the Bridge, there is nothing more stately and magnificent than to see those handsome Moats full of water, the second Court the Balustrades, the spirting Fountains, and that great and magnificent Perroon which crosses the whole Court, rising so Majestically, and upon which is seen in the middle of the Palace a great Porch of three stately Arches supported by six Pillars, which suffer the sight to penetrate through the whole thickness of the Pa∣lace by three other Arches opposite to the three first, and three other likewise opposite to the second; so that the Skie appearing at several overtures, this sight is the more agreeable. In the midst of the Porch are seen two very handsome Statues of young Children taming Lyons, to imitate that innocence atchieves eve∣ry thing; and the Arms of Cleonymus, such as I have represented them to you by relating the glorious ad∣venture of one of his Ancestors. The Cupolo which arises in the midst of the Building, is very magnificent, and so are the Busts, and the carv'd works wherewith this Palace is adorn'd in divers places. But when you have ascended the Perroon, and are arriv'd at the Porch, you find it handsomer than you imagin'd; for the proportion of it is exact and noble, it is supported by twelve pillars of a very handsome order of Archi∣tecture. From thence you behold with pleasure the two fair Courts you pass'd through: but, which is a greater grace, you enter upon an even pavement into the goodliest Hall that ever was. For its greatness astonishes the imagination, its height surprises, and its beauty is so great, that it takes away the boldness to commend it. The Cupolo is supported by sixteen stately Arches, whereof six are open; namely, three towards the Porch, and three toward the Gar∣dens, which are admirable. But how rare soever they are, I must stay you a little in the Hall, and at least shew you the first apartment of this proud Fabrick. I must also tell you that for the glory of this great de∣sign, Cleonymus has been so happy as to find an excel∣lent man capable to execute his great intentions, and happily to invent whatever might serve to the embel∣lishment of so goodly a place. He I speak of, is call'd Meleander, and is the same that painted the

Cabinet of the generous Melintha. He was born with a great wit, an exquisite fancy, and an admirable judgment. His Idea's are noble and natural, there is grandeur in his designs, and reason always in what he makes. Therefore he was chosen by Cleonymus to paint this proud Hall, and all the several apartments of his Palace; and also to use his inventions and counsels for all such things as might imbellish Valterra. But since his aim is always to work for the glory of him that employs him, see what the design of the Hall is, of which I will unfold to you the hidden sense after I have given you the description. The Sun is represented there in his Palace with all the Ornaments Poets attri∣bute him; the whole Base of the Piece is encompass'd with a great Serpent representing the year; upon this Serpent move the months, the weeks and the days; every season is accompani'd with the months, weeks and days which agree to it; and all the Stars are seen there, which the Sun visits in making his course. But in the midst of this proud Palace of the Sun (the Archi∣tecture of which is admirable, and the Pillars resem∣ble precious stones, and the Basis and Chapters gold) is seen upon a proud arch a Throne of Gold rais'd several steps, upon which the Hours, daughters of the Sun mount and descend. They are represented like young fair persons, habited in different and light dresses. This luminous God is cloathed with a cloak of cloath of Gold, he is crown'd with an immortal Laurel, he leans with one hand upon his harp, and with the other he makes a sign to Aurora as if he commanded something; for his eyes are turn'd to∣wards her. This fair harbinger of the Sun has a garland of Flowers and Pearls upon her head; she has wings painted with fine colours; with one hand she scatters flowers in divers places, and with the other she holds a torch, which she makes use of to illuminate a New Star by the command of the Sun. This new Star is plac'd in the midst of the Heaven in form of a Squirrel, three higher stars give it their most favorable influences. Saturn bearing his sickle encompasseth it with his Serpent beset with Stars, which denotes the eternity of its glory. Jupiter sitting upon his Eagle with a very noble action and Majestical air gives it a Crown of gold, to signifie the Authority which it is to have. Mars on the other side with his fierce as∣pect gives it a Helmet and a Lyon. Below the Sun appears the Season which represents Summer, crown'd with ears of Corn, her Complexion is a little Sun∣burnt, her hair is guilded, her air is very agreeable; she carelesly sirs and leans upon such fruits as are suita∣ble to her, and near her are seen several instruments necessary to Agriculture. She holds a sheaf of Wheat in her hand, and is supported by a swarthy man who represents the South Wind. About her stand the Moneths which belong to her, represented by young persons crown'd with flowers and fruits; they have Wings, their Attires are different, and they present fruits to this lovely Season, as well as the weeks and days which are represented by little children who seem to move along as they play near her. In another place Mercury appearing with all the marks that par∣ticularize him, lifting up his arm wherewith he holds his Caduce, seems as if he would give all his eloquence and knowledge to the New Star I men∣tion'd, he looks upon it so favourably. About this God are seen several instruments necessary for ex∣cellent Arts, and likewise divers little Cupids denoting the various inclination which Nature gives. The Moon, not being able to behold her Brother, appears through the shadow of a Cloud, and about her is seen a great hunting equipage, as dogs, bugles, bows, ar∣rows, and divers other things, and in many places little Genii agreeably represented; this fair Star re∣gards the new Star as favorably as Mercury. On an∣other side Venus follow'd by Sports and Laughter ap∣pears lying upon a bed of Roses: and near her are seen divers things which agree to her, and which are always inseparable from pleasures. She holds a golden Apple in her hand, seeming to offer it to this new Star, as if she meant, that it was such amongst the Stars as her self amongst the Goddesses. Also several little Cu∣pids are seen playing near her. The Spring is represen∣ted by a Young fair Girl, with a fresh and smiling air, her hair is brown and curl'd, she has a crown of flowers upon her head, her attire is green; the Months which are near her, present flowers to her, Zephyrus flat∣ters her, and the weeks and days busie themselves in embellishing her. Autumn is figur'd by a good lusty man, crown'd with Vine-leaves, he lies amongst fruits which are proper to him, and leans upon a Tyger, the Moneths which accompany him offer him their fruits also, they are attended likewise with their weeks and days, and the Wind of this Season is represented there also, but more fierce than the rest, and the drapery of the figure shews that he inconveniences him by his impetuous blast. On the side opposite to Summer is represented the Bow of Iris with all the Colours that render it so agreeable. Under this Bow appears Winter represented by a rough old man, crown'd with mists, snow, and icycles. The Moneths, weeks and days which accompany him offer him no∣thing but unpleasing presents, except some of those days which are very little, and offer him fire. On the side of the Bow I mentioned, are Castor and Pollux, who mount and descend upon the Horizon: but I must not forget to tell you that in all places where that famous Squirrel is represented, either in a Star, or in its na∣tural form, there is a device added to it which is very graceful in the language in which it was made; and the sense of it is, That there is nothing so high where∣to it cannot mount. But now to expound to you the hidden meaning of all these Pictures, I am to tell you that the Sun represents Cleonymus, who according to the amplitude of his great employments, operates and shines every where, does good to all, and labours con∣tinually for the benefit and embellishing of the Uni∣verse. By the four Seasons of the year, Meleander has pretended to represent the several States of Hetruria which are tributary, and attribute the honour to Cleo∣nymus of receiving and rendring all, because he has the management of the Princes treasures. The new Star in the top of the Skie, shews that there is nothing more sublime than the glory of Cleonymus; and that Starry Serpent I spoke of, denotes the prudence of this He∣roe: so that the Pictures of this proud Hall, satisfie together both the Eyes and the Reason, and serve at the same time both to the glory of this Heroe, and that of the excellent Meleander, who has so well found out the art to commend him by his Pencils more than Poetry could do. But to pass from the Hall to the anti-Chamber, upon the top of the sieling you see Hercules carried into the heavens in a Chariot of gold, under which is a slain Serpent. Reason (represented by a fair young person of a sage aspect) guides him; she has a helmet on her head, and holds a sword where∣with she seems to menace: two fierce and heady horses withdraw the chariot that carries him, and by their impetuous posture intimate that they represent the

Passions, who in spight of their violence are never∣theless subjected to Reason. They have both a duskie brightness in their eyes. But there is one especially, whose mane stands erected, and who lifts up his head fiercely, whose piercing, lively and furious eyes cast a fiery glance which astonishes and surprises such as have skill in Painture. Fame is painted flying there, and seeming as if she would descend to the earth; and in a very bright part of the heaven appears Jupi∣ter and the other Gods preparing to receive this He∣roe, who is follow'd by Glory, putting an Oaken Garland upon his head. But what is rare in this Piece, is, that in whatever part of the chamber you stand, this Hercules seems to behold you as naturally in one place as in another. But I do not consider that I trouble you by not being able to represent these admirable Pieces but imperfectly. Yet I would further tell you some∣thing of the principal chamber: but to speak truth, I have seen so handsome and admirable a description of it, that I cannot but tremble to attempt it. For in∣deed I never saw any thing so handsome as that which a certain Virtuoso has writ upon this Subject; de∣scribing things so to the life, that you would think you beheld them with your eyes; and though he im∣ploys almost all the terms of Art, yet his discourse is clear, florid, eloquent and natural.

Oh! I beseech you, (said Amilcar) tell me all that you have seen in that magnificent Palace; for I never saw the handsome description you commend so much; and if I return into Africa shortly, (as I ex∣pect) I shall not see it in a long time. If you were to see it, (answer'd Theanor) I would resolve not to content your curiosity; for besides that the description I shall make of it will be much less exact and ample than that, being I have the same things to describe, and Painture has certain peculiar terms which cannot be omitted, you would accuse me of a crime which I have no design to commit, and presently imagine that I in∣tended only to copy it out, and deprive him of the commendations he has so justly merited. But how∣ever, since you desire it (continu'd he) I shall tell you, that the famous Meleander aiming always at the glory of his Heroe, has in the roof of this chamber represen∣ted Fidelity carry'd up by her powerful Genius into heaven. This Figure is very handsome, habited in white with a blew Robe, and has several marks which make her known: Prudence conducts her, Virtue and Reason are of each side of her admirably represen∣ted; the latter seems to personate Apollo shooting with his Bowe against Envie and divers other mon∣sters which hide themselves in the thickness of the clouds. Under these Figures is Clio, one of the most famous Muses; she seems to bear her self up in the air with great wings display'd; scarce any thing is seen of her but her back; her Robe is of the co∣lour of Gold, and beneath it another flying clothing of a different colour. This Muse helps to carry up Fide∣lity into heaven, and holds a Trumpet to publish that there is nothing whereto the fidelity of Cleonymus can∣not attain. This Piece being in the midst of the cham∣ber, is the principal design of the Painter; all the rest which encompass it, suit with it, and depend of it. The most ingenious contrivance is, that this excellent Pain∣ter has by his Art made the whole roof of the cham∣ber appear a great and stately body of building, with the goodliest ornaments that Painture and Sculpture have invented. For having drawn five large overtures, one in the midst, and the others on the four sides, five admirable Pieces are represented in them, which perfectly embellish the room. But be∣sides these Pieces, the Figures plac'd upon this seeming structure are the handsomest in the world. For the eight famous sisters of Clio are painted on the four-sides of the chamber, and seem to make a concert of praises in honour of him whom Fidelity represents. But they are so exquisite, that nothing can be seen in the world more admirable. All their heads have diffe∣rent airs, their actions correspond with what they represent, and they have a certain aspect of divinity which excites respect. These Figures are plac'd near four base-reliefs of the colour of brass, beset with se∣veral magnificent ornaments. For in this place are seen four different Poems represented by different figures. The Satyrical is represented by a Satyre lying along; he leans upon a great Urn, and has a young child be∣fore him, who shews him three words written upon a Table which declare what he is. Below this base-relief are seen divers excellent ornaments, where in the Squir∣rel and the Device are conveniently plac'd: for there is an antique Urn of lapis Lazuli; upon that an Eagle, upon the Eagle a Squirrel, and on both sides of the Urn very jolly Cupids and Garlands, which falling down upon the Eagles back, slide from thence very gracefully. The other base-reliefs are like, ex∣cepting the Poems. That which treats only of Rusti∣cal things; is represented by the God Pan; the He∣roick, by a stately and handsome man holding a Trum∣pet in his hand; the Lyrick, by a fair Virgin hold∣ing a Harp. Each of these Figures has a little Cupid like the first, and each Poem has two Muses which accompany it. Melpomene and Thalia are near the Satyrick. The former (to whom the invention of Tragedy is attributed) has fierceness and melancholy in her eyes: her attire is suitable to her quality, and her gesture and air speak her mind employ'd about great thoughts and events: and to denote her chief subject, Trumpets, Helmets, Shields and Crowns (ming∣led together with a confusion more agreeable than order) are seen near her. As for the Muse design'd for Comedy, she has a pretty, scornful, chearful and smiling air. Her head is crown'd with I vie, and her neck bare; she has rich bracelets, and a large blew robe, which is very graceful to her. She holds a Vizard in her hand, and has another at her feet which resembles a Satyre, and near her lie like Trophies all the instru∣ments proper for Bacchanals. Near the Poem desti∣nated to country-matters, stand Terpsichore and Eu∣terpe; one holding a kind of harp, the other a flute, on which she seems to play. The former has a noble air, the other somewhat rustick and wild: their ha∣bits are agreeable, and the variety of colours does not interrupt that union which is requisite to all good Pi∣ctures. Near these Muses are seen books, maps, hoboys and bagpipes. The Heroick Poem has Calliope and U∣rania by it: the former having a book in her hand, and the latter leaning upon one of those Globes which a Disciple of the wise Thales invented, holds a pair of Compasses in the other hand. Calliope has a sage and majestical air; and Urania fixing her eyes upon the heavens, seems to observe the course of the Stars, and mind nothing else. Polyhymnia and Erato are plac'd near the Lyrick Poem; the first chiefly destinated to Painture, has near her all the instruments requisite to that excellent Art: her habit is mix'd of several colours; she has a nobler air, and the gesture of a per∣son studying to enterprise some great work in Pain∣ture. Erato has piercing eyes, & a very pleasant aspect; at her feet are seen divers Musical instruments, and a

little Cupid crown'd with flowers, holding before her an ancient fashion'd harp, such as they report Orpheus sometimes made use of to save himself. But to mani∣fest the ingenuity of the Painter, I must tell you they have no wings, as Clio has who helps to conduct Fi∣delity into heaven; because he would intimate here∣by, that they ought to stay eternally in the glorious san∣ctuary Cleonymus has given them. The Painter has also feign'd that they made two Pieces of needle-work representing their two Victories over the Pierides and the Syrens; but this is done with so much art that it cannot be sufficiently commended. Besides, all that I have related, all the ornaments which Painture and Sculpture have invented are seen in this place. For in divers places, where the order of Architecture permitted, are vizards, garlands, urns, sphinxes, and several other things. But it is remarkable that there is not one but has some Mystery, intimating the virtues or glory of Cleonymus to such as understand the meaning given to such various figures. So that the Painter cannot be too much commended who has so well fanci'd and finished so good a design, wherein appears Invention, Judgment, Boldness, and good Sense. It is manifest throughout that he is not only a great Imitator of Nature, but also understands the Art of embellishing; and that his imaginations surpass her Productions. All that is seen in these rare Pictures alike delight the Eyes and the Reason. Never were Light and Sha∣dow so judiciously dispos'd, never was the sight deceived after a more agreeable manner. All the little Cupids are excellently done, the Head∣tires of the Muses are admirable, the Draperies are perfectly well suted, Modesty is visible even in the Figures, which the Painter has habited very negligently. The Objects which appear near∣est, deceive the Eyes; the more remote surprise the Imagination: in fine, all the workmanship both of the Hall and the two Chambers, deserves more commendations than can be given it. But now not to stay to tell you of the Cabinet, or all the other apart∣ments of this proud Palace, wherein are a thou∣sand handsome objects, with which the famous Meleander has embellisht it, either by his workman∣ship or a thousand ingenious inventions which can∣not be express'd, I must return into the stately Hall, and describe to you the Gardens of so goodly a Place. But I must tell you first, that the face of the house on this side is very different from the former; so is the Perroon, but withal stately and commodious. The Moats are inviron'd with rails too as the other; and from hence you discover so great and vast an ex∣tent of several green-plats, so many large and hand∣some Walks, so many spirting Fountains, and so many delightful objects which become confused by their distance, that you scarce know what you see, because the multitude of agreeable sights amazes the imagination, and hinders the eyes from fixing upon any at first. For curiosity being a natural senti∣ment, we do not so much mind that which we might easily discern, as that which we cannot distinguish; so true it is that we love to discover things to our selves. 'Tis to be observed that this Garden lies between two Groves which agreeably arrest the Eyes: but to describe it to you part by part, I must tell you, that when you are at the end of the Bridge, you see at a good distance towards the right hand and the left two spirting Fountains stand∣ing in two very solitary corners, and seeming to hide themselves; and before you, great Green∣plats with Fountains, a round Pond in the middle, and on either side in the nearest squares three Fountains, whose artificial water-works agreeably divert the eyes, especially one towards the left hand, where is seen a crown of fruit bushes (if I may so speak.) The Basin of it is rustick enough, but you would say it is sufficiently adorn'd with its own agreeableness. About the round Pond I mention'd are four little Cupids holding scallop-lavers upon their heads, from which the water falls with a continual mur∣mur into little squares inviron'd with green. On each side of the Pond are seen great green squares which reach to the two Groves, and have fountains in them also. On the right hand is seen at a good distance a cullis'd-Gate leading into a rustick Orchard, and on the left a Cascade representing a kind of grate of Wa∣ter, to correspond to the true grate which is opposite to it. Beyond the Pond you descend by another Perroon, and have two conduits casting forth water on the right hand. In this place at the crossing of a Walk stand four handsom Statues; but to increase the delightfulness, a little further in that Walk are two little Torrents with Jets of water at several di∣stances one into another which look like a Balustrade of crystal running on both sides of the Walk. And no∣thing is more pleasant than to hear the murmurs of all these Jets of water, whose equality of delightful har∣mony is very apt to produce an agreeable amusement. When you are at the end of this Walk, you find a large square of water, and discover a little solitary place, above which stands a small wild Grove. Directly before you, you see a great and handsom spectacle which I shall describe to you by and by, and on the right side of the Mount which I am to describe, Vines and divers other Country objects. Beyond that great square of water you see an object perfectly surprising. For standing upon the Perroon which leads further down∣wards, you see a fair stream of water from which a hundred Jets issue with an equal force, and falling again into the Channel make an agreeable murmur. And a little beyond, you see another less, which may be call'd a Walk of Crystal. For there are an infi∣nite number of Jets of water in a double rank, which crossing one another make an extreme delightful shew. Nevertheless, this is not the goodliest ornament of this place; for below this Walk of Crystal you see a long Terrass of good height, four long rows of scal∣lop-lavers full of water, of unequal bigness, which ex∣onerating one into another make you see a hundred torrents at once, and at length discharge themselves into a great stream of water, from whence issue fifty other Jets with violence. Next you come to see a great and large Channel made by a River which was scarce known before Cleonymus chose this admirable Desart for a retreat to recreate his mind from his honourable employments. It precipitates it self like a mighty torrent, and then having calmly pass'd through the whole breadth of the Garden of Valterra. it goes forth by a Cascade, and afterwards loses it self in the Meadows. So that in a very little space it is a River, Torrent, Channel, Cascade, and Brook. But to render this place more marvellous, you see beyond, an Abyss of water (if I may so speak) in the midst of which by the directions of Meleander has been plac'd a figure of Galatea with a Cyclops playing on a bagpipe, and divers Tritons round about him; all these figures cast forth water, and make a very hand∣some sight. There are also other water works in

this place; and several spirting fountains. But which is most agreeable, all this great extent of water is co∣ver'd with little painted and guilded Boats, and from thence you enter into the Channel. Now you must know that on the side opposite to the Cascade I mention'd, there is cut out a great Mount in a direct line, which is made in a Terrass with a Balustrade, sup∣ported by six Terms or Pillars. Between which are artificial Rocks always cover'd with water, and at the foot of these Rocks is a kind of little Chanel into which that water trickles agreeably. On the right side of these Rocks the Tyber is represented, as Rivers use to be, that is, half lying along and leaning upon his Urn; but he seems melancholy, as if he were dis∣contented for being surpass'd by the River of the place, which is seen represented on the other side with a chearful and pleasant aspect. But I must not forget to tell you that in these Chanels and the abyss of wa∣ter are seen Statues upon great Pedestals representing the several parts of the world, having in them the most precious things of the Countrys which they re∣present, which they carry as it were to pay tribute; to denote that the whole earth has contributed to em∣bellish this place. But the better to enjoy the sight and admire so many handsome objects at once, you must ascend up the Mount by two stately Perroons made like an Amphitheatre, which have also fix very goodly fountains of different forms. About the midst, at the Base of the Balustrade are seen two great Lyons, which by Meleander's contrivance shew after a parti∣cular manner the Arms of Cleonymus; for the Squirrel is seen betwen the paws of the Lyons, but so that 'tis manifest these cruel Animals have nothing but gen∣tleness and kindness for it. When you come to the end of the Mount a large green round of water surprises you, in the midst of which arises as by miracle a Jet of water fifty feet high, of so prodigious and extraor∣dinary a greatness, that it would seem a thick pillar of Crystal, if the motion did not convince the eyes. And to denote that it is the last piece of this great and excellent workmanship, there is plac't beyond it a handsome statue of Hercules resting himself after all his Labours which are represented in sculpture upon the Pedestal. In this place seats are built to behold so many rare things the more commodiously, which appear so much the more excellent, for that from thence also divers plain and rustick objects are seen. For on both sides you see two rude prospects and a little Temple amongst the Trees. This Mount has Walks on each side, and grass in the middle, and from thence you have a fairer sight of the building than from any other place, with the two back-wings which belong to it, the two Garden-plats which are on both sides, the vast compass of the great Garden between the two Groves, all the divers spirting Fountains, the Chanels, the Squares of Water, the Cascades, and those too which are on the side of the Garden for Flowers, which is before one of the Wings. Hence also is discovered a thing which has been happily in∣vented by the famous Meleander; for whereas Cleo∣nymus has several ancient rarities, and especially two Figures of Stone, which are said to have serv'd for the Sepulture of the first Kings of Libya; in a little irre∣gular corner of ground he has caus'd two Pyramids to be built, in imitation of those which are near Mem∣phis; to the end to place in them all such kind of rari∣ties as he possesses. So that the sight of these Pyra∣mids together with that of so many excellent and dif∣ferent objects takes away all thought of regretting that this place has not one of those prospects in which Rivers and Seas are discover'd, and in which the eyes are oftner wearied than diverted. For every thing that is seen in this admirable Desart is agreeable, the eyes cannot stray but with delight. Nevertheless, you must not imagine that I have described all the Beauties of this place to you; for I am confident I have omit∣ted very many; and besides, to speak truth, Valter∣ra is but in its infancie (if I may so speak) and there will be so much difference between what it is now, and what it will be one day, as there is between a fair Virgin when she is but twelve years old and when she is eighteen. And yet 'tis hard to imagine that any thing can be added to it; and when any one walks there, he so forgets himself that he cannot retire. Indeed (as it is fit to return to the source of things) in this Garden one cannot but think with pleasure on the worth and virtue of him that has render'd it such as it is, who in his great employments has dis∣play'd all the grand Qualities of his wit and courage, and who by his justice, humanity, and magnificence has found the art to oblige the happy and miserable, and to be the Protector of all virtuous persons, ill∣treated by fortune, as well as of the Sciences and ex∣cellent Arts.

Ha! Theanor (said Amilcar perceiving he had done speaking) I am infinitely oblig'd to you for having so well describ'd Valterra; I confess, I am charm'd with it; the beauties of the Vally of Tempe are not comparable to those you have describ'd, the Country of Elis has nothing that approaches them; Athens, Corinth, Thebes, Carthage, Babylon, and Rome have nothing so admirable; nor does all the Earth afford a more excellent place. But how rare so∣ever it be, I should rather chuse to have the mind and capacity of Cleonymus than his fair House.

After this, Aemilius having confirm'd that which Theanor had related, they went to Horse again. But because they had stay'd a very long time in that place they were overtaken by night. So that in the midst of a thick Wood Amilcar unawares separated himself from Theanor and Aemilius. He stray'd two or three miles; but at length the Moon rising, he found the right way again, and saw he was not far from Prae∣neste which he perceiv'd upon the top of a hill. Which hill has this particularity, that being environ'd with divers others less high, all their tops seem to form a kind of a Crown, which makes a very handsom sight; and therefore some affirm that this place was hereto∣fore call'd Stephane which signifies a Crown; and others Polystephane which signifies in Greek many Crowns; for Praeneste was of a Greek foundation, and built (as the inhabitants pretend) by a son of Ulysses and Circe: but others ascribe its foundation to another cause. But be it how it will, Amilcar ar∣riving there observ'd the hope of Peace began to re∣vive commerce; for there was an infinite number of strangers there, and all places appointed for the lodg∣ing of such as came to consult the Lots were so full, that he could not be entertain'd there. So he went to the Quarters of Telantus, who receiv'd him very civilly, and there he found one of the most intimate Friends of the illustrious Amalthea, whose name was Cleontus son of the sage Timantus, and who by his virtue and a thousand excellent Qualities deserv'd the esteem of all that knew him. And therefore Amilcar was very joyful to see him and embrace him. I did not think (said Telantus, observing in what manner they convers'd together) two persons of so contrary

humors, could have been such pleasant company to∣gether. No, no (answer'd Amilcar) do not deceive your self by apparences: Cleontus has indeed a seri∣ous air, a wise, and sufficiently melancholy deport∣ment; but for all this seeming coldeness, if you con∣sider his eyes well, you will oftentimes see a judicious smile there, which will convince you that he does not hate mirth in another so much as you believe. I know well (added he) he is more Philosopher than I, he passes better with solitude, he would Sacrifice all the pleasures of the world for glory, and will have Reason be absolute Mistress of his life. But for all this he complyes with such a friend as I; and though he suffers not folly in his own heart, yet he suffers it in that of a Friend, provided it be innocent and agreea∣ble; in a word, it may be said Cleontus is capable of being whatever he pleases. He would be very apt to be extremely amorous if he pleas'd, he would be am∣bitious if he were minded, he is learned because he would be so, he makes Verses as well as Anacreon, he is able to make Laws of Friendship; and, in fine, I know nothing which he could not discharge with ap∣plause. But wisdom (added Amilcar) is his Ma∣ster-piece. He might be even as violent as Timantus, though he appears always serene, but he likes better to preserve an even and an equal temper, which in∣deed is very amiable. You see (answer'd Cleontus smiling) that to verifie what you say, I hear my own praises quietly; but to divert you from them, I will inform you that the charming Niece of Amalthea is married, and I was at a little Feast which preceeded her Nuptials, and was the most jovial one in the world. I beseech you (said Amilcar) make me understand all that you know of that charming person. She has married (answer'd Cleontus) a man of high Quality, who is tall, well proportion'd, and has a very good aspect; he is call'd Perianthus; he began to go to the War in the fourteenth year of his age, so that though he is yet but two and twenty, he has serv'd eight Campagnes already with honor. In the first en∣counter he was present at, he was wounded and taken prisoner; but this did not discourage him, but on the contrary, he lov'd glory the better. But it is not to be wonder'd that he is couragious, of a brave ge∣nius, and mov'd with a great number of excellent Qualities, for he is son of a man whose reputation for Valour and Gallantry is known over all the World; and in fine, that fair Clarista could not have a better match. I am very glad to understand this a∣greeable news (reply'd Amilcar) but to speak freely, I cannot believe that a Marriage-Feast could have been agreeable; therefore you will do me a pleasure to tell me the manner of that you speak of. I will content your curiosity (answer'd Cleontus) Imagine then, that there was a Galeot painted, guilded, and adorn'd with Streamers, in which there was an Anti-chamber and a Chamber curiously painted and guilded. The pavement of the Chamber of the Poope was white blew, the Tapistry green and silver. The Company was in these three places, and the Musick was towards the Prow. We departed from the City about evening, and went to a fair House belonging to the Young Prince of Syracusa; where we arriv'd a little be∣fore night. There we were entertain'd with a sump∣tuous feast, in which was both order and abundance; after which we walk'd in the Gardens by the noise of fountains which was mix'd with Musick and Discourse; and for a happy presage of this Love, it thunder'd and lightned as long as the Company was upon the way returning home: and which was remarkable, assoon as we were arriv'd, there follow'd a terrible rain; so that it may be said Heaven had a kind respect for us. The great commendation of this Feast was, it had nothing at all of Ceremony, no more than the Mar∣riage-day. For this second Feast was made with such order and magnificence in the stately Palace of Amal∣thea, that never was any seen better contriv'd. Since that admirable Lady had the ordering of it (answer'd Amilcar) I believe all that you say; for she can ne∣ver do any thing but what is worthy to be admir'd. But I admire her chiefly for the choice of her friends, for certainly the sentiments of people are best known thereby; and according to the humor I am of, I should more glory in being the friend of Amalthea, than the Favorite of a great King, that had no exquisite judgment.

After this Amilcar inquir'd concerning Berelisa, Clidamira, and Anacreon, and then of Mutius who was the occasion of this journey. As for Berelisa and Clidamira (answer'd Telantus) they are in perfect health; but they have not consulted the Lots yet, be∣cause 'tis the custom to Sacrifice first. And as for Anacreon, he was made on Ode since he came hither, which is without doubt a very excellent one; the sub∣ject of it, is, That riches avail nothing against death. But, for Mutius, I can give you no information con∣cerning him: not that 'tis impossible that he may be here without my knowing it; for so great a number of people have arriv'd within these two days, that he may easily be here and I not know so much. But if he is (added he) I shall soon know it; for to morrow all that would know their Destinies write their names; and so I promise you to give you an account in a little time. After this, Telantus thank'd Amilcar for having given him the knowledge of Berelisa, Clidamira, and Anacreon; for since Fortune first drew unhappy per∣sons to Praeneste, there never arriv'd any here, whose conversation has been more charming; so that Be∣relisa and Clidamira have already been visited by all the Virtuoso's of the City. Amilcar then having a new impatience to see these two amiable per∣sons, motion'd to Telantus to go thither after supper; and he not opposing the proposal, they went together to visit them. By the way, they met with Anacreon, who joyn'd himself with them: but when Amilcar enter'd into Berelisa's chamber, he was much sur∣pris'd to see so fair and great a company there; for there were eight or ten very amiable women, and almost as many men of quality, whose air and physiognomy spoke them ingenious, and in a corner an old Thus∣can Soothsayer, who was entertaining himself amongst this great company. Berelisa and Clidamira were ve∣ry joyful to see Amilcar, and testifi'd as much to him in words extreme obliging. Their looks no doubt at first askt him news of Artemidorus; but their mouths enquir'd of the generous action of Clelia, of which they had already heard some confus'd report. Amilcar satisfi'd their curiosity; and to content them absolutely, he employ'd his discourse so, as that he many times nam'd Artemidorus, and that in such a way, as gave them to understand that he was in better health than when they left Rome; he also found means to deliver a Letter of that Prince to Berelisa without being observ'd. But after this, Amilcar a little more exactly consider'd all this fair company than he had done: 'Tis certainly my good fortune which brought me hither (said he) and I account it so much the better (added he) because I find more than I

expected. For I imagin'd, none but unfortunate peo∣ple with melancholy faces were to be found at Prae∣neste; and yet I see fair persons here, who have bright and sparkling eyes, and agreeable aspects; and men who have not the countenances of the unhappy. If all unfortunate persons had pale complexions, sunk eyes, and a melancholy air (answer'd Anacreon) not only this company which appears to you so fair, would not be such, but all the world would seem terrible. For they who have no infelicities make themselves some; and from the greatest Kings in the world to the most miserable slaves, all complain and murmure against Fortune: 'tis in vain that she makes presents to men; they turn her favours into poyson, they have that with∣in themselves which destroys their felicity, and seek∣ing it always without, they take no care to find it in their own hearts. Yet methinks (said Amilcar) all that is needful to make men happy is in the Universe: but 'tis certainly (added he) their extravagant desires transposing the order of things, cause them to be dis∣gusted with what they enjoy, and to wish that which they have not. That which you see is true (answer'd Telantus) but yet something further must be added to it: for the cause that there are so few people hap∣py, is, because men make desires to themselves which Nature alone does not give them. What I say to you (added he) I say to my self, and against my self; since 'tis true that almost all men do not busie them∣selves only in seeking such things as they have need of, and are fit for them, but chiefly such as they believe the opinion of the world requires them to seek. So that without confining themselves to follow Reason alone, they desire to content that famous Chimera call'd Opinion, and mind more what will be said of them if they do not advance themselves above their Ancestors, than their own quiet. How many men are there which would be contented with the patrimony of their fathers, if they did not think that their rela∣tions, their neighbours, and all that knew them, would esteem them less in an indifferent than in a high for∣tune? and nevertheless these people who seek so much to content the opinion of others, desire a thing im∣possible. For Opinion is the most mutable thing in the world; and if you would know how different the opinions of men are, it needs only to oblige all that are present to make Wishes; and I am confident, if all those that compose this company, speak sincerely, you will observe so great a diversity of opinions a∣mongst them, that you know it is sufficiently difficult to be capable of happiness. But seeing there is so great a variety of sentiments (said Berelisa) how then can there be any certain opinion which is establisht in the world, and thence forth holds the place of a Law? 'Tis because the multitude of men (answer'd Amilcar) is so great, that there cannot be so great a number of contrary opinions as of men. So that such as resemble one another being united, there results from them a certain general opinion in every Nation, which prevails over the rest. But this does not hinder but that even they who compose this opinion have opinions in a manner peculiar to themselves. For my part (said Clidamira) I do not believe that if all the company were oblig'd to wish something, you would find so great a diversity of wishes as you imagine: for I am perswaded all the Ladies would wish for great beauty, and almost all the men to reign in some part of the world, and to be Kings. I do not agree to what you say (answer'd Amilcar) for as for my part, I speak sincerely, I would not be a King; and I should account it more noble to wish to be worthy to be one; besides, I know Royalty has a thousand con∣sequences enemies to liberty, which would strangely disgust me. For it must be had in mind, that Kings can never do any thing but what will be known, that the least of their actions is publick, that they can scarce ever discern those who love their condition from such as love their persons, that they seldom know the truth unless they divine it; that ceremony attends them every where; that they are always encompassed with self-interested flatterers; that they never have any great pleasures but openly, which to prudent persons are many times great troubles: not to reckon the cares requir'd to the well-governing of a State, or the shame there is in governing it ill. But, which chiefly makes me averse to be a King, is the thought, that it would ne∣ver be permitted me to be idle. And yet an idle life has something so sweet in it, that I could never resolve to renounce idleness, as I ought to do, to reign with glory. For if an idle Gallant were a King, and enjoy'd the same idleness, he would be a good-for-nought, un∣worthy of his dignity. Wonder not then, amiable Clidamira, if I am not of your mind. For my part (said Anacreon) if I may advise, every one of us shall wish something according to our inclinations, and we will leave Amilcar the liberty to condemn or approve the wishes we shall make; and after every one has de∣clar'd their wishes, he shall tell his own. I account this proposal of Anacreon a very agreeable motion (said Berelisa.) After which, all the company having ap∣prov'd it, Amilcar said he would do as he was desir'd; and turning himself towards a man of quality of Tar∣quinia, who was next him towards his right hand, he ask'd him what he wisht. To be as rich as I would (an∣swer'd he) for we have no desires but we may satisfie with riches. You should have added, (answer'd Amil∣car) to be rich without being covetous: for without this circumstance, your wish, in stead of rendring you happy, would render you the slave of your trea∣sures. For my part (said Clidamira) I am in haste to tell that I would wish to be without contradicti∣on the handsomest person in the world. You ought withal to have wish'd to be always such (answer'd Amilcar) for I think there is nothing more diffi∣cult than for a person that has been perfectly a Fair, to inure her self to bear contentedly the decay of her beauty: and besides, you wish a thing impossi∣ble, when you wish to be without contradiction the handsomest person in the world; for every body judges of beauty according to their particular fancie; so that none can be universally acknowledg'd for the handsomest person in the world: moreover, amiable Clidamira, you would have a reign of too few years; for the greatest beauty passes very swiftly away; and I account you more happy, to be infinitely charming, than to be infinitely handsome. You see (added he, smiling) I believe your words more than my own eyes; for if I gave credit to them, I should tell you that you enjoy what you wish'd, and are the hand∣somest person in the world. However it be (said she) if you please, ask Berelisa what she wishes. To be very well lov'd, and not to love at all, or not much (an∣swer'd she, beholding Clidamira.) Ha! charming Berelisa (answer'd Amilcar) you make the most un∣just wish in the world: for what pleasure would you have in being lov'd, if you did not love? consider therefore, I beseech you, and make a more equitable wish. For my part (said a man of condition of Valter∣ra, who had a pale countenance and a languishing air)

I should wish to be always in most perfect health. Your wish is assuredly very good (answer'd Amilcar) for health is the beginning of all pleasures: but when it is alone, 'tis a benefit we are not too sensible of, and sometimes serves only to cause us more ardently to wish all the other pleasures which we cannot enjoy. For my part (said one of his friends who was next him, and had the meen of a brave man) I should like well enough to be one of those subduers of Mon∣sters, like Hercules, who run through all the world with their swords in their hands, destroy Gyants, fight with Lyons, deliver ravisht Ladies, conquer Cities, relieve Kingdoms, and who though they travel with∣out train or equipage, never have need of any thing. This is no doubt sufficiently pleasant (answer'd Amil∣car) and if Herminius were here, he would be of this sentiment; for he loves to do good to all the world; and he hates injustice so much, that he would take great delight in causing equity to reign every where, without having need of any thing besides himself. But having well thought upon it; I find it sufficiently diffi∣cult; and he is not a subduer of Monsters that desires it, for all Monsters will not always suffer themselves to be subdu'd. As for me (said a Lady who had a very agreeable countenance and a melancholy air) I should wish to be always with persons whom I love, and never to see others. I perceive, Madam (said Amilcar to her) you cannot but have a tender heart, and I assure my self you would not have been sorry that these Verses had been made for you.

Let me my lovely Iris sighs but hear, And circumscribe all my desires in her; Let me in gentle peace with her abide, I care for nought the Sun surveys beside.

I confess it (answer'd she) for I know nothing so sweet as always to see what we love, and nothing so troublesome as scarce ever to see those who sensibly affect our hearts. I cannot say (reply'd Amilcar) but your wish is very agreeable; however, a little variety does very well. For my part (said Anacreon) I will include a thousand wishes in one, and wish to be sensible of all pleasures without exception, since without this life has no sweetness, the source of all pleasures being in the heart of those that receive them. For in vain should an excellent Musician sing, if his hearers have not delicate ears to understand him well. For my part (said Amilcar) I think it would have been better to desire to enjoy all pleasures, than to wish to be barely sensible or capable of them; but every one wishes according to his fancie. As for me (added Telantus) I am constrain'd to confess that I am sensible only of glory and pleasure, and between the two, if my Reason is for one, my heart is for the other; therefore not being able to determine my self, I would only desire nothing. This wish is very Philosophical (answer'd Amilcar) and one would think it were the most reasonable in the world; because he that desires nothing has need of no∣thing. But after having well consider'd it, I con∣clude that a man that should desire nothing, would pass his life in such excessive tranquillity, that it something approach near insensibility. Therefore this wish shall never be mine. As for me (said a person of the Country roughly, who had a quick imagination and a rude briskness) I should wish to have the best wit in the world. Alas! (answer'd Amilcar hastily) you know not well what you de∣sire, when you wish to be a fine wit; there is no∣thing more decry'd in the world at present, and I had rather be a slave than a rare wit. They that are such with judgment, conceal it; they who have not wherewith to support this Quality, are so impertinent in it, that except such as laugh at them, no body de∣sires their conversation. Not but that I consent with all my heart thereto if you are desirous to be such (added Amilcar, looking upon him who made this wish) and it is only requisite that you tell us what kind of fine wit you would be; for there some of the first order, others secundary; some of the Court, others of the City and the Country, and some fine wits too among the meaner people. Speak then if you please, to the end I may understand your wish, and know a little more precisely whether I ought to approve or condemn it. For being I am at this time Censor of the wishes of the Company, it be∣hoves me to acquit my self punctually of the Office. Amilcar spoke this with a certain serious air which caus'd all that heard him to laugh, and which so struck the poor wit out of countenance, that he an∣swer'd so softly as no body scarce heard his answer. Wherefore Amilcar turning towards a man of Peru∣sia of a handsome personage, ask'd him what he wisht? Not to be in love (answer'd he.) Believe me (re∣ply'd Amilcar roughly) you had better wish to be dead; for to speak truth, to live without Love is a very uncomfortable life. I believe that which you say (answer'd another man of Clusium) and I know it by experience; and therefore I would with all my heart be always amorous. But I have endeavour'd it these four years unprofitably, and I have su'd above a hun∣dred times to a person whom I once lov'd;

Give me my Love and my desires again, And I therewith my pleasures shall regain.

But he that is amorous (reply'd the other) cannot spend one day without discontent. But he that loves no∣thing (said the man of Clusium) is incapable of any sensible pleasure. Be it how it will (said Amilcar) I account the last wish more reasonable than the other; because the first over throws the order of the World, and opposes Nature which inspires Love into all the Universe. But to proceed (added Amilcar, addressing to a handsome Lady of Praeneste) What is your wish? To have many true Friends (answer'd she) for I imagine there is nothing so sweet. You should have desir'd (said Amilcar) that there were such, and then that you had them: therefore, if you believe me, desire rather to have many Lovers; for with those eyes of yours it will be easier for you to have Lovers than friends. But when we have Lovers (answer'd she) they forsake us. But when we believe we have Friends (reply'd Amil∣car) we find oftentimes that we have not; but to speak truth (added he) there is deceit in every thing. As for what concerns me (said another Lady) I would wish to see that which is in the hearts of all the world. No doubt there would be pleasure enough (answer'd Amilcar) in penetrating into the hearts of such as have an outside of wisdom, and a thousand follies hidden in their Souls; of those hypo∣crites who make semblance of having virtue, and make use of it only to hide their vices; of those coy Gossips in apparence who are unfaithful to their husbands; of those deceitful Friends, who intend to destroy those they Caress most; and of those

Wantons who have a thousand little Loves at a time: but withal you would see so many follies, wicked∣nesses, frauds, and treacheries, that I think it better to wish to know ones own heart well than those of others. For my part (said a man with a fierce aspect) I should wish to be the most valiant man in the world; And I to be the most eloquent (added another.) Elo∣quence and Valour (answer'd Amilcar) are two ex∣cellent things; but 'tis good to wish at the same time to know how they ought to be us'd; for to speak truth, they are a strange sort of people who under∣stand nothing but killing of men; and I am much of the sentiment of those of Agrigentum, who have a Proverbial saying amongst them, That Valour is like salt, good for nothing by it self, and yet good for al∣most all things. But as for Eloquence, it is not less necessary to know the right use of it: for an Eloquent person who declaims always in conversation is very troublesome; and as often as any one wishes Elo∣quence, he ought to remember to wish judgment with it. As for me (said a Greek who was present) I should much desire to write such excellent things as I might believe would descend to Posterity, and that with glory; and I am assur'd, if Anacreon who hears me would speak truth, he would confess that the thought of being one day translated into various Languages and commended in several Ages, is infinitely sweet to him. I assure you (answer'd Anacreon smiling) if you knew that pleasure by experience, you would not account it so great as you imagine; for at the same instant that I think perhaps my Works will live a long time, I think perhaps I shall not, but shall in∣fallibly live less than they. So that this chagrin strangely troubles the pleasure of this pretended im∣mortality. Anacreon is very equitable in speaking as he does (said Amilcar) for those pleasures are pro∣perly the pleasures of fancy; not but that I know well 'tis almost a general weakness to affect to have our names live; but to speak truth, upon a serious consideration 'tis but a folly: for cannot we judge by what is said of those that have written before us, what will be said after us of those that write at this time? 'Tis true, they are sometimes commended, but yet they are blam'd at least as much as they are prais'd. They are robb'd, and ill translated, and besides, though it were not so, what concernment can we take in things which shall happen when we are no longer con∣cern'd amongst the living? Believe me then, let us be contented with present pleasures, let us enjoy our glory whilst we live, let us seek to obtain the prai∣ses of such as are alive, and let us not care for being commended by people not yet in being, whom we know not and never can know. No doubt there are a thousand agreeable things in the Odes of Anacreon, which will not be understood two thousand years hence, because Manners, Customs, and Gallantry will be chang'd with the Ages. Nevertheless, I allow that people may by the by comfort themselves in some manner against Death, which the thought of having some priviledge above the Vulgar, and leaving a name which does not die with them; but let us not account this amongst the most exquisite pleasures, nor so affirmatively ascribe to our selves an imaginary immortality, which perhaps posterity will not give us: for I assure you, every one does not live in this manner who desires it, and many people think they write for immortality, whose works will die. As for me (said a very amiable Virgin who was sister to that Lady of Praeneste who had spoken before) I am confident my wish will please all the Company. Tell it quickly then (said Amilcar.) 'Tis to be invisible (answer'd she.) Ha! Madam (reply'd Amilcar) this is the first time no doubt that so fair a person as you made this wish. In good earnest (added she) I know nothing more agreeable than this. But what would you do with your invisibility? (said Amilcar smiling.) I would make use of it (answer'd she) to know the secrets of all the World, and especially to know truly what they who do not love me speak of me. As for my part (reply'd Amilcar) I have no cu∣riosity to know what my Enemies say, for I easily imagine it. But I confess to you, I should be ravisht to know that my Friends spoke of me in the same man∣ner when I am not with them as when I am. For ex∣perience has taught me, there are few people but upon some occasions make railery upon their Friends, or at least endure to hear it made in their presence. Yet this is very culpable (answer'd Berelisa.) But when we have Friends (said Clidamira) who have certain natural defects which cannot be conceal'd (as defor∣mity, or the like) what ought we to do? Never speak of them (answer'd Berelisa.) But if others speak of them (reply'd Clidamira) 'tis necessary to agree with them. When we cannot contradict them (answer'd Berelisa) we must blame them of injustire in accusing vertuous persons of defects not in their power to amend, rather than to commend them for a thousand good Qualities they are indu'd with: and thereupon we ought to take occasion to praise them, and exaggerate all that is commendable in them; for there is nothing more unworthy and unjust than to upbraid any one with his natural defects. However it be (said Amilcar) let us return to invi∣sibility, of which various uses may be made. One might thereby be present at all the Counsels of Kings, and Master of the secrets of all the world; and no∣thing besides the thoughts alone could escape the knowledge of an invisible person. It would be good in affairs of State and War, but chiefly in Gallantry; for we might deceive all Husbands, Mothers, Aunts, and Rivals: but being by ill hap, this wish is one of the most difficult wishes in the world to be accom∣plisht, let us see what the remainder of the Com∣pany wishes. For my part (said a man of Ardea, who was very rich and ingenious) I would wish to have no Envyers. You would then (answer'd Amilcar) have no vertue, be poor, deformed, and miserable; for whoever has good fortune, merit, and virtue, has Envyers infallibly. As for me (said an amiable person, who sate next Berelisa) I should wish more to be an accomplisht man than an accomplisht woman. As for this wish (answer'd Amilcar) I find nothing to say against it; for though women are infinitely more amiable than men, and I love them a thousand times better, yet, I judge, Madam, that you have wish'd very judiciously: for were there no other reason than that which allows us to use Courtship and Gallantry, and forbids it you, I should account your wish very just. For my part (added another Lady) I should like well of immortality. I am wholly of your mind (answer'd Amilcar) and this wish is the best of all; for it would be great pleasure to see the whole Universe continually change, being unalterable ones self. But to speak truth, this happi∣ness appears so impossible, that I have not the power to wish it; and all that I can say, is, that this immor∣tality is to be prefer'd to that of Writings. You have reason (reply'd a man who had the whole air

of a profess'd Scholar of which the world is full) therefore without wishing immortality which belongs to the Gods alone, I should wish only to be very learned, and to be able to understand all Nature. For there would be great pleasure in a perfect knowledge of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, in penetrating into the Centre of the Earth, there to the production of gold, in knowing the Qualities and Virtues of Minerals, Plants, Herbs, and being skill'd even in the knowledge of the least Cockles in the Sea, and the least Flies upon the Earth: great trees, shrubs, monsters, domestick Animals, Seas, Rivers, Brooks and Fountains, and to be ignorant of none of all Natures operations. That which you say is admirable (answer'd Amilcar) but though this wish is one of the best that can be made, yet it ought not to be abus'd. For I once knew a man, who understood as well as possible the situa∣tion and course of the Stars, who admirably knew Simples, who discours'd very well of the nature of Winds, who had observ'd that the salt of Agrigentum contrary to the manner of all other salt of the world, hardens in the Water, and melts in the Sun; that there are Pismires in certain Countries like Elephants; who discours'd very well of the Rainbow, who knew even the particularities of the love of Crocodiles; and who for all this, was a sottish man, his mind was always in Heaven, or the Abyss of the Earth, or the bottom of the Sea, to find out the secrets of Nature, and never was where it ought to be. He knew a hun∣dred thousand things which were not necessary, but knew not that his wife was a wanton; and in fine, he was ignorant in morality and the art of living decent∣ly in the world; which is a thousand times more ne∣cessary to be known than the love of Crocodiles. All the Company having laugh'd at what Amilcar said, some time pass'd without any wishing; but at length a very accomplisht man of Ceres said his wish was more reasonable than that of all the rest, since he wisht nothing but to be lov'd by that which he lov'd. This wish is very reasonable (answer'd A∣milcar) but being you seem sufficiently worthy to be lov'd, you might rather have made another wish, and left it to your merit to cause you to obtain that which you desire. As for me (said a sprightly young per∣son) I would wish to be able to live without sleep, for tis a great loss of time. I confess it (answer'd Amilcar) but however, though all the World sleeps every day, yet they have time enough to be weary, and therefore sleep, if you will take my Counsel. But that you may sleep with pleasure (added he smi∣ling) and have delightful Dreams, suffer an accom∣plisht man who does not displease you, to say to you every day, I love you, and no doubt you will find no cause to complain of sleep more. For my part (said a man of good years) I should greatly desire to be a wise Law-giver, like Solon, Lycurgus, Zamolxis, and divers others. This wish is something commend∣able (answer'd Amilcar) but I confess, if I were a great and illustrious Maker of Laws, I should have great regret in foreseeing that infallibly they would be ill observ'd; for there is such a great perversness amongst men, that as soon as a Law is made, all that ought to follow it, seek only how to infringe it with impunity. And besides, to speak truth, I account it more glorious to obey the Law than to have made it; for it is much easier to command in such occasions than to obey; and moreover 'tis a general maxime, that good actions are worth more than good words. After this, there remain'd only Amilcar and the old Tuscan Soothsayer who had wishes to make. But this venerable old man would make no wish at all, and said men were too blind to know what good was fit for them: after which he continu'd to hear attentively what was said in the Company. It was then requir'd of Amilcar to make his wish as others had done. I will (answer'd he) but I must first see whether all the Company have wish'd: and so he taking writing-Tables, he set down on one side all the wishes of the Ladies, and on the other all those of the men, in this manner.

The Wishes of the Ladies.

To be the handsomest Person in the world. To be extremely lov'd, and not love at all, or very little. To be always with Persons one loves, and to converse with no others. To see what is in the hearts of all the World. To be invisible. To be an accomplisht man in stead of being an accomplisht woman. To be immortal. To be able to live without sleep.

The Wishes of the Men.

To be a King. To be as rich as one would. To be always in health. To be a subduer of Monsters like Hercules, and a Deliverer of Kingdoms and ravish'd Ladies. To be sensible of all pleasures without ex∣ception. To desire nothing. To be the best Wit in the World. Not to be amorous. To be always in love. To be the most valiant man in the World. To be the most eloquent. To be the author of ingenious composures which may descend to posterity. To have no Enviers. To be very Learned. To be lov'd by whom we love. To be a wise Law-giver.

When Amilcar had writ down all these Wishes, he first counted them, and then the whole company, and found there was none but himself to wish: where∣fore being much urg'd to speak, he answer'd, that it was not a thing to be done with precipitation: for since (said he) the business is to make a Wish, I will

make one so great, that imagination cannot go beyond it, for to think to desire one thing which may suffice to render a man happy, is a strange mistake. Therefore to make a handsome Wish, I will make a handsome story, and tell you in particular how I would be if I were master of my Destiny and events. Assu∣redly (said Clidamira) he is going to wish to be lov'd by an hundred thousand fair persons at once. Pardon me, Madam (answer'd Amilcar) I am not; and I de∣clare to you, that I renounce my debonair humor for an hour only, and am going to speak sincerely to you, and in the greatest earnestness in the world. Know then, that for a more noble reason than that I menti∣on'd at the beginning of this conversation, though I could dispose my lot as I pleas'd, I would not be born a King: for I account it no great glory to do no more but succeed a father, and I think it is something more sweet for a man to be the builder of his own grandeur, and to owe nothing but to himself. You would then be a conqueror (reply'd Clidamira) which many times signifies an Usurper. By no means (said Amilcar) and I have at present a greater fancy than that: but I beseech you suffer me to speak, my friend, and then let the company judge of my Wish. Know then, I would be neither King nor conquering Usurper; but as for birth, I would be of a Royal race, and that the changes which arrive successively in the world, had my family, and left me scarce any other advantage besides nobility of bloud; I would be also descended of vertuous Parents, and be indu'd with great vertue my self. I confess too I would be a hand∣some personage, have a noble air, a happy physio∣gnomy, and a very high aspect. As for Wit, I would have an infinite portion, but especially of that of the chief order, capable of great things, of governing Na∣tions, counselling Kings, and knowing all the interests of Monarchies, the means to manage great Wars, and the art of grand Negotiations, of penetrating into the secrets of all hearts; and above all, I would have the faculty of perswading, which is almost the most neces∣sary of all, for one that is in the highest imployments. I would also in the beginning of my life go to the War, and give proofs of my courage: and to raise my self a reputation on the sudden, I would have For∣tune by some extraordinary way cause me to be be∣tween two Armies ready to joyn Battel; and that for the first essays of my address and eloquence, I had the pleasure to cause these two enemy-Armies to lay down their Arms, and the glory to establish peace between two great Princes. In the next place, I would wish there were a Kingdom which were the sanctuary of the Sciences and excellent Arts, in which there were a great and excellent Minister, who by a thousand glori∣ous actions had merited the admiration of all the earth, to the end that being lov'd and esteem'd by him, I might of a sudden come to be consider'd in that great state. Moreover, I should take an extreme pleasure (if the Gods pleas'd that he di'd before me) that he left me to the King his Master as a faithful servant, and capable of assisting him to support the burden of af∣fairs: and, to complete my happiness, I would that that King at his death left me the government of the young Prince which were to succeed him, together with that of the whole State. But to signalize my Government the more, I would have a great War to manage; and that shortly after the death of the King, there were divers Cities taken, and many Battels won. Yet I would not have Fortune always favourable to me, and have none but easie successes, and without obstacles. On the contrary, I would see my Victo∣ries on a sudden interrupted by some great Insurrecti∣on of the people: I would, I say, that the Commo∣tion beginning in the heart of the State, I saw almost the whole Kingdom risen against me, and had a foreign and a civil War to manage at once. But in making this Wish, I would at the same time perfectly under∣stand the art to yield sometimes to the Tempest, there∣by to save the Ship from perishing; and be able to re∣establish a general calm, and cause the young Prince I serv'd to reign with glory, without employing that bloudy policy which is always follow'd with terrour and dread. But after I had calm'd this great storm within the State, I would win a thousand new advan∣tages over the foreign enemies, take many important Cities, and gain divers Battels; and then to crown all these grand actions with the most heroick action that ever was, I would after so many happy successes form the design of a Peace upon the field of Victory. But the more agreeably to surprise all the earth, I would make a great secret of this important negotiation, which should pass only between my self and the Mini∣ster of the King against whom the War was; and at length, when the Nations durst scarce hope a Peace, they should understand it was made. But for the conclu∣sion of this peace, I would not be unwilling to be a while in some small Island conferring with the Minister of the enemies; to the end I might in that place see Nations, Princes and Kings await with ardency the re∣solutions which should be taken in that little corner of earth. Moreover, I would corroborate this Peace by a happy Marriage of the young King I serv'd, and a fair Princess daughter of the enemy-King; that so thence∣forth I might see peace, plenty and pleasures return to∣gether, establish safety both on Land and Sea, reconcile to the interests of the State some illustrious Heroe whom Fortune had separated from them, and finally render the whole world happy. And to accomplish my own felicity, I would not marry at all, but I would there were a State in the world where the Prince reign'd by the election of the greatest and the wisest; and that I were advanc'd to that place, to reign there all the rest of my life. But I would also that that Soveraignty had some kind of authority over all others, and that I had power then to continue peace amongst all the Kings of the world. Thus not being born a King, I should reign innocently, and boast of having enjoy'd glory in all the different manners it can be possest.

Ah! Amilcar (cry'd the old sage Soothsayer, who had scarce spoken before) it belongs to you only to wish; I think you are inspir'd by heaven: for having consulted the Lots, to know what will be the destiny of Rome now Tarquin is expell'd thence, I have found that it will one day be subject to a man of the same name with one of the first ancestors of Romulus, to such a man as you desire to be, who shall be descended from the ancient Kings of Sicily. But this will not come to pass till a long time after Rome shall have been a tri∣umphant Common-wealth, and shall have been once again govern'd by Soveraigns, amongst which ma∣ny Heroes shall be counted, This man spoke thus with such Majestie, that himself seem'd really inspir'd, and his discourse made such an impression upon the minds of all that heard him, that they doubted not but what he said would one day be accomplish'd; and all the company confess'd that it was not possible to wish any thing more great and glorious, and that all their own wishes together deserv'd not to be compar'd to the destiny of that great man.

But whilst they were speaking thus, the old Sooth∣sayer sate down again in his place, and return'd to his ordinary silence, without concerning himself longer in what the company discours'd of, which soon after broke up and retir'd. The next morning Amilcar went to the Temple of Fortune, of which he admir'd the beauty and magnificence. In divers parts of this Temple, this Goddess was seen represented in many various manners, and all round about it were seen great Tables in which all the events she uses to cause were pourtray'd, sometimes advancing the little, and depressing the great. In one place destroying Em∣pires, in another founding Kingdoms, and appearing always very powerful and capricious. Amilcar guided by an old Priest, saw also a certain place at the bottom of the Temple, where through a door of grates he was shew'd a statue of Iupiter in his childhood sitting with Juno between the arms of Fortune, to which marry'd women paid great devotion. He was told that here∣tofore a man of great vertue was inspir'd to go break a huge stone, which after long deferring he did, though all the world laugh'd at him; and that he had no sooner touch'd the stone, but miraculously a great breach was made in it, at which issued forth the famous Lots which decide the Destinies of men. He was also told, that at the same time there was an Olive∣tree from whence issu'd forth abundance of honey; from which Omens the Soothsayers foretold that these Lots would become very famous. It was added too, that the Soothsayers caus'd a Coffer to be made of that Olive-tree, wherein to inclose the Lots, which were nothing but a great number of little Oaken Tablets, ingrav'd with several distinct words in anci∣ent Characters. But I beseech you (said Amilcar to him he convers'd with) what course do they take to consult these Lots? First, a Sacrifice is offer'd to For∣tune (said he who instructed Amilcar) to request her to forget all the reproaches the persons have spoken against her; for it is presuppos'd men are so unjust, that there is not one, even of those to whom she gives most of the favours which are in her power, but some∣times in his life complains of her. 'Tis true (an∣swer'd Amilcar) there is no Deity towards whom respect is so often lost, as this; and for my part, I confess, I have utter'd reproaches against her in four or five Languages, both in Verse and in Prose, and so I have great need of the Sacrifice you speak of. But what further is to be done, to consult the Lots? I have already told you (answer'd the other) that they are kept in a Coffer made of the Sacred Olive-tree I mention'd, and I shall add that this Coffer is plac'd at the feet of that Statue of Fortune which embraces young Iupiter, and that after the person has signifi'd what he desires to know, a young Boy draws at a ven∣ture several of these Tablets upon which the distinct words are written. After which, the Child having placed them in a row, the Soothsayer who is to unfold the Lots, reads them, and there finds the sence which he unfolds, but with such exactness that it is mira∣culous.

Amilcar having thank'd him that had so well instru∣cted him, observ'd that the Temple was divided by a great Balustrade or Rail; on one side of which were all the men, and on the other all the women, and at the upper end stood two Priests who writ the names of such as intended to consult the Lots concerning their Fortune. Now whereas Telantus had promis'd A∣milcar to give him an account whether Mutius would cause his name to be written, he did not stay to behold the men, but only the Ladies to whom he might speak any thing over the Balustrade, it not be∣ing forbidden to speak in this Temple when the Sa∣crifice was not in hand. Wherefore he set himself to consider the number of fair Strangers whom he saw in that place: and being he stood somewhat near him who inquir'd and writ down the names, he could hear those which they pronounc'd; so that after having heard a very great number, he beheld a lovely Wo∣man who arrested his eyes agreeably; and thereupon giving her ear, he heard that she was nam'd Aretaphile; and that she said she was of the Principality of Elis; for they are oblig'd to tell what Countrey they are of. Be∣ing desirous then to have some conversation with her, he observ'd she went and plac'd her self by the Ba∣lustrade about ten paces from him; and so he chang'd his station and went to salute her very civilly. I be∣seech you, Madam (said he to her in Greek) be pleas'd to give me liberty to ask you news of the Princess Elismonda, and I desire you tell me whether she be still as fair as she was on the day she gave the prizes at the Olympick Games. That Princess is still so young (answer'd Aretaphile) that her beauty can∣not be diminished; and so I can assure you, she was never more fair and charming, and when I came away she was at a fair house belonging to the Prince of Elis, which is call'd the Valley of Cupids. After this Amilcar obtain'd the permission of this fair person to go and visit her. But when he turn'd his head, he was much astonisht to see Lucilius, Hermi∣nius, Aemilius, and Spurius entering into the Tem∣ple; for when he departed from Rome, they made no account to go to Praeneste. He approacht towards them, and understood that Lucilius was sent by Por∣senna to consult the Lots of Praeneste concerning the present state of affairs; and he learnt by Herminius, that Aemilius, Spurius, and himself being upon the point to have a Quarrel, Publicola had hinder'd them from fighting, and engag'd them to come to this place, declaring to them nevertheless, that he left Valeria ab∣solute Mistress of her own destiny, and that he was so confident she would chuse equitably, that he be∣liev'd the Gods would approve his choice and make their will known. After this these New-comers went to cause their names to be written; but at the same time Amilcar beheld a man of a good personage and in mourning attire enter into the Temple, and observ'd that Clidamira chang'd colour thereat, and Berelisa seem'd amaz'd to see him. In effect it was Meleontus, who having pass'd through Rome to see the Prince Artemidorus was come to Praeneste, and accordingly caus'd his name to be written. Next, Amilcar beheld the jealous Damon with Acrisius; for Sicinius would not consult the Lots at Praeneste. But at length when this great number of Strangers of both Sexes had caus'd their names to be written, a Sacrifice was of∣fer'd by way of preparation to know the secrets of Fate the next day. As they were going out of the Temple, Telantus advertis'd Amilcar that the wicked Tullia had sent a man with great sums of money to corrupt him that was to expound the Lots, and cause him to give Lucilius such an answer as might perswade Porsenna to put Aronces and Clelia to death; but he assur'd him at the same time that nothing was to be fear'd, and that he to whom the address was made was a man of the most firm probity in the world. Amil∣car trembled at this wickedness of Tullia, but he hop'd to draw advantage from it. He acquainted Hermi∣nius with the matter, and having understood by

Telantus that Mutius did not present himself at the Temple, he went to the lodgings of Clidamira and Berelisa, where Meleontus arriv'd a moment after, for he did not think fit to accost them as they were going out of the Temple. Assoon as he enter'd, Be∣relisa askt him for whom he wore mourning. For the Prince of Leontium, Madam (answer'd he.) How (reply'd Clidamira wholly surpris'd) is the Prince of Leontium dead? He is certainly (said Meleontus) but with so great regret for not having well enough treated Artemidorus and the Princess Lysonice, that he commanded me at his death to come and testifie his last sentiments to them. And accordingly I came to Rome to obey him, and to conjure the Prince Ar∣temidorus to go and take possession of his Principa∣lity, to forget all things past, and to be my Protector. As he is very generous (added he) he has granted me all I desir'd of him, and charg'd me with two Letters which I deliver to you. In speaking this Me∣leontus gave one Letter of Artemidorus to Clidamira, and another to Berelisa. They both blusht as they receiv'd them, and could not refrain from beholding one another with an air a little jealous. But Berelisa's doubts excited by jealousie were soon dispell'd; for the Letter of the Prince Artemidorus was conceiv'd in these terms.

Artemidorus to Berelisa.

THough the Prince my Brother had ill-trea∣ted me, I am notwithstanding much af∣fected with his death: but now, Madam, that the Gods have given me power to testifie to you how much I love you, I declare to you that I will not reign at Leontium but with you, and no other shall ever reign in my heart. I have writ to Clidamira in such a strain as will cure you of all your unjust jealousies. How∣ever, I desire you to promote Meleontus interest with her; he has so well deported himself since the prince's death, that he deserves that you and I forget all the mischief he has done us. I beseech you, return to Rome assoon as you can; that when we have seen what will be the desti∣ny of Aronces, I may go and cause you to be ac∣knowledg'd princess of Leontium.

As Berelisa read this Letter, joy diffus'd it self from her eyes over all her countenance; and Clida∣mira, as she read hers, could not contain from blush∣ing with choler; for it was almost in these words.

Artemidorus to Clidamira.

YOu have reason, Madam, to have made choice of Meleontus for the object of your affection; therefore I will do him what service I can to gain your favour towards him. I have understood from his mouth what I knew before, that he is not so unacceptable to you but that he may hope to be happy if I protect him. I do so, Madam, and desire of you for him all the favours he is worthy of. I have formerly complain'd of it, and now I rejoyce at it; but there arrive so many other changes, that this ought not to surprize you. His fortune is suffi∣ciently good, to render yours happy. Do not therefore resist his affection and my requests; but believe I can never be more oblig'd to you than I shall be, if you reward his affection in the manner I desire.

Clidamira made as if she read this Letter over again, but in truth, she only took time to calm the trouble of her mind, and to deliberate what she should do. During which she concluded that Berelisa was going to be Princess of Leontium, and that Artemidorus being fully perswaded that she had had a beginning of Courtship with Meleontus, no longer believ'd that it was only for his sake, as she had endeavour'd to per∣swade him: Wherefore, considering that if she re∣jected Meleontus she would be without all support, and being an admirable dissembler, she recollected her self suddenly, and beholding Meleontus with an aspect something confus'd but not at all rude, The Prince speaks so obligingly of you (said she to him) that it is manifest he will obtain what he desires; but however we shall speak of it at a little more leisure. In the mean time Herminius and Amilcar were speaking to Berelisa, who shew'd them Artemidorus's Letter, as being her dearest Friends at Rome. So that they were very joyful to see that Fortune had at length done justice to her merit. But after Meleontus, Her∣minius, and Amilcar were gone away, Clidamira not being able to suppress her sentiments, I imagine (said she to Berelisa) you care no longer for consulting the Lots of Praeneste, and the Prince's Letter has given you whatever you account agreeable to your desires. 'Tis true (answer'd Berelisa) Artemidorus's Let∣ter is such as I could desire, but I conceive that which you have received ought not to displease you; for, to give you what you made choice of, is as I con∣ceive to do all that can be acceptable to you. Being you are yet but my sister in Law (reply'd Clidamira) and not Princess of Leontium, I must once in my life speak plainly to you, before I be oblig'd to bear you a respect which will not allow me to offend you.—But, no (added she) the manifestation of my anger will but augment your joy, and therefore I change my mind, and will never more speak to you of Ar∣temidorus, whom I will endeavor to hate, or at least not to love longer. As I can never cease to consider you as the wife of my Brother (said Berelisa) I will answer you without passion. Joy wonderfully swee∣tens the mind (answer'd Clidamira) and you have not been always so gentle when you were disconten∣ted. But however (added she, as she was going from her into a Closet in the same Chamber) if I can∣not be contented, I will at least make such shew of being so, that perhaps you who are really so, shall not seem so much. Berelisa smil'd at Clidamira's passi∣on, and went into the Chamber which was assign'd to her.

The next morning Amilcar diligently enquir'd for Mutius, and could learn no tidings of him; only he understood that there was an unknown person who had sent to desire the favour that his name might not be written amongst the rest, but to be heard last, when

the whole Ceremony of the multitude was finish'd; which could not be done in one day, there being too great a number of people this year in Praeneste. At break of day the Temple of Fortune was open, and two hours were by favour allotted for such as would cause their names to be written in order to consulting the Lots, during which the Temple was fill'd with people to hear a kind of Hymn sung by a very excel∣lent voice to the glory of Fortune. Whilst this was doing, a certain noise was heard about the Gate. Amilcar who had an universal curiosity turn'd his head and beheld a little Machine painted, gilded, and cover'd with a kind of little Canopy. It was sur∣rounded with Curtains, and carried by two slaves. Upon the top of this Canopy was the Pourtraict of a young and handsome man. He had a round Visage, blew eyes, neat, and agreeable, a carnation, and fresh Complexion, and a cheerful and sprightly as∣pect. At the bottom of this Pourtraict were seen these Verses:

Youthful and fair, this Picture courts your eye. Youthful and fair as this, so once was I. But envious Fate (by whose severe decree, No happiness can great and lasting be) So chang'd both face and body; there remains Of both but one dire Magazine of pains. A thousand ills my vexed limbs distort, But I unmov'd sustain their rude effort. And though confin'd in this sad place I lie, Yet round the spacious Globe my name doth flie.

The novelty of this Machine having surpriz'd all the Assembly, two Priests at the Gates of the Temple would have hindred the slaves that carried it, from pas∣sing, and requir'd him that was within it to descend and enter into the Temple. But a moment after, the Curtains were seen to open a little, and a voice some∣thing shrill but impetuous was heard to speak thus, No, no (said this Unknown) do not go about to cause me to descend, for 'tis in vain; and as people of high quality are seen to enter in Chariots into the Courts of Kings Palaces, so I have the priviledge to enter into the Chambers of Queens and Temples; for that you may know me well, I am the prime sick person in the World, and he alone that has been able to reconcile pain with joy. The Unknown spoke this with so fierce a tone, that he silenc'd the Priests, and they suffer'd the Machine to enter, which drew the eyes of the whole Assembly. But indeed a moment after, it was minded no more; because there ap∣pear'd a person so infinitely fair, that she attracted the general view. It was known by the livery of the slaves who follow'd her that she was the Wife of him that was in the Machine. She was young, ad∣mirably fair, and of a good stature; her name was Lyriana, she was of very noble Birth, and Fortune having been adverse to her Parents, she was in her infancy led by them into the remotest parts of Libya; from whence she return'd so fair and charming, that scarce any could be compar'd to her without doing her injury. Lyriana was tall and well proportion'd, but of that tallness which does not affright, but only adds to the grace of the person. She had a very clear and smooth Complexion, her hair was of a bright and agreeable chesnut, her Nose was well shap'd, and her Mouth well cut, she had a Noble, sweet, spright∣ly, and Majestical air; and to render her beauty more perfect and charming, she had the handsomest Eyes in the world, for they were black, sparkling, sweet, passionate, and full of spirit; their brightness had something I know not what, which cannot be express'd; a sweet melancholy sometimes appear'd in them amongst all her charms, yet mirth was visi∣ble in them at times, with all the attractives which joy can inspire. As for her mind, it seem'd made correspondent to her beauty; she spoke with a good grace naturally, and without affection. Yet her beauty though transcendent, made her not vain and proud: but joyning the charms of her vertue to those of her beauty and Wit, it might be said she deserv'd all the admiration which was had of her when she en∣ter'd into the Temple of Fortune. Amilcar was charm'd as soon as he beheld her, carefully inquir'd of those next him the name of this fair person, who was so advantageously spoken of to his. As for him that has married her (added he) I ask •••• news of him, for I do not doubt but he in the Machine is the famous Scaurus, who from a very goodly person in his youth, has been so chang'd by sicknesses that he cannot be known for the same man, and who by the pleasant∣ness of his humor and the firmness of his mind makes health to himself in spight of Nature, and preserves a joy which has render'd him capable of writing a thousand sprightly and divertising Composures, which serve for the pleasure of the illustrious Cleonymus and all accomplisht persons; and lastly, whose conversa∣tion is sought by a great number of Honorable people who frequent his house. 'Tis the very same (an∣swer'd one of those Amilcar was talking to) he lives at Clusium, where all illustrious Strangers go to visit him, as well as all the Persons of Quality of that Court. But, which is remarkable, he is never at a loss for subjects to divert himself and others. And whether he commends or blames, he always does it pleasantly, and with as much facility as wit. He con∣firms what you say of his merry humor (reply'd A∣milcar) by coming in his Machine into the Temple of Fortune: but to speak truth, I am very desirous to know what he will consult the Lots about. After this Amilcar beheld the slaves who carried the Ma∣chine, set it down before the Priest who writ the names. And then a slave drawing a curtain which hid Scaurus, it was seen that he did not at all resemble his Picture; and nevertheless, through all the altera∣tion that had befallen him, he seem'd still to have a certain laughing air which promis'd Wit. But, in fine, having caus'd his own name to be writ, and that of the fair Lyriana, he pull'd down his Curtain, and was carried away again in his Machine; for the two hours were just by this time expir'd; so that it behov'd all the multitude to go forth of the Temple, to the end the Answers might be render'd with more secrecy. The names of those which were written being to be drawn at a venture, it hapned that Porsenna's name was drawn first, to consult the Lots; and the order being so, that the explication of the Lot was deliver'd only to such as were concern'd in the business, this explication was deliver'd seal'd to Lucilius after all the Tablets which the child drew and ranked at a ven∣ture had been well consider'd.

Next, the names of Berelisa and Clidamira were drawn; and the old Soothsayer who had been present at the conversation of Wishes, and expounded the Lots of Praeneste this year, spoke these very words to Clidamira:

You shall be happier by your indifferent humor than any other thing: for being you have never known how to love with stedfastness, therefore you have no reason to expect to be lov'd con∣stantly: but such as determine themselves to none, are always moderately afflicted, and never to be much pitied.

Clidamira had some indignation at this Answer, but a moment after her own humor appeas'd her, and caus'd her to say that it was all one to her whether she ow'd her contentment to her indifference or to any thing else. As for Berelisa, the Soothsayer spoke to her after another sort.

I have scarce any thing to speak to you (said he to her) for 'tis easie for you to foresee your destiny: your Constancy is ready to be crown'd, and you are going to reign in one of the most de∣lightful Cities of the world, and in one of the most generous hearts that ever was.

In the next place, Theanor and Aemilius (whose names were written together) ask'd what their desti∣ny was to be. He who gave answers, said to them,

Marry them who love you, though you love not them; and beware of marrying them whom you love, being they do not love you: for accord∣ing to all apparences, you will at length love those which have lov'd you so long time, and perhaps you will not always love those you do, if they can never love you.

Theanor and Aemilius were amaz'd, and seem'd alike dejected at this Answer; and so they retir'd with sufficient sadness, and made way for several others who follow'd them. After which, that fa∣mous Lyar (whom Berelisa, Clidamira and Anacre∣on knew, and whose Lyes had occasion'd a long con∣versation at Rome amongst divers ingenious per∣sons) presented himself, and ask'd whether it were pos∣sible there could be one man in the world who were always veracions. But as if the Gods had been of∣fended, the Sooth-sayer having observ'd the Lots ac∣cording to custom, answer'd him in these terms:

Rash man, who seekest to excuse thy self with the faults of others, know, that for the punish∣ment of thy continual Lyes, thou shalt not be believ'd even when thou speakest truth. This is all which the Lots of Praeneste can answer thee, which will not so dishonour all men, as to make it credible that sincere truth is scarce found upon earth.

Next, Herminius, Aemilius and Spurius enquiring of their Destinies, receiv'd such an Answer:

The first-lov'd ought always to be the last∣lov'd, unless he have render'd himself unwor∣thy of being so: should it be otherwise, there would be five persons unhappy, and in the for∣mer manner but three. Moreover, it shall come to pass that Aemilius shall be satisfied with his own vertue, Spurius cur'd by his anger, and Mutius comforted with his glory.

This answer caus'd a very sensible joy to Hermi∣nius, and much afflicted Aemilius and Spurius; and this latter beginning to speak, The Lots of Praeneste have given a true decision (said he fiercely) for I begin already to resent such a horrible indignation, that I doubt not but hatred will cure me of my love. Which said, he went away with a very incensed as∣pect. But Herminius, who always lov'd Aemilius, spoke to him with much generosity. You see (said he to him) the will of the Gods cannot be withstood. 'Tis true (answer'd Aemilius) and I see too that I must be always miserable; and not being able to find a remedy in hatred as Spurlus does, since generosity obliges me not to hate my Rival or my Mistress, I must seek one in death. You will do better (reply'd Herminius) to seek it in the amity of a generous Friend, and in that of a faithful Friend, who is ex∣tremely sorry he cannot be happy but by rendring you miserable. Whilst these two Rivals were discoursing in this manner, Meleontus desiring to know whether he should be happy, receiv'd this answer:

Whoso would always have ambition and love together, it is absolutely impossible for him ever to be happy; for it is not in the power of For∣tune to content a Lover and an Ambitious man in one single person.

After this the multitude of Strangers which were at Praeneste continu'd enquiring what they desir'd to know. But for that Amilcar was not concern'd there longer, after he had congratulated with Herminius for the happy answer he receiv'd, he went to enter∣tain himself with that Lady of Elis whom he had spo∣ken to the preceding day, and who was walking in a place beset with great Trees before the Temple of Fortune, expecting till she should be call'd to go sig∣nifie what she desir'd: for the order was, that there should be none in the Temple at that time but they to whom answers were given, all the rest in the mean time attended in that place, whom a young priest came to the door of the Temple to call according to the order of their names. Wherefore Amilcar addres∣sing to Aretaphile, askt her if he might presume to enquire the cause which brought her to Praeneste, ad∣ding that he believ'd it fit to do in this place as those do who go to the Spaws, who scruple not to pretend maladies however which carri'd them thither. I as∣sure you (said she to him) I never yet had any secret which I could not tell, and it will be easie for me to satisfie you. Know then, that being one at the Valley of Cupids with the Princess Elismonda—Hold, I beseech you (cry'd Amilcar) and let me not pass from the Valley of Cupids without making some stay there. Tell me therefore I conjure you whether this place de∣serves so fair a name, and wherefore it is called so. No doubt it deserves it (answer'd she) but it has not al∣ways born this name; for it was sometimes call'd Te∣lisangis; but a great Prince having caus'd a stately Palace to be built there to give to his Mistress, it was from thence call'd the Valley of Cupids; because Love

was in effect the occasion that it was built. This cir∣cumstance seems so extraordinary (reply'd Amilcar) that I cannot but conjure you to make me the descri∣ption of a place which seems to have been consecrated to love, and where a second Mother of Cupids is seen; for according to the reports of the Princess Elismonda, she is a person fit to produce such. I will content you (said Aretaphile) though I am not very good at making the description of a handsome place. Know then that the Valley of Cupids is a place of such parti∣cular beauty, that it may with truth be said that it has a thousand charms which cannot be found elsewhere. Yet its situation is wild and solitary; but though Nature have not given it the like advantage with places which have prospects of a vast extent, and lie near great Rivers, yet it has a thousand graces which ren∣der it an infinitely delightful habitation. This Valley is very fertile, and the place which I am going to de∣scribe to you, is perfectly magnificent and agreeable. It is situated upon the brow of a Hill which to make the first Court of this house. The ways which lead to this Palace are admirably fair, for a Royal Forest is to be pass'd through, the great and hand∣some Wastes of which make the goodliest and most solitary Walks in the World; especially in a certain place where the Trees seem to reach up to Heaven, they are handsome, straight, and so thick set with ver∣dant leaves that their shade is infinitely agreeable. As you arrive at the Valley of Cupids you find a very fair fore-court which has a face of rustick edifices on the right hand, and a balustrade on the left, from whence is discover'd an agreeable Valley. From thence you pass into another Court which has the same Balu∣strade on the left hand and a Walk of Trees on the right. From this place you see the stately front of the Palace which is of a particular structure; the middle advances towards the Court, as well as the two sides of this building, all the Windows whereof are great arches which made a goodly sight; and on the side of the terass'd Garden, the face of which resembles that of the Court, are seen two Cupids without fillets which seem to consider all the beauties of the prospect. But to return to the Court from whence I have led aside your fancie, I must tell you that you ascend from it by a proud perroon up to a great and magnificent terrass with a Balustrade which runs quite round the Palace, all the apartments of which are stately, and the stair-case which is in the midst of the building is of ve∣ry great magnificence. There are great Halls pav'd with black and white Marble, very fair Chambers and delightful Cabinets; in one and the same apartment there are convenient places both for heat and cold, conversation and study. For there is a Cabinet from whence is seen not only a pleasant Valley environ'd with little Hills which rather arrest the sight than bound it, but also a great Garden, the squares of which are divided by rivulets which cross one another, so that the midst of the Garden instead of being a∣dorn'd with a Statue, like most others, has a Bridge in it made in fashion of a Cross, which makes the love∣liest sight in the World. The rivulet opposite to the building continues between two handsome Groves of equal greatness, which makes an admirable shew. For the Groves being green from the bottom to the top, and reflecting in that amiable rivulet; whose banks are cover'd with grass, there is nothing seen but verdure and water, which renders the place so fit to muse in, that the most indifferent cannot refrain from it. But besides all this, on the right and left side of these two lovely Groves are seen two Meadows surrounded with Brooks and border'd with Willows, which make an admirable object. Beyond which is seen on the right hand a Town among the Trees, and on the left a Village, little Hills of unequal height, other Meadows and a little corner of a plain. But I should be too tedious to you if I should describe to you all the various beauties of this place, and therefore I shall omit them, and tell you that the admirable per∣son which inhabits this rare Desart is become infinite∣ly more amiable and charming than she was when she gave the prizes at the Olympick-Games, for she has improv'd in fatness, and has a clearer complexion, and her mind also is more embellish'd; so that 'tis not possible even for the most averse from love to see her now without loving her; and therefore the Prince of Elis who is a person undoubtedly worthy of all sorts of happiness, loves her always very constantly. Ha! Madam (cry'd Amilcar) if I knew as well how to de∣scribe to my Mistress the torments which I endure, as you describe the Valley of Cupids, I should be less unhappy than I am. But being I believe you relate all things alike well, tell me I beseech you, what has brought you hither. I will satisfie you (answer'd A∣retaphile) Know then I was one day at the Valley of Cupids with some Ladies my Friends, who had a cu∣riosity to see that house; and as such divertisements use not to be without the company of some vertuous persons to conduct the Ladies, there were two very accomplisht men in ours, though they were not much known to me, but came attending one of the Ladies. You must know, also that they lov'd two Virgins which were of this company; but for that they would do like discreet Lovers, they talkt as much to me as to their Mistresses. But I cannot tell you how it came to pass, but I pleas'd them well enough that day. As for this particular (said Amilcar) you may dispense with it, for I see in your eyes wherewith you touch'd their hearts; and if mine were as it us'd to be, and were not resolv'd to be constant, it would be yours already. Since 'tis so (answer'd Aretaphile smiling) I will only tell you that without designing it, I caus'd these two Lovers to prove unfaithful; yet I did not perceive it at that time, but some days after all the Town came and told me two men had forsaken their Mistresses and lov'd me. Wherefore making more narrow observation, I saw it was true, and found my self incumbred at the same time with the love of two men whom I did not affect, and the hatred of two Vir∣gins whom I did not hate. Yet I thought then, that there needed only a little of my severity to return these un∣faithful Lovers back again to their Mistresses. But be∣ing (as I conceive) they did not forsake them but only because they were two of those good persons whose excessive gentleness cloys rather than diverts, my se∣verity augmented their Love. Since that, I confess without vanity, I have been lov'd by divers others; But I must acknowledge, never by any man whom I could believe worthy of my love. Yet I confess too that I saw a passenger at Syracusa whom I could love, and whom I judge perfectly worthy to be lov'd. But he has not lov'd me, and never will; for according to all probabilities, we shall never see one another again as long as we live. Ah! Madam (said Amil∣car) may I not presume to ask you what manner of person it was whom you could love? I will content you (answer'd she) for I assure you I always take de∣light in speaking of him. Know then, the illustrious Cleander (so is he call'd that pleases me) is of one of

the most illustrious families of the Kingdom where he lives, which has maintain'd it self most gloriously in repute, either by the great actions of such as have been descended of it, or by illustrious alliances. He is tall, and of a good proportion, he has also been ad∣mirably handsome in his first youth, and at present he has an extraordinary good aspect, and perfectly the air of a man of high Quality, such as he is. And though he has receiv'd a wound with an arrow under his eye in a very dangerous occasion, yet he is very little alter'd by it. He has flaxen hair, blew eyes, the form of his visage is agreeable, and all the lineaments regular enough; he has a certain serious air, accom∣pani'd with a sweetness perfectly noble, which causes a good opinion of him at first sight. His looks are sometimes very passionate when he pleases, and there are handsomer eyes than his which are not so proper for a certain mute language which love alone has the priviledge to teach. Moreover, Cleander's very si∣lence is so ingenious, that never any person seem'd so much with speaking so little. And indeed he has a great Wit, which being facile and easie, he complies with the most ignorant and tedious without appearing such himself. So that they who have not a very discerning judgment, would suspect him not able to do much hurt with it. But this facility is an effect of the highest pru∣dence and understanding in the world. He has the most free and civil deportment that ever was, yet his civility does not hinder him from preserving a high and noble way of carriage which renders him more agreeable to others and more worthy of his condition. All his Ge∣stures have a certain gallant air which pleases infinitely; so that having a Soul by Nature perfectly passionate, he is very apt both to be sensible of and to excite great passions; for he knows all the violence, delicacy, and Mystery of Loves better than Vulgar Lovers. But to pass from agreeable to Heroical Qualities, he is Ho∣norable, sincere, generous, and as good a friend as is possible to be; and whoso has oblig'd him to pro∣mise his friendship, may be assur'd he will never fail in it. Moreover, his heart is fill'd with the most true and solid glory in the World. So that in occasions where it is to be obtain'd, or that which he has already gotten is to be upheld, this man whom I have repre∣sented to you so gentle, so facile, and so complacent, is the most fierce and resolute in the World. As for his courage, he has as much as any man; so that this being joyn'd to his wit and other accomplishments, makes it apparent that there is no imployment how great soever of which he is not capable and worthy; and he gives cause to believe that if there be any man in the world who would not alter his deportment towards his Friends in an extraordinary advancement of fortune, it is certainly himself. His conversation is not only agreeable, but charming; for he enters into the sentiments of those to whom he speaks with∣out any affectation, and conforms thereto with ad∣dress; by which means he insensibly insinuates into the hearts of people; and such a person as sometimes believ'd he was only an acquaintance, has sound soon after that he had a great interest in his affecti∣on. He is courteous even in the least concernments, and his gentleness, pity, and gratitude extend even to the smallest Animals. For he loves to observe their natures, goodness, and agreeableness, and in∣dustry; he admires that rational instinct which guides them so accurately, he is delighted with their kind∣ness, he has compassion of those that are miserable; because whatever suffers, excites his pity. He is alike fit for the conversation of Ladies and men, and he writes so admirably well, and in so elegant and gallant a strain, and so much becoming a man of Qua∣lity, that his Letters cause such as see them to wish they could write the like. In fine, his merit is so great that the charming Clarista niece of the admira∣ble Amalthea (whose name you cannot but know) minding to use railery with him and to disparage his conversation, could only reproach him that he some∣times lov'd to recount things past rather than to speak of things present. Thus I have given you such an ac∣count as I could of this illustrious Friend of Amalthea; whom I could have lov'd, if he had lov'd me. How∣ever, having affairs in Sicily, and a brother who af∣ter several adventures is come to live at Praeneste, I took a journey to see him, and I am resoly'd to de∣mand, Whether I shall never be lov'd but by people whom I cannot love. Aretaphile spoke this so grace∣fully, that if at the same moment one had not call'd her to go know what she desir'd to understand, Amilcar could scarce have contain'd from speaking some kind of blandishments to her, though he had resolv'd to love Plotina eternally. But Aretaphile left him and went to inquire her Destiny of him who perform'd the Ceremony and expounded the Lots, who said to her,

Thank the Gods, Daughter; for if you were lov'd by one whom you could love, you would be the most miserable person in the World; be∣cause you would always love more than you would be lov'd again. Therefore prepare your self to love nothing but liberty if you desire to be happy.

Anacreon was call'd next, and askt Fortune whether he should live always in joy. The Soothsayer having consider'd the several Tablets, answer'd him. And ac∣cordingly the event verifi'd the prediction of the Lots, for Anacreon dy'd afterward at a Feast, where he was choak'd by the grain of a Grape. After Anacreon, Scaurus was caus'd to enter with his Machine, who with an air serious and mocking together, askt if there were any means for him to become such a person as his Picture, and to resemble his Picture once again. Being the Priests were oblig'd to answer to all Questi∣ons, the Lots were drawn, and the old Soothsayer in∣terpreting them, answer'd him in these terms:

You know not what you ask when you desire to become again what you have been. Which if you were, you would be young and handsome, you would dance well, you would be an excellent Painter, you would be active and agreeable, but withal, you would be nothing but a Gallant wan∣ton, who had only made Sonnets upon Iris or Clymene, and your Reputation would be cir∣cumscrib'd in the number of your Friends. But by the change hapned in your person, your mind being excited to make amends for the loss of your beauty, is become such as you now enjoy, and has now so exalted you above the common sort of men, that you are the Phoenix of your Species. Your Works please the whole World by their ingenious mirth and elegancy. Desire therefore only to be such as you are, and be contented that the

Gods in giving you Lyriana have given you a thousand times more than they have taken from you, even though you had been more amiable than Paris.

After this Scaurus retir'd, saying, the Lots of Praeneste taught him nothing, and he knew before all that they told him. Then the fair Lyriana was call'd, who would propound no Question though her name was written. For having well consider'd (said she to the Priest) If it be decreed for me to be happy, I shall be so infallibly; and if any infelicity is to befall me, I will not know it before it happen. What you say is so well reason'd (answer'd the sage Soothsayer) that I doubt not but you will always be as happy as you de∣serve to be. Next came Amilcar's turn, who deman∣ded, whether he should dye in Africk or in Italy; and the Soothsayer answer'd him,

In Italy.

Whereupon he was very joyful, imagining that the voyage which he design'd to make into Africk would not be long. After this, Acrisius askt whether he should ever possess Plotina: and the Soothsayer ha∣ving consider'd the Tablets, told him,

Such as speak too much, never perswade.

Then Damon the constant Pythagorean propos'd two que∣stions. One, whether his Mistress would always slight him; and the other, what he should become first of all when he dy'd. But after the Child had drawn the Tablets, the Soothsayer expounded them in this sort.

Your Mistress will always do you justice; you shall dye but once, and you shall be as all other men are when they depart this life; for the Disciples of Pythagoras have no particular priviledge.

Damon seem'd so offended with this answer, that he said aloud as he went forth of the Temple, Amilcar had brib'd the Soothsayer, and the Lots of Praeneste were nothing but a cheat. Amilcar laugh'd at his choler, and made pleasant railery upon the discontent which Damon resented, for that it was told him he should dye but once. Yet he went to supper with Damon, who invited him, for he was so scrupulous an observer of all the Documents of Pythagoras, that he would not go to bed with a sentiment of hatred in his heart towards his Rival; at least he profess'd so. Herminius, Anacreon, Theanor, and Aemilius were present at this entertainment. Amilcar was very jo∣vial this evening; yet now and then he seem'd a little pensive. An hour after the repast, he began to be indispos'd, but in so violent a manner that he dy'd the next day, but with admirable constancy, sending com∣mendations to all his Friends, and particularly to Plotina. He encharg'd Herminius with many gene∣rous expressions to all those he had lov'd, and a thou∣sand dear commendations unto his Mistress. And thus dy'd the agreeable Amilcar, regretted by all who had known him. Herminius, and a Lady that was his Friend, and another Person of Quality undertook to gather together all the ingenious Composures which he had written; and some time after he erected a mo∣nument for him, whereon was engrav'd an Epitaph made upon this Illustrious Deceased, by a Lady who was Friend to Amilcar and Herminius.

EPITAPH.

THis Tomb the fam'd Amilcar doth enshrine, Who to a sprightly Genius Art did joyn; Whose lofty Soul to' unfathom'd heights could fly, Yet fall as low as complacence can lie. But what's most strange, he that rare talent got To please, he pleas'd even those who lov'd him not.

All such as had only seen him at the Temple of For∣tune, regretted him with a sensible sorrow. Anacreon lamented him (though he did not think himself capable of grief) and profess'd he never knew a more agreea∣ble Wit in any place of the World. Acrisius too (as much his Rival as he was) seem'd mov'd with his loss. But as for Damom, he was so unhappy as to be suspe∣cted of having caus'd him to be poyson'd. But how∣ever, Amilcar dy'd and confirm'd the credit of the Lots of Praeneste, which told him he should not dye in Africk, and which he constru'd to his own advantage. Yet it was but a bare supicion: for the Friends of Amilcar did not judge fit rashly to search into such a business as this, which should it have been true, would have nothing profited the illustrious Deceased. But whilst things pass'd thus at Praeneste, and Amilcar and Lucilius were expecting to see whether he that desir'd to consult his fortune in private were Mutius or no, Aronces was very unhappy in his prison, and in a desperate condition; Sextus was much discontented for having fail'd of his design to carry Clelia away, and studi'd only to find ways for a second attempt; Tullia was contriving to destroy Aronces and Clelia, Tarquin only to find means to recover his Throne, Galerita and the Princess of the Leontines how to serve Aronces and Clelia, Artemidorus thought only of his happiness and to protect Aronces, Zenocrates of nothing but his jealousie, Themistus of returning assoon as Aronces should be out of danger, Publicola of assuring the Peace, and Horatius of his love. In the mean time the prudent Roman who went to conduct the twenty fair Roman Ladies to Porsenna, being on the way to the Camp, saw himself attaqu'd by Sextus, who with a hundred Horse attempted a second time to carry away Clelia. The convoy of these fair Vir∣gins consisted of fifty men, so that the number was ve∣ry unequal. Besides, he who commanded them being an old man could not encourage his Party by his own example with the same ardour as Sextus did, whose courage too was augmented by his love. Yet this Prince was disguis'd, For the enterprise was made with Tullia's consent, who in giving satisfaction to Sextus intended to perswade Porsenna that the Friends of Aronces had convey'd away this fair Lady for fear she should bear witness against Aronces; and conse∣quently by this artifice to hasten the ruine of this great Prince. And indeed Sextus had the success he desir'd at first; for whilst those fifty Romans were fighting against his men, he caus'd him to be slain who drove the Chariot in which Clelia, Valeria, Hermilia, and Plotina were, and then ordering a man design'd for that purpose to take his place, he made the Chariot be driven into the way leading to Tarquinia, himself with twenty others guarding it, whilest the rest of his followers detain'd the Romans in fight to amuse them. And this design succeeded accordingly; for the Ro∣mans seeing the whole body of Chariots stopt, did not miss that in which Clelia was. Sextus now believing

nothing could obstruct his happiness, Clelia, Valeria, Plotina, and Hermilia were forc'd to cry out; but their cries were not heard. But though Sextus was sufficiently disguis'd, yet Clelia did not doubt but that it was he who carri'd her away. Wherefore coura∣geously resolving upon death, she only devis'd how to effect it, so to prevent all the unhappinesses which she had cause to fear. On the other side the fight was sufficiently sharp in the place where the rest of the Roman Ladies were, who were so terrifi'd that they did not perceive Clelia was carri'd away. In the mean time the wise Roman who conducted the Hostages ha∣ving sent to Rome to desire succour, it hapned that he who was sent thither met Horatius standing at the Gate with Octavius. Who being advertis'd of the business sent to give notice of it to the Consuls; but themselves not waiting for the succour which they presum'd would be sent, immediately took Horse and speeded to the place where the fight was. But as they were going thither, they beheld upon a little hill the Chariot in which Clelia was guarded by Sextus, who was by this time a good distance off. Wherefore ima∣gining that this might be the Chariot that carried the Persons they lov'd, they went first to the Chariots which were stopt, where not finding what they sought, they hastned to the place of the fight; but in stead of staying there, I beseech you (said Horatius to four or five Romans who were nearest him) come help us to deliver the Daughters of Clelius, she of Publicola, and the sister of Brutus out of the hands of their Ravishers. At these words these Romans without de∣lay follow'd Horatius and Octavius, and left their Companions sufficiently employ'd in sustaining the charge of the Tarquinians. But though Horatius, Octavius, with these five Romans rid with full speed, they could not have overtaken Sextus if it had not by good hap fell out that in the haste this violent Prince made his Party to march, they mistook one way for another. So that being engag'd in a place where great Trees had been by chance beat down, which obstructed the passage, he was necessitated to return back again and come towards them who pursu'd him. Nevertheless, when he saw they were few in number, he was not much dejected, but leaving four of his men to guard the Chariot, he came up to them which pursu'd him with a resolution which his confidence in the inequality of number made something Heroical. Clelia and her companions lookt out with great grief and small hope upon those who came to succour them. But their sentiments were very confus'd, when they knew Horatius and Octavius; for in what danger so∣ever Clelia was, death would have been sweeter to her than to have an obligation to Horatius; and on the other side, seeing her Brother in so eminent a jeopardy, she could not but resent great inquietude. Hermilia (as indifferent as she was to all things) was troubled at it; and Valeria and Plotina without much deliberating, made Vows for their Protectors. Ho∣ratius beholding Sextus disguis'd, did not doubt but it was he who was the Ringleader of the enter∣prise. Wherefore approaching him with his sword drawn, Who are you? (cry'd he) I am come to pu∣nish you for your villany. And with these words he made such a pass upon him, that if he had not a∣voided it by retiring back, he had been slain by the first blow. But immediately this valiant Roman saw himself engag'd in the midst of half Sextus's party, whilst Octavius encountred the rest with incredible Valour. It was not long before two of those who follow'd Horatius and Octavius were slain, so that there were but five left against a number three times as great. 'Tis true, Horatius kill'd two, and Octavi∣us wounded three of them; but one of Sextus follow∣ers who aim'd only to make his Master victor by what way soever it were, endeavour'd chiefly to kill or at least to wound the horses of Horatius and Octavius. So that in a little time these two courageous persons not doubting such a baseness, and minding only the assailing of their enemies and their own defence, per∣ceiv'd that their horses fail'd them, and saw them∣selves dismounted and consequently in great dan∣ger, especially Horatius, whose sword was broken by the fall of his horse. However, in this conditi∣on he did prodigious things; and Octavius having disentangled himself disputed both his life and his li∣berty. But fifteen or sixteen horsemen against two on foot being a number too unequal (for the three others who remain'd fled, when they saw them fall) they were at length over-power'd. Yet they were woun∣ded but very slightly; but the sword of Horatius be∣ing broken off at the hilt, he was taken prisoner by Sextus. So that Octavius being now all alone, was no longer able to resist the force of the enemies, but was disarm'd and taken as well as Horatius. Sextus be∣ing over-joy'd with his victory took his Vizard off his face, and shew'd himself to them he had overcome, as it were insulting the more over their misfortune. Ah, Villain! (cri'd Horatius when he knew him) is it possible that I am overcome by thee! However, do not hope to enjoy thy Victory (added he) the Gods are too just; and these stones shall sooner be chang'd into Soldiers than heaven will permit thee to be master of the destiny of Horatius and so many vertuous per∣sons. Sextus smil'd at this speech of Horatius with∣out answering to it, and inhumanely caus'd this gene∣rous Heroe to be ty'd behind one of his men; treating Octavius a little better because he was Clelia's bro∣ther: after which he began to proceed on his way.

The grief of Clelia and her companions was now so vehement, that they were not able to complain; but Sextus had scarce time to think that he was going to have the joy to put Horatius into the power of Tar∣quin and Tullia, that he had Clelia in his hands, and that this carrying her away would hasten the death of Aronces, but he beheld this Prince at the entrance of a little Wood through which he was to pass, and be∣held him in the head of ten men of quality, amongst which was Telanus, Plotina's Lover. This sight so surpriz'd him, that he caus'd his men to make a halt. On the other side when Horatius (who was extremely dejected for having been overcome in the sight of Cle∣lia) saw Aronces, he was strangely abash'd to be seen in this condition, by a Rival whom he was so jealous of. Nevertheless a sentiment of love caus'd him to wish that he might deliver Clelia; but the same love at the same time caus'd him to desire death, as imagi∣ning nothing could be more advantageous to him. Clelia (who believ'd Aronces in prison) was much sur∣priz'd to see him; and fearing he might have the same destiny with Horatius, she had such confus'd sentiments that she could not tell what to hope or wish. As for Aronces, he was not astonish'd to meet Sextus or see Clelia; for he had broke prison only to deliver her, upon notice given him by one of his Guards that Sextus design'd to carry her away when the Senate sent her back to the Camp. But he was strangely sur∣priz'd to see Horatius prisoner to Sextus. After this great and generous Heroe had beheld Clelia at a good

distance, as if to receive addition to his valour by a favourable glance, he went up to those who guarded Horatius as he was bound; (for Sextus retir'd from the first rank to give orders to his men) and fiercely accosting them, Ha, caitifs! (said he to them) do you thus treat the bravest man in the world? In speak∣ing which, he kill'd one of them, and wounded two; and then causing his Rival to be unbound, comman∣ded his Squire to give him a sword and a horse, which was led in hand; and speaking to him, Come, Hora∣tius (said he) come help me to deliver Clelia; for since I see Porsenna has resolv'd upon my death, I know none but your self in the world (when I am dead) wor∣thy to serve her, and capable to defend her. Ha! Aronces (cri'd Horatius) 'tis worse to be deliver'd by you than to be overcome by Sextus. After which Aronces espying Octavius, set him also at liberty in spite of the resistance of Sextus, who being return'd from his astonishment, and having given orders to his men, fought like a desperate Tyger. But Aronces be∣ing animated by the love he had for Clelia, the hatred he had for Sextus, the esteem he had for Horatius, and the desire to surpass him, perform'd such prodigious things in this occasion, that. Horatius and Octavius were astonish'd, though they were two of the most couragious men in the world. Yet they seconded him as vigorously as they could; but being they were both wounded sufficiently with the former fall of their hor∣ses, they were not able to shew all their courage: for Horatius right arm was half out of joynt, and Octavius was so wounded in the knee that he could scarce keep himself stedfast upon his horse. So that Aronces al∣most alone sustain'd the brunt of this sharp fight. Telanus also highly signaliz'd himself. But this Com∣bate became yet more dangerous to Aronces; for they who had stay'd behind fighting with the Romans to amuse them, believing Sextus was got at a good distance, retreated and follow'd him; and when they beheld Sextus engag'd with Aronces, they joyn'd with him. But for that the Romans had slain some, and some had given over the encounter, this re-enforcement (though very considerable) rather augmented Aronces courage, who judging that to defeat his enemies at a blow it was requisite to kill Sextus, he open'd his way to him by killing such of his men as would have with∣stood him; and then there began a furious Combate between these two Rivals. Aronces at first wounded Sextus, who discharging a great blow at him, might perhaps have slain or dangerously wounded him, if he had not warded it off with addresses, and if without losing time he had not discharg'd another at him upon the head, which was so weighty that it amaz'd him. In the mean time all Sextus's men taking care only to defend him, Aronces was continually assail d by many together; but he so well quitted himself of so many enemies, and kill'd so many, that being seconded by Horatius, Octavius, Telanus, and all the rest who had follow'd him, Sextus perceiv'd he had not many more men than Aronces; wherefore feeling himself woun∣ded, despairing to overcome, and much fearing to fall into the power of Porsenna or the Romans after this action of his, he resolv'd upon flight, knowing that he had a very swift horse. And accordingly be∣ginning to give ground as he fought, on a sudden he turn'd about and fled with all his men after him into the Wood and by ways which were known to himself but not to Aronces. Who having lost sight of him was recall'd by love from the pursuit to Clelia notwith∣standing the ardent desire he had to kill Sextus. But for that Horatius knew this wood better than Aronces, he took a way into it, being follow'd by Octavius and Telanus, and hoping to intercept Sextus by a short turn; during which Aronces going directly to Clelia's Chariot, was receiv'd with a thousand testimonies of kindness by her and her companions, who gave him a thousand praises. That which I have done, Madam (said he to Clelia) is so small a matter, that it is not fit to lose the moments which are precious to us in com∣mending me more than I deserve. Therefore it is re∣quisite that I conduct you to Rome, and after that go and satisfie the King my Father that I have not broke my prison as a parricide who would avoid the punish∣ment he deserves, but as an unfortunate and faithful Lover, who would defend the person he adores. How? my Lord (answer'd Clelia) are you come forth of prison only to succour me? and may I believe you are constant to me? I beseech you (added she) tell me what course you took to do it. I was advertis'd by a trusty soldier of my guards (repli'd he) that Sextus design'd to carry you away. Whereupon I brib'd some, broke through the rest, and having found Te∣lanus and a Squire, they in a moment got together these which follow'd me, and I came happily enough to do you perhaps the last service of my life; for as I told you, Madam, it behoves me to return to prison, assoon as I have conducted you to Rome. Ah! my Lord (answer'd Clelia) this generosity is extreme cruel; but to imitate you in some sort, do not carry me back to Rome, but lead me to the Camp, to the end I may serve to justifie you. No, no Madam (said he to her) it does not belong to me to return the Hostages to the King, to whom perhaps they would no longer be inviolable. Therefore 'tis absolutely necessary that I conduct you to Rome, from whence the Consuls will remit you hither if they please: but if you will take my counsel, Madam, do not return hither though it should be resolv'd to remand you; and all the favour I desire of you, if I die, is, that you would believe that I have never lov'd any but your self, that I have lov'd you more than any other person in the world can love, and that I shall regret you alone at my death.

As Aronces was speaking this, Horatius, Octavius and Telanus came to them, without having found Sextus. After which taking the way towards Rome, they met those the Consuls sent to the succour of the Hostages coming to seek Clelia and her companions. Aronces understood by them that the rest of the fair Romans were carri'd back into the City till it were known what this adventure was, and who had commit∣ted this violent and unjust attempt. However he would conduct Clelia till within two hundred paces of Rome. Upon the way there was a discourse between Horatius and him which was not heard by any other person, and wherein it appear'd both of them constrain'd themselvs and that Horatius was much dejected for owing his life so often to his Rival: but at length Aronces being ob∣lig'd to depart, he took leave of Clelia and her compa∣nions, after a manner which mov'd the hearts of all that beheld it; for there appear'd an heroical resolu∣tion in his countenance, though his eyes withal disco∣ver'd an extreme sadness, which manifestly proceeded from love. As for Clelia, never was seen so sad a person as she in this occasion; but her melancholy was accompani'd with so much discretion, that it caus'd the greater compassion. Plotina desir'd Telanus to disswade Aronces from returning into prison; but he answer'd her, that the Prince was too great a Lover of glory, to leave himself under the suspicion of being

culpable. Aronces and Horatius parted with civility, Remember (said the Prince of Hetruria to him) what you have promis'd me, I will not fail (answer'd Horatius) but do you remember also that in some oc∣casions one may be excusable in being ingrateful. Aronces embrac'd Octavius with much dearness, and having once again bid Clelia adieu with the most passi∣onate air in the World, he took the way to the Camp, where all things were in strange confusion. For Por∣senna understanding Aronces had broke prison, be∣came absolutely confirm'd in his opinion that he was culpable, and had conspir'd against his life. Where∣fore out of this prejudice, he said there needed no other proofs, and commanded some to pursue and bring him back, that he might cause him to be punish'd as a parricide, there being no necessity of more evi∣dence. Moreover, that wise Roman who was enchar∣ged with the conduct of the Hostages, having sent to advertise him that he could not bring them to the Camp that day, because Clelia was carri'd away, he believ'd Aronces was he that had done it; so that as∣sembling all his conjectures together, he fram'd an immutable purpose in his mind to destroy both Aron∣ces and Clelia if he could get them into his power. Neither Galerita nor the Princess of the Leontines, nor any of Aronces friends could make any thing ap∣pear probable to him contrary to these two surmises; for they knew nothing of the truth. So there was an universal consternation in the minds of all; for the flight of Aronces caus'd a very bad effect amongst the Soldiers who were most affectionate to him.

On the other side Tarquin and Tullia were in their quarter impatiently expecting what would happen from the correspondence they had in Rome, the carry∣ing away of Clelia, Porsenna's accusation of Aronces, and the design of bribing him who expounded the Lots of Praeneste; and in whatever cases, their forces had order to be ready to march, if it were requisite.

But if there were a tumult in the Camp, there was a greater at Rome; for some said, the Hostages ought not to be return'd more, because it was probable Por∣senna knew of Sextus attempt, and that certainly he would have had Clelia in his power without appearing to have broken the publick faith. Publicola neverthe∣less persisted still firm in his opinion, and so much the more, because Horatius and Octavius could not go abroad this day by reason of their wounds; for per∣haps love would have oblig'd them to oppose it. On the other side, Clelia, with the consent of her compa∣nions demanded that they might return to Porsenna, to the end to accuse Sextus and justifie Aronces as much as she could; for her jealousie was now much dimi∣nish'd. At the same time also the intelligence which Tarquin and Tullia had in Rome was discover'd, and one was seiz'd on who had promis'd to deliver the gate Naevia to the Tarquinians. So that all this together caus'd so great a disorder in the City, that the Senate was assembled extraordinarily, to advise what was fit∣ting to be done. The result of their debate was, to send back the Hostages with a strong guard, to acquaint Porsenna with Sextus enterprise to carry away Clelia, and that of Tarquin upon Rome after a treaty of peace.

But whilst all was in confusion both at Rome and the Camp, and the infamous and criminal Sextus was re∣tir'd to Tarquinia wounded and desperate for having fail'd of his attempt, the generous Aronces over∣whelm'd with discontents was going to re-enter into his prison. Upon the way he met some of those who made shew of going to seek him and take him, but they sought him only to advertise him of Porsenna's fury: but whatever they could say to him, he would not al∣ter his purpose; he also desir'd Telanus to leave him, for fear he might incur Porsenna's displeasure; but Telanus would not. When he came to the Camp, he went directly to his Prison, and finding no guards there he sent Telanus to the King his Father to desire them again, and to conjure him to permit him to see him; to the end to give an account of his action. But Porsenna was so incens'd, that instead of hearing Telanus, he caus'd him to be arrested and carried to the same pri∣son where Aronces was, whither also he speedily dis∣patcht guards; for in his fury, he believ'd the Prince his Son return'd only because he saw he could not escape apprehending; or that perhaps he had oblig'd some of those whom he sent after him, to say he re∣turn'd of his own accord. So that he was fully resolv'd to punish Aronces.

The next day Galerita follow'd by the Princess of the Leontines, the charming Hersilia, and the generous Me∣lintha enter'd into his Tent to intercede with him for Aronces. But before the Queen of Hetruria could speak any thing to him, word was brought to the King that the Romans had sent the Hostages back. Whereupon be∣ing surpris'd to see that after what had hapned, these twenty fair Virgins were remanded to him, he seem'd sufficiently perplex'd, though he wish'd to have Clelia in his power, to the end to make use of her to convince Aronces.

The Senate (said he roughly) relies much upon the Publick Faith, in sending back to me a person who has at least been privy to a conspiracy made against my life. Ah! my Lord (cry'd Galerita) the prince most assuredly is not culpable. You shall see that, Madam (said he to her) you shall see that. In the mean time (added he with a grim air) let the Hostages be brought hither. This Order being given, the Roman who conducted them, and who was nam'd Celius, enter'd in the head of these twenty fair Romans. But because entrance was not prohibited, the Prince Artemidorus, Themistus, The∣omenes, Zenocrates, divers Officers, and many o∣thers enter'd at the same time. The sight of these fair Virgins whom he would not see when they were in his Camp, surpriz'd Porsenna. They enter'd with a good grace, they faluted him with a civility perfectly noble, and carrying a modest confidence in their coun∣tenances, they forc'd him to behold them less fiercely than he would. Yet he strove against this first senti∣ment which he could not restrain, and recalling his fu∣ry, Which of you (said he to them, without hearing Celius who was beginning to speak) was so rash as to contrive that unjust design of violating the Law of Na∣tions, by departing out of my power without my permission, and rather to endanger perishing in the Tyber than stay in the Camp? That generous design (answer'd Valeria readily, being unwilling all Porsen∣na's choler should fall upon Clelia) is so glorious, that all my Companions and my self will have part in it. No, no, too generous Friend (said Clelia beholding Valeria) it is not fit that you should unjustly expose your self to the indignation of a great King. There∣fore, my Lord (added she, addressing to Porsenna) understand the truth from my mouth, and know, that that glorious design belongs to me alone, and I us'd all means I could to perswade my Companions to it, who knowing the just ground. I had to under∣take it, were so generous as to hazard their own lives for the preservation of my honour. You ought rather to say (reply'd Porsenna) that the fear of being compel'd

by force to accuse a Criminal whom you love, oblig'd you to fly. Ah! my Lord (answer'd Clelia, with∣out being daunted or transported) did I believe the Prince your son capable of so horrid a Crime as that you accuse him of, I should hate rather than love him; for my parents have taught me to hate vice, even upon the Throne. But, my Lord, I went out of your Camp for no other cause but for that I was ad∣vertis'd Sextus design'd to carry me away. So that believing nothing ought to be so dear to me as the preservation of my honour, I slighted death which seem'd so assur'd, and attempted to pass the Tyber. But to confirm that which I speak, you need only ad∣mit the trouble to hear what Celius has order to say to you from the Senate. Clelia spoke this with so noble an air, that Porsenna was astonisht at her great Beauty, Wit and Confidence. Wherefore fearing his heart might become inclinable to pity, if she spoke more, he commanded Celius to discharge his Com∣mission. My Lord (said this wise Roman) I have order from the Senate to render the Hostages to your Majesty, and to tell you that whilst Rome keeps her word so exactly, those whom you protect against her, outrage you with all the injustice imaginable. For Sextus yesterday attempted to have carri'd away Cle∣lia, and with a hundred Horse attaqued those that guarded her under my command. At first he appear'd disguis'd, but afterwards he made himself known. Ho∣ratius came to succour this vertuous Lady and three of her Companions whom he had got into his power; but the valour of Horatius and Octavius Clelia's Brother was forc'd to give way to number, so that they were taken prisoners; and if the valiant and generous Aron∣ces had not arriv'd to their relief, Clelia, Horatius and Octavius would have continued under the power of that unjust Prince. But to let you see that he is not the sole person of the Tarquins who outrages you, there is discover'd a Conspiracy of Tarquin and Tullia in Rome, the principal Plotters of which we have in custody, whom the Senate is willing to refer to your justice. All which you say (answer'd Porsenna) surprises and confounds me; but should all which you say, be true, it would not justice Aronces; and if Clelia would declare the truth she might accuse and convict him. If he were culpable (answer'd Clelia) and his crime were come to my knowledge, I would not accuse him, though I saw certain death before me. But, my Lord, my hatred would accuse him, and I should so abhor him, that all I could do would be to forbear hurting him. However, my Lord, suffer me to tell you for your own honour, that the Prince cannot be culpable, and you cannot without injustice treat him as a criminal. I know well (added she) that you hate him because he does me the honour to love me; but, my Lord, this hatred is unjust (if I may presume to speak so.) I knew not that he was the Son of a King when he began to love me, nor did he know it himself; and since we have known it, I never led him to disobey you. No doubt he has not been able to cease to love me, nor I to take away an affection from him which I gave him by the command of my Fa∣ther. But, my Lord, fear nothing from this innocent passion, and be assur'd it can never induce to Criminal actions. I am not indeed Daughter of a King; but, my Lord, I am a Roman, and daughter of a Roman who pre∣fers vertue above all things. Beware therefore, I con∣jure you, to blemish your glory by an injustice. I do not ask of you to reign in Hetruria (continu'd she) I only desire you would please to give the Prince time to justifie himself. I have been accustom'd to misfor∣tunes, I shall know how to live as I have done; and if the Gods shall so please, I shall know how to die too with sufficient courage. Porsenna beheld Clelia at∣tentively whilst she was speaking, and being unable to hinder himself from admiring her, Would to the Gods (cry'd this offended Prince) you could have as well perswaded me of the innocence of Aronces as of your own. For I confess (added he) I find something of such grandeur in what I have now heard, and in what you have done, that to imitate the generosity of the Romans, I will send you back again to Rome, and ob∣lige you to ask some reward of me for the daring action you have done; for, excepting the life and liberty of Aronces, I promise you whatever you shall demand of me. Since 'tis so, my Lord (answer'd she) I desire only the favour of you, that you will take time to examine well the vertue of the Prince, and the wickedness of Tullia, and that you will send back all the Hostages as well as my self. I grant you that which you demand of me (reply'd Porsenna) and if my Son were worthy of you, nothing could hinder you from being one day Queen of Hetruria; so charm'd I am with your courage and vertue. After this, Porsenna spoke many things to Celius, that he might understand more clearly the enterprise of Tar∣quin and Tullia against Rome. Which done, he caus'd the goodliest Horse he had to be given to Clelia, to testifie that he judg'd she had the courage of a Heroe; for it was a custome of the Kings of Hetruria to make the like present to such as had signaliz'd themselves by some heroical action.

But after these fair Romans were departed, Lucilius, Herminius, Theanor, Aemilius the old Soothsayer who expounded the Lots at Praeneste, and Celer (who had been prisoner so long at Tarquinia) arriv'd. Assoon as they came into the Tent, Mutius approach'd, and addressing to the King of Hetruria and shewing him the hand which he had so couragiously suffer'd to burn in his presence, Is it possible my Lord (said he to him) that a man whom you saw so stout as to endure the fire unmov'd in your presence, should be the complice of a Parricide? No, no, my Lord (added he) true Romans are not capable of committing such crimes as that. I would have destroy'd you for the good of my Country, but I should never have done it to promote your Son to the Throne. Be pleas'd therefore to command those who pretend I treated with them by Aronces order, to be brought into my sight, to the end I may cover them with confusion; and if it be needful I will put my hand a second time into the fire without fearing to be burnt, to attest this truth. Moreover, let not my departure from Rome be interpreted flight, my particular unhappinesses caus'd me to go to Praeneste, there to consult the Gods secretly; and though they have not been favourable to me, and I had resolv'd to go hide my discontent in some remote place from Rome; yet I no sooner heard by Herminius that the Prince your Son was accus'd and my self too, but I came hither for his justification and my own; and if you please to hear Celer who has escap'd out of the prison of Tarquinia where Tullia kept him, he will inform you of sundry things more which justifie Aronces. And what can you inform me of? said (Porsenna hastily to Celer.) My Lord, I shall inform you (answer'd he) that they which depose against the Prince were prisoners with me, and to ob∣tain their liberty, promis'd Tullia to bear that false wit∣ness. They told me so themselves when they endeavor'd

to perswade me on the behalf of Tullia, to help to de∣stroy Aronces; and I was sometimes threatned with death, and sometimes promis'd my liberty, to bring me to what they desir'd; and if they were present, I assure my self they would not dare to contradict me. But, my Lord, if this sage Soothsayer whose honesty you know, speak to you, he will tell you things more important. 'Tis true, my Lord (said the Soothsay∣er who had dwelt long at Clusium) that Tullia sent a man to me at Praeneste on the day of the great Festival of Fortune, to offer me considerable rewards if I would betray the Gods, and render a false answer to Lucilius, who came to consult them on your behalf. But being I am uncapable of committing an impiety, I deliver'd it seal'd up to Lucilius, as it was found in the Lots of the most redoubtable of all the Deities. And to make good what I alledge against Tullia, I have caus'd him to be arrested who would have suborn'd my fidelity. Luci∣lius, Herminius, Aemilius, Theanor, and Mutius, ha∣ving confirm'd that which this sage Soothsayer said, Porsenna took the seal'd-up answer which Lucilius brought him, and having open'd it with a countenance which manifested the agitation of his mind, he found these words.

Thy son is innocent; thou canst not destroy him with∣out thy own destruction; his love is well-pleasing to the Gods; and if thou hinderest him from being happy, thou shalt always be unfortunate.

Porsenna was much mov'd at this answer, but would not express it yet; and commanded some persons to go forthwith to the Quarters of Tullia to require those men of her who were to maintain before Mutius that Aronces was a partaker in his design to kill him. But he had scarce given this Order, when word was brought him that Tarquin and Tullia were discamp'd, and had set men at work to break the bridge, which serv'd for the communication of the Quarters, to the end they might not be follow'd so speedily; because though Porsenna had another, yet it was very remote from the road to Tarquinia. And to compleat the discovery of all these wickednesses, two men were brought to him whom Tullia had commanded to be first stab'd, and then cast into the Tyber. But being she had been but ill-obey'd in the tumult caus'd by sud∣den discamping, and they to whom the order was given pityed them, they were permitted to fly whither they could. But not knowing whither to fly either to∣wards Rome or the Camp, the remorse of their Crimes brought them to seek their safety in the clemency of Porsenna. And so causing themselves to be presented to him, they cast themselves at his feet, lay'd open the accursed contrivance of Tullia, and implor'd his pity to pardon two unhappy persons, who to avoid perpe∣tual imprisonment had promis'd to commit a crime.

Aronces being now fully justifi'd, Porsenna was so confounded for his own injustice, that he commanded some to go and fetch the Prince immediately. Who accordingly coming, follow'd by Telanus and a great number of Officers, Porsenna went to him assoon as he saw him, and embracing him with tenderness, The Gods and men have justifi'd you (said he to him) and 'tis I at present who am the Criminal. But, my Son, I will shortly make you satisfaction, and I have so ill us'd my Authority that I will resign it into your hands. In the mean time, go forthwith in the head of the Ca∣valry and endeavor to overtake the Forces of Tarquin and Tullia; for in stead of their Protector I am be∣come their mortal Enemy, and at your return you shall know my intentions. Aronces answer'd Porsenna with as much respect as if he had not been injured by him; and obeying him at the same hour, he went forth with Artemidorus, Themistus, Mutius, Herminius, Thea∣nor, and all the rest to summon the Troops together, and left Porsenna with Galerita, the Princess of the Leontines, Hersilia, Melintha, and the sage Sooth∣sayer who confirm'd him in his good sentiments. But now all the Camp beholding Aronces at liberty and in the head of the Troops, testifi'd an inconceivable joy. The Prince wishing ardently to overtake Tarquin's Forces, made such diligence that though the distance were great, he came upon them in disorder, they ha∣ving not gone very fast, because they were retarded by their baggage. Whereupon Aronces charging vigo∣rously upon them, cut them in pieces, and put them into such disorder, that Tarquin and Tullia (fearing to fall into the power of Porsenna, and that he should deliver them up to the Romans) forsook their Forces, left Titus to command them, and fled away by unfre∣quented ways, and went to seek Sanctuary with the Ty∣rant of Cumae, where they were ill enough receiv'd, and in process of time dy'd very miserable, as well as the infamous Sextus. But the Prince Titus soon saw the rest of his Troops cut in pieces, and he was known by Aronces who could have slain him, if he would; but this generous Prince considering him as a Friend and a vertuous Prince, favour'd his retreat, which he made only with five others. And so seeing there were no more enemies to overcome, nor any hope of taking Tarquin or Tullia, Aronces return'd to the Camp; but upon the way he met Octavius in the head of two hundred Roman horse, who understanding that Tarquin was pursu'd, was going to help Aronces to overcome him. Assoon as Aronces beheld him, he went civilly to him; and having in two words told him what had pass'd, he separated himself at some distance from all the rest, and addressing to him, conjur'd him to be still favourable to him, and to sweeten the mind of Clelius as much as he could. Whereby falling to speak of Clelia, as they were crossing a Wood they una∣wares left the great way in which the Troops march'd, and took a by-path which led them away from them. And out of respect there was none follow'd them but one of the Squires of Aronces. They had scarce gone a quarter of an hour, but Aronces thought he heard the voice of Horatius, and a noise of the clashing of swords. Whereupon hastning through the trees to∣wards the place whence the voice came, he saw ten or twelve men dead whom his redoubtable Rival had slain, and saw him encompass'd by ten or twelve more who endeavor'd either to take or kill him. He had no more but the Trunchion of a sword in his hand, his Shield was broken, and he would have infallibly been taken if Aronces had not arriv'd. For as Horatius had seiz'd one of the mens swords to wrest it from him, another was going to thrust his through his body, when Aronces beholding him in this condition, resolv'd to rescue him. What? (cry'd he as he advanc'd with his sword drawn towards those who attaqu'd Horatius) are there still any Tarquinians, who dare attaque a Ro∣man, after Tarquin is defeated and overcome, and fled? And so the Prince, Octavius and his Squire made such a fierce charge upon those that were ready to destroy Horatius, that they chang'd their design of killing him into that of defending themselves. But Horatius knowing the voice of Aronces, seem'd more afflicted to see that he was once more his deliverer, than he had been daunted at the danger he was lately in. Nor was it long before he beheld Aronces kill one of his

enemies, wound two, and sustain the effort of the rest. Whereupon taking new heart, he leapt to the ground to take a sword of one of the slain, and remounting his horse, set himself to defend Aronces; but there was no need; for having slain one, and Octavius wounded some others, the rest betook themselves to flight. Af∣ter which Aronces civilly accosted his Rival whilst his Squire was redressing something about the bridle of his horse. You know (said he to him, preventing him from speaking) when I saw you last, I oblig'd you in the secret conversation we had together, to promise me that if I dy'd you would never force Clelia to marry you, that you would make use of nothing but entreaties, and if you could not move her, not to cease to protect her all your life against such as would con∣strain her. You promis'd this in consideration of the small service. I had then done you; and I promis'd you again that I would never marry Clelia, till I had of∣fer'd you to win her by a Combate with you. I ac∣quit my self of my word (added Aronces) for though I am not certain whether I am likely to be happy, yet there have lately fallen out so many changes in my for∣tune, that I have some ground to hope it; wherefore before we go to the Camp, I will hide my self in the Wood we are to pass through, and satisfie you if you desire it. But, my Lord (answer'd Horatius) what would you say of me, if owing my life and liberty more than once to you, I should draw my sword against you the same moment that you have imploy'd yours in my defence? I would say (repli'd Aronces) that a Ri∣val is not so oblig'd to gratitude as other persons are. Ha! my Lord (cry'd Horatius hastily) I should not be satisfi'd of that, and therefore 'tis best that I yield a fe∣licity to you which you alone can merit, and the Gods themselves have decreed to you; nor was I going but to seek my death in helping you to overcome Tarquin when I met those that assaulted me. But to compleat your happiness (added he) know, that as I beheld Cle∣lia enter into Rome, she spoke so rigorously to me, that I am convinc'd nothing but death can comfort me. That which you say, is so worthy of your courage (answer'd Aronces) that if you will be my friend, I shall with joy be yours as long as I live. Alas! my Lord (reply'd Horatius) I know not my own Will, but for fear my vertue abandon me, permit me to leave you and return to Rome. And accordingly Horatius departing from Aronces went to relate to the Romans the Victory of his Rival. Clelia in the mean time had been receiv'd there in triumph with all her companions. But Hora∣tius (to carry his generosity further) went to Clelius and shew'd him the answer the Lots of Praeneste had gi∣ven him; for he had sent one of his Friends thither, who brought it him back, and which was so exact that nothing could be more clear; for it was in these terms. Clelius ows Clelia to Aronces, the Gods decree so, and you cannot pretend to her without displeasing them. Aron∣ces being by this time return'd to the Camp, was re∣ceiv'd with joy by Porsenna, Galerita, the princess of the Leontines, all the Army and the whole Court. And (to accomplish his felicity) the King of Hetruria told him, that to testifie to Rome that he desir'd to hasten the peace, he would discamp the next day, and send Ambassadors to demand Clelia of the Senate. Aronces thank'd with a joy surpassing all expression. And accor∣dingly the King of Hetruria made good his word, dis∣camping the day following, and sending to demand Clelia of the Senate for the Prince his Son, to the end she might be the confirmer of the peace. The Senate receiv'd this proposition with joy, and requir'd Clelia of Clelius, who after he understood the truth of all things, deliver'd her to them with the consent of Ho∣ratius. Whereupon without further delay, the Prin∣cess of the Leontines went to fetch Sulpicia and Clelia to conduct them to Clusium where the ceremony was to be accomplisht, and whither Clelius went too ac∣compani'd by Octavius, Herminius, Zenocrates, Ana∣creon and his particular Friends. As for Clelia, she was accompani'd by Berelisa and Clidamira who were re∣turn'd from Praneste, and Valeria: for Plotina was so afflicted for the death of Amilcar, that she fell sick upon it, and could not go thither. Assoon as Porsen∣na and all this noble and fair company were arriv'd at Clusium, the Nuptials of Aronces and Clelia were ce∣lebrated in the the proud Temple of Iuno the Queen with incredible magnificence. But to the astonishment of all the spectators, as Aronces and Clelia were upon their knees before that famous Statue of Iuno, Porsenna plac'd his Scepter upon the Altar, as resigning his au∣thority to the Gods from whom he held it; and Gale∣rita put a Crown of Flowers upon Clelia's head, as de∣claring her Queen. After which the Priest taking the Scepter presented it to Aronces, who modestly re∣fus'd it: Nor would he accept the Soveraign Power which Porsenna hereby resign'd to him. So that by this great action he made himself compleatly worthy of all the felicity he enjoy'd by the possession of the most vertuous person that ever was. In the midst of this publick joy, Amilcar had the honour to be much regretted; Anacreon made Verses upon this happy Marriage; and after eight intire days were spent in feasting and rejoycing, Themistus, Merigenes and their Friend went to seek Lindamira, Artemidorus return'd to Leontium to make Berelisa his Princess there, and to cause Lysimira to marry Zenocrates, who recover'd the Principality of Herbesa which had belong'd to his Ancestors. As for Clidamira, though she was assur'd to marry Meleontus, yet she was not so well contented as she seem'd; Theanor and Aemilius obey'd the Gods, and were happy; the other Lover went to travel to cure himself of his passion. And as for Her∣minius, at his return to Rome, Publicola gave him Va∣leria, notwithstanding all the obstacles which oppos'd his happiness. Hermilia had a great friendship for Octavius, and Octavius for her, but married not: Collatina dy'd with sorrow for the the misfortunes of Titus, and Plotina declar'd to all her Lovers that she would never marry. It was known that the Prince who persecuted Cloranisbes was dead: and Horatius as un∣happy as he was, nevertheless was so generous as to take care to cause Clelia's Statue to be erected according to the Vote of the Senate in the upper part of the sacred street, near his own, having this sad consolati∣on, to see that the tokens of their glory were at least in the same place. But in acknowledgment of his gene∣rosity, Aronces and Clelia sent to offer him their friendship, so that after so many misfortunes these two illustrious persons saw themselves as happy as they had been unfortunate, and saw nothing that could equal their felicity besides their virtue. Clelia had a Statue at Rome; Porsenna also caus'd one to be made for her before the stately Tomb which he had built, and Ana∣creon put these Verses upon the pedestal of the Statue.

Tyber, although a God, amazed stood At that great Soul that durst attempt his stood. And cry'd, This sure must some new Venus be, Born from my waves as she was from the Sea. Thy form and courage Fame alike shall blow, Till Rome to stand, and Tyber cease to flow.