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.

The History of Lucius Junius Brutus.

YOu are not to expect, my Lord, in the History I am to relate to you, to meet with those ex∣traordinary accidents which of themselves suffice to make a relation pleasant, since my particular busi∣ness is to discover unto you a life absolutely obscure. I shall make you acquainted with a man, of whose worth Rome it self is ignorant; one thought equal∣ly a stranger both to understanding and courage, yet one, notwithstanding his seeming stupidity, never guilty of dishonour in his actions, nor extrava∣gance in his speech, though he have strangely ac∣complished so great a design as to keep one of the greatest hearts, and noblest minds that ever was, undiscovered from the siercest Tyrant upon earth. Look not therefore to find him gaining of Victo∣ries, besieging of Cities, and doing those illustrious actions, which ordinarily fill up the life of a Heroe, yet I must bespeak for him the highest of your esteem, and the greatest of your praises, which I am confident you cannot deny him, when I shall fully have represented him to you.

But in the mean time, do but reflect on your thoughts of Brutus, but two dayes since, consider him wrapt in those cloudy distracted looks, which promised neither goodness nor discretion; call to mind that affected stupidity, which when he spoke since, seemed to disguise it into non-sense, that so when you shall conceive your self obliged to ack∣nowledge that this very man whom in this relation I shall call no otherwise than Brutus (though it be not his true name) is the most generous, the most pleasant, the most amiable person in the world, and one as capable to undertake affaires of the greatest, as well as the least consequence, you may be pleasant∣ly surprised into a greater admiration of him. But that you may not make his vertue so much the ob∣ject of your astonishment, you are to know, that he is of as noble a Family, as any Rome affords, for he is descended from one of those gallant. Trojans, who having to extremity defended their City, followed Aeneas to seek out another countrey, under the con∣duct of those Gods, who direct them to Italy. The Family of Brutus Fortune seemed to be particularly prodigal to: as to Riches; for Marcus Junius, his Father, was one of the wealthiest Citizens of Rome. For which reason Tarquin: before he made himself King, had brought about a Marriage between him and his only Sister, Tarquinia, out of intention, if occasion served, by the strength of his Brother-in-lawes wealth, to bring to effect his own secret de∣signs. For, though he knew Marcus Junius to be a man of a great vertue, and that Tarquinia enclined more to the peaceable humour of the Prince of Ameriola (who was then living) than to his, yet could he not be perswaded: but that the interest of alliance would easily engage Junius into any inte∣rest of his. But this conjecture deceived him, for this generous Roman could not be taxed with the least concurrence with the crimes of Tarquin, and

the vertuous Tarquinia spilt as many harmless tears, as her brother had shed, of innocent blood, since his assuming the Soveraignty.

Thus may Brutus be said to be the Offspring of Afflictions, and I have it from Sivelia, that Tarquinia never had merry day from the death of Marcus Junius, till her own. For besides that she abhor∣red the impieties of the proud Tarquin, and cruel Tullia, and sympathized with all those unfortunate Innocents whom they ruined, she her self lay open to the violence and tyranny of her own brother.

But that you may be the better informed what justice Brutus had to hate Tarquin; I must in few words tell you whence proceeded the hatred of Tarquin to Brutus's Father. You are then to know, that as soon as Tarquin had by those strange wayes, known to all, made himself King, he initiated his reign, with all the injustice imaginable, it being his design, by the ruin of all honest men, to estab∣lish himself in the Throne he had usurped. He did not presently engage his Brother-in-law in this design, out of a hope, that being gradually disci∣plined into these violences, he would in time be even prevailed with to be the executioner of his cruel∣ties, as you shall soon understand.

Being ambitious to over-master his Neighbours, as well as the Romans, he was no sooner seated in the Throne, but he plotted the subjection of the La∣tines. But that proved a harder task than he concei∣ved: for there was one Turnus Herdonius, a man of great authority among them, opposed him, because he refused him his Daughter, whom yet he was willing to bestow on another of that Nation. Tarquin looking on this man as one that would prove a rub to all his undertakings, if he were not destroyed, and considering withall, that to attempt it openly, would be dangerous: resolved to do it by treachery. Knowing therefore that the whole Senate was satisfied with the integrity of Junius, he told him, that he was certain, that Herdonius was in Conspiracy against him, and all the Senators, in order to bring the Romans under subjection to the Latines, and to make himself Master of both Nati∣ons: but having no testimony to prove this against Herdonius, it was necessary a person of Authority, such as he was, should by his credit maintain the accusation when it were once advanced.

He had scarce made an end of his proposal, but this vertuous Roman, after denial sharply reprehen∣ded him, and told him, that if Vertue did not dis∣swade him from discovering the crimes of a Bro∣ther-in-law, he would soon acquaint Herdonius with it, and I know not certainly, whether he did not threaten to do it, so to divert him from so pernici∣ous a designe; for knowing well enough what a Kidney Tarquin was of, he easily perceived that he would falsely charge Herdonius with this pretended conspiracy. Not but that Herdonius was both mis∣chievous and ambitious enough, but it is also as cer∣tain, he never was guilty of any attempt against the Tyrants life, much less against any of the Senate, and that his main design was to make himself as strong as he could to oblige Tarquin to prefer him before his Rival, and consequently bestow on him the Princess his daughter.

But in the mean time, Tarquin being as subtile as wicked, seemed to rest satisfyed with the reasons of Junius, and thereupon promised he would do no violence to Herdonius but by just and honourable wayes. However, he made a shift to dispatch him otherwise, for corrupting a Slave belonging to Her∣donius, who, while his Master, was out of doors, suffered a number of swords and other arms, to be brought into his Master's house, the cruel Tarquin confidently dressed up an accusation against him, insinuating that it was fit enquiry should be made in∣to the business; and so engaging all those to whom he spoke of it, by the apprehension of their own dan∣ger, he perswaded them they should be fully en∣lightned, as to what he said to them, by searching Herdonius his house. This was done, and there were found the Arms which Tarquin had secretly conveyed thither, and such other circumstances as amounted to make him thought guilty; upon which those whom Tarquin had purposely brought along with him, seized disorderly every one on a sword of those which were found, and without a∣ny other ceremony threaten him with death. He is taken, bound, and by Tarquin's order cast into the Spring-head of the Ferentine fountains, where he no sooner was in, but overwhelmed with stones, he was presently drowned. The business was done so of a sudden, that Junius knew it not ere it was too late to prevent it, though as soon as he had notice that some Souldiers were commanded to Herdonius's, he went to divert Tarquin from so strange a violence. But he could not make such hast, but that Herdoni∣us was dead, and all he could do was to acquaint Tarquin that he was not ignorant of his crime in it.

This business broke off all correspondence be∣tween him and Tarquin, insomuch that he went not to Court, but when honor oblig'd him; he gave order, Tarquinia should go very seldom to the Queen; so that both of them made it afterwards their whole business to see well educated two sons which they then had, whereof Brutus is one. It is true, he was then but a child, but his brother, who was six or seven years elder than he, made some ad∣vantage of the instructions they gave him.

Another thing which extreamly exasperated Tar∣quin against Junius, was to see what use he made of that excessive wealth which he was master of; for when Tarquin had consiscated the estate of any ver∣tuous Family, Junius and Tarquinia secretly reliev'd all those whom he had ruin'd; which they did after such a manner, as if they conceiv'd themselves obli∣ged to enrich those whom the Prince impoverish'd, and that it was their part to restore what he took away from all vertuous people. Tarquin therefore thought, that their liberality did as it were, dis-arm his Tyranny by making him uncapable to make men miserable, and that Junius, having married his Si∣ster, robb'd the Crown of all he was so prodigal of. Nay, he conceived that this mans Vertue secretly re∣proved his Vices, so indeed that at last he was no longer able to endure it. Being therefore resolved to rid Junius out of the way, and tempted withall with the advantage of being Guardian to his Chil∣dren, and consequently disposing of all the great Wealth of that house, he caused him to be poy∣son'd. But as it is hard to meet with poysons that leave no marks of their malignity, the vertuous Tar∣quinia knew (but too much to her grief) that her noble Husband was taken away by the cruelty of her Brother. But that which was most remarkable in his death, was, that Junius, who had an infinite affection for Tarquinia, and doubted not but that he was poisoned at a Banquet, where he was forced

to afford the tyrant his company, yet had the gene∣rosity not to tell her of her Brothers cruelty, nor ever mind her of revenging his death. But if he shewed himself so reserv'd to her, he was more open to his eldest Son, who was arrived to years of discretion. For he sent for Licinius, an ancient friend of his, whose faith he trusted with all his se∣crets, and speaking to his Son in his presence, he enjoyned him to be as dutiful to that vertuous friend, as to himself, to prefer Vertue before all things, never to forget that his Father lost his life through the injustice of an Usurper; never to miss any occasion might conduce to the deliverance of Rome, and to instil these resentments into his younger Brother, as soon as he should be capable to receive them; which done, he died in an admi∣rable assuredness of mind.

But Tarquinia's constancy was at the first onset over-mastered by her grief, and it was impossible she should not betray some light supicion she had, about the death of Junius, even while the fierce Taquin, and the cruel Tullia, were comforting her for the loss which they caused her; for this inhu∣mane Princess had a hand in this, as in all the rest of her husbands enormities. But Tarquin catching at so visible a pretence, soon began to ill-intreat his Sister, and possessing himself of all the wealth of the Family, reduc'd Tarquinia to a very sad con∣dition; for he left her not any thing to dispose of, nor was she suffer'd to have her eldest Son with her, which added infinitely to the affliction of this gene∣rous Roman Lady, who in that very circumstance underwent the greatest persecution which could fall upon her after the loss she had received. For Tarquin observing in his Sisters eldest Son, certain great and vertuous inclinations, and that he had withal a great understanding and courage, caused him barbarously to be murthered, and that so con∣fidently, that he troubled not himself whether he were accused for it or not, or studied any pretence for it, as if there were not any other account of his loss to be given, than that he feared, that that illu∣strious unfortunate man should revenge his Fathers death, and recover that prodigious wealth, which he had possessed himself of.

Tarquinia, who had yet hardly dried up her tears for the death of her husband, was so transported with that of her Sons, that to save what was left, she resolved to steal out of Rome with this child, and she did it so much the sooner, insomuch as she was advertised by Licinius, that Tarquin would within a few days, snatch him out of her Arms. So that this wise Matron, assisted by the counsel of this faithful friend of Marcus Junius, absolutely determi∣ned to forsake that place where her own Brother reigned with so much injustice. It is true, she had the happiness of Licinius's company thence; for being hated by Tarquin, he thought it conduced to his safety to leave his country as well as she. So that Licinius, Tarquinia, and the young Brutus, who then had no other name that Lucius Junius, departed Rome disguised, and pitcht upon Metapont for the place of their retreat.

That which obliged Licinius to advise Tarquinia to that place, was making it his business to bestow the best education upon his Friend's Son, who had so much enjoyned it at his death, he thought there was no City in ail Italy where it could be better done than at Metapont. And in effect, he was not decei∣ved, for it being not long since that famous Samian Philosopher, whose renown hath so filled the World, died; most of his Disciples were there still, nor was it a small number, since there were neer six hun∣dred, who particularly professed tbat they had lear∣ned of him, to honour Learning, and practise Ver∣tue. Nay, Pythagoras had left behind him a Daugh∣ter, capable of the highest Disciplines, who had withal so great a Vertue, that her example was no less effectual in reforming the looseness of the Wo∣men of that place, then the reprehensions of her Father. There were constantly with her Archytas of Tarentum, Alcmaeon of Crotona, and Hipasus of Metapont, nay even the dreadful Milo every where fa∣mous for his prodigious strength, was forced to submit to the powerfulness of her charms, and do honour to the memory of Pythagoras, who had lodg∣ed at his Fathers, while he sojourned in Crotonia. Li∣cinius therefore believing Metapont, to be such a School, as were fit for the education of young Bru∣tus, continued there with Tarquinia.

But my Lord, I had forgot to tell you, that Mar∣cus Junius had enjoyned his wife at his death to mar∣ry that illustrious Roman, that so his children may have a vertuous Father, and that his Friend might have that wealth which he said he deserved better than himself, and whereto he had much right; for it was certain, that Licinius had been in love with Tarquinia, nor was she altogether void of love for him; so that though the second marriages are not very frequent at Rome, and that Tarquinia at first made some difficulty to obey her Husband, yet she was overcome, when she saw her self forced to flie; considering with her self, it were much more to her reputation, to follow a banished Husband, than a banished Friend, how vertuous soever he might be, as also that Licinius would have a greater care of her Son, and would be inseparably engaged in her Fortune. Thus the vertuous Tarquiniu, who was yet very handsome, though past that youthfulness which commonly illustrates a great Beauty, marri∣ed the vertuous Licinius, but it was done privately; and there's not one in all Rome yet knows that he is Tarquinia's Husband, and therefore cannot conse∣quently imagine that the fair Hermilia is Brutus's Sister.

How, interrupted Aronces, this beautiful Virgin whom Amilcar yesterday entertained with such gal∣lant Courtship, is Brutus's Sister? She is, replyed Herminius, for Tarquinia had this Daughter at Me∣tapont, in the time of her banishment. But how, sayes Amilcar, is she said to be Racilia's Neece? Supposing she were not Tarquinia's Daugh∣ter.

The sequel of my discourse shall acquaint you, replyed Herminius; but to hasten to that which re∣lates to Brutus, I am first to tell you, that in a short time, Licinius and Tarquinia were mightily esteem∣ed at Metapont; however, they thought not fit to discover what they were, but rather to conceal their Quality, though they could not their Vertue, for which the wise and learned Daughter of Pytha∣goras, whose name was Dame, had so great a friend∣ship for them, that she was particularly tender of the Education of young Brutus. She recom∣mended him to the most famous of her Fathers Disciples, as soon as he had arrived an age ca∣pable to receive their instructions, and she her self gave him that advice, which hath not been

smally advantageous to him in the sequel of his life.

For, my Lord, I must so far divert to the com∣mendation of this learned Virgin, as to say, that no man in the world would think it a dishonor to have a heart of the same metal with hers, insomuch that Licinius and Tarquinia having experienced her prudence, goodness, and her vertue, deposited with her the whole secret of their fortune, which reviving in this generous Virgin, the manner how her illustrious Father had sometimes avoyded the tyranny of Polycrates, she had a particular tender∣ness towards those who forsook Rome to escape the tyranny of Tarquin. This consideration occasioned a strict League between these three persons, which was no small advantage to Licinius and Tarquinia. For though Dame was not very rich her self, yet she is more esteemed at Metapont, than those who can brag most of the favours of fortune; and be∣sides that there is a great veneration for the memo∣ry of her Father, insomuch that the people have made a Temple of the house where he lived, and that her Mother, named Theano, was also famous there for her Learning and Vertue, her own rare and excellent endowments purchase her the admi∣ration of all the world. To be short, she made one expression of Vertue which was very glorious, and such as I cannot but acquaint you with, that you may the better know her, who hath instilled the first sentiments of it into the illustrious Brutus.

You are then to note, that Pythagoras dying, left to his Daughter all he had written while he lived; not but that he had a Son, a knowing and vertu∣ous person, but that he had a greater esteem for this Daughter than for him; and believed that she would the more exactly obey him in that command of his, that his writings should never be carried out of house. This generous Virgin, though she were not rich, yet obstinately refused the infinite riches which were proffered her, if she would but deliver up what her illustrious Father had entrusted her with; chusing rather to live poorly, than dis∣obey the last desires of him to whom she ought more than her life, as being indebted to him for a part of her Vertue. This being an action very remarkable, proved so glorious to this excellent Virgin, that it gained her the general venera∣tion of all Metapont. Hence came it that her friendship proved so advantageous to Licinius and Tarquinia. She was also the cause that Brutus was not brought up as other children, and that he was never taught any thing but what was ma∣nifested to him by Reason, not content with the simple performance of memory, as is the manner of most Masters to deal with those are com∣mitted to their charge. Besides, though she were daughter to a Philosopher, who professed austerity, and one who had prevailed with the women of Metapont, voluntarily to bestow part of those things which served them only for ornament, towards the building of a Temple for Juno, yet she was of opinion, that those who but began to live in this world, should be allowed a certain honest liber∣ty, and that Vertue should have a kind of Adole∣scence, as I may so say, during which Festivals, Re∣creations, and innocent pleasures should be permit∣ted, lest the soul should at the first assault be discou∣raged by the difficulties of study, and should be o∣ver-whelmed by that which should make her bear fail against all adverse fortune whatsoever. I shall entreat you (said she one day to Tarquinia, as I have learned since) if your resolution be to bring up your son to great things, begin betimes to instil into him the love of Glory, and endeavour he may prefer it before all things. But how can I, replyed Tarquinia, considering my Son's age, inspire him with desires of Glory, since he is hardly master of his Reason? On the contrary, replyed this wise person, it is in this age, easiest to weed out evil in∣clinations, and to cultivate the good, if the dispo∣sition of those they would correct, be but well un∣derstood. But commonly those who have children, are more troubled to bestow Wit on them, than Vertue. They are desirous to teach them the Art of Writing, and speaking well, not caring whether they are taught to do well; whereas if you follow my advice, you will think the Manners of your Son of equal concernment with his Mind. That which troubles me concerning Junius, replyed Tarquinia, is, that he is Vehement in any thing he desires, that he is sometimes as violently carried away with the consideration of things of little importance, as those of the greatest, and that whatsoever his heart is sensible of, he obstinately loves: And if he be so unhappy, as one day not to arrive to that faculty of discerning that there may be an obstinacy without danger, he would be subject to very strange things. I grant, replyed the vertuous daughter of Pythago∣ras, that what you say may come to pass; but when all is done, the temperament of great minds ought to be such as you represent that of your Son's, for there is nothing at so great a distance from true and heroick Vertue, as that soft indifference which ob∣liges some persons to be pleased with all things, or nothing; whence it comes to pass, that they nei∣ther entertain great desires of Glory, nor great fear of Infamy; that they neither love nor hate; that they follow custome blindfold; that they are onely sensible of the afflictions of the body; their minds being in a manner insensible; and lastly, that they are guilty of a certain indolence of mind, if one may so express it, which renders them unwor∣thy of life. In like manner, I should be more prone to conceive greater hope of a man that should in the beginning of his life, be strongly hurried a∣way by some evil habit, then one that fastens on no∣thing; for to one that can love or hate irreconcile∣ably, there needs no more to make him a vertuous man, but to represent unto him a rational object; but, with him, who is uncapable of any violent at∣traction, and whose heart lies legar to a general in∣difference, a man can never do any good; and Phi∣losophy it self, who boasts it hath remedies for all the indispositions of the soul, never had any could cure an indifferent mind. Nay, I am perswaded, continued she, that indifference is commonly an in∣separable companion of lowness of spirit; for it is so natural to man, to be carried towards that which he believes to be good, that if indifferent people were able to judge of things, they would fasten on something. But certain it is, that this luke∣warmness of temperament, which sends forth but feeble desires, sheds but feeble lights, insomuch as those who are guilty of it, not knowing any thing certainly, cannot fasten on any thing with per∣severance.

I crave your pardon, my Lord, that I have been

so particular in their circumstances, which seem not to be absolutely necessary to my relation; yet I hope you will not think them altogether unprofitable, since they serve to let you know what kind of edu∣cation that man hath had, who hath so fortunately concealed the greatest mind in the world, and can as opportunely discover it when he pleases.

But not to abuse your patience, I shall enlarge no further upon this subject, and onely tell you, that Brutus had the learned Damo for the Tutoress of his youth, and the chiefest Disciples of Pythagoras were his Masters. I have heard him acknowledge, that the ingenious Commendations, and gentle and seasonable Repehensions of that knowing Virgin, were more advantageous to him than all his Books. She sometimes gave him very considerable advice, though she seemed onely simply to entrust him with the secret resentments of her heart: For Brutus having passed that age, wherein there is little danger of speaking any thing unseasonably, in company he seemed to have arrived to such a consistence of rea∣son, that even those rational persons, with whom he conversed, admitted him five or six years older than he was. So that though he were yet very young, Damo numbred him among her friends, and those the chiefest. And certainly it was not without reason, for Brutus even at that time had a many excellent and winning endowments: He traveled into Greece, wherein though he spent but a year, yet it sufficed to polish his mind, and the Love he had for Sappho's Verses, was so great, that the same passion taught him to make some himself, and those so good, as might be preferred before those of that famous Les∣bian. Moreover he was couragious, meek, obliging, complaisant, and amiable, and born under such an Ascendent of love, that never was there any Lover guilty of a greater tenderness than he. Yet was not his affection fixed on any thing at Metapont, though he lived there after such a high rate, as rai∣sed him the love of all the Ladies there. Tis in∣deed true, that the friendship he professed to Damo, was a kind of Antidote against that Tyrannical pas∣sion, which hath been since, and still is, his merciless tormentor.

But since Licinius and Tarquinia could not think on Rome without regret; Brutus as soon as he was come to age, began to think of his return, and ima∣gined it more glorious for him to die, than not to revenge his Fathers death. However he said no∣thing to Tarquinia of this intention of his, because she was sister to the Tyrant, who had ruined his house; but in fine, though he had an extraordinary tenderness for her, yet had he as great a hatred for Tarquin. But he did not yet perceive how he could hope to hurt him, yet he did what he could to avoid all assaults of love at Metapont, as being re∣solved to die at Rome. Nevertheless he had acknow∣ledged to me, that once or twice he had received some impressions of Love, but that Ambition and Friendship had soon stifled them. So that though Brutus's conversation at that time, was much like that of a Gallant and an Amorist, yet the Ladies had named him among themselves, the Loveless Gal∣lant. That name indeed exposed him to a dange∣rous adventure; for you are to know, that the fa∣mous Milo, celebrated for his strength at the Olym∣pick Games, yet one between whose body and mind there was no proportion would needs one day jeer him, and call him as others did, the Loveless Gallant But he did it so bitterly, that Brutus, who certainly carries indignation enough in his heart, though, when he pleases he can put on as great a moderation, told him, with a malicious smile, that he was ready to acknowledge himself the Loveless Gallant, if conditionally he should confess himself to be the Lover without Gallantry. The dreadful Milo, whose force nothing could resist, presuming on the advna∣tage which Nature had bestowed on him, retur∣ned Brutus a very sharp answer, who as confident of his courage, as the other of his strength, answe∣red this famous wrestler with such a noble boldness, that the other conceiving himself affronted, blushed with madness, and, were it any glory for Milo to o∣vercome thee, said he to him: I should soon teach thee, that some presumptions are unfortunate, by punishing thee for that thou art now guilty of, by provoking one who can, when he pleases, crush thee to pieces. I know very well, replied as round∣ly Brutus, that Milo hath been accustomed from his infancy to play with a young Bull, and that he car∣ried one on his back at the Olympick Games: but I have never heard (continued he, with a smile full of contempt) that he knew as well how to fight with young Lions. Saying thus, Brutus layes hands on two swords which a Slave carried along who ac∣cidently passed by the place where Milo and he were walking. But he had no sooner taken them from the Slave, but casting one of them to Milo, Take that sword, said he to him, and, if thou wouldst preserve thy glory thou hast acquired, des∣pise not an enemy who thinks he hath as great a heart as thy self, though he acknowledges thee to be the stronger. Milo entertained these words with a fierce look, while he took up the sword, which this illustrious Roman had cast him, and retreating two or three paces, and viewing with a threatning action, Young Confidence, said he to him, force me not to destroy thee, by casting thy self up∣on my arms, for I care not to overcome where there is no glory. But Milo had no sooner ut∣tered these words, but he was convinced there was work for his strength to overcome thee∣nemy he so much slighted. For Brutus ma∣king a pass at him with an incredible nimbleness, had run him through the body, had he not as readi∣ly warded the thrust with a back-blow, which made both their swords strike fire, which argued the strength of the arm which gave it. In the mean time Milo knowing that his advantage was to close with him, forgot not himself. He was greater than the ordinary size of men, his age double that of Brutus; he had all his lifetime practised wrestling, and all other exercises of the body, which requireth either sleight or strength; he was ac∣counted the best wrestler in the world, and he was so excessively strong, that, it being beyond vulgar belief, that nature alone could make him such, peo∣ple said, he derived it from a certain Stone, whose vertue was to bestow more than natural strength upon those that carried it. But though Milo had done things which might be justly attributed to a Gyant, Brutus found him more work than he ex∣pected, for he fought with so much judgement, that it was impossible Milo should close with him, though he made it his onely business to get him down. For Milo had no sooner thought of what he was to do, but Brutus shifting place, caused Milo to change his purpose, such a sleight had Bru∣tus

in making his passes, and presently recovering himself out of the reach of that merciless enemy, who endeavouring onely to fasten on him, did one∣ly ward his blowes, knowing that if he could but once get him under him, the victory were certain. Nor indeed had Brutus any great hopes to escape this bout, for having cut Milo over the left arm, he was so exasperated to see his adversaryes sword di∣ed with his blood, that he furiously ran upon Brutus, whom he got by the shoulder, but hapning to lay hold on him with his left hand, the wound in his arm pained him so, that he was forced to let go his hold, so that Brutus presently getting off, played upon him more furiously then before. The fierce Milo seeing himself in this condition, would cast himself a se∣cond time upon Brutus; but he having by his acti∣vity avoyded the blow, Milo was so inraged that he would offer at him by a black-blow over the head, which certainly, had it been effectual, had laid him along. But Milo having missed his blow, it happen∣ed the same strength should have gained him the victory, contributed to his being overcome; for he being desirous to direct his second blow on Brutus, his sword, missing his adversary, met with a tree, into which it sunk so deep, that striving to draw it out, he could not without breaking it. But what was admirable in Brutus, was that seeing his adversa∣ries sword so engaged, he stood still and took no advantage of it, it being in his power, in this un∣fortunate Interval, to have killed Milo. But in this posture were they surprized by the Slave from whom Brutus had taken the swords, who being gone for people to part them, returned sufficiently accom∣panyed to put an end to the Duel. In the mean time Milo was so horribly enraged at the disgrace he received, that he knew not in a manner what he did, insomuch that in his madness taking hold of the Tree wherein was the piece of his sword, he shook it so violently that he took it up by the roots, and thought to have brushed those with it who were co∣ming to them. This expression of a prodigious strength augmented Brutus's glory, for there could be nothing so unexpected, as to see one of his age and strength over-master the terrible Milo, who had not met in all Greece with him that durst oppose him. But if the prudent Damo had not used all the inte∣rest she had in Milo, to perswade him to stifle the shame of being worsted, he would have broke forth into some violent course against Brutus. But she so well knew how to temper the bitterness of his hu∣mour, that she forced him to embrace him whom he would with all his heart have smothered, were not the fierceness of his disposition restrained by the respect he bore her.

Thus, my Lord, have you had an account of Brutus's infancy, who after this furious combat, was ••n greater esteem among the Ladies than ever. For though Worth be not the vertue of Women, yet is it certain that they love it, and that for its sake they prejudice other good Qualities, by preferring those who it may be are onely Hectors, before others, who instead of that one, have a many other rich Ver∣tues.

Hereupon, Brutus seeing himself commended, and courted more than ordinary, was more inclined ••o fall in love with a very handsome Lady with whom the particular manner he came to be ac∣quainted, is worth the relating to you. Besides that, though it be not she that gave such a violent assault to Brutus's love, yet it is at least her acquaint∣ance that hath been the cause of his coming to Rome, and that he lived here after the manner you have seen him.

You are then to know, that at Crotona there was a maid of an excellent wit, called Bellanira, who held correspondence by Letters with Damo; insomuch that writing to one another, as two persons who had no matters of state, but onely certain secrets of friendship to communicate, they gave one another an account of their pleasures, and principally of the new friends of either Sex, which they made. So that Damo receiving one day a Letter from Bellani∣ra, shewed it to Brutus, and told him, she needed his assistance very much to answer it. Brutus con∣ceiving it was some great affair that Damo should de∣sire his advice in, opens this Letter, and found in it, if I mistake not, these words, at least I am cer∣tain it was to this effect.

Bellanira to the wise Damo.

I Once thought I should never have loved any thing but you, but now I am to tell you, that I have found a new Friend so worthy to be loved, that though I have your promise not to contract any new friendships, you would certainly come short of your word, if you knew her as well as I do. She is a Virgin, whose person endu∣ed with thousands of charms, wit, goodness, her incli∣nations absolutely noble, and her conversation infinitely pleasant; she is neither humorous, nor proud, but dearly loves her Friends, and is perpetually speaking to me of you, though she knew you no otherwise than by fame, and of whose friendship I have a thousand tender expressions. I desire to know whether I can, without ingratitude, refuse her affection, or without being unfaithful to you, divide mine with her, for since my heart is at your disposal, I cannot receive into it this new and charming Friend, with∣out your permission, though I know not well how to keep her out.

When Brutus (who went at Metapont under a wrong name, which I cannot at the present call to mind) had read this Letter, he told Damo that it was handsomly writ, but saw not any necessity she had to answer it. You shall see that when I have done it, replyed the smiling; but when you have answered it, replyed he, I can do you no service in it. When you read it, answered she, you shall give me your opinion. Whereupon Damo taking writing-tables, writ to Bellanira, which when she had done, shewing it to Brutus, he there in read the Letter I am going to repeat to you.

Damo to Bellanira.

THat you may assure your self I am a person of as much sincerity as any in the World, I do ingenuous∣ly confess, that I am not a little glad that you have fur∣nished me with a pretence to break the promise I made you, not to entertain any new Friendships. For if you have found out a Woman-friend you like so well, I can boast I have met with man I am so much taken with, that I think him

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worthy to be a Servant to that Beauty you have so drawn to the life; for there issue greater charms from his mind, than can from her eyes, as being one, whose soul speaks greater excellencies than you have met with in all the men you have known. So that to deal sincerely with you, I should have been as much troubled to refuse admittance to this new friend, as you would be, should I oblige you, to break off with yours. I am willing therefore, that we be mutually guilty of Infidelity, and (the better to con∣firm our joynt-conquest) that we engage these two per∣sons, who both love us, to love one another; lest that, if your friend should have a servant that were not my friend, she might prevail with you to forsake me, and that mine having a Mistress which were not your friend, he would endeavor to lessen my friendship towards you. Propose therefore what I tell you to that amiable per∣son, who robs me of part of your soul, and I shall make the same proposition to him who must keep you com∣pany in mine.

But for ought I see, interrupted Amilcar, the Sciences have not spoiled the wit of this daughter of Pythagoras, since she writes so excellently; and her Philosophy is not too austere, since she allows Love to be of the University of her Friends.

On the contrary, replyed Herminius, she holds that to be truly vertuous, requires a temperament full of passion, and that there cannot be a servent affection for Vertue, where there is not withal a passionate tenderness. But to speak truly, did the Painters draw Love as she imagines it, they would disburthen him of his Fillet, his Bow and Arrows, and leave him only his Torch; for this wise Virgin says, she cannot endure the Love that is blind, and that it is enough a heart should be set a-fire, with∣out being shot thorough with darts. In fine, she so purifies this passion, that she cleanses it from what∣ever is dangerous, and yet takes away nothing from it that is pleasant.

But to return to Brutus, after that Damo had shewn him the Letter she writ to Bellanira, he made as if he understood not himself to be that so well-liked person, she so mentioned to her friend, but purposely, that he might be the more fully sa∣tisfied of a thing which pleased him; but at length she reduced him to a necessity of rendering her a thousand thanks. Yet he told her, that he should never have confidence enough to see Bellanira, ha∣ving seen what she writ to her of him; but she answered, it should not be long ere he saw her, for that she was resolved on a journey to Crotona, that she had engaged Tarquinia for the same place, and that she would oblige him to conduct her, and in∣deed within fifteen days all came to pass according∣ly. But in the mean time, Bellanira and Damo writ to one another, with as much bravery as friend∣ship; so that when they saw one another, Brutus found himself confirmed in the mind of Bellanira, who joyfully received him, and sincerely confessed to Damo, that she were to blame if she should refuse his friendship.

But this new friend of hers being not yet come to Crotona, as being expected within four days, these two loving persons resolved to put some trick upon the inchanting Chrysis, for so was that Beauty cal∣led. To this end Damo, who knew that Brutus could as easily disguise his mind, as discover it, when the humor took him, told Bellanira, that, the more to surprise her friend, 'twere fit Brutus should put on his stupidity the first time he should see Chrysis, to see how she would receive a Lover, of whom she had formed so great an Idea. Bellanira approving the proposition, and Brutus saying that it was easie for him, and not unseasonable at the first sight, to disguise his humor, rather than to be too forward to disclose it, promised so far to over-reach the fair Chrysis, that she should go near to despise him. And I promise you, replyed Bellanira, that as soon as she comes to know you, she will esteem you infinitely. It shall be there∣fore for your sake, replyed he. Nay, it shall be rather for her own sake, replyed the pleasant Damo, since she must be much to blame, if she knew you and did not esteem you. For, to deal plainly with you, you will not be able to conceal your self. Not but that when you are among those that force you to it, you differ much from what you are among those you like, yet you also listen like one who hath the discretion to be weary of hearing things of no entertainment. However it be, replyed he, I warrant you, I make Chrysis believe I have not common sence, and force her to some visible ex∣pressions of her contempt. For my part, replyed Bellanira, I am somewhat afraid, as well as Damo, that you will not be able to deceive Chrysis; where∣as there is nothing more unhandsome than to un∣dertake a pleasant circumvention, and not go through with it. I should find you in a greater fear, replyed Brutus, if I were obliged to gain Chrysis's esteem at the first sight, to entertain her with great and noble things, and scrue up her ad∣miration, instead of purchasing her contempt: for truly, I think nothing harder than to act a great wit, nor any thing easier than not to shew that wit one hath. You have too much for to hide it so ea∣sily, replyed Damo; but, put the case I have as you say, replyed he smiling, it will not be hard for me to do what I think. We shall see replyed Bel∣lanira, but I am afraid you your self will be decei∣ved, and that you cannot deceive Chrysis. That which makes for Brutus, replyed Damo, is, that whether he deceive her, or not, it will still be much to his reputation; for if he cannot conceal his wit, it will be said he is very happy, that he hath so much that he cannot hinder it from appearing; and if he do conceal it, he will be much commended for his subtilty, that he can conceal the greatest wit, from one of the sprightliest wenches in the world. Brutus returned this complement with another; and their discourse that day was so plea∣sant and divertive, that Bellanira could not conceive how Brutus could carry himself and not discover his worth.

But in fine, three days after Chrysis comes to Crotona, but so late at night, that she could not meet with any could direct her, either to Brutus or to Damo. In the mean time, Bellanira, whose imagination was tickled with the pleasure of her friends surprisal, sent her back word by a slave which Chrysis had sent to her, that she was very sorry she could not wait on her, as being somewhat in∣disposed, but that if she were as obliging as fair, she would give her a visit in the afternoon; which Chrysis, who had for Bellanira the greatest ardency of a new friendship, failed not to do, and came presently after dinner. But she was no sooner come in, than Bellanira, after the first ceremonies of complement, told her that this new friend of Da∣mo's,

who was to be her servant, was in Crotona, and was that day to be at her lodging, together with that excellent maid, who had honoured her with his acquaintance. But I beseech you, said she to her laughing, make me not ashamed, shew this day your greatest wit; and consult with my glass about your dressing, that your beauty may shine in its full lustre. Ah Bellanira, replied she, who graspes at wit, loses it, and I never miss it, so much as when I most think on it. But I pray you, continued she, what do you think of this friend of Damo's? I take him, replied Bellanira, to be the greatest wit in the world, and that if you can conquer his heart, it will be a conquest worthy of you. But, continued she, to spare both you and him the troublesomness of your first complements, I shall not exactly represent him to you, but shall leave that alone till discourse start out an occasion to do it.

Chrysis satisfied with what her friend said, fell in∣to discourse about Damo, who soon after comes in; but she had hardly appeared, ere Bellanira, presen∣ting Chrysis to her, said to her, See I pray, whether my infidelity be excusable, or if I could, without in∣justice, deny my friendship, to a person whom I think worthy of yours, which is much more precious than mine. Damo answered this Bravery very obliging∣ly, both as to Bellanira and Chrysis, who talked with so much discretion, that she both justified Bellanira, and ravished Damo.

In the mean time comes in Brutus, but though Bel∣lenira knew he was to disguise himself to deceive Chrysis, she herself was surprised at the manner of his carriage; for, as he came in, he changed the ve∣ry air of his countenance, stupidity entred into his physiognomy, his civilities were so ungraceful, and uncertain, that Chrysis was extreamly disturbed, especially hearing Bellanira naming him by the name of that friend of Pythagoras's daughter. But if she was surprized at his arrival, she was amazed at his discourse for, for two hours together she could not observe in him a look or a smile, which might raise a suspition that he had but a common sense, so far was he from seeming to have any extraordinary parts. Not that he had betrayed himself by any extravagant talk, but there was such a natural dulness in all his discourse, that it was not to be imagined, that he, who spake so, did counterfeit; insomuch that Chrysis had not the least jealousie of it, but was abso∣lutely perswaded, that he, whom she saw, was not the same she had heard of. So that coming to Bel∣lanira, For Heavens sake, said she to her, what plea∣sure do you take to do me a discourtesie? Nay it is true, that you your self buy the delight you take in abusing me, at too dear a rate, when you purchase it with the conversation of the most stupid of man∣kind, and that for so long time. Bellanira; who was very much pleased at what Chrysis said, as being an evident token that she was deceived, burst forth into such a loud laughter, that Chrysis was confirm∣ed in what she thought, that her friend had put a trick upon her; but that which was most admira∣ble, was, that though she was satisfied she was de∣ceived, yet could she not comprehend after what manner. So that the more she spoke of it, the more sport she found Damo and Bellanira, for she in∣timated by what she said, that she did not believe Brutus to be Brutus, and was so far from thinking him able to understand what she said, that she did not stick to tell him so much.

But the man who seemed so stupid, upon a sign from Damo and Bellanira, ceased to be so, and sur∣prised Chrysis after such a manner, that having heard him talk a quarter of an hour, she could not hold from breaking forth into a cry of astonishment. She would be angry with Bellanira, and to punish her for this advice, she told her she would honour her friends the more for it, and prefer this new one be∣fore her. Alas Madam, replied Brutus, do not break any of the Articles which are agreed upon be∣tween our two friends, for any concernment of mine, and remember that I am to be your Servant, not your Friend. Though I should do a less displea∣sure to Bellanira, replied she, in receiving you favo∣rably as a Lover, than if I receive you as a Friend, yet you will give me leave not to inslave my self to the humours of two persons, who take up all their sport upon my account. Ah Madam, cryed out Brutus, if you will do Bellanira so great a spight; and deprive her of all your friendship, you must needs be guilty of some love; for do you conceive that any thing else can lessen the affection you have for that amiable person? Believe me, continued she, friendship is never destroyed by friendship, there must be something stronger than it self, that should force it out of a heart which it is once possessed of, and it is onely Love which can do what you pretend. For when all is done, a man may make many new friends, without injury done to the old; a man's mind is easily divided into many friendships.

There are some friends, whose secrets a man is contented to know, and yet thinks not sit to trust them with his; there are others, to whom a man communicates things of importance, whom he would not entertain with trifles; and on the con∣trary, there are some, whom a man would acquaint with many inconsiderable secrets, to whom yet he would not commit matters of concernment. So that a man raises some kind of pleasure out of all, and though it be in a different manner, yet a man still takes some delight in all those for whom he hath never so little friendship. But Madam it is otherwise with Love, for when one is possessed with never so little of it, it presently causes a remission in the enjoyments of friendship; and when the heart is once wholly enflamed by it, there is no plea∣sure in the friends of either sex; what was divertive before, ceases to be so; the conversation of those we most esteem proves tedious; and pleasure it self is not pleasure, if it be not divided with the per∣son beloved; for in fine, Love knows so well how to disrelish all the enjoyments of friendship, that if you would take a ful revenge of Bellanira, you must resolve to entertain a little love. If it be as you say (replied Chrysis laughing) I should be much obli∣ged to you, if you can engage Bellanira to love some body, that so my friendship may prove unconside∣rable to her. Ah, charming Chrysis, replied the lively Brutus, that is the way to be revenged on your self; for you would thereby deprive your self of the greatest pleasures in the world, and bestow it on Bel∣lanira, who would little regard the delights of friend∣ship, when she hath once tasted those of Love. But I pray tell me, says Damo, who hath taught you to talk so learnedly of a passion, which was never yet abso∣lute Mistress of your heart? I am born under such a Love-star, Madam, replyed he, that even when I do not love any thing, yet from the simple imagination that I may love, I derive a sensible delight.

Upon this, Chrysis enclining to be pacified, there happenned very pleasant discourse between these three persons: but it was soon interrupted by the enterance of a Lady who carryed severity in her countenance, all whose actions were as it were set in tune, and whose very looks seemed to commend all that is called Pleasure. Insomuch that Bellanira, Damo, and Chrysis, who knew her, presently stifled this discourse, whereat Brutus much wondered; for he perceived they were quite other people than they were a minute before.

As soon therefore as this party was gone, he hasti∣ly asked who that austere Lady was, who had distur∣bed their discourse. This Lady, replied the plea∣sant Chrysis is one, whom a certain Disciple of Da∣mo's illustrious Father, hath instructed to part with humanity and reason; but the worst is, that she is not the onely woman in Crotona, who hath vowed to observe this cruel Austerity, which indeed is as per∣nicious as Calumny it self; for they are a knot of women of the same humour, whom I cannot by any means away with. But I would know further; re∣plied Brutus, how they have been induced to love Vertue, when she is represented to them so defor∣med. To give you a true account of their severity, replied she, you must lay this down as an immova∣ble principle, that the temperament is not to be changed.

The doctrine of the wise Pythagoras, though it be in it self but one, yet hath it been diversly interpre∣ted, according to the several opinions of those who have received it. So that there being a person of some quality, though of no great parts, among the Disciples of Pythagoras, a man of a severe nature, he for the most part misunderstood his precepts, and misinterpreted them to his own humour; insomuch, that at last he hath hewn out a certain scrupulous moral Philosophy, which frightens a mind rightly principled.

As for that, sayes Bellanira, we are onely to consi∣der, after what manner the Ladies, who are under his tuition, speak and behave themselves; and we shall find them so chimerically scrupulous, that it is not easily imagined how discreet and knowing wo∣men could be cajolled into things so fantastick. And that which is yet stranger, added, Damo, is, that these scrupulous Ladies, whose stomachs would turn to see Love but in picture, rail at all women, lightly condemning the most innocent actions; cannot en∣dure those pleasures they themselves take not, spare not the reputation of the dearest to them of their own sex, find fault with every thing they do not themselves, and turn to the worst what ever is done behind their backs, and whatever they understand not. Mereover, they are strangely prying into all things, they would know what ever is done in other conventicles, that they may have somewhat to rail at in their own; they even have an indignation to those delights, which they will not take themselves, and they are so conceited on their pretended Ver∣tue, that they treat all other Ladies as prophane persons, unworthy their Society. But for my part, I shall never account these vertuous, who take occa∣sion from their Vertue, to augment their pride, and to contemn whatever is not of their way. But that which is further remarkable, added Bellanira, is, that none of these scrupulous Dames, who are so rigid in censuring the actions of others, reform any one evill habit in themselves, for I know one the most cholerick person in the world who endeavours not once in her life to restrain the first agitations of her mind, but is perpetually ranting and chiding those that live under her. I know another so sloathful and careless, that I think, some dayes, she would not go one step forward to meet a good fortune that were coming to her. I know one so penurious, that she will not allow her self those ordi∣nary things which advance her beauty, though she be a great cherisher of it; and there are four or five of them, who, far from living upon wild fruits, as Pythagoras did, are so great lovers of good cheer, that they spend the greatest part of their life in eating or in studying what they should eat. In the mean time, these Dames, because they set an extraordinary value upon themselves, despise all o∣thers, and imagine that people ought to build Tem∣ples, and erect Altars to them.

But to countervail this replied Damo, there is another of my Fathers Disciples, who hath expoun∣ded his doctrine after another manner, for there are a sort of women, into whom he hath instilled his o∣pinions, scruple at nothing, but out of a desire they have, that their actions might be well taken, make the best of those of others, how faulty soever they may be. They hold, that it is the Intention onely that can make an action evill, so that with the best Intentions they many times commit the greatest Follies.

There is among these women so professed a Li∣bertinism, that it may be said they place their ho∣nour in not having any: For they trouble not them∣selves about any thing but what pleases them, and what diverts them; and to justifie this humour, they quote that act of compassion which my Father did in Egypt, when he prevailed with the Fisher∣men to sell him all the Fish they had taken, that he might restore them their lives. Whence they in∣fer that it is not likely that a man, who though he performed an act of Vertue in giving liberty to a sort of Fishes, would have all the passions chained up, and so render humane life comfortless and pen∣sive, so that squaring Philosophy to their own hu∣mour, they lead such lives, as if they were come into the world onely to study their pleasures, and to sa∣tisfie all their desires without any abatement.

I should prefer these however before the other, replyed Brutus, for they hurt no body, and spend not their time ill; but on the contrary, those au∣stere Dames, are damnably troublesome, and dist∣urb all the enjoyments of Society. Truly, reply∣ed Damo, they all deserve to be condemned; and there is a third way may be taken, which certainly is the surest, the most rational, and the most con∣venient, if the mind be but rightly discipli∣ned.

But, my Lord, I consider not that I spend too much time in relating to you what passed between these persons; for since that the counterfeit stupidi∣ty of Brutus at that time, partly occasioned his continuance of it, for his safe abode in Rome, I might have passed by the account of all that conversation. But to make amends for this digression, into which I am sensibly fallen; I must withal omit a many gal∣lantries Brutus did in that place, while he stayed there, yet not forgetting to tell you that Tarquinia and Damo returning to Metapont, prevailed with Bellanira to accompany them, and brought also Chry∣sis along with them. Brutus then having the oppor∣tunity

to see them daily, began to eotertain a love for Chrysis, nor could he say he wanted any from Bellanira; so that now he was not out of employ∣ment, as being a servant of Chrysis, though Bellanira had the greater affection for him, as believing him not too far engaged with her friend: Besides that he had infinite friendship for Damo.

Now was it that he led a pleasant life, for his greatest business was to find out new recreations. Love and Friendship were the subjects of his Poetry, and those of his Epistles, Complement and Court∣ship; nor did he find others less pleasure than he did himself. But indeed this bravery was interrupt∣ed by the grief which the death of Tarquinia brought him, who died in Child-bed of Hermilia; but as time doth insensibly cure all afflictions of this nature, so Brutus, within a few dayes, yeilded to his for∣mer inclination, whereof the frequent journeys he made to Crotona, whither Chrysis was returned, were such visible expressions that Licinius could easily per∣ceive the progress of that passion through the mask of the trouble he was in for the death of Tarqui∣nia. Whence taking occasion to perform his pro∣mise to Marcus Junius, he told Brutus that his friends at Rome had wrought his reconciliation with Tar∣quin, and that he understood there was some little inclination to a Revolt; that therefore he was obli∣ged to return thither, and consequently should not engage himself at Crotona. I have stood so long up∣on my guard as to that point, replyed Brutus, that if you find me not some employment, I shall not long be master of my self. For the hatred I bear Tarquin will be unprofitable, as long as I remain in a place where I cannot hurt him. Therefore if you would stifle the love which I feel growing within me, let me know whether I may hope to revenge my Father and my Brother's death; deliver Rome from slavery, and assume the glorious title of the Restorer of my Country.

You demand much in a breath, replyed Licinius, but all I can tell you, is, that while you are at Me∣tapont, you will do nothing of all you intend. Let us then to Rome, replyed Brutus, and that suddenly. You must certainly go, replyed Licinius, but you must withal do it securely, and suffer your self to be guided by those who are acquainted with Tarquin's humour, and who hope to over reach him, and elude all his distrust. Brutus attentively hearkning to Li∣cinius, promised an implicite obedience to his ad∣vice, and that he would submit himself to him as he would have done to his Father.

This done, it was resolved they should commu∣nicate their design to the wise Damo; nor failed they the same day to acquaint her with the whole state of their affaires; but when they had well exa∣mined the business, they were mightily troubled to find out some expedient for the safety of Brutus's life. For his part, it was the least of his troubles, but Licinius, and Damo seemed not so littly concer∣ned in it. At length, after many thoughts of it, this prudent Virgin said, she thought she had found out a way how Brutus might be in Rome without danger. For, in fine, said she, directing her speech to Licinius, I never heard that Tarquin doth ordina∣rily commit any crimes which are no advantage to him. When he poysoned his Wife and his Brother, It much concerned him they should be out of the World. When he caused Servilius Tullus to be murthered, 'twas to get into the Throne himself. When he dispatched the Widdow of that vertuous and unfortunate King, it was out of a fear lest her tears and her vertue might move compassion in the people. When he gave a violent purge to the Se∣nate, it was his design to remove thence all vertu∣ous persons, who might oppose his injustice. When he banished or put to death so many illustrious Citi∣zens, 'twas because they were men of conduct and courage, likely to undertake any thing against him. And to come neer home, when he put to death the Father and Brother of him, whose life you would preserve, it was because they were powerful, for∣ward, and rich. Hence I conclude, that for Brutus to be safe at Rome until the Gods shall think fit to change the Government, Tarquin must be perswa∣ded that Brutus can never hurt him.

Now this will come to pass, if he will but re∣solve to do that for his own, and haply for the safety of Rome, which he so pleasantly did some few days since for the diversion of his Mistress, when by an ingenious trick to deceive the fair Chrysis, he counterfeited Simplicity so naturally, that he deceived one the least easily deceived of any I know. How, replyed fiercely Brutus, must I act the Fool and the Sot all my life? You must certainly do it, replyed she, for by that means Tarquin, not jealous of you, would rest secure, and would haply be glad to let you live, so to give an example of mo∣deration, when it is not prejudicial to him. Ah, generous Damo, cryed he, how harsh is this expe∣dient! For though it be a hard task to betray a great understanding, it is a harder to personate distracti∣on; and since, to be free with you, I must tell you, that my only business at Rome is to destroy Tarquin and be revenged on him; I beseech you consider what mischief that man can doe him, whose conver∣sation all the World would avoid, and who would be thought not to have common sense. For my part, replyed she, my reason dissents from yours, for I con∣ceive nothing more considerable in a dangerous con∣spiracy, than to have a great understanding, and a great courage, invisible to the World. In fine, if at Rome there be no inclination to a revolt, added Licinius, you may be safe and quiet; and if there be some secret risings in the City conducing to your design, you may discover your self to those who shall be able and desirous to act for the publique good. Yet once more, cryed out Brutus, this ex∣pedient is harsh and indigestible. And yet, reply∣ed Licinius, there is no mean, you must either re∣solve this way, or be for ever banished Rome, and not expect to revenge your Father's death, or ever hope to recover what the unjust Tarquin hath taken from you; and to ascend a little higher, you must either accept it, or ever renounce Glory. If it come to that, replyed Brutus, I would rather re∣nounce Reason, and submit my self to whatever you shall order.

Having thus resolved, Licinius, not willing to give Brutus leisure to repent, set all things in order for his departure, and four dayes after, the reso∣lution taken was put in execution. He thought not fit Brutus should come to Rome till he had seen how he would be received, so that he onely brought with him the little Hermilia, who was hardly out of her Nurse's armes, and delivered her to be brought up to the sage Racilia, giving out that he was mar∣ried at Metapont, but that his Wife was dead, not discovering whom he had married, for fear of ex∣posing

Hermilia to the cruelty of the tyrant, should he know she were daughter to Tarquinia, for whom he had an inveterate hatred, especially since she had left Rome. But he was no sooner admitted into Tarquin's presence, but he asked what was be∣come of Marcus Junius's Sons? whereto he answer∣ed, that though he were alive, he might well be numbred among the dead. This doubtful answer en∣creasing Tarquin's curiosity, he was very importunate with Licinius to resolve this Riddle; who acting his part very subtilely, made as if he were loath to satisfie his curiosity. But at length yielding by de∣grees, he told him he was much troubled to tell him that a man who had the honor to be so near of kin to him, was so senseless as Junius seemed to be in all his words and actions. This he had scarcely said, but Tarquin, instead of being troubled at it, could not but betray his gladness; not but that he said it troubled him, but his eyes, more faithful than his mouth, discovered the secret of his heart, and argu'd, he had rather have a senseless, than an understanding man to his Nephew. Nevertheless, being afraid of being deceived, he bid Licinius bring him to him, which he pressed so much, that Licinius easily perceived that if he did not obey the tyrant, his life was in danger. So that pro∣mising what he desired, she sent an express to Bru∣tus, whom he had secretly brought to an old friends house within six miles of Rome, and acquainted how things stood. Brutus was now past all delibera∣tion, as to what he was to do; for considering with himself, that if he went not to Rome, Licinius might be ill intreated, and that withal his own life, as well as that of his Father-in-law's was in danger, if he appeard not there in his feigned stu∣pidity, he resolv'd to do it, and was accordingly brought to Tarquin. But as he went; what did he not think on, and what apprehensions of anguish seized him? He lfet Metapont, where he had led an infinitely pleasant life, as a banished person. He there left a gallant friend, whom he infinitely lo∣ved, he smothered a growing love, which filled his heart with hope and joy, he lost the good com∣pany of a many honest people; he renounced all pleasure, save the hope of Revenge, and he forsook, as I may so say, his own reason. But, all considered, Licinius's life being at the stake, the revenging of his friends death, and the deliverance of his Coun∣try, being to be effected, he overcame the aversion he had to make use of so fantastick a pretence for his stay in Rome; and resolved to live there after a much different manner than he had done at Meta∣pont. In effect when Licinius presented him to Tar∣quin, he acted the part of a dul and foolish person so well, that the fierce Tyrant was deceived in him, so that instead of being troubled to see him in that condition, he was very glad of it, for it was an affli∣ction to him to think that Marcus Junius should have a Son alive in any place in the world, who might haply ome day endeavour to revenge his fathers death. But considering him in his present conditi∣tion, he was not afraid of him, nor was he sorry he could give one example of humanity without dan∣ger. He therefore seemed to have a care of him, and to be the more assured of him, he thought fit he should be married, for he was not so sottish but he betrayed the inclination he had to women. But be∣ing to marry, he must take the daughter of a man engaged in his interests, lest he should dispose of himself, and haply ally himself with some family too well affected to the publique good, and so the name of Junius, venerable in Rome, should revive. Nay to dis-accustome a People from a Name had been dear to them ever since the foundation of the fa∣mous City, the young Gallants of the Court began, by way of abuse, to call him Brutus, and left off cal∣ling him Junius; for as to the other name he went under at Metapont, and which I have forgotten, it was never known at Rome. But that which was most re∣markable, was, that he whom they called by that name, which was not proper for him, though it see∣med so, accustomed himself to answer to it, the more to express his stupidity, so that insensibly all came to call him Brutus, and Licinius himself hath called him so.

You now know, my Lord, in what manner this noble Roman returned to Rome, was married, and lived there, not so much as taking notice that Tar∣quin had usurped all the wealth of his house, and gave him onely so much as was barely necessary for his subsistance. Nor indeed did Brutus trouble himself about it, but his wives father, who was no∣thing afflicted at the misfortune of his son-in law, for that the Tyrant enriched him upon his account, But Brutus who was not come to Rome but to deli∣ver it from the tyranny of Tarquin, was infinitely perplexed, for he understood by Licinius Valerius, and his vertuous Aunt Racilia, who were all intrust∣ed with the secret of his life, whatever passed in the particular faction that were in Rome, the City, and that a Plot was sooner laid, and a Party enga∣ged, but Tarquin quashed it by the death or ba∣nishment of the Plotters, and that consequently there was no likelihood of destroying the Tyrant, or delivering Rome, or ever appearing there with his reason about him, though he were resolved to forget all the violences, and all the enormities of Tarquin, for he was absolutely convinced that if the tyrant should once discover he had any understand∣ing, he would soon take away his life. He also heard how that the cruel Tullia insolently answered a woman, who said, It was great pity, that Brutus was so stupid; that if he were not, it should cost him something more than his reason. So that not conceiving any probability of doing what he ho∣ped, he led a most sad and melancholy life, ha∣ving no other comfort but what he received by the Letters of the wise daughter of Pythagoras; for as for his rising love, it vanished presently after his return to Rome. While he was in this perplexity, his wife dies, leaving him two sons, which she brought him soon after their marriage; which ac∣cident somewhat encreased his pensiveness, for that she was a handsome woman and good natured. Not but that he lived with her in a strange awe and caution, for though he had a great friendship for her, because she was so well conditioned, as not to despise him, and that she believed him as simple as he made himself, yet he never durst discover him∣self to her, as knowing ever since he married her, that it was an impossibility with her not to tell a thing she knew, and that there never was woman less able to hold her peace than she. So that he was forced to an insupportable reservedness, even in those hours wherein all others have the greatest freedom. Yet could he not but grieve for her death, as one in whom he had met with both ver∣tue and mildness. But as he had not any great affe∣ction

for her, and what he had might be rather cal∣led acquaintance than friendship, so, had he known no other affliction, Time would have overcome it. But he saw Tarquin's power encrease every day; he saw the greatest part of any worth, banished or put to death; all the young men slaves to the tyrant's fortune; and so little likelyhood of any advanta∣geous change for Rome, that he could hardly enter∣tain any hope ever to see his Countrey or his Reason at liberty. This brought an unspeakable melan∣choly, which caused him to avoid company as much as he could, nay in a manner made him desirous to avoid himself.

But Licinius, who was yet alive, and who had dis∣covered this secret to Publius Valerius, as being his intimate friend, and withal a hearty enemy of Tar∣quin's, perceived well that Brutus became more and more pensive. So that he therefore spoke to Ra∣cilia, with whom was the little Hermilia, who knew not yet that she was Brutus's Sister, to think of some means to comfort him, for he knew that Bru∣tus reposed a great confidence in her. He advised her to take him into a pleasant seat she had upon the Tiber's side, four miles from Rome. To be short, she proposed to him the passing of three or four days there; to which proposition, containing no∣thing opposite to his Melancholy, he consented and went thither, but with an intention not to return any more to Rome, but to wander about the world until some change should happen in Tarquin's for∣tune. For, said he within himself, since I cannot hurt the tyrant, and so revenge my Father's death, and deliver my Country, to what end is it to con∣demn my reason to perpetual slavery, and to capti∣vate my self eternally? what glory, or what ad∣vantage is it to me, to live obscurely, and go for the most senseless and the most stupid of all man∣kind; and be withal an utter stranger to all plea∣sure and society? I cannot in the condition I am in, be guilty of either Vice or Vertue, but live after such a fantastick manner, that since there were men, never any lived as I do. Yet for all this, could the hope of Revenge and of Glory but keep possession of my heart, I could have patience; but to live with∣out pleasure, or so much as the hope of any, is abso∣lutely insupportable, and that which I can no longer endure.

Thus was Brutus so ore-whelmed with melancho∣ly, and so weary of the life he led, that he resolved to leave his Countrey, and become a voluntary Exile. Being therefore confirmed in this design, his onely study was to put it in execution, and put himself in a posture to leave Rome, and at the first to go no further than Metapont, knowing he had still a ma∣ny good friends in that place. He was also some∣what confident that Licinius and Racilia would re∣leive him in his banishment, and would send him somewhat to subsist, though they were never so an∣gry. Not but that when he thought of leaving Rome, and losing all occasions which might happen in his absence to do Tarquin a mischief, it a little assaulted his resolution; but after all consideration, seeing no likelyhood of any to happen a long time, and being no longer able to endure that reserved∣ness wherein he lived, he hardned himself in the re∣solution he had taken, wherewith he neither ac∣quainted Racilia, nor the young Hermilia, who, as I told you, knew not as yet that she was Brutus's Si∣ster, as being too young to be trusted with a secret of so great importance. So that being unchangeably resolved, he designed his departure within three dayes, pretending he would return again to Rome, so to deceive his Aunt, whom he avoyded as much as lay in his power, because she perpetually pressed him, to know whence that new affliction procee∣ded, which she observed in him. But affecting soli∣tude as much as might be, the day before his de∣parture he walked along the river side, and there re∣volving in his mind whatever had happened to him, he remembred the pleasures he found in the conver∣sation of Damo, Chrysis, and Bellanira, and thereupon opposing one passion to another, he was satisfied he should find some comfort, even in this, that though he quitted the noble ambition of being the Delive∣rer of his Country, he might aspire to the Conquest of some great Beauty.

But his mind could not entertain all those imagi∣nations without some confusion, as he hath since confessed to me; nor could he well distinguish be∣tween that which comforted him, and that which afflicted him, when turning about at the noyse of a Chariot, a Slave very submissively asks him, whe∣ther the Chariot he saw coming were in the right way to Racilia's house? Brutus being obliged to answer him, told him after his affected simplicity, that it was the ready way; which said, not enqui∣ring whose the Chariot was, nor who was in it, nor so much as looking that way, he continued his walk, so great was his melancholy. Nay this very adven∣ture added to it, and caused him to stay out later than he should have done: For, said he, to what end do I go into any company, wherein I must be what is almost insufferable to be, and such as is below the envy of all? Is it possible, continued he sighing, is it possible to be more unhappy, than to be what no man would be, no not the vilest Slave upon the face of the earth? Amidst these thoughts Brutus continued his walk, and that so long, that ere he returned the Lamps were lighted at Racilia's. 'Tis true, he met there with excellent company, but that you may know how much he was surprised in it, I must tell you, that the wife of Spurius Lucretius was there with her incomparable daughter Lucrecia, as also the beauteous and divine Valeria; he met there also with Sivelia and Mutius, whom you have seen with the King, and I my self was come to accompa∣ny these noble persons, who were come upon no o∣ther design, than to surprize Racilia in her solitude. But as this illustrious Roman is a person of conduct and aeconomy, our reception was such as if we had been expected, besides that it was with a great cheer∣fulness, for Lucrecia's mother and mine were her intimate friends, Mutius was some kin to her as well as the other two, Valeria and Lucrecia she had a great esteem for both for their own sakes, as also for theirs of whom they derived their beeing, and for my part, I was also entertained upon Sivelia's ac∣count. Omitting therefore nothing requisite to our entertainment, she presently gave order the house should be adorned with that magnificence, as if she were to keep some great Festival. So that Brutus returning, and entring into a large arched hall, furnished to admiration, he wondred to find there such a noble company; for you are to know, that as he had not the priviledge of much conversa∣tion, so was he not acquainted with all the Beauties in Rome, for he had never seen Lucrecia unveyled, nor had much more knowledge of Valeria, though

Valerius was of his caball. It happened so that he was no sooner entred, but those two Beauties shi∣ning ful into his sight, dazled him into a change of colour. For though Valeria were not haply as ex∣actly handsome as Lucrecia, yet she may well be ac∣counted a very excellent person. In the mean time, thogh none conceived Brutus could contribute any thing to the company, yet as one of good birth, and Nephew to Racilia, he was saluted, but with that coldness of complement, wherewith we entertain those whom we esteem not, and, without allowing him any part of the discourse, it was continued in the same channel it was in before. For his part he onely harkned to what was said, and earnestly viewed Lucrecia, who certainly that night shined with an extraordinary beauty. For though I know you have seen her with Prince Sextus, yet I shall not stick to say, she was at that time handsomer than she can be now, though she yet deserve admiration. It was impossible a complexion should have more lustre, or an eye more majesty, and withall more sweetness than she then had. Nor indeed did Bru∣tus look on her indifferently, which when I obser∣ved, I came to her, and whispering to her smiling, You see Madam, said I to her, how great the power of your beauty is, since that Brutus, as brute as he is, is sensible of it, and admires it. If that which you call Beauty in me, replied she smiling also, produce no more glorious effect than this, I shall not hasti∣ly be too proud of it. But truly, said she, I so much pity poor Brutus, that I have not the heart to laugh at his stupidity.

As she said this, a great noyse was heard in the Court, and presently Racilia had notice, that the Prince of Pometia, and Prince Titus, who said they had lost their way a hunting, desired entertainment there for that night; but the truth of the business was, that the former of the princes, being fallen in love with the young Hermilia, took this occasion to give her a visite. Now these Princes being vertu∣ous persons, especially the Prince of Pometia, Racilia out of consideration both of equity and prudence, received them kindly, though she ever abhorred Tarquin. Besides that, having a large and fair house, and that the Princes brought none with them but their Slaves, she was not much troubled at their coming, and so she staied with her former company, as if she had no further care to take. In the first place the Prince of Pometia related how he and Titus lost their way, but he did it with so much art, that I am confident the fair Hermilia as young as she was, easily perceived that she was the occasion of that hunting, and that that Prince looked after no other pray then that of her heart; for turning her head a side, she blushed, and seemed not to heed what he said, though he listned very attentively.

But at last, all having taken their former places, Brutus having not all the while said any thing, Ti∣tus fell into some private discourse with Lucrecia's mother and Sivelia, so to do his brother a courtesie, for by that means he might the more freely enter∣tain Hermilia, who was somewhat shie of engaging into discourse, while Lucrecia's mother was with her Aunt. So the general discourse happened be∣tween Racilia, Valeria, Lucrecia, Hermilia, the Prince of Pometia, Mutius, and my self; as for Brutus, he said nothing at all, though sometimes he was very desirous to speak something, simply or heavily, ac∣cording to his custome, especially because Tarquin's sons were in the room. But he hath told me since, that he was so loath to speak indiscreetly before Lucrecia, that he thought better to be silent, then to say any thing that night. But the discourse was changed after such a manner, as gave him occasion to observe, that Lucrecia's Wit was as great as her Beauty. For you are to know, that as in Rome they work admirably in earth, whether it be for Vessells, or Statues, so Racilia, who studied curiosity and con∣venience as much as might be, had excellent Vessels, insomuch that the Slaves who waited on her, cove∣ring certain tables, and placing all things necessary for the treatment of so noble a company, the Prince of Pometia observed that one of the tables was of the same material with those Vessels I mentioned, and was admirably wrought. It was supported by three children, who seemed to have so much adoe to carry it, that one would think himself obliged to help them to bear it up. The Prince liking it very well, began to commend it, and was going to∣wards it the better to consider the workmanship of it. Which the two Slaves, who were covering it, perceiving, they lifted it up to bring to him, but so rashly, that they overturned it, and broke it all to pieces. That it seemed very admirable to all the company, appeared by the cry they all made when that mischance happened, except the Mistress, who seemed not to be at all moved at it. As for the Prince of Pometia, who was the innocent occasion of this mishap, he made a thousand excuses to Raci∣lia; but she not being in the least angry with the Slaves, who had so indiscretely spoyled such an excellent commodity, told the Prince, that the onely trouble she had, was, that it was broken be∣fore he had had satisfaction of seeing it; but yet that happiness might be recovered, she would have another of the very same making; which when she had said, she with a great calmness commanded those who had broke that, to fetch another out of a certain place she directed them to, and to have a care they did not break it. Ah Madam; cryed out Lucretia, looking earnestly on her, How I love you for your great patience, and that you are not of those Women who are angry, at all times, in all places, before all sorts of persons, and for all things! For I do not conceive any thing nobler than to raise one's self above a certain testiness, which is con∣tracted by custome, and to which most Women, are prone enough, since that many times it makes them do as fantastick things as folly it self would put them upon. It is true, replyed Racilia, that to be soon angry is an ill custome to take up, both for one's self and others. And I think, added pleasantly Va∣leria, that fair Ladies ought to have a greater care to reform this fault, than others; for excessive anger injures Beauty. To that purpose continued Lucrecia, I saw, not many dayes since, a very hand∣some Lady, who, upon such an occasion, became in an instant very deformed, and continued so for above four hours. She had then some extraordi∣nary cause to be angry, replyed I, or haply she had something spoyled as considerable as this table of Racilia's. Not at all, replyed Lucretia, and the adventure is so odd, that I have a mind to tell it you. You will oblige me much, replyed Racilia, for Her∣milia is naturally so Passionate, that if she have not a care, she will come to be very cholerick. 'Tis true, replyed the blushing Beauty, that I am natu∣rally somewhat enclined to this froward passion, but

yet I do not conceive I have given the fair Lucretia any occasion to make pleasant stories of the extra∣vagances of my passion. For my part, said Mutius, (who is of a nature violent enough) I cannot be such an Enemy to Anger, nay I am perswaded, that it is it makes the vertue which seems to be opposite to it; for, it is certain, a great patience is an effect of great courage, and a great courage is oftner found in those who are of a cholerick disposition, than in those who are so dispassionate, that a man knows not when they are offended, nor when they are obliged. Passion and Choler, replyed Racilia, are two different things; but therefore I oppose what you say, added she, I shall be glad to hear what Lucretia sayes, for I am perswaded that sometimes Examples are better Masters than Precepts. I must indeed confess, sayes Lucretia, that I ow a great part of my moderation to the impatience of two or three of my acquaintance, and principally of her whom I am going to tell you of. Imagine then, con∣tinued she, this Lady, who is very buxome, to be in the best humout in the World the last time I saw her, for she was free, jocund, complaisant and light∣some. That which partly caused her to be in so good an humour, was, that looking in the glass, she thought her self that Morning handsomer than or∣dinary, and that two other friends of hers and my self, had told her so much while we were walking in her Garden. To be short, her complexion was more serene, her eyes gentle, and her lips carnatio∣ned; but at last, having walked enough, she brought us into her Chamber. She had no sooner lifted up her veyl, but she goes to the glass, questionless to be confirmed in the high opinion she had of her beau∣ty; but what was most pleasant, was, she found it so strangely overcast, that she could onely see her self as if it had been through a thick mist. So that not knowing of a sudden whether there were any mist in the Chamber, though it were very fair wea∣ther, she turned somewhat troubledly toward her friends and me, which we perceiving. and know∣ing whence it proceeded, as being just opposite to the glass, as well as she, laughed at it; and I told her jestingly, that that accident was a punishment for the excessive delight she took in her own Beauty. But it was no sooner out of my mouth, but she blush∣ed for madness, and without making me any an∣swer called up hastily one of her Women to know what had discoloured her glass. But instead of as∣king it mildly of the maid, who was but young, and seemed to be simple enough, she presently chang∣en her voyce, her countenance and action, in somuch that she who a minute before was of a composed air, and had a mild and modest look, ceased immediate∣ly to be what she was. For not giving her Slave time to answer what she asked, she presently imagi∣nrd she was to blame for asking, and that she knew the reason of it without her telling. She added, that certainly it must be she, who thinking her self pret∣ty, instead of minding her work, did nothing but view her self in the glass. This gave her occasion to tell her, that she was much deceived, if she thought her self handsome, and to ask her why she pretend∣ed to it, and whom she so much studied to please, and talked to her so many trivial stories, that I was never so much ashamed of any thing, as I was of that person for the concernment of my sex. And when the poor Girl, whom she so much exclaimed against, would have said something to justifie her self, her Mistress presently found something else to quarrel as, so that at last having compassion on her, I would needs excuse her. But I had hardly ope∣ned my mouth, ere the incensed Beauty changing the object of her anger, fell upon me, and told me that if I offered to excuse her, I should make her so impudent, that she would be no more for her ser∣vice, multiplying words so strangely, that no other had the leisure to speak. In the mean time, the Roses and Lillies of her delicate complexion were so disturbed, that they were not discernable; for her face was enflamed into a deep red, the white of her eyes was changed, which were inlarged beyond their ordinary size, looking disturbedly and scatte∣ringly, and indeed, as if she saw not what was be∣fore her; the figure of her mouth was not the same; she repeated the same thing twenty times, and she seemed rather a mad Priestess of Bacchus, than a mo∣dest Roman.

But in fine, all this came to nothing, for when she had ranted and scolded, and vented her extravagan∣ces to weariness, it appeared she had no reason at all to be angry. For when she came down into the gar∣den to entertain us, she gave order her chamber should be perfumed against she came in, so that in o∣bedience to her commands, burning much purfume, the glass was overcast with it, and the poor Slave, who never thought of looking into it, perceived it not. She thence at last conceived the maid had not done any thing of what she thought, and that she was to blame for having kept such a stir. But though she was convinced of this, yet was there not an ab∣solute calm in her mind; on the contrary, a cer∣tain conscience of her weakness raising a new tem∣pest in her, suffered her not to rest free from some tossings of indignation all that day. She answered peevishly all that spoke to her; she quarrelled with all attended her, and that before whoever came to her, without ever considering whether it were ci∣vil or not; nay I am not certain whether she came not so high as to threaten a little Slave she had. I was never so much astonished at any thing, as to see this strange transport of spirit, and withall, what an alteration Anger made in this great Beauty. You so pleasantly describe this fantastick anger, replyed I, that though I am naturally somewhat inclined to it, I shall henceforward take a great care to correct it in my self, though I am of opinion, that this incli∣nation of nature ought not to be blamed; nay, on the contrary, hold, that Anger in noble and regula∣ted minds, is an argument of greatness of courage and integrity. For if you look upon this passion in a discreet man: you will find it never breaks forth but upon some resentment of injury, wherein repu∣tation is concerned, and that it is a pure effect of his vertue, and speaks the tenderness of his soul, the delicacy of his mind, and the clearness of his appre∣hension. For how can a man of an upright soul re∣sent a manifest injustice, and not carry a heart sensi∣ble of it? Or he who sets a high valve on his reputa∣tion, receive an affront without indignation? Nay I am of opinion, added Mutius, that, to speak gene∣rally, the temperament most enclined to choler, is that of gallant Spirits. Yet all nations certainly, replyed I, are not perswaded that Choler is a ne∣cessary ingredient of Valour; on the contrary, the Lacedemonians hold, that it is prejudicial to it, which is the reason that they animate their Soldiers to fight with a sweet harmony, to infuse joy and tranquillity

into their souls; and before battels sacrifice to the Muses, to oblige them to preserve their reason en∣tire in sight. That which to me seems most incon∣venient in choler, replyed the sage Racilia, is, that persons of weak constitutions are more subject to it than others, as children, and such as are in a decli∣nation of age and reason, are angry at any thing. In like manner, sick persons, who are not masters of their reason, are vexed at trifles, such as they are ashamed of when they are in health; and lastly, women (if I may be so free to the discredit of my sex) for the most part, being not capable of any great fortitude and strength of parts, are many times hurried into humorous vexations, as appears by the relation of Lucrecia. I agree with you, re∣plyed I, that indeed it argues a weak mind, and little discretion to be angry at small matters; but I withal maintain, that never to be moved, signifies ra∣ther an insensible mind, than any strength of reason. Nay I presume to affirm, that it is no vertue to be insensible, that Anger may produce good effects, and that it is just sometimes to give it way; but withal, I aver it is danger when it becomes habitual, and that it is commendable to bridle it, and that a must never be over-mastered by it. Certainly, re∣plyed pleasantly Lucrecia, where there is not a staid mind, Anger is a dangerous habit, and suits not so well with women, for I have observed a cer∣tain attraction in affliction and tears, but I have ne∣ver seen any beauty in anger, nor known any impa∣tient that were withal agreeable. That which is not insupportable in this passion, says the Prince of Pometia, is, that its object omits not any limit as other passions do. As for instance, if a man have a great tenderness for some one particular person, it is only for that very one's sake that he shall betray a certain weakness, while his passion lasts, which is the only testimony he gives of all those pleasant ex∣travagances, whereof he knows himself guilty. But as for anger, it fastens on all things, it equally reaches things sensible and insensible, and the mind is incensed by things of small, as well as those of greater concernment, according to every one's hu∣mor. You are in the right, replyed Lucrecia, for an inraged Musician breaks the strings of his In∣strument, a Painter flings away his Pencils; a Sena∣tor will be angry if you dissent from his Opinion; a Husband quarrels with his Wife for being too ex∣pensive; and a Wife quarrels with her Husband if he be too covetous; a great Beauty falls out with her own Hairs when they will not be ordered as they should be; and if it be true, that there are any Lovers in this world, it is possible, ad∣ded she smiling, they may sometimes confer their discontents together, upon over very slight oc∣casions, if so be they are of a cholerick disposi∣tion.

Lucrecia acted this exaggeration with such a grace, that she gained the commendation of all the company for her wit, and Brutus hath told me since, that almost forgetting his artificial stu∣pidity, he had been likely to contribute his praises to those of the rest. And indeed he prepared himself to speak, but the fair Hermilia hastily prevented him, which I only observed, but at that time made no great reflection upon it, for I hearkned to Hermilia, who not willing to quit the discourse about anger, made it her business at least to excuse it. But in fine, said she, how is it pos∣sible not to be angry at many trivial things which happen, for it is in respect to these that I would speak of anger, that is, how can the mind be so qualified as not to be stirred to anger at a many in∣considerable accidents, which every moment hap∣pen beside all expectation? Hermilia indeed is now in the right, said Valeria, since that to speak in general terms, it is easier not to be hurried into passion upon some important occasion, than never to be moved at these sudden ones, when haply Reason stands not on its guard, but the mind is sur∣prised, and moved before it take time to consult. For my part, added Mutius, I shall never believe the Gods have bestowed on us such passions, as we may not innocently use; and I am strongly per∣swaded, that as there may be a Love without Crime, so there may be an Anger without any just blame, and that it is the use of it only that requires regulation. I am of opinion, replyed the gallant Prince of Pometia smiling, that only Lucretia de∣serves to be the Halcyon of Anger, if I may so ex∣press it, and that it is from her that we must receive instructions how to qualifie this tumultuous passion which is so displeasing to her. The Prince of Po∣metia hath spoken so excellently well, replyed I, that it is sit the fair Lucrecia grant what he de∣mands. Let her make what orders she please a∣gainst Anger, replyed Mutius, she shall have much to do to keep it quiet in my heart; and for my part, said Hermilia, I must needs quarrel with her severity. You would do better, if you advanta∣ged your self by her example, said Racilia to her; but for my part, says Valeria, it will be no great trouble to me to submit to her. And it will be less to me to enact my pretended Laws for the Ladies, replyed Lucrecia, for I have no more to do than to bid them imitate your moderation. To be short, continued she, as it is not my duty to regulate an∣other's resentments by my own, so I have no more to say, but to propose Herminius for a pattern for men, as I do Valeria to all of my own sex; for I know by experience that they are both subject to a great sensibility of spirit, and that if Reason had not taught them the lawful measure of anger, they would be over-mastered by it, as well as so many others. Ah Madam, said I, looking upon her, you do not know me, I am not fit to be a pattern of pa∣tience, for if you knew how sensible I am upon some occasions, and how angry I am with my self for it, it would move your pity, and you would seek into your own reason for that which you cannot find in my heart, as having much more frailty than can be imagined. For my part, added Valeria, I con∣fess I am mistress enough of my own passions, I have the art to conceal my anger, or at least to repress it, so as it never transported me to say any thing which I repented when my passion was over. Ah Valeria, replyed Lucrecia, how much am I obliged to you, for having given us in few words the most excellent rule in the world!

I would ask no more of all women, than to keep within those bounds; for if they should do so, they would never be hasty or fretful, they would not be always chiding their Slaves, always quarrelling with their Friends; they would not be violently hurried into passion, before those that come to vi∣sit them; they would have a respect to themselves, and would not cloud the serenity of their eyes with a storm of fury. But if you quite take away an∣ger,

replys Hermilia pleasantly, I know not how Ladies can beget an awe and respect in such as make addresses to them, since in my judgment it is their only defence. For instance, if any one be so bold, as to entertain a Lady with some discourse that is displeasing to her, I am confident, if she blush with anger, and give some testimony of her displeasure in her eyes, this forward person will presently shift discourse, rather than continue it, out of a fear to displease her. But on the other side, if she be so patient, that she express no sign of anger, he will at last make her angry in good earnest. You press this too far, replies Lucrecia for though I am an enemy to excessive anger, yet I allow women to ex∣press their indignation; even to fierceness; but I would that the redness which anger spreads upon their cheeks, should but add to their beauty, not dis∣order their minds, and that they preserve their re∣spect rather by a modest severity, than by angry expostulations, which at no time become a woman, especially when they are such as are worth nothing, raised upon frivolous grounds, and a disparagement to such as are subject to them. I mean those passi∣ons which spring up anew continually, those per∣sons who are subject to them, never taking any care by a strong resolution to correct so ill a habit, which by rendring them less fair and pleasing, brings them sometimes into the hatred and con∣tempt, not only of their superiors, but even of their inferiors.

Lucrecia having proceeded thus far, the banquet was brought in, which put an end to this pleasant and profitable entertainment. Brutus all this while said not a word; but ceased not to admire Lucrecia, with whose Wit he was more taken than with her Beauty, though her beauty were admi∣rable. But that he might be at the same time ac∣quainted with all the perfections of Lucrecia, it happened they came to speak altogether of her goodness; whereof Valeria related a many instan∣ces, though much against the others will, inso∣much that the night was wholly spent in her commendations. So that when all were re∣tired, Brutus was wholly taken up with thought of Lucrecia.

It happened, that the chamber where this Beauty was disposed to lodge, joyned to a closet which was in Brutus's, which having been sometime a passage between those two chambers, they had only nailed up the door which went out of it into that where Lucrecia and Valeria lay. But there being certain chinks in the door, through which it was easie to see what was done in the place where these two Beauties were; Brutus, who had of∣ten taken notice of it, could not with-hold, being returned into his chamber, from going into the closet, and beholding these two Beauties whilst they undressed themselves, in whom he discovered a thousand new perfections. For the dress of Roman Ladies hiding the neck, he knew not until this in∣stant the perfection of theirs; indeed his heart be∣ing already destined to Lucrecia's service, even be∣fore he knew so much, he fixed all his observation upon her with such a stedfast view, that he had not the power to close his eyes all the night after. This pleasing Idea, though full of all delightful charms, troubled his rest, insinuating a kind of commotion into his heart, betwixt grief and joy, which raised in him a thousand different imaginations. It made him a long time forget the design he had taken to leave Rome within two days, and to banish himself voluntarily from a place, where it behoved him to hide his soul, if he would preserve his life, and where he saw not any likelihood of revenging his Father's death, or delivering his Country, as he in∣tended, whilst he confined himself to this foolish disguise. At last, after a long deliberation, sud∣denly recollecting himself, and remembring the resolution he had taken to go away, it vexed him that he had seen Lucrecia, he endeavored to blot her out of his imagination; he looked upon this acci∣dent as a new misfortune, which gave him the knowledge of so excellent a person, when he had resolved to go so far from the place where she was: It is true, said he to himself, that as I shall see and be seen of her, I need not much regret her absence, since if I fall not in love with her, I shall not lose so great a pleasure in depriving my self of her sight. For though fair objects delight our eyes at all times, even though our hearts be not touched, yet the plea∣sure of the eyes is a mean pleasure. A garden of flowers would please my eyes as much as the sight of a fair woman, for whom I have no passion my self, nor desire that she should have any for me. On the other side, if I love her, I shall lose less by this se∣paration; for after all, how passionate soever I be∣come, I dare never express it to her, nor hope for any allowance thereof; and how can she love a man in whom appeareth nothing of wit or conversation, one that she values less than the meanest, and most stupid Slave?

Let us think no more of Lucrecia but pursue our design of quitting Rome, a place where lives a per∣son, who perhaps may make me yet more unhappy than I am. In what part soever of the world else I shall fall in love, I shall be less miserable; for I may hope not to be despised, I may obtain leave to say, that I love some one, or at least to complain of her cruelty.

Thus Brutus believing he had mastered his own will, passed the rest of the night in thinking upon his journey; and as soon as the Sun appeared, he rose with intent to walk alone without thinking on the company at Racilia's house. But whatsoever his in∣tention was, he had not power to go away without the curiosity of going into the closet, through which he could see into Lucrecia's chamber. This desire was so great he could not resist it; in fine, he entered, and peeped in at the same cranny as he had done the night before, but his curiosity received lit∣tle satisfaction, for though he saw Lucrecia asleep, yet he had a less sight of her than when she was a∣wake, because she slept in so modest a posture, that he could see nothing but her right hand, in which the seemed to hold carelesly a little white veil which covered half her face. This hand indeed was so white, that it made an end of the theft her eyes had begun, and stole away his heart. Yet did not Brutus perceive this infancy of love; he called the first motion of his passion, curiosity; he resolved to walk alone, to avoid meeting with Lucrecia, that he might not be obliged to speak in her presence, fan∣cying to himself a kind of pleasure in being separa∣ted from her, that so he might not accuse himself of having spoken indiscreetly before a person to whom he found a great inclination in himself to use all his Rhetorick, if he had been in such a condi∣tion, that he durst have discovered his thoughts.

He went hereupon to walk in a Meadow bordered with Willowes interwoven with thick bushes, which butted upon the Tiber; Thither he went with a resolution to return home, till the fair troop were gone; for having openly professed stupidity, he was not tyed to any rules of civility, and the pre∣sence of the two Princes did no longer oblige him to a self-constraint. So that to compass his design, he went, followed onely by a Slave, to take a light repast with the Priest of a little Country Temple, not far from the place which he had chosen for his walk. In fine, he ordered it so well, that he went not back untill it was within an hour of sun-set, and then not doubting but that the company which caused his solitary humour was departed, he took his way along the River to go home. But as he be∣gan to walk, he was touched with a little kind of dis∣content for not having seen that admirable person whom he avoyded to meet. He condemned himself almost at the same instant, and giving his thoughts leave to range without any fixed object, he sent the Slave that attended him before, and in this man∣ner walked along the River, not well knowing where he was, untill coming to the midst of the Me∣dow, he beheld there women seated at the foot of an old Willow, who chanced to rise at the same time, as he perceived them and began to walk away. Scarce were they risen, but he knew these three to be Valeria, Lucrecia, and Hermilia, who knowing him, as he them, turned aside to avoyd them. For Hermilia her self was not onely ignorant that she was Sister to Brutus, but was a stranger as well as her two friends, to the true worth of this noble Roman. Not willing therefore that their conver∣sation should be interrupted by a man, who, as they conceived, could add nothing to it, they turned as I said, aside. This action gave Brutus to understand what it was that obliged them to shun him, whereat he was infinitely troubled, yet did he comply with their intention, and saluting them afar off, went di∣rectly on to the house of his Aunt, imagining that the rest of the company were there still. But this belief deceived him, for he found Racilia alone, who told him, the two Princes had been gone ever since the morning, and that the mother of Lucrecia, Sive∣lia, Mutius, and I, were newly departed. How comes it then, replyed Brutus, that Lucrecia and Valeria are here still? That, replyed she, proceeds from some concernments of Family, which have moved Lucrecius, father to Lucrecia, and Valerius, father to Valeria, to remove their daughters for some time out of Rome. But being careful to whom they would trust their daughters, they have thought fit to commit them to my government, while the fair weather holds, which courtesie they have desi∣red upon account of the alliance which is between our Families, and the friendship there is between these maids and Hermilia, there being no concern∣ment of yours could hinder it; for that, added she 〈◊〉〈◊〉, you are not thought any dangerous person. Brutus having heard what Racilia said, blushed, though he himself knew not why. However he re∣turned some answer to what that sage person said to him; which done, he discoursed with her about divers things. He asked her, if Sivelia, whom he knew to be an enemy of Tarquin's, had not infor∣med her of any thing, whence might be raised a hope of some change in Rome; to which she answering, nothing at all, he was infinitely sad, and began to be∣moan the cruelty of his destiny, and complained of it with so much sense and passion, that Racilia hath told me since, that she never heard man speak so well, nor so feelingly as he then did. That which yet encreased the affliction which he received from his own lamentations, was, that seeing those three fair ones, whom he had seen in the Meadow coming to∣wards him, her rise up purposely to avoyd them, but with such an aversion, that she extreamly pitied him.

But Brutus was scarcely gotten out of this delight∣ful company, but repenting him of his purpose, he returned into the place where it was, and secretly condemned himself for the intention he had had. For in fine, said he, since there is almost no pleasure but that of the sight, which I may pretend to partici∣pate with rational creatures, it were hard to be de∣prived of it, but I should at least make this advan∣tage of fair objects, as to entertain my self with delightful imaginations. Upon these thoughts, Brutus making a short return, spent the evening a∣mongst these lovely Virgins, but it was rather to harken to them, than to entertain them. Yet he made a shift to speak once before Lucrecia, but it was with affected simplicity, though he was with much trouble forced to it, for thinking it unci∣vil not to answer what was asked him, and withal not daring to answre to any purpose, it must needs have infinitely afflicted him.

Lucrecia never having heard him speak before that time, whispered to Hermilia, and asked her whe∣ther he never had any more wit, which Brutus over∣hearing, felt such a vexation as he had never felt be∣fore: For before he had seen Lucrecia, he was extreme∣ly pleased that he was thought absolutely stupid, be∣cause it conduced to his design; but for that admira∣ble Virgin, he could not endure she should have the same thoughts of him, as so many others. Nay he was encouraged in the good opinion he had conceived of her, by divers things she that day spoke in the commendation of Goodness; for in fine (said she to Hermilia, who maintained that it was sometimes prejudicial to be over-good) a great mind without goodness may be feared and hated, but it is never loved: And I am so much confirmed in what I say (continued she, speaking somewhat lower) that I would rather have the stupidity of Brutus, than the wit of the cruel Tullia, though she have one of the greatest in the world. But my Lord, though Lu∣crecia intended not that Brutus should have heard her, yet he did; and what is remarkable in it, is, that thogh he could not think himself obliged any way by this discourse of Lucrecia, yet he humored himself into a certain delight, to think that she wish∣ed rather to be what he was, than to be Tullia; so that flattered with his imagination, he, with much satisfaction, listned to the discourse of these three maids. For my part, said Lucrecia, I take such a pleasure to be good, that I am resolved to be so while I live, and consequently must needs prefer a great goodness without wit, before a great wit with∣out goodness. But certainly, replied Hermilia, those persons that are so good, that they can never be otherwise, are not very divertive; and to tell you what I think, I am of opinion, that goodness alone hath in it something faint, weak and displeasing. whence it comes, that it signifies almost nothing in some people. But it cannot be so said of wit; for I know some persons much given to be mischievous,

whom yet I am taken with, though I am confident they will do me an ill turn, when ever it lies in their power. On the contrary, I know another person of excessive goodness, one who would not be guilty of a thought of ceasing to be good, even to her ene∣mies, who yet is infinitely troublesome to me, inso∣much that hours seem ages, when I am alone with her. And hence I think I may with reason affirm, that Goodness accompained with wit, is good for all things, but without it, is almost good for no∣thing, Ah Hermilia, cryed out Lucrecia, you are an unhappy body to say so; for it is uncredible, that Wit without goodness is fit onely to do mis∣chief, and that goodness without Wit, hath at least this advantage, that it can do no hurt. But, reply∣ed Hermilia, an excessive goodness is sometimes hurt∣ful to those that have it, for when you are feared by none, you lye open to the affronts of all, and are thrust to the wall sooner then another. That in∣deed which Hermilia saith, happens sometimes, re∣plyed Valeria, and through a certain malignancy that is in the world, if you are not thought able to re∣turn evil for evil, you must never expect good for good. So that were I to have my wish, I would certainly desire as much wit as goodness, were it onely to make use, when occasion served, of that precious quality, which without question raises the esteem of all the rest, and without which they de∣serve no great commendation. But though one should have nothing to do with the world, replyed Hermilia, Wit is still more necessary than Good∣ness; for as to Conversation; Goodness contri∣butes nothing to it. Nay, on the contrary, conti∣nued she laughing, it may be said, it is very prejudi∣cial to it; for those who are so excessively good can find exceptions at nothing, they approve all things, they endure all things; and so the discourse dies every moment. No Hermilia, replyed Lucrecia, I must dissent from you in that, since that onely those who have Wit and Goodness together, give life to Conversation. For are they not of a contrary hu∣mour to those, who abuse and calumniate their ac∣quaintances, whereas it may be inferred from what you say, that those onely beget diversion, who raise quarrels and contestations in companies? But to be more serious, I boldly affirm, that it is onely a rati∣onal goodness which distinguishes men from beasts, and the greatest expression of reason that can be gi∣ven, is, to be able to hurt, but out of a consideration of Vertue and Goodness not to do it. Yet these good People without Wit, replyed Hermilia, who are good, and know not why they are so, what em∣ployment will you put them upon? And these per∣sons of great wit, replied Lucrecia, who make no o∣ther use of it, than to deceive those who trust them, to rail, and raise scandalls and reports, what busi∣ness have you for them? You press me somewhat too hard, replyed Hermilia, for I confess I should be to seek how to dispose of such malicious persons, as should make others harms the business of their wit. But do you also, to requite me, acknowledge that you would be much troubled what to do with those good dull ones, who are guilty of neither ma∣lice nor delight. To reconcile you both, replyed Valeria, I think mischievous persons are to be avoy∣ded, how witty and divertive soever they may be, and that they are not to be particularly acquainted withall; aed that the good are to be excused, out of a consideration of their great goodness, and their imperfections are to be born with, notwithstan∣ding their want of wit. But to put a question some∣what harder to be resolved, added Valeria, I ask you both, whether you would have an extraordi∣nary Wit? For my part, replyed Hermilia, I shall soon choose; and I as soon, replyed Lucrecia, for I am already resolved. But this satisfies not me, re∣plyed Valeria, you must tell me, whether you have chosen; Methinks, replyed Hermilia, you might easily ghess that Lucrecia hath taken the great Good∣ness with the indifferent Wit; and you might as easily conceive, added Lucrecia, that Hermilia hath chosen the greater Wit, and indifferent Goodness. Yet I am confident, added this wise Virgin, that if there were two such persons, she whose goodness were greater then her wit, would be much more be∣loved than the other. I know not whether she might be more beloved, replyed Hermilia, but I am certain that she whom I have chosen would be the more esteemed. But what signifies that esteem, re∣plyed Lucrecia which begets not friendship? for I lay this as a principle, we should not desire to be e∣steemed, but in order to be loved, or at least to be thought worthy to be loved. If you value not an Esteem without Friendship, replyed Hermilia, what will you have me to conceive of a kind of luke∣warm friendship without esteem? For I cannot be∣lieve that one can have an eager affection for a per∣son of mean wit, how good soever he may be. If the love we have for a good person be not groun∣ded on the esteem we have for him, replyed Valeria, it must needs proceed from the acquaintance we have with him, which we conceive obligeth us to love him. Nay then, replyed Hermilia, I perceive she that makes the proposition, declares against me. On the contrary, replyed Lucrecia, it may be said, we are both of your side; for though you speak a∣gainst goodness, yet we know you to be one of the best in the world. It is indeed true, replyed she, I am not wicked; and to speak truly, I would not be otherwise than good; but it is true, that there are a sort of mischievous people that please my hu∣mour, and some good, who are troublesome to me, and to speak generally, goodness is almost every where oppressed. Yet that hinders not, replyed Lucrecia, but that vertue ought to be the foun∣dation and support of all the rest; and that we should wish rather to suffer injustice, than to do it; besides that, to speak rationally, Goodness is a ver∣tue so well becomes a woman, that I know not any she hath greater need of. I acknowledge, replyed Hermilia, that a wicked woman is a Monster; but certainly, one that is ingeniously malicious, addes much to Conversation, and it were a great loss if there was not some such. Since you are so much taken with them, replyed Lucrecia, I wish you may never want some of those women, who can wink at nothing, who condemn all things, who tell merry stories of their best friends, who, as soon as they are out of sight, abuse them; who envy the praises are given them, and themselves commend them less than those who are not acquainted with them; and to be short, who do them more hurt than they could expect from a merciless enemy, and less good than from a generous one. And the more to pu∣nish your obstinacy, aded Valeria, to Lucrecia's wishes I add thus much; I wish with all my heart, that you may have one truly good friend, who may ac∣quaint you with all the treacheries the rest are guilty

of towards you, that so you may at last become equitable, and acknowledge with us, that true Good∣ness is preferred before greatness of Wit, how shi∣ning so ever it may be.

As she said these words, Valeria rise up, where∣upon it being late, these three maids retired, and left Brutus, who had hearkned to them all the while, with little ceremony, yet Lucrecia took leave of him with greater civility than the other two, which he took infinitely well. For arguing from the civility she had for him in the condition he was in, that she would esteem him, if she were bet∣ter acquainted with him, he was so ravished with the consideration, that it begat in his heart a cer∣tain pleasant commotion, which one might pre∣sume to call Love; or at least something he felt, which he could never define.

In fine, not to abuse your patience, Brutus, who was resolved to depart, without acquainting any, could not perform it so soon; for something being yet wanting, which was necessary for his journey, he took occasion from that light hindrance, to make the less hast, not thinking himself that Lu∣crecia was partly the cause of his change of resolu∣tion. But three or four days after he was sensible, that the Beauty, Wit, and Goodness of that per∣son, had made a strange progress into his heart, for he could not keep out of the company of these three-maids. They at first thought him very troublesome, which he himself observed; but be∣ing such a one as was not to be treated uncivilly, neither would they do it; insomuch that at length, making no account of him, they spoke before him as freely as if he had not been in place. Brutus by this means having Lucrecia always in sight, and viewing her with all the charms of her Beauty and wit, fell deeply in love with her. But to his grief Love entred his heart without that insinuating compa∣nion which they call Hope, which by her beguiling charms makes men undergo such long and violent afflictions. Whence it came to pass, that Brutus, as soon as he was convinced that he really loved Lucrecia, was extremely troubled, and look'd upon it as a second motive to remove himself far from Rome. To what end, said he, should I entertain this fruitless passion, which I must never presume to discover? How can it be imagined that the stu∣pid Brutus should be capable of admiring and ado∣ring the incomparable Lucrecia? But alas! conti∣nued he, though she understood my passion, I should be no less miserable; for is it possible she can love a man in whom there is not the least appearance of wit? And to come yet nearer home, when I should trust my self to her discretion, when she should be convinced I am not what all the world takes me to be, what likelihood is there she should admit the ad∣dresses of an unfortunate man, who dares not betray his reason, lest he lose a life which he hath designed to sacrifice to the liberty of his Countrey? Shall I go and tell her I am a Conspirator, when at the same time I am to tell her that I love her? Shall I en∣tertain her with interests of State and Revenge at the same instant when I am to treat her with Love and Respect? But if I should thus entertain her, is it probable I might make some advantage of it, or that she would ever be prevailed with to run for∣tunes with such a wretch, as in all likelihood will never be otherwise? But supposing such a miracle should be done, which cannot, that she should be moved with my affection, is it probable that Lucre∣cius, a man of spirit and ambition, should bestow his Daughter upon a Sot, or that Tarquin would suffer me to marry the daughter of a Woman, who is not engaged in his intersts but by force? No, no, Bru∣tus, said he sighing, thou must not love Lucrecia; and if thou doest but imagine it, thou wilt really be as great a stranger to thy Reason as now thou seemest to be. Renounce then at once both the object of thy Hatred and that of thy Love, forget Tarquin and Lucrecia; stisle together thy growing Affecti∣on, and thy desire of Revenge, since it is fruitless to cherish either; and go seek in another climate a gentler Destiny than what thou hast found in thine own Countrey.

Hereupon Brutus thought his Reason was con∣vinced, and that he should infallibly depart. But it was not a quarter of an hour that he had been thus resolved, ere he had a fresh conflict in his soul, which made him a minute after reflect on things quite different. What do I, said he? what do I? Am I still the same Brutus who ever was guilty of an importunate desire of revenging the death of an illustrious Father and a vertuous Brother? Have I forgotten the commands of the one, and the in∣structions of the other? Have I overcome the Love I had at Crotona, that I might forsake Rome? Have I for no end parted with the sage Damo? Have I fruitlesly renounced the use of my Reason, and hath that importunate Vertue (Patience) which in time overcomes all things, absolutely forsaken me? For my part, added he, I believe the Gods consider my weakness, and have purposely brought me to the sight of this admirable person whom I adore, to stay me here, and hinder me from being so unworthy as to quit the design I had of delivering my Countrey. Certainly there must be something extraordinary in this emergencie; for what likelihood is there, that a blind chance should direct Lucrecia to his house, at what time I had secretly resolved to be gone, and that having never seen her, I should go as it were purposely, when I had but two or three dayes to stay? Besides, I at first avoyded her as much as lay in my power; she hath hardly spoken to me since I have known her; and yet methinks I have alwaies been designed to her service, so vio∣lent is the affection I have for her. What probabi∣lity is there that Love should nestle in my breast a∣midst so many thorny distractions, were it not de∣creed that the beauty of Lucrecia should cause the safety of Rome, by flattering on me a love that stayes me, and permits me not to forgoe the revenge I have undertaken to execute? Let us then cast our selves upon the disposal of Fortune, by submitting our heart to so excellent a Beauty: Let the love we receive from the eyes of Lucrecia enflame our hatred to Tarquin, and if we must be unhappy in this affect∣ion, as it is very likely, let us bear our misfortunes as just punishment for that unworthiness we have been guilty of, in thinking to remove from Rome. Let us with courage endeavour to subdue the heart of this illustrious person, and at the same time over∣turn the throne of this infamous Tyrant; although, if I may truly speak my thoughts, I am confident it will be easier for me to snatch the government of Rome out of the hands of the proud Tarquin, than deliver my heart out of the power of the divine Lu∣crecia. Let us love then, let us love, since it is the will of Fate, and without considering what may hap∣pen

to us, let us obey the inclinations which directs us to adore Lucrecia. Let us look on her as a per∣son hath preserved vertue in our soul, which we shall eternally acknowledge, even though she should ne∣ver do ought for us, since it is she that hath cherish∣ed in us the design of Rome's deliverance.

This storm being over. Brutus's soule was as it were in a calm, which made him conceive that this resolution proceeded from some supernatural inspi∣ration, and such a friendly correspondence happe∣ned there upon this adventure between his Heart and his Reason, that he thought no more of his de∣parture; his thoughts were wholly taken up with the love of Lucrecia, while he expected an occasion to make Tarquin feel the weight of his hatred; so that he suffered his heart to wander into the love of that admirable person, though he found no other pre∣sent advantage of his passion, than that he was staid in Rome by the attractions of this incomparable Virgin, whom yet he neither durst say he loved, nor hope to be loved by.

Being thus resolved to love, he was so much satis∣fied in himself, that it was visible in his eyes and countenance, insomuch that Racilia having observed it, took occasion the first time she had a private dis∣course with him, to ask him the reason of it. But he satisfied her not, for there being naturally a cer∣tain mystery in Love, he thought it discretion not to reveal a Secret, which he himself knew would be thought extravagant by any one who had not the same apprehensions of it as he had. Giving therefore his passion all the liberty imaginable, he endeavoured to double those chains whereby he was already fastned, and missed no opportunity to see Lucrecia, and to hear her speak.

In the mean time, Racilia, though she knew Bru∣tus to be much more considerable, as to point of gallantry, than he seemed to be, yet did she allow these Virgins the same freedome as before; nay, which is more, prayed them to admit Brutus to walk with them, telling them, that it might haply en∣lighten his mind, that they should pity one in his condition, and endeavour what they could to dis∣perse that deep melancholy which encreased his na∣tural stupidity, adding, that their presence had al∣ready in some part lessened it. Not, my Lord, but that Racilia was as innocent in this as Vertue it self; but she so much pitied the life Brutus led, that she was glad any way to make it more comfortable. But to say truth, she could not conceive he would en∣tertain Love without Hope, nor that any thing a∣morous could lodge in that heart, which Revenge had so long since taken up. Besides, that it is not unlikely, but that if Brutus had a design to marry, she would have been glad it had been either with Valeria or Lucrecia; as for Hermilia she knew well enough that Brutus was not ignorant she was his Sister.

This Society by this means became pleasant e∣nough, for besides that these three Virgins were ex∣cellent good company, yet the admission of some other persons made it better and more divertive. There was a Sister of Collatine's, who spending the season of the year in the neighbour-hood, came thi∣ther often, out of a design to render her Brother some service with Lucrecia, whom he was in love with. The Prince of Pometia and his brother Prince Titus came thither divers times; for though they were Tarquin's Sons, yet the consideration of their vertue exempted them from the hatred which men had for their Father. Commonly Mutius came a∣long with them, and for my part, I had ever some commands or other from the vertuous Sivelia, to her whose house so many amiable persons made their rendezvous. So that though Racilia professed all the severity of a vertuous Roman, yet being of a mild nature, allowing the freedome of the Coun∣trey, and having a confidence in the vertue of those persons, who were under her charge, and conside∣ring that the men who came to visit them were ve∣ry respectful, as also her kinred, all except the Prince of Pometia, Titus, and Collatine, she her self was extremely satisfied with a company wherein was nothing but what was innocent. Lucrecia's also came thither sometimes, and Sivelia oftner.

But as it is not my own History which I relate unto you so I shall not tell you, that Mutius and I had a certain passion, caused in us by the same per∣son, since we both had an affection for Valeria; for then I should have too many things to acquaint you with, which have no relation to the adventure of Brutus. But I shall give you to understand by the way, that Lucrecia had esteemed Collatine and Bru∣tus, that Hermilia was courted by the Prince of Po∣metia, though it was suspected he was a servant of Collatine's Sister, who was called Collatina; that Ti∣tus was in love with her I last named, and that Love it self was as it were the Soul of this fair Troop. But indeed the love was not reciprocall, for Lucre∣cia had a great aversion for Collatine, and knew not that Brutas was so deeply in love with her. Vale∣ria had no affection for Mutius, and little more than friendship for me: but for Collatine's Sister, she cer∣tainly had an esteem for Titus: and Hermilia, with∣out all doubt, had a strong inclination for the Prince of Pometia, though Racilia believed it not, and in∣deed is yet ignorant of it. Notwithstanding all this, Love was so well disguised among these per∣sons, that nothing was visible but Courtship, Re∣spect, Civility, Complement and Friendship. It happened sometimes, through the care every one took, to conceal their Sentiments, that Visits were given without the least private discourse with the person beloved. One time among the rest, I re∣membred, the Prince of Pometia discoursed altoge∣ther with Collatina, Titus all the time entertained Lucrecia, Collatine courted Valeria, and Mutius, and I treated Hermilia. But for Brutus, conceiving him∣self not suspected of any, he quitted his ordinary re∣servedness, and alwayes kept near Lucrecia. This indeed was no great satisfaction to him, for not daring to discover himself, she suffered him meerly out of pity, and out of regard to his quality and her friendship with Racilia. But yet indeed he took a great pleasure to spight Collatine: not that he could be jealous of Brutus, but that Brutus kept him from having any private discourse with Lucrecia. Nor indeed was Brutus at first jealous of Collatine; for be∣sides, that in Point of gallantry Collatine was none of the most considerable, it was easily perceived that Lucrecia had an aversion for him, though she discreet∣ly concealed it. But his fear was of the fair and subtil Collatina, whose insinuating, submissive, and obliging humour, was very likely to do her Brother a good office. So that after a while, Brutus had to deal with at the same time, resentments of Love, of Jealousie, of Hatred, of Revenge, and of Ambition; yet without any rational hope of ever being able to

satisfie any one of these violent passions. For it was not likely Lucrecia should love him before she knew what indeed he was; it was as unlikely he should discover unto her a Secret, which known, might di∣vert him from endeavouring the deliverance of Rome, and being revenged of Tarquin: it was also somewhat improbable he should suddenly ruin a Prince, whose power was strengthened by his cru∣elty: and for the ambition he had to arrive at the rank of his fore-fathers, he had no great reason to hope it while his reason were in captivity, and Tar∣quin in the Throne. Hence was it that sometimes he thought himself the most unfortunate man li∣ving. He now and then slipt into Rome to confer with Licinius and Valerius about his main design so long since undertaken. Here was he entertained whole dayes together, with the exorbitances of Tar∣quin, the cowardise of the Senate, and the small hope they had to meet with an opportunity to discharge themselves of what lay so heavy on their hearts.

But Brutus in the mean time entertained himself with his own thoughts, and the Muses, about the love he had for Lucrecia; for, having, as I told you, been acquainted with Pythagoras's daughter, and tra∣velled into Greece, he could have complained in verse of the cruelty of his amorous fortune, could he but have hoped that Lucrecia might one day be acquain∣ted with his love. But according to the posture of his soul, he made no advantage of his talents, since he durst neither speak nor write, and yet he was al∣most out of himself to do either. For though Poe∣try be not yet very common at Rome, where they know little more than those Acrosticks of Sibylla, yet Lucrecia, Valeria, and Hermilia, understood more of things of this nature than a many others, by the means of a Greek Maid a Slave of Racilia's, whose mother had sometimes lived with the learned Cleobu∣lina, daughter of Periander King of Corinth. This Slave having an excellent understanding, had secret∣ly taught them somewhat of her language, and had repeated to them a many excellent compositions of Sappho and Phocylides, with which they were infinite∣ly taken. Which Brutus coming to know, was ex∣treamly troubled, in that he durst not make use of those things which haply might bring him into fa∣vour with Lucrecia; and thinking withall in himself, that he could not pretend to any esteem from her, he was afflicted beyond all belief, insomuch that in some intervals not considering the hazard of his life, not troubling himself about the designs he had against Tarquin, he resolved to acquaint this admi∣rable Virgin with his love, and that as a man that knew how to express his thoughts in other language, than what he ordinarily spoke. Yet could he not stave off a certain fear, that, in case he succeeded not, Licinius, Valerius, and Racilia, should perpetu∣ally hit him in the teeth for discovering himself; be∣sides the consideration he had that Tarquin might make Licinius suffer, when he came to know he had abused him. Thus resolving on nothing absolute∣ly, he led a most distracted life, his melancholy not admitting any consolation; for he was neither able to struggle with his love, nor durst acquaint her with it who was the cause of it. Nevertheless he still loved, and that with an extreme obstinacy, for though Lucrecia added no fuel to his passion, yet did it sensibly encrease, even despair having that effect in him which hope hath in other Lovers; For in fine, said he 'tis true, I cannot hope any thing, yet this cannot weaken my love, since my despair pro∣ceeds not from Lucrecia, but it is the extravagance of destiny which makes me uncapable of hoping a∣ny thing: She does not certainly favour me much, and she were to blame if she did, and I am obliged to her for her indifference for me, snce it is not the same Brutus she is accquainted with, that I would have in her favour. But alas! continued he, that other Brutus is at such a distance with Fortune, that it is not likely he will ever dare shew himself to Lu∣cretia; and if I renounce not one part of my reason, she will still be ignorant of the love she hath kind∣led in my heart, and consequently I shall be the most unfortunate man alive. How (cryed he out, as he hath told me since) shall not Lucrecia, the admi∣rable Lucrecia, know that thou lovest her, and thou art not such a Sot as thou art taken to be? Canst thou be contented to be ever the object of her con∣tempt and her indifference? No, no, continued he, I shall never do it; nay though I should lose my life, though I should hazard all, and that Rome must eter∣nally be subject to the tyranny of Tarquin, Lucrecia must know that I live under her power. She is dis∣creet, good, and generous, and it may be she will not cast away a man, that out of excess of love trusts him∣self to her discretion.

But weak man that thou art, resumed he, hast thou for born all rationall discourse for so long time, onely to tell Lucrecia that thou lovest her? Think, think on the love thou owest thy country, not on what thou maist have for a person, who haply will not have any for thee. Remember thy Father cut off by the cruelty of Tarquin; thy Brother dispatch∣ed the same way, and that both dying, commanded thee to revenge their loss. Consider Rome ensla∣ved by the most horrid Tyrant the earth affords; regard so many thousand of vertuous families ex∣pecting their safety from thee, and since thou wilt be base, imagine that the discovery of thy love to Lucrecia may haply cost thee thy life; and think at length, if there be any thing of vertue yet re∣maining in thee, what blot it would be to thy me∣mory to have preferred the love of Lucrecia, before that of Fame and thy Countrey.

Upon this, such a tempest rose in Brutus's soul, that it was easily perceiveable he had not herein ta∣ken the advice of his reason. To be short, he was that day so dejected and so melancholy, that he would not see any body, and the more to avoyd all company, he walked out into that Meadow, where I told you one evening he had seen Lucrecia, Collatina, and Hermilia sitting on the River side, discoursing with the Prince of Pometia, while Racilia walked a little aside with Collatina's Mother, this company be∣ing come thither since his coming out alone.

Being thus engaged not to avoyd Lucrecia, though he wished it, he made towards the place where she was, and having saluted the whole company, he found their discourse to be about Love, and that the Prince of Pometia opposing Hermilia (who still purposely contradicted him) held that it was not the proper vertue of a woman to have an insensible heart, and on the contrary maintained that a Lady could not be throughly assured of her self untill a vi∣olent affection had possessed her soul. For in fine, said he, I find that a woman makes no great difficul∣ty to oblige those whom she hath no tenderness for, to forbear the expressions of their love; I find it is no great reputation to wrestle with a weak and

unsetled inclination; but for a woman, courted by a man of extraordinary worth, whom she also loves, not to engage her self too far, and notwithstanding all the sympathy of a reciprocal love to preserve Vertue impregnably seated in her heart, is certain∣ly of great merit. Yet my Lord, I conceive, reply∣ed Valeria modestly smiling, that it is best not to study alwayes for this expression of Vertue, lest that at first drawing in to love innocently, one should come at last to love beyond the limits of Honour. For my part, said Hermilia, I conceive it more glo∣rious to oppose love, than to entertain it, how in∣nocent soever it may be. And for mine, said Colla∣tina, (who secretly carried on her Brother's inte∣rest) I must, notwithstanding the great severity the Roman Ladies profess, affirm, that where the rules of civility are observed, there is an infinite pleasure to be beloved, and, if I may presume to say it, to love. For in fine, if the enjoyments of Friend∣ship be thought delightful, only comparatively to those of Love, which they say are greater, it were madness not to love something, it being supposed the use of it were not forbidden, I could not have believed, replyed Valeria smiling, that a Roman La∣dy should make Love's party good with such confi∣dence. She is so good a Sister, replyed Hermilia smiling also, that she would rather forsake the inte∣rest of her Sex than of her Brother.

Whilst these Virgins were thus engaged, the fair Lucrecia fell into such a deep musing, that she minded not what was said, though the were concer∣ned in it. On the contrary, entertaining her self upon the first discourse of the Prince of Pometia, in the commendation of Love, she quite forgot the company, till that Collatina taking her by the arm, told her laughing, that she must contribute to that conversation; asking her whether she thought Love a troublesome thing or a pleasant. Lucrecia answered, that she could say nothing of a thing she was not acquainted with. To take away that pre∣tence, we must describe that passion to you, reply∣ed the Prince of Pometia, who having an excellent wit, made it his business to say all he could to the ad∣vantage of Love. He describ'd all the insinuations of Hope; he represented the surprises of the first desires which that passion inspires into us; he enu∣merated the delights, the transports, the tempting illusions it causes, the pleasant reveries that accom∣pany it; and in fine, omitted nothing which might relate to that noble passion. Having so done, he pressed her to tell what she thought of Love. But she absolutely refusing, her companions set upon her and persecuted her so long, till at last she pro∣mised they should have her opinion, conditionally they would permit her to write it down. Enqui∣ring therefore who among them had any table-books, it happened that onely Brutus had one.

Whereupon, this concealed Lover, who was glad of an occasion to have any thing of the writing of Lucrecia, presented her with his table-book, wherein she writ what she thought of Love. But my Lord, that you may the better understand what atrick she put upon them, I must set down the same words which she writ, which she assured them contained her true sentiment of love.

Hereupon Herminius spying a table-book upon Aronces's table, took it, and writ down the same words as Lucrecia had made use of; which done, di∣livering the table-book to Aronces and Amilcar, they therein found the ensuing words;

Past, how, there, quickly, ah, but, not, sweet, if, soever, last, were, love, can, no, is love.

How (replyed Amilcar laughing, when he had read these scattered words) is there any rational sence in what I have read? For my part added Aronces, I confess I can make nothing of them; and therefore think that Lucrecia's design was to find her friends somewhat to do, and not desirous to dis∣cover unto them what she thought of Love, plea∣sed her self by putting them to the trouble to pick sense out of words which had not any.

What you say my Lord, replyed Herminius, con∣tinuing his relation, was the opinion of the Prince of Pometia who having read what Lucrecia had writ∣ten in Brutus's table-book, told her that she was a very wag, so unmercifully to abuse her friends, and not give her opinion of a thing of the greatest im∣portance, and the most delightful in the world.

I am not to learn, replyed she smiling, that it is the property of the Gods onely to speak obscurely; but all considered, since that out of a consideration of modesty I have conceived my self not obliged to give my opinion expresly of a thing I am not able pertinently to speak of, you must either interpret my words or not understand me. But seriously, said Valeria to her, is there any sense in what you have written? I protest to you, replyed Lucrecia laugh∣ing, there is not onely sence, but very pleasant sense, and excellently well expressed; and that I never in my life have, nor ever shall speak better. But that you may not charge me with any vanity, continued she, I must tell you that the words are not mine, but I have borrowed them, I know not whence, nor yet from whom. Certainly, replyed Hermilia, you are not much beholding to the Lender, and you may as easily return as much to those of whom you have borrow'd them; for whatever you may be pleased to say, what you have written here signifies no more than so much Gibberish. Neither is it so good as to pretend to that fustian language of canting, whereby some that are crafty over-reach and elude the simpler sort of people, for there is not any one who would not easily perceive there were no sense in what you have written. For instead of saying.

Past how there quickly, ah,

one should say.

Ah how quickly there past,

And so of the rest, it were as good as it was be∣fore, or to say better, as bad. If you would but change the order of the words, replyed Lucrecia, you would infallibly find my true meaning; but without jesting, said Collatina to her, is there any reason in these words? Sincerely, replyed Lucrecia, the highest in the world; and I much admire that four such piercing wits as you are, cannot sift it out. I would fain see (added she maliciously, think∣ing to make sport) whether Brutus can understand it better than any of you, and shall desire him to give his judgement of the question in hand. For my part, replyed Collatina, if Brutus understand this language better than we, I shall think it very strange, I pray let me first once more, see these inchanted words, replyed Hermilia, wherein Lucrecia sayes there is such excellent sense, which yet seem not to

contain any reason; for if it be so, there was never in this world such a Metamorphosis.

Hereupon the table-book was handed from one to another, till it passed through all, none being able to make any sense of it, nor did any think of giving it to Brutus, all being obstinately desirous to ghess at what Lucrecia had written. For Valeria, who understood her, told the Prince of Pometia, that certainly Lucrecia did not dissemble, and that there must be reason as what she had written by her very looks, but at length none being able to make any thing of it, Brutus, who had a huge desire to see those words, asked for his table-book, which had not been so soon restored to him, had not Lucrecia, who was glad they could not find out what she had written, taken it from them; as for Brutus, she lit∣tle feared his interpretation: Snatching it there∣fore out of Hermilia's hand, she returned it to the owner, who having received it, retreated two or three steps, and set himself seriously to consider the words. While he was looking on them, he could hear Collatina jeering at his earnestness therein, supposing he sought what he should never find. But that which pleased him infinitely, was to hear Lucrecia chiding her for being so uncivil as to make sport at him. In the mean time Brutus, who was of an excellent reaching wit, proper for the finding out of such things, apprehended Lucrecia's fancy, and disposing the words into their genuine order, he found they made up two verses of Phocilides which had been translated, that he had known them along time, and that the Greek Slave at Racilia's had taught them Lucrecia. Finding therefore the humour very ingenious, and Love being at that time predominant in his heart, notwithstanding what thoughts he had a little before, he could not but sa∣tisfie a violent desire he had to give Lucrecia a secret testimony of both his understanding and his love. Besides that, perceiving she would not explain her own verses, he concluded she would observe the same secrecy as to the answer. For you are to know, that those two verses, the words whereof Lu∣crecia had onely transposed when she writ them in Brutus's table-book, are two verses very amorous and pathetick, of such an easie natural sense, that you cannot but remember them, when I have once repeated them; and in fine, those words which appeared so terrible shuffled out of their places, when they were disposed in their proper order, ex∣pressed Lucrecia thus;

How sweet were love, if not so quickly past, But ah! there is no love can ever last.

Ah Herminius, cryed out Amilcar interrupting him, how it troubles me that I could not discypher these verses! but I must see whether these words are the same with the other. Whereupon taking the table-book wherein Herminius had written them, he compared them word for word, till he had found there was no difference betwixt that fan∣tastick canting and these two verses of Phocilides; which done, Herminius thus continued his relation.

Brutus therefore having unravelled this confusi∣on of words, and found in them the two verses I have mentioned, immediately made two others, fantastically transposing the words, as those of the other, as you may see by what I shall write under the former, conditionally you do not interrupt me for the interpretation. For now that you have the Secret, you may easily find them. Content your selves therefore, that I onely tell you the words which I write as I speak them.

Last, permit, ever, and, my, shalt, grac't, all, some, thou, love, shall, love, beauty, find, with, thou.

I give you a thousand thanks, replyed Amilcar, that you have given me a dispensation as to the dis∣cyphering of these words; for I should never have done it. But to comfort me, let me soon know that the others were as little able to do it as I.

That I must, replyed Herminius, and that with∣out any flattery; for Brutus having wrote these words under those of Lucrecia, and returned them to that admirable Virgin; the table-book passed through the hands of all the company; but to say truth, rather to abuse Brutus, than look for any sense there. For the Prince of Pometia was of opi∣nion with Valeria, Collatina, and Hermilia, that Brutus understood no more of the business, than to set down certain words at randome. So that not able to keep from laughing at his pretended simplicity, their censure of his words was quite contrary to what they made of Lucrecia's; for though they could make nothing of Brutus's, nor indeed endea∣voured to find any thing in them, so poorly were they conceited of him; yet they affirmed they un∣derstood them, and that they were of admirable sense. They abusively repeated the first words, which they said made a wonderful harmony.

But while they so unmercifully jeered one whom they knew not, Lucrecia, who was of a nature could not endure to make sport of such as were not thought the wisest, took the table-book from them; and seriously considering what Brutus had written (that he might see she did not slight him) was somewhat surprised to find these words relative to those she had made use of: Fastning therefore her mind, as well as her eyes, upon what Brutus had written, she went aside two or three steps from her companions, and looked on the words so attentively, that she understood Brutus as well as he had done her; for she there found these two verses, which answered those of Phocilides.

Permit my love, thou with all beauty grac't, And thou shalt find some love shall ever last.

Lucrecia had no sooner decyphered these Verses, but she blushed, and that the more when turning to look on Brutus, with some amazement, she met his eyes half way, and saw in them a certain trouble, and withal a certain quickness, which she had never before observed. But how strangely soever she might be surprised by this accident, she made a shift to conceal it, for she would neither interpret her own words, nor discover Brutus's so that ha∣ving somewhat recovered her self out of the amaze∣ment she was in, she came to her friends, and told them they were better ghessers than she, for she could make nothing of what Brutus had written: Nor did I intend it for any but your self (replied he negligently with his accustomed simplicity) which though it seemed to be very bluntly spo∣ken, yet did it confirm Lucrecia in what she belie∣ved, which was, that there was something extra∣ordinary in this adventure.

This made her so infinitely desirous to be at li∣berty, to reflect on what had happened to her, that she insensibly engaged the company to a little dist∣ance by walking aside; onely Valeria, who was acquainted with all her secrets, she drew aside, and related to her what she had met with. But is it possible you speak seriously, replyed Valeria, or is it by chance that you have made two verses of these extravagant words of Brutus, who haply knows not himself there is any such thing in them? You do not consider what you say Valeria, said Lucrecia to her, for these two verses are so pertinently answe∣rable to mine, that Brutus must of necessity have understood what I writ, and making them on a sud∣den, must of necessity have an excellent understan∣ding, though he be accounted the most stupid among men. It is, certainly, excellently well done, reply∣ed Valeria, and as certain, that he was never before guilty of any discovery of Love of this nature; and not to desemble longer with you, since Brutus is an understanding man, he certainly loves you, and for some dayes past, I have observed him perpetually looking on you. Nay I am perswaded, added she, the love he bears you hath cleared his understan∣ing, and that the fire your eyes have darted into his soul, hath enlightned his reason. Ah Valeria, replyed Lucrecia, my eyes do no miracles, and Bru∣tus must have been long since what I now find him. 'Tis true, replyed Valeria, I now suspect somewhat more than ever I did, for I remember I have known Brutus privately spend whole dayes with Licinius and my Father, and so it is not impossible something may be shrowded under this counterfeit stupidity.

But when all is done, how is it imaginable that a man should alwayes conceal his understanding, and expect an emergency of love to manifest it? I should therefore rather conceive it a prodigie, and that Brutus inspired by love, should speak this time as those do that speak Oracles, who many times under∣stand not what they say. However it be, added Valeria, the adventure is so considerable, that it is fit the whole company were acquainted with it, that every one may give his opinion of it; for, after all, what Brutus hath written will never be taken for any declaration of Love, if you be not so plea∣sed. No, no, replyed Lucrecia, let us not be so ha∣sty, for if Brutus have those parts in him which he would not discover to the world, for some reason to me unknown, I shall do him no prejudice; nor indeed would I have him think that I have unriddled his verses. Besides that I shall not interpret my own, for Collatina, who, as you know, is perpetually speak∣ing to me of her Brother, would believe when she had once seen his verse,

How sweet were Love, if not so quickly past!

that she had no more to do, than to assure me of Collatine's fidelity to engage me to entertain his affection. Therefore let us not say any thing of this accident, not even to Hermilia nor yet to Raci∣lia, until we know Brutus somewhat better than we do. Valeria hereupon promising to do as she would have her, they came up to the company, which soon after dispersed it self. For the Prince of Pometia returned to Rome, and Collatina's mother went the same way.

In the mean time Brutus was so infinitely satisfied, to find by the actions and looks of Lucrecia, that she understood him, that all the reasons he could rally up to engage his passion, were not able to beat him off from his resolution of loving Lucrecia; and he was so pleased to think that he had at the same time given her a slight hint of his understanding and his love, that at the same instant, Hope, which till then was a stranger to his heart, became absolute mistress of it, and brought along with her all those pleasures, which are her Attendants in ordinary. Let us love, let us love (said he in himself, when he was come to a place where he might freely reflect on what had happened to him) and let us not op∣pose our good fortune; let us engage our liberty for all our life, let us double the chains which fasten us to Lucrecia, let us double them with those hands which must break asunder those of Turquin's Tyran∣ny. Let us enjoy all the pleasures of an Infant-love, and hope for all those of a fortunate Lover. Let us believe the love of our Countrey, and that of Glory not to be inconsistent with them; On the contrary, let us be assured, that the onely ambition of being worthy of Lucrecia's affection, will hasten the deliverance of Rome; and let us not raise those difficulties, which haply we shall never meet with. Let us then discover to Lucrecia all our Love and all our Worth, and let us not imagine a half-confidence in her, which may equally eclipse our Reputation and our Love: for haply, continued he, if we do not make it her interest to conceal our secret, she will go and reveal it to some one who may do us a discourtesie. I now perceive, added he, I have car∣ryed my self inconsiderately for the safety of my life, but I cannot repent me of it, and I had rather die this day, now that I know that Lucrecia does but imagine that I love her, and am not Brutus the stupid, then be assured to live an age, without the happy acquaintance of this admirable person.

On the other side, Lucrecia could not quit her thoughts and observance of Brutus; but as often as she saw him, she thought she saw somewhat in his eyes she never before had taken notice of, and met at the same time with love and greatness of mind. This raised in her an unspeakable curiosity, to dive into a secret which seemed to her so extraordinary; yet would she do nothing in order to the discovery of it, not so much as take any occasion to speak to Brutus, though she passionately wished it. But Chance befriended her the next day, for it happened that Lucrecia, who was naturally much inclined to soli∣tary musing, walked all alone into a large Court which was behind Racilia's house. But that in case the weather were over hot, they might have the pleasure and convenience of the sight of the Garden, there was lately built a large Arbor, open of all sides, opposite to the stairs which led into the Garden abutting on a spacious walk that crossed the Court. Lucrecia therefore having left Valeria and Hermilia in a sloathful humour, that kept them within doors, as thinking fitter to entertain themselves in the Hall, took a turn into the Garden, intending to re∣turn to her friends as soon as she had done. But in∣sensibly forgetting her first design, and withall her her self, she walked so long thinking on a hundred several things one after another, that growing weary she returned into the Arbor I spoke of, with intention to rest her a while, for there were seats all about it. They had also taken care to put cur∣tains to all the sides, which, if need were, might be drawn against the Sun; so that Lucrecia finding

the place very convenient, goes in, sits down, and continuing her thoughts, looked into the Court. She was no sooner sate down; but Brutus comes in to her, who having walked a long time in a little Wood which was behind the Garden, came to this Arbor to rest himself, not knowing that Lucrecia was there, the curtains being drawn on that side he came in at; for I had forgot to tell you, that there was an entrance into it on any side.

That which is particular in this accident, is, that Brutus, engaged in deeper meditations than Lucrecia, was as much surprized to find her there, as she was to see him come in. But if he were surprized, it was with much delight, for having never been with her alone, he thought himself absolutely happy to find her in that posture, especially being resolved, as he was, to discover himself truly to her, and to ac∣quaint her with his love. But though he passi∣onately wished for the opportunity which Chance now favor'd him with, and that he saw himself at liberty to speak, yet had he such an extraordinary commotion, and so great a disturbance in his heart, that he could not but blush as well as Lucrecia. For though the adventure the day before had made this great Beauty extremely curious to know precisely what thoughts she should have of Brutus, yet was she somewhat troubled to find her self alone with a man whom she did not conceive to be such as the world took him, and one who had manifested his love to her, in so strange, so ingenuous, and so gal∣lant a manner. Nevertheless, having not any way discovered that she understood those two ver∣ses he had made to answer those she had made use of, she recover'd her self, and returned his salute.

But though she might without any hazard of cen∣sure, have staid there with Brutus, the place being open to all the house, as also the Court, where a many Gardeners were at work; yet she pretended as if she would not sit down again, but re-assume her walk. Brutus perceiving her purpose, spoke hastily to her to divert her, and taking hold of a corner of a large veil, which she had on her head, but hanged carelesly over her shoulders; Ah Madam, said he staying her, do not forsake a wretch you are not acquainted with, who yet dies out of a desire that you may; but dares not discover himself to you, if you grant him not the favour of an audience without witnesses. Deny me not then the suit I make to you, that you would but hear me, and that without interrupting me. For, Madam, I have so many things to acquaint you with, that to hear me, I must bespeak all your goodness, all your pati∣ence. Lucrecia hearing Brutus speak in this man∣ner, was extremely surprized; for though she be∣lieved him to be other than he seemed, yet could she not avoid a strange amazement, to hear him speak in an accent quite different from what he was wont. So that not knowing on a sudden, whether she should grant or deny his request, she a little while stood irresolv'd, though advising with her heart, she was extremely desirous to know what oblig'd Brutus to conceal his worth from the world; for she was satisfied as to what then obli∣ged him to discover it to her: However she was in doubt what to do, insomuch as that Brutus reading her irresolution in her eyes; I beseech you, Ma∣dam, said he to her, do not deliberace about what you have to do, seat your self where you were be∣fore I came, and be assured, that if I durst cast my self on my knees to obtain what I desire, I should not rise before you had granted it. But since I dare not almost do any rational action when I may be seen of any, neither may I any way express that ex∣traordinary respect which I bear you, lest if I should manifest that awful adoration which is due to the admirable Lucrecia, I might discover part of my reason. If you but knew my amazement, replyed this Beauty, looking on him with eyes wherein might be seen the characters of curiosity, you would not think it strange to see me at such a loss of resolu∣tion, for my thoughts are burthen'd with a thousand things at once, which I am not able to tell you, but you might easily conjecture. In fine, added she, how can I possibly take you to be the same I have ever known you, or imagine that you can eternally disguise your self as you do? Is it possible to guess at what obliges you to this, and to conceive that you should single me out to reveal a secret of this nature to? To me, I say, whom you have found ever indiffer∣ent, if not uncivil, to you, and who have not done any thing which might oblige you to make any dif∣ference between me and Valeria, Collatina, or Her∣milia. Ah Madam, replyed he, you have done one thing which hath placed you in my heart, in a rank different from the others; for as to Valeria, I have only an esteem and a friendship for her; I love not Hermilia, but as being her Brother; and I look on Collatina as Sister to my Rival, whom therefore I ought not to trust my self to. But for you, di∣vine Lucretia, I consider you as the only person who governs in my heart, and who only de∣serve to know the whole secret of my fortune. I am therefore resolved to cast my self so far into your hands, that my life shall be every moment at your disposal. For the secret of your Fortune, re∣ply'd modestly Lucretia, I should not do well to tell you I am not desirous to know it, since it is not likely; but I intreat you proceed not in it, nor tell me any thing which may make me prefer the for∣mer Brutus, whom I have known, before him I now begin to know. If you are impartial, reply'd he, I am confident you will not be offended at what I shall tell you; if you are not, I shall shew you so easie a way to be revenged of the injury I shall have done in adoring you, that to ruine me, you need no more than commend me, for if you but tell any one that Brutus hath any understanding, I am sure to be presently sacrificed to the Tyrant. Fear not then any thing, Madam, from a man who puts his life into your hands, and it may be, does something more. I am so inclin'd to pity the unfortunate, reply'd she, that looking on you as the most wretched of mankind, since you are forced to conceal the understanding you have; I also consider you as such a one, as it is not the pleasure of the Gods I should destroy, but rather assist: but yet once more, tell me nothing which may cause me to repent of this indulgence I have for you.

With this Lucretia sitting down; and Brutus seat∣ing himself close by her, he in few words acquaint∣ed her with the cruelties of Tarquin towards his fa∣mily, the flight of Tarquinia and Licinius, his abode at Metapont; thence he came to tell her of the de∣sire he had to return to Rome, there to serve his Countrey; the way the sage Damo had found out

for him to return thither safely, by concealing his understanding as he had done; the miserable life he had led since his return, and the resolution he had taken to wander about the world, so at least to de∣liver his Reason, since he could not Rome. This condition, Madam, said he to her, was my soul and affairs in, when you by the Charms of your Wit and Beauty staid me here whether I would or no. Since that Madam, I have done what I could to resist you; I have objected all that to my self which I conceive you would have had me; and I lest nothing unattempted which might oblige me to cease loving you. But when I had done all, it was impossible, so that at last I am resolved to acquaint you with my fortune, and discover to you my pas∣sion, and withal let you know, I am furnished with more understanding than is believed, and that thence I may assure you I have much more love than you can imagine, though I do not think I could give you a greater argument of my reason, than the expression of the love I have for you.

All that you tell me is so strange, replyed Lu∣crecia, that you should not think much that I have not interrupted you, though you have said many things which the stricter rules of civility allow me not to hear. But indeed the strangeness of your fortune, the miseries of your life, and the confidence you have reposed in me, by trusting me with a se∣cret of this nature, have obliged me not to inter∣rupt you, but to suffer you to say what you please, reserving to my self the liberty in my turn to ac∣quaint you with my thoughts.

For answer therefore to what you have said, give me leave to assure you, that I think my self so much obliged to you for the esteem you must needs have for me, that the preservation of my own life should not engage me to hazard yours, by reveal∣ing what it so much concerns you that none know. But that done, generous Brutus, I must tell you, that to give an infallible testimony of the great∣ness of your understanding, and constancy of your soul, you must overcome this affection wbich you say you have for me; and to give me an assurance of your pretended love, you must never more speak to me of it. Ah Madam, cryed out Brutus, it is impossible for me to do any thing of what you en∣joyn, for I assure you I shall no longer struggle with my passion, but will rather die with grief, if you grant me not the favor sometimes to tell you that I love you. Were it not inhumanity to deny this weak comfort, to a wretch that puts his life into your hands, who trusts you with the greatest secret that ever was trusted to any, and who gives you the highest testimony of esteem that any man could give?

Consider Madam, that I am the most unfortunate of men, that I was on the point of setting my rea∣son at liberty, when you chained it up, that my own Sister knows not that I am her Brother, nor indeed that I am not the stupid Brutus I seem. Con∣sider I say, that besides the miseries of my House and Countrey, I am also burthened with those of my Love. For, Madam, I declare it to you, I love you without any hope, and expect not any return of my love, since it were unreasonable the admirable Lucrecia should love a man whom the world despi∣seth, whom Fortune hath cast off, who is every moment in danger of being destroyed by Tarquin's cruelty, who hath almost quitted the hope of de∣livering his Countrey, who must never discover his reason, and who must trifle away his life with the reputation of a man of no understanding. But af∣ter all, though I do not hope to be loved, yet I shall think my self happy enough, if you but give me leave to tell you that I love you, and suffer me sub∣mislively to complain of all my sufferings. I do not see how I can pretend to less, or desire less; and that your vertue as cautious as it is, cannot with∣out cruelty deny me a thing wherein there is nei∣ther engagement nor danger. For (added he, not giving her time to answer) you cannot fear it should be suspected I were in love with you; and much less that you should permit my love; and when after an age of afflictions you should be plea∣sed to express a certain kind of goodness, which I might call an innocent favor, there is no fear I should make it known, since I could not be at such a loss of discretion without hazarding my life, or exposing my self to incredulity. For if the stupid Brutus should say he were not hated by Lucrecia, none would believe it, and if he went by any reason to prove it, it might cost him his life. Consider then, I conjure you, that you are the only she in the world whom I durst trust with the most important secret of my soul. 'Tis true, Racilia, Valerius, and Licinius, know the secret of my Fortune, but it is you, only you know that of my Love. It is you, Divine Person, added he, shall be my Mistress, my Friend, and my Confident; it is you shall be all the world to me. If I deliver Rome, you shall par∣take in the glory; and if I cannot do it, you shall condole with me, for the miseries of my Coun∣trey, and shall be to me instead of Kinred, Friends, and Fame. Admit then, I beseech you, a Lover that desires nothing, that hopes nothing, one that could not boast of your favors if you did him any, that makes you the sole disposer of his destiny, and and that believes he hazards nothing, when he en∣dangers all, since that, if you deal unkindly with him, he is resolved no longer to live. I therefore declare unto you, Madam, that if you feel not in your heart some favorable inclination to entertain my passion, I expect not you should be faithful to me. On the contrary, I give you leave immediate∣ly to tell Valeria, Hermilia, nay even Collatina, though my Rival's Sister, that I am not what I am thought, that I have more understanding than is conceived; that I am engaged in some Plot at Rome, that Tarquin must destroy me; and if this suffice not, tell it Tarquin himself. For what else con∣cerns me, imagine not that I offer you a transient love: on the contrary, I shall tell you in Prose as much as I did in those two Verses, which you well understood, though you would seem not to do it. Assure your self therefore, Madam, that I shall love you eternally; and withal consider, you that are so ingenious, that you will have that advantage over me, which no other Beauty can have. For in fine, all other Lovers, how faithful soever they may be, are at the best but faithful in their hearts, since that many times they are not so in their words, and that a thousand reasons of Civility, Decorum, and Custome, oblige them to commend other Beauties, when occasion requires; nay they have their she-confidents, who share in their affections. But, ac∣cording to the rate of my destiny, I cannot com∣mend any but you, nor love any else whatever; and as I have already told you, all my wishes, all my

hopes, all my felicity, is terminated in you. And if possibly I might obtain of the admirable Lucrecia any thing beyond my hope, I should not onely think my self the most happy, but the most glorious man in the world; nor would I change fortunes with the greatest Conquerours, whose Victories Fame hath spred through the world. Speak then, Madam, speak, continued he, but with that goodness and justice which may shew you pitty the most unfortu∣nate Lover that ever was. If you were simply a Suitor for my compassion, as the most wretched of all men, replyed she, you might assure your self of it; but that quality of a Lover which you would put on, obliges me to deny you all pity. Ah, I be∣seech you Madam, remember what you said yester∣day,

How sweet were love, if not so quickly past!

and assure your self I shall love you eternally.

Since love cannot last long without hope, reply∣ed Lucrecia, and that I shall give you none, this per∣sonated love will soon blow over. However, added she, trouble not your self about your Secret, for as I have told you already, I conceive my self obliged to be faithful to a man, who is so well opinioned of me, as to trust me with his life; and that you may be satisfied, that I will do any thing I may lawfully for you, and that I have no design to ruin you. I must ingenuously confess, that I understood yester∣day what you writ in your Table-book, and was sur∣prized at it, that not being able to contain within me all the reflections I made upon that adventure, I ac∣quainted (my other self) Valeria with it, But yet fear not, added she, any prejudice from this discreet Virgin; for besides that she is naturally good, I am confident she will never speak of what she knowes, if I doe but desire her, and will go immediately and do it.

If you admit me to love you, replyed Brutus, it is certainly requisite you have the goodness to take care that what you and Valeria (whose vertue I am satisfied of) onely know, may go no farther. But if that cannot be, as I told you, I have done all I can, and you have no more to do then to punish my presumption by my ruin. In the mean time as it is permitted to one that is unfortunate to fancy comforts to himself out of any thing; so you will give me leave to believe, in case you be faithful to me, that it is because you are not yet fully resol∣ved to ruine me. Ah Brutus, replyed Luerecia, you distract me strangely, for I cannot be so base as to ruin you, yet I cannot endure you should inter∣pret my generosity to my disadvantage.

While she was speaking thus, she spies Hermilia coming out of the house, and Valeria staying her by force, as if she would have hindred her from com∣ing to the place where she was. And indeed it was so, for it happened that Hermilia having through the hall window seen Brutus and Lucrecia together, took pity to see her obliged to entertain a man whose conversation was no way pleasant, which made her tell Valeria that she would goe and relieve her. But Valeria knowing the adventure of the Verses, and being withal very willing that Lucrecia should discover Brutus's secret, justly sus∣pected that so long a discourse might produce some∣thing; and therefore that it might not be inter∣rupted, she would have kept Hermilia from distur∣bing them, telling her, it were fit to leave Lucrecia alone with Brutus, were it but to punish her for her wilful humour the day before, when she would not tell what she writ in the Table-book. But as last Hermilia getting from Valeria, came running to the place where Lucrecia was, who, not much troubled at the interruption, left Brutus, and went to meet this fair Virgin, whom she hardly thanked, for having delivered her out of a company which she said was very troublesome to he. Yet did not Lucrecia speak with her accustomed freedome, as being not quite disintangled from the adventure had happened unto her, but Hermilia reflected not much on it, but believed that little disturbance she descryed in Lucrecia to have proceeded from the trouble she had had to entertain Brutus, who not able suddenly to shift himself into his stupidity, chose rather to remove himself further from Lucre∣cia, then coming near her to say nothing to her, or at least nothing that might please her.

In the mean time, Lucrecia, though at the pre∣sent she had no thoughts of entertaining Brutus's love, was yet particularly careful to speak in time to Valeria, to let her know, that what she had told her the day before, was of greater consequence than she conceived. Yet could she not speak to her till they were retired to their bedchamber; for before, either Hermilia or Racilia was alwayes with them. But as soon as they were private, Lu∣erecia acquainted her friend punctually with all that Brutus had said, celebrating the greatness of his understanding; and the difference that was be∣tween his ordinary manner of speaking, and when he spoke freely; and in fine, pretending to Valeris that she had a great esteem for him, though she were not half acquainted with him. But all confi∣dered, added she, I wish I had not known him, or that he had been satisfied to have chosen me onely for his friend, to comfort him in his affliction. Ah Lucrecia, replyed Valeria, since, after a manifestati∣on of love, you wish him that made it your friend, I am confident you would soon admit him as your Lover: I must then needs be prepossessed with a very strong inclination, replied Lucrecia, for though I am perswaded one may lawfully love once in their life, so it be withal innocently, and should believe there is nothing so Pleasant as a ten∣der crimeless love, yet must I needs, as I said, have my mind extremely prepossessed to ingage my self into Brutus's love, since that you may easily judge, that considering his reputation in the world, my Father would never consent I should marry. For my Mother, knew she truely how things stand, I am confident she would lay her commands upon me to entertain Brutus's affection; for her heart is so sensibly possessed with the memory of his illustrious Father, that the hatred she hath for Tarquin is cer∣tainly grounded upon the death of Junius, with whom she was very intimately acquainted. But you may well think, added she, that I shall not go and reveal this secret to her, and consequently have nothing else to do, but to avoyd meeting with Brutus. But if you over-warily avoyd him, reply∣ed Valeria, those who observe it will take occasion to suspect something, for you have ever seemed less desirous to shun him then any. And therefore, added she laughing, do not avoyd him so wilfully; have a better confidence of your self, and onely re∣solve to make good your heart while we stay here.

The advice you give me, replyed Lucrecia with a gentle smile, hath something injurious in it, for it might be thence inferred, that you do not much believe I really would avoyd Brutus. But that you may be satisfied, I tell you nothing but truth, ad∣ded she, I will do what I can to hasten my return to Rome, for in fine, I must needs acknowledge I have so great an esteem for Brutus, as to wish he might think honourably of me.

The next day Lucrecia writ divers things to her Father to oblige him to send for her home; but the reasons which moved him to send her for that part of the Summer into the Countrey, being the stronger, Lucrecia's endeavours proved fruitless, so that she was forced to be content to remain at Raci∣lia's for she had a soul too great to give the true cause of her desire to return to Rome, since Brutus's life was concerned in it. In the mean time, this disguised lover, from his first opening of his love to Lucrecia, was glad of any occasion to entertain her, or to write to her; and having an ingenuity beyond the ordinary rate of men, he found out a hundred wayes to conveigh his Letters, and that so as she could not but receive them. But all notwithstan∣ding, Lucrecia having a real aversion from engaging her self to Brutus's love, one day represented un∣to him all the difficulties which she thought might break the obstinacy of his love to her. For in fine, said this discreet person to him, you may easily judge that my Father would not bestow his Daugh∣ter on a stupid Brutus; and you may withal con∣ceive that the Brutus, who I think worthy my grea∣test esteem, is not in a condition to discover himself; and therefore not finding how I can any way dispose of my self, you will excuse me if I intreat you not to speak to me any more of your love. As for my friendship, said she to him, it is at your service, and I promise you withal, that I will not avoyd you, as for some dayes I have, conditionally you admit Va∣leria, who knows all the secrets of my heart, one of our company. Your pleasure shall be my will, re∣turned Brutus, so you will permit me still to love you, contenting your self that I shall not challenge your affection, till your heart should be overcome by the greatness of mine, and be forced to do me justice. Till then that you be onely my friend, since you are so pleased, and that I may be accoun∣ted Valeria's, I am content; but withal, vouchsafe to stay till you fully understand what I am; and if when you are throughly acquainted with my heart, you can deny me yours, I shall have no other business in this world but to dye. I shall then at once forget the love of my Countrey, that of Glory, and that of Lucrecia, and shall have no more to do but to commit to dust the purest flame that ever shined in amorous heart.

From that time, my Lord, had Brutus more of Lucrecia's company than before, for that Valeria being admited into the Club, Lucrecia did not so much avoid him. Yet Hermilia stood many times in his way, that he could not entertain Lucrecia with his passion; for she was seldome out of their company. As for Valeria she was so charmed by the excellent endowments of Brutus, that in few dayes she became as great a friend to him as she was to Lucrecia; and that which augmented the friend∣ship of these two persons, was, that Brutus acquain∣ted this discreet Virgin with the particular corre∣spondence he held with Valerius.

But notwithstanding all the enjoyments the com∣pany of these two admirable Virgins afforded him, yet was he still very unfortunate; for though he knew that Lucrecia had really a great esteem and friendship for him, yet was he not contented, be∣cause it is particular to that passion his soul was en∣gaged with, not to be satisfied but by it self.

This found matter of perpetual complaint, not∣withstanding the prohibitions of Lucrecia to the contrary; but commonly he did it by Letters which though he found a hundred wayes to get in∣to her hands, whether she would or not, yet would she not answer any, till at last thinking at once to satisfie him, and oblige him to do what she would have, she resolved to silence all his complaints with one answer; but lest she might engage her self too far, she onely sent him these words.

When you more Reason dare profess, You' shall know more of Happiness.

But my Lord, this message soon brought Lucre∣cia another, which I must needs shew you, for ha∣ving undertaken to entertain you with the History of Brutus, I have got from him whatever I thought requisite for your satisfaction: See then the an∣swer of this disguised Lover.

When I profess more reason, you tell me I shall be more happy; Ah Madam, how hard is it to preserve, so much Reason where there is so much Love, and how long must I continue miserable! You give me certainly, Madam, an excellent Precept, but I cannot follow it. All the Sa∣ges of Greece told me as much before I knew you, but it is onely you have taught me that all their instructions are fruitless. Never had I such a disturbance in my soul as now, and that which sinks me deeper into despair, is, that haply it might be said; that for what concerns you I had no reason to despair. For certainly you ex∣ercise no cruelty on me, nay I am obliged to celebrate your goodness; but is it not equally certain, that you love me the less, by how much my affection is the greater to you? You look on my passion with so much calmness and indiffe∣rence, that in my judgement you would be more sensible of it, were it onely a pleasant fiction wherein you were no∣thing concerned, nor knew any more than the relation from some eloquent person. Ah Madam, how cruel are you if this be your true apprehension! and how much more cruel if it be not! and how careful are you to con∣ceal the truth from me, so to make me the most infortunate of men! What shall I say to you, Madam? since I find you so insensible as to Love, I doubt me you are more as to Friendship; and that all the expressions I have received of yours were onely strong imaginations, and so many plea∣sant sallyes of your mind. Have I not other afflictions enough in my passion? The difficulty to speak with you; the sad necessity of my self restraint and reservedness; the absence you every day threaten me with, and whereof the very thoughts murthers me; to which you shall not need add an insensibility the most unkind and the most cruel that ever was, and especially since it hath all the ap∣pearances of humanity and candor. What I desire is, I confess, too much for me to receive, but it is little for you to grant; Heaven is my witness I desire nothing else. Tell me but once, I admit your love, and for∣bid you not to hope you may be loved; and then though you never speak to me more, I shall be content, and my passion will be dissolved into serenity and joy. But if the terrible word of four letters frightens you, and

that he be the cause of all your fears. I shall consent that for the future, this LOVE be called respect, or Friendship, or what you please, provided that between us it signifie something quite different from the name. Pitty me Madam, pitty the purest and most unspotted Affecti∣on that ever heart was capable of; you will certainly, could you but see the tempestuousness of my thoughts. My mind is discomposed by the disorder of my heart; and I am sometimes afraid I shall really come to be what the world believes me, if you do not change my destiny. May I presume to tell you, Madam. I do almost repent me I have ever loved you; I have wished I could love you no longer; nay, I have endeavoured it. But soon after, I have found I was not master of my own thoughts; I have condemned my endeavours, and repented of my repentance, as of a crime. This, Madam, is the deplo∣rable condition I am in, and must be while you are so pleased; for I am not to be acquainted with my own frailty, which you know as well as I, and therefore it is to little purpose for me to complain and threaten at the same time, since all I have to do is to suffer, to disguise, to be silent, and to love you eternally.

This Letter being very full of passion, Lucrecia was a little stung with it, insomuch that she resol∣ved to return Brutus a longer answer than she had done before. For indeed not to conceal any thing from you, the great worth of this illustrious Roman, the generosity of his heart, his gallantry, the confidence he at first reposed in her descretion, the disconsolate life he led, the respect he had for her, the experience she had of his vertue, and the pureness of his apprehensions, together with a cer∣tain passionate stile, which was that of all his wri∣tings; had kindled in her soul a certain affection, the force whereof she was not acquainted with. Yet I am confident, you will infer from the answer which I shall read to you, that she had a certain ob∣liging tenderness for Brutus, though she never al∣lowed a thought which was not vertuous and in∣nocent. But that you may know whether I am in the right or no, hear what was Lucrecia's answer.

I should never have believed that Innocence could have been so cowardly as I find it in my own heart. For I assure you, that though I fear not any thing either as to you or my self, yet am I haunted with a secret distrust, which is no small affliction to me: I cannot precisely tell what it is I fear, and I cannot but fear what I cannot tell; nor can the consideration either of all my own ver∣tue or yours, restore my mind to quiet and composure. It is so overcast and disordered with thousands of niceties and doubts, that if the tenderness of my heart were not engaged on your side, I know not whether I might not repent me of a great part of that goodness which I have for you. But to give you my true thoughts, I am perswaded this civil war will yet last some time. I could wish it were at an end, for you know, as War banishes all plea∣sures from those places where it hath to do, so that whereof my heart hath for some time been the Seat, suffers me not effectually to apprehend the joy of being by you prefer∣red before all the world, and governing in the heart of a man of extraordinary worth, and (which I value much more) one whose affection is composed of Vertue and Sin∣cerity. In fine, is it not true that in some late private entertainments, you have observed I had not the least li∣berty or command of my mind? Is it not as true, I was neither merry nor melancholy, neither absolutely dull, nor absolutely chearful? That to speak truely, I was neither absolutely mild, nor altogether severe, and that if you had never found me more amiable than you did those two dayes, you had never loved me? However, I hope you will not blame me, the rather, if you consider I have an infinite passion for Reputation and Innocence. I know there is nothing criminal in your affection, but I know my own weakness, wich is such, that I am afraid of any secret; I never was burthened with any, and all novelty distracts me. Yet it may happen, that observing from time to time the integrity of your resentments, I shall seriously resolve to share an innocent Secret with you; and shall then give my soul way to entertain all the sweetness it may find, in being tenderly loved by a person who knowes how to love, and who can love with respect and innocence. I should tell you a thousand things more, should I pre∣tend to answer your Letter exactly, and acquaint you with the true state of my soul. But I have not the leisure, and am not certain whether I have the will; for, seriously, the disquiet of mind is such as I am ashamed of.

I am confident, my Lord, that though this Let∣ter contain nothing in it of extraordinary Obligati∣on, yet you cannot otherwise think than that Bru∣tus should take it as a very high favour, as wherein he might easily perceive that Lucrecia had a great esteem and a strong inclination for him. Never∣theless he found in it some things to complain at, as you may judge by the answer he returned to it, whereof this is a Copy.

If I love you not beyond what any one can love you; if my love admit any thing which the most exact and nice Vertue can any way censure in it self, if I can live contentedly, or, to say better, but onely live until you love me, I wish I were the wretched'st of mankind. This is all the answer I shall make you, desire no more of a wretch, whom you have already made lose his understanding and his reason, and if you change not your thoughts, will make him also lose his life. But Madam, what necessity is there to answer you, you sufficiently answer your self? You fear, you say, and cannot tell what you fear; You are engaged with the most fervent and the most accomplish∣ed love in the world; and if I darst say so Madam, with your own goodness and compassion, and yet all your forces consist of a sort of nice Difficulties, as you your self call them, that is to say, reasons which are onely shadowes of Reason, such as a great and noble Soul, as yours, shall never entertain. Upon these niceties then, you would easily deprive him of all content, who of all the world hath the greatest love for you. For these niceties he must be condemned to perpetual torment, so as to be dissol∣ved into sighs, groans, and complaints, and must accuse all your past goodness as so much cruelty. Certainly those who fiercely and disdainfully repulse their Lovers, are not haply as inhumane as you are; for their fierce∣ness is a remedy against it self, and many times saves those whom it might bring into despair. Besides, these, when they are so scornful, they believe they have reason to be so, and are not swayed by niceties, and their rigour therefore is so much the more excusable. But for you, Madam, what shall I say to you? Shall I complain of you, or shall I commend you? I am in doubt whether, so much am I disordered; but this I know, whether you are merciful or cruel, nice or not, I cannot but love you while I live; and all the difference will be this, that as you are pleased I shall be the happiest or the most unhappy of all Lovers. Alas Madam, is it possible you can destroy all my felicity, all my joy, haply some part of your own, onely because you know not whether you would have what you

would, or that you wish it imperfectly? Have com∣passion on me. I beseech you Madam, let us once be an example, that perfect Vertue is not inconsistent with per∣fect Love, and that it were very unhappy, if it were de∣prived of the sweetest pleasure, or to say better, the only in the world. What serenity will you infuse into my mind, if you can afford that which you desire unto your own? What glory were there equal to mine? With what Kings, and with what Lovers would I change con∣dition? O ye Gods! how doth this very thought crown me with joy, in the midst of all your cruelties? But if you are resolved still to oppose my happiness, I tell you se∣riously, you will either give me my death, or make it my perpetual wish. Consider therefore Madam, what you do, and the more to engage you to be tender of my life, remember that the safety of Rome is haply concerned in it, and that you cannot ruine me without exposing your Countrey to eternal slavery.

Lucrecia having received the Letter, shewed it Valeria in a little close Arbor, which was at the corner of Racilia's Garden; but she did it with so visible expressions of disturbance in her looks, that her friend not able to guess at the meaning of it, asked her the reason. For in fine, said she to her, this Letter hath nothing in it which is not full of respect and passion; and I am confident, it is no trouble to you that Brutus loves you. I confess, it replyed Lucrecia, but that which infinitely afflicts me, is, that I have not that command of my heart, so as to be able when I should desire it, to avoyd loving him. It is certainly in my power, added she, not to give him any expressions of it, but if I do it, I am so much the more unhappy; for when ever I force my self to hide from him part of that esteem which I have for him, I am presently haun∣ted, notwithstanding all my resistence, with a cer∣tain fear to destroy his affection by over-concealing my own. Not but that I believe I may love Bru∣tus innocently, for the last time my mother was here, she expresly commanded me to entertain Bru∣tus with that correspondence of affection, which a vertuous maid may express to a man that were to be her husband, adding to this command another, that I should never discover what she enjoyned me.

But my Lord, I had forgot to tell you that Ra∣cilia, who was not ignorant of the great friendship, was between Lucrecia's mother, and Brutus's father, and had often observed that her Nephew had a vio∣lent inclination for this excellent Virgin, took one day occasion to confer with this Illustrious Roman, whom she knew to be implacably exasperated a∣gainst Tarquin, and told her she thought it very strange her Husband should suffer Collatine to make publick addresses to Lucrecia, since it was generally known she had an aversion for him. To which Lucrecia's Mother reposing an absolute confidence in Racilia, made answer, that for her part she was in∣finitely troubled at it, nor could imagine any way to divert her Husband from it, who proposed to himself great advantages by an alliance with Tar∣quin. But not to trouble you with an account of these two Womens discourse, it shall suffice I only tell you, that Racilia, confident of her discretion, to whom she spoke, acquainted her that Brutus was not what he was thought to be; she produced di∣vers of his Letters to confirm, she had said no more of him than he deserved; and in fine, represented him to her as the worthy Son of a man, for whom she had had a very tender friendship, as a secret ene∣my to Tarquin; and as the illustrious lover of her Daughter. Whereupon summing up all together whatever they thought might help to break off the marriage with Collatine, Racilia obliged Lucre∣cia's Mother to lay her commands upon her Daugh∣ter to be very civil to Brutus, not making any fur∣ther discovery to her. For knowing that the prin∣cipal reason which moved her Husband to admit a marriage with Collatine, was that Collatine was of the Blood royal, she doubted not but that marriage be∣ing broken off, he would be content she should take Brutus with all his stupidity, as being Tarquin's Nephew. Not knowing therefore truly how things stood, she laid that command on Lucrecia, which contributed much to the happiness of Brutus.

Hence it was that Valeria understanding by Lucre∣cia the command, which her Mother had laid on her, took occasion to tell her those little difficulties were groundless, and that she was of opinion she might innocently entertain Brutus's affection. But Valeria, replyed Lucrecia, if I should, and he not know what my mother hath enjoyned me, he will haply esteem me so much the less, and if I ac∣quaint him with it, he will think himself the less be∣holding to me for what I shall do for him; so that I am in the greatest confusion in the world. For, I wish Brutus's love, and haply should be won to love him; Yet am I tormented with insurrections of Fear, Shame, and Repentance. I wish I had writ∣ten harshly to him; I wish I had not answer'd him at all; I wish he had not written to me; I wish he would write to me every day; I wish he had never loved me; I wish he would love me eternally; and in fine, I wish things so different and inconsistent, that when I examine my self, I am almost dead for fear I should love Brutus better than he loves me. For according to my present apprehensions, I could wish, were it possible, he never had loved any thing, or that he might love nothing besides my self; and if I could reflect on all the passages of my soul, I should there find jealousie, despight and pride, but withal a mixture of vertue, innocence, and an ob∣stinate desire of glory, all which torment my soul beyond all imagination. If Brutus had heard what you have said, replyed Valeria, he were not over miserable: but I can assure you, replyed Lucrecia, that if he understood the true meaning of all my words, he would not be much the less miserable: You are in the right, Madam, (replyed this illu∣strious Roman, starting from behind a thick-set hedge, where he lay hid, and withal, casting him∣self on his knees) for there is no condition more miserable, than that of not being hated, and yet so treated as if one never were to be loved. Ah Bru∣tus, cryed out Lucrecia blushing, I shall not excuse the presumption you are guilty of, in discovering to me that you have over-heard me. Ah Madam, replyed he, what have I heard, whence I may derive the least favor? On the contrary, is not this irre∣solution of your foul, absolutely insufferable? Ask Valeria what she truly thinks of it, and I doubt not but she will tell you, if she speak sincerely, I have reason to complain, that you are yet to consider whether you should admit my love or not. I must acknowledge, Madam, I did not think my self to be so miserable, nay sometimes I flattered my self that these groundless difficulties, wherewith your Let∣ter

was so well furnished, had really no place in your heart. But for ought I can perceive, you are not yet certain whether you should love or hate the miserable Brutus; and his fate is still so doubtful, that your own heart is yet ignorant of its own se∣cret resentments. Complaint is so natural to Love, replyed Valeria smiling, that I wonder not at yours; but when all is done, you should think your self happy to have heard what Lucrecia hath said of you, & she her self should be satisfied that you have heard those things which might excuse the tenderness of her heart. Ah Valeria, replyed Lucrecia, I am so little satisfied in my self, that I would willingly change hearts with you. If the fair Valeria, replyed Bru∣tus, do but justice to the love of Herminius, I should haply get something by the exchange. Do not I pray charge me with injustice, replyed Valeria, at the same time, when out of pure goodness I am your advocate; and accuse me not of having a heart more tender than Lucrecia.

Hereupon these three persons being mutually sa∣tisfied, Brutus and Lucrecia appealed to Valeria to judge of those differences should happen between them. For in fine, said Lucrecia to Brutus, if you can perswade Valeria, that a vertuous person can entertain such an affection as you mean, I shall con∣sent to admit yours, conditionally you never oblige me to be openly undutiful to my Father, that in case he dispose of me contrary to my inclination, you will endure it patiently without hating me; and when that happens, you never see me after. Ah Madam, replyed he, these are strange conditions, but I must accept them, provided on your behalf you suffer my passion; you favor me with all the op∣portunities you can to speak with you; you receive my Letters, and answer them; and lastly, cheer∣fully permit all those innocent expressions of love I shall make to you. So you rest satisfied with the re∣sentments of my heart, replyed she, I shall do what you desire, as soon as you have perswaded Valeria, as I have already told you, that a vertuous person may be engaged to love, and shall have proved it to me rather by example than by reason; for not to dis∣semble with you, added she, I have not much to learn of what might be said to justifie a vertuous love. Ah Madam, said he to her, if there want no∣thing but to convince you, I am the happiest of men. For I know at Metapont an admirable Vir∣gin, of whom I have heretofore spoken to you, who hath not conceived she hath done any thing prejudi∣cial to her repution, in resolving to love. Might it please the Gods, replyed Lucrecia, it were the daughter of Pythagoras. Your prayers are heard Madam, replyed he, it is of that sage person I am to speak to you, and in few words to satisfie your curiosity, and furnish you with an example; I am only to acquaint you that Damo had fortified her heart against the addresses of the most vertuous persons in the world, as believing she could not meet with any one man, in whom there were a con∣junction of Wit, Vertue, Goodness, Gallantry, Tenderness, and Fidelity. She could not I say, be perswaded it were possible to find a Lover, whose desires exceeded not the limits of Innocence, nor his transports those of Discretion; so that de∣spairing to meet with a man of a vertue great enough to love, at the rate of that affection, which she imagined requisite in an upright well-meaning person, she was resolved not to love any thing but Glory. But at length one of the most famous Dis∣ciples of Pythagorus named Alcmaeon, falling deeply in love with her, and bringing along with him all those perfections which she thought it impossible to find in any one man, she changed her resolution, and after a many thousands of applications, from Alcmaeon, and thousands of services tendred and performed, she hath entertained his affection, and given him expressions of hers; she hath received Love-letters from him, and hath answered them; she hath favor'd her Lover with a thousand oppor∣tunities of private entertainments; she hath recei∣ved verses from him, and hath returned others to him. Ah! migbt it please the Gods that the in∣comparable Lucrecia would make as amorous for me as those of Damo were for Alcmaeon. But that you may not find me in any untruth, and may withal be satisfied of the tenderness of this vertu∣ous person's heart; Be pleased to hear some of her amorous Poetry, and, if you can, inform your self thereby what are the pleasures of Love, and be con∣vinced that Vertue it self inspires this passion with charms, so that these two things not being incom∣patible, you might love me without any distrustful reservedness. Hereupon Valeria, who knew Lu∣crecia's humor as well as her self, knew well she de∣sired no more than that her innocent affection might be justified by some authority; pressed Bru∣tus to repeat those verses of Damo; whereto Lu∣crecia by her silence consenting, he told them, that those verses had made such an impression in his heart, that they had found a place in his memory, though he had not much troubled himself to keep them in mind. Not that they are, added he, so excellently good, but that they have a certain vein of passion, which I am taken with, and wish you were also. Upon this, Brutus recollecting himself a little, repeated the following verses, which Damo had made under the name of Lysis, though they were directed to Alcmaeon.

False and unjust their censure is, Who Love account a cruel pain; For can there be a greater bliss, Than loving, to be lov'd again?

My joys, when Lysis's constant love I view, arrive at such a height, That to deject them is above The humble power of scorned Fate.

He who in Love is deeply read, Knows the least trisle to improve; In ev'ry glance her bright eyes shed, A thousand harmless pleasures move.

A smile, a sigh, one little sight, Contribute charms to our desire; Her grief confers to our delight, Her very tears encrease our fire.

Then Lysis we no more delay To make our mutual passions known, At which let wondring Lovers say, Their souls are twisted into one.

Can you any longer doubt, divine Lucrecia (said Brutus to her, having repeated those Verses) that a vertuous person may love once in all her life? Can you, I say, who know the reputation of Damo, and who have heard, there is not another maid in the world so serverely vertuous as she? Love there∣fore, charming Beauty, or at least suffer your self to be loved; and if you will not make amorous verses, suffer others to do it for your glory: Suffer me I say, to do any thing which may convince you of the greatness and tenderness of my affection, that when you once are, it may prove contagious to you. For, in fine, Madam, if we do not a little love that which loves us, there can be no sensible pleasure in being loved. Be pleased then to enjoy your self in the empire of my heart, by granting me a part of yours. You have so much of it in my friendship, replyed Lucrecia, as might content you. Ah Ma∣dam, replyed Brutus, how little is your acquain∣tance with Love, if you believe the most fervent friendship in the world can satisfie it! No no, Ma∣dam, deceive not your self, I cannot possibly be hap∣py, if I am not loved after another manner than one loves his friends. I dare not presume to tell you that I will you should love me, continued he, but if I may without crime think it, I should wish your heart were in a condition to feel what it never felt, and what it should not for any besides the too too happy Brutus. I should wish, I say, you were moved when ever you saw me, and that from me alone you should derive all your felicity. My de∣mands, Madam, added he, are indeed great, for a man that deserves nothing, but all considered I de∣mand nothing but what is innocent. I absolutely forbid my desires all criminal favours, and in fine, wish no more than you will, so you will permit me to love you, and that continuing my a∣dorations of you with the same fervency and since∣rity, you will give me leave to believe, that if I am not loved, I may be.

Upon this, Valeria interposing her self between them, carried things with so much discretion, that though Lucrecia said nothing that might positively engage him, yet did Brutus think himself happy. For, in fine, he was allowed to make his complaints, and write to Lucrecia, when he could not come to speech with her. It was also promised he should be answered; they permitted him to hope he might be loved: He was assured of certain meetings with her in the same place, conditionally the business might be carried so as Hermilia and Racilia should not suspect any thing. For though Brutus affirmed to Lucrecia that his Aunt was not ignorant of his having more understanding than he made shew of, yet did they stand in fear of her, as not suspecting she knew any thing of his passion.

Now was it that illustrious Roman thought him∣self the happiest of men, and what before had con∣tributed to his affliction, seemed now to conduce to his happiness. For now he found that his disguise was as advantageous to his love as to his hatred, since he could approach both Lucrecia and Tarquin, and fear neither Enemies nor Rivalls, thinking himself so felicified in the love and esteem of the admirable Lucrecia, that he valued not the dis∣esteem of all the world. He was no more troubled to be silent before all people, since he was permit∣ted to speak of his love to the person that caused it; and when he could but get into that close ar∣bour, where Lucrecia began first to shew him fa∣vour, he found more pleasure to be there alone, than he could have done in the most pleasant company Rome could afford, though he were at liberty to display all the perfections of his mind.

Nor was the love of his Countrey hereby any thing abated; no more than that of Glory: on the contrary, since that he assured himself of the Love of Lucrecia, he thought himself doubly concerned to endeavour the destruction of Tarquin; not onely because he being once ruined, Collatine would let fall all pretensions to Lucrecia, but also out of a pure disinterested motive, as conceiving it necessari∣ly contributed to the glory of this excellent Beauty, that by the deliverance of Rome, he should set his own reason at liberty; and withal put himself into such a condition, that all the world might take no∣tice of the passion he had for her. As soon there∣fore as love had poslessed it self of the empire of his heart, he redoubled his former endeavours to ac∣complish that great design, wherewith his soul is at this day burthened. Nor was he disturbed by any melancholy apprehensions for some dayes en∣suing that wherein Lucrecia had honoured him with the first expressions of her love; nor knew any other affliction than what proceeded from the im∣patience he had to give his Mistress another pri∣vate visit; when any occasion hindred Lucrecia and Valeria to meet according to their innocent appointment: But this was no small penance to him, even so great, that one day it grew so violent up∣on him, that he thought not a simple Letter suffici∣ent to express to Lucrecia the earnest desire he had to see her again. Having therefore an excellent and easie vein of Poetry, though none knew it but Lucrecia, Valeria, and my self, he enclosed a paper of Verses in a Letter he writ to Lucrecia, with in∣tention to deliver it to her himself, as he often did, when he could not meet with her but in company. But this Letter he made a shift to deliver her, as she sate betwixt Collatine and my self, for we often made visits at Racilia's, whither we were drawn by no mean concernments. I am confident you are desi∣rous to know how he would carry the business so, as to deliver this Letter to Lucrecia; but that you may conceive how it was done, I am onely to tell you, that Lucrecia, Valeria, two or three other La∣dies, Brutus, Collatine and I, were all together in that close Arbour, where Brutus had the day before seen Lucrecia, and where he had that day met her, had we not disappointed the meeting. Having, as I told you already, written his Letter, and being very desirous to know what Collatine said to Lucrecia, and more to oblige Lucrecia to think on him, while his Rival entertained her; he took a walk out of the Garden for to get behind the Arbour, whence he had once before overheard a discourse between Lucrecia and Valeria; and there, as I told you, he placed himself to hearken to what Lucrecia said to Collatine, and afterwards to appear before that ex∣cellent person, in hope of some occasion to deliver her his Letter. But it so happened that this Beau∣ty, who it seems was not much taken with Collatine's discourse, rested her self negligently on the hedge of the Arbor, and amidst her thoughts had passed her hand thorough, wherewith she sate plucking the leaves, not thinking what she was doing. Bru∣tus seeing it, soon knew it to be Lucrecia's fair hand, and was fully satisfied it could be no others;

for besides that, her hand was of a particular kind of making, she had on a ring, that she alwayes wore, which absolutely convinced Brutus he was not de∣ceived. Not much minding the design to hearken to what was said in the Arbour, he put into the fair hand of Lucrecia a little Table-book, which he had purposely caused to be made for to write Letters to her in; and (out of a transport of love, which he could not retain, though with all the reason he had he endeavoured it) kissing it he shut it, thereby to let her know, that what he gave her could come from none but himself. Lucrecia being sur∣prized at this accident, began to blush, and thought to have cried out: but by good fortune, reflecting suddenly on the adventure, she apprehended what it was, and withheld her self. Yet Collatina asked her very importunately what the matter was, but she onely told him, rising up, that she had hurt her hand a little, whereupon drawing it to her hastily, she wrapt it into a corner of her veyl, as if she had hurt it indeed, though it was onely to hide the Table-book she had received from Brutus, who for his part was so well satisfied with the adven∣ture, that he came not into the Arbour, out of a fear he might not conceal the present agitation of his mind, but went and walked alone.

In the mean time, Lucrecia having cunningly con∣veyed the Table-book into her pocket, resumed her part in the discourse; but when they had suffi∣ciently rested themselves, they all began to walk, without observing any order, for somtimes the whole company marched all in rank, and spoke all together, and sometimes they divided themselves in∣to particular entertainments. It happened by this means, that not able to fasten any discourse with Valeria, with whom two women talked whispering∣ly, I came all alone after Lucrecia, who was enter∣tained by Collatine. But it happening that as she went she wanted something out of her pocket, and that at the same time Collatine said something to her, whereat she was displeased, she minded not that she had dropped the Table-book which Brutus had gi∣ven her: For my part though I walked musing yet seeing it fall, I took it up, and opened it, with inten∣tion to write some gallantry in it, before I returned it to Lucrecia, whereat she should much wonder when she saw it. But I was much surprised my self, to meet with Brutus's Letter and Verses he had there written; of both which these are Copies;

You will find by these Verses, that I think on you, when haply you bestow not a thought on me; but I shall intreat you, Madam, to assure your self, that the affliction I have that I cannot speak with you, is greater than the pleasure my Rival finds to entertain you; and to do me justice, be pleased to let me read in your bright eyes, when I shall have the happiness to see them, that his entertainment hath not been pleasing to you. I had rather not observe in them any favour for my self, than be in suspense whether there is any for him. Believe it, Madam, and withall, that with as much impatience, as love, I wait for the happy satisfaction to entertain you privately im∣ploying my self no otherwise in the mean time, than in per∣petually saying.

When will the Fair, for whom I burn, This place with her rich Presence bless? Dear minutes fraught with happiness; Ah will you never ne're return?

From Night to each successive Morn, Sorrows my Quiet dispossess; Dear minutes fraught with happiness; Ah will you never, ne're return?

Having read this Letter and Verses, I was no more desirous to write any thing in the Table-book, as being in an incredible disturbance. That which caused it, was that I knew the writing of Brutus for though he endeavoured to appear stupid, yet upon some necessary occasions he made a shift to write. Knowing therefore by chance, his hand, which was the easier to be known, as having some∣what a strange Character, for that Brutus had lear∣ned to write at Metapont, and not at Rome, i was in such a trouble, as I am not able to express to you. For I could not believe Brutus able to write well, either in Verse or Prose, nor that he could love Lu∣crecia, nor be loved of her. No more could I con∣ceive that some other should make use of that dis∣guise, it being very unlikely any one should trust him with a secret of that consequence; and if so, who should that be? There was none but he at Racilia's; and there came no other men thither, but the Prince of Pometia, who was in love with Hermilia; Titus, who was a servant to Collatina, and Mutius, whom I but too well knew, had an in∣clination for Valeria. Thus not knowing what to think, and being resolved to dive into a secret of that concernment, I thought fit to take Valeria aside as soon as I could conveniently. But not desirous to cause Lucrecia that trouble which her know∣ing that I had seen her Table-book might give her, I chose rather to intreat Valeria to tell her friend that she had found it; for having an infinite esteem for that beauteous and discreet Virgin, I should have been extreamly troubled, my sight should cause her any confusion. But in sine, not to spend time on frivolous things, you are to know, that I spoke to Valeria, that I shewed her the Table-book, and to engage her to satisfie my curiosity, I gave it her without any condition at all, intreating her to de∣liver it to Lucrecia, after the manner I had propo∣sed, and conjuring her, if it were a thing lay in her power, to deliver me out of the affliction I was in. But as this Wench is infinitely generous and free, and that I desired not to know the secret of her friend, but in case she might lawfully reveal it to me, so she told me, that she durst not satisfie my curiosity. In the mean time, she charged me not to speak of what had happened to any whatever, and to reward my discretion, promised she would manage the business so, as that Lucrecia and she be∣ing but the same thing, he who had written that Letter and those Verses, should make but one with me. To be short, Valeria, who thought it might be some advantage to her, that I were admit∣ted into the Society, and that haply I might in ma∣ny things be serviceable to Brutus, by the hatred I bore Tarquin, resolved to speak that night to Lu∣crecia, and acquainted her with what had happe∣ned: For she conceived, and rightly, that without doing so, she would not be engaged to repose any confidence in me; which done, she doubted not of her consent, that I might be of the Conclave, and her commands on Brutus to trust himself to my dis∣cretion, and to receive me as a friend. It is true, for the latter I needed not her assistance: for you may be pleased to know, that having parted with

Valeria, I walked out all alone into a spacious Mea∣dow, joyning to that Orchard which is beyond the Court, where I no sooner was, but I descried Mutius coming towards Racilia's, but perceived him set upon by four men, who persued him with their swords drawn, and cryed out to him, that he must die. Having no weapon about me, I thought indeed they would make their words good, and that Mutius was irrecoverably lost, for the place was very solitary, and was not enclosed to Racilia's house. But though Mutius were my Rival, yet I thought my self obliged to relieve him. To that end I for a little while hid my self behind an old Willow so to discover who they were that set upon him, that I might the better single him out of the four, whom I should endeavour to disburthen of his sword. But I had not a moment to deliberate, for seeing them press hard upon Mutius, I ran strait to them, calling them base cowardly villains, think∣ing by my confidence to make them believe that I was assured of relief. While I was speaking to them, and putting my self in order to doe what I could for Mutius, Brutus issued out of the Orchard with the same intention, who by a threatning act∣ion would signifie to those that set upon Mutius, that if they gave not over they might haply have the worst of it. Hereupon joyning our forces, and being by this expression of courage somewhat con∣firmed, that Brutus was not what he was taken to be, we engaged two of these Assassinats to make at us. But immediately closing with them, Brutus snatched his sword from him he had to do with; for my part I could not do as much, for he that I was engaged with was excessively strong in the arms however I held him play so well, that pressing hard upon him, his sword became so engaged: that I easi∣ly broke it. By which means he not being in a condition to hurt Mutius, and Brutus having disar∣med his man, these two having gotten from us ran away. Mutius having thus but two to deal with, and Brutus being furnished both for defence and as∣sault, as I was going to fasten behind one of them, these two Rogues, who were as cowardly as wick∣ed, cry'd quarter, and begged audience, Mutius conceiving it concerned him to know what reason they had to set upon him, promised them what they desired, provided they delivered their swords to me; which upon promise of life they did. They hereupon confessed they were ordered by Tarquin to pitch upon some occasion to dispatch Mutius, when he went out of Rome; that understanding he was to come to Racilia's, they for more certainty waited him in that place; adding, that they were not afraid to set upon him there, as knowing that Racilia had not many people with her that could make any defence; that further, this Meadow was at an indifferent distance from the house, and con∣venient enough for an ambush, as having on the one side an Orchard, on the other a little Wood. They were no sooner disburthened of this confes∣sion, but Brutus transported with fury against Tar∣quin's injustice, said four or five words after such a manner, as I had never observed in him before. But he suddenly with-held himself, as soon as he per∣ceived that I observed him; whereupon I joyning with Mutius, put divers questions to these Villains; which done, leaving them to their evil destiny, we left them at liberty either to repent, or commit new crimes. Yet that they might not discover that they had revealed Tarquin's violence in case it were not thought safe to publish it, Mutius furnish¦ed them with what might recommend them to Souldiery; in some other part of the world.

Mutius being on horse-back, I desired him to go before, telling him he would follow; I am content, replyed he, it is but just I should make it know, that I ow my life to you both. Hereupon Mutius riding forwards, Brutus and I were alone, according to my desire. But so fierce was the desire I had that he would discover himself to me, that I was re∣solved to speak to him as one that were partly ac∣quainted with his Secret. For, in fine, said I in my self, if Brutus be the same Brutus that I know, I hazard nothing by telling what I have aimed to tell him, and if one the contrary he be such as I imagin him, I shall accomplish my design. Being thus con∣firmed in my resolution, I made a hault, and taking him by the arm, and looking steadily on him, Shew me I beseech you, said I to him, your Understan∣ding, as you have done your Courage. For I know more of you than you think, and haply it concerns you more than you conceive, to have a confidence; for if you trust me not, I shall not think my self en∣gaged not to discover the excessive curiosity I have to dive even into the bottom of your heart. But to oblige you to it, added I, I promised you an in∣violable faith, and I offer you my friendship, with∣out any jealousie that is ill bestowed, for if you are beloved by Lucrecia, you deserve the love of all the world. Brutus hearing this discourse, was ex∣treamly surprised, and presentiy inferred, that Va∣leria had discovered him to me, and that it was to no purpose for him to conceal himself. Whereup∣on making a loud acclamation, Ah Herminius, said he, you are happier than I, for since Valeria hath acquainted you with her knowledge of my Fortune, she must needs love you, even so far as to have lost a great part of her reason and prudence. Not but that if any one were necessarily obliged to know what I see you doe, I had not made choice of you for that end; for in fine, said he to me. I know you to be a person of honour, that you loee Vale∣ria and hate Tarquin. 'Tis true, generous Brutus, (said I to him with an incredible astonishment) I profess honestly, I hate the Tyrant and love Valeria; but I must add, I admire Brutus. But, continued I, that you may see my sincerity, I will tell you by what adventure I came to know you: whereupon, I related to him what had happened, intreating him not to be troubled that I knew his secret, and assuring him that Luorecia should never find that I had the least knowledge of it. Upon this Brutus, who was not ignorant how much our Family had been persecuted by Tarquin, my Father dying an Exile, would not have an imperfect confidence in me, and since I was so happy as to have his good thoughts, he opened his heart to me, desired my friendship, and offered me his, and we stayed so long entertaining one another, that Racilia fearing some accident had befallen us, sent out to seek us. By this means we were forced to repair to the com∣pany, but before we had quite reached it, Brutus put on his ordinary Meen and simplicity, and re∣ceived the commendations which Mutius gave his valour, as one that knew not what it were to have courage. In the mean time, I drew neer Valeria, and told her I knew Brutus without her, and cra∣ved her pardon that I had not exactly obser∣ved

the instructions she had given me.

But my Lord, not to be so particular in this part which concerns my own relation, Valeria and Bru∣tus got Lucrecia's consent that I might be admitted into confidence; and there was such a noble friend∣ship between us, by reason of the several interests, whereby we were united, as also through a great sympathy of humor and sentiments, that for a cer∣tain time we lived very pleasantly. But as for Mutius, though he had been assaulted by the or∣ders of Tarquin, yet would he never take their ad∣vice who counsell'd him to remove further from him. For my part, I should have been glad he had, first, because that in removing from Rome, he also removed from Valeria; and secondly, for that he being once out of the way, the assassination would have made a horrid noise in the world, and would somewhat have enflam'd the detestation all had for Tarquin. He so dearly loved Valeria, that he chose rather to expose himself to a second assassination, than forsake her, though she loved him not. So that he earnestly intreated me to say nothing of what the Villains had discovered of Tarquin; but, said I to him, How can you hinder Brutus from telling what he knows, considering his natural stu∣pidity? People so little reflect on what he says, an∣swered Mutius, that it will signifie nothing, if you but keep counsel, insomuch that Mutius persisting in his opinion, I was forced to turn him loose to his own inclination, and to be faithful to him out of a principle of generosity.

In the mean time, this friendship with Brutus brought me much oftner than before to Racilia's; for it was the pleasure of this illustrious man, that she knew I was his friend; whereupon this excel∣lent woman told him, that Sivelia also knew the secret, by which means our correspondence encrea∣sed, and that if Hermilia were but acquainted with it, our company might be free and unreserved. But indeed she obliged us to so much circumspection, that Brutus told us one day, it was absolutely neces∣sary she knew that she was his Sister, that so strong a reason might oblige her to secrecy; adding, that it were not amiss Racilia knew that Lucrecia and Valeria were not ignorant of it; so that in fine, Brutus having thus disposed Racilia, she told Her∣milia one morning that Brutus was her Brother; and Brutus told her himself that she was his Sister, expressing himself so discreetly, and so obligingly, that this amiable Virgin was extremely surprized at it. What was most remarkable, was; that though she was really glad, yet was not her glad∣ness free from disturbance; however, it was then considered as having no other reason, than that her astonishment obscured the freedom of her mind; and that it is but very lately that I discovered that it proceeded from her having engaged her affection to the Prince of Pometia. This is yet a Secret both to Brutus and Racilia, therefore I shall entreat you not to speak to them of it; for indeed Hermilia is very unhappy to place her love on a man, whose whole Family her Brother makes it his business to ruin. But in the mean time, she could not be char∣ged with loving the Son of a Prince, who had poi∣soned her Father, and put her elder Brother to death, for when she began to love him, she knew not that she was Sister to Brutus. Nor indeed can she be charged with any inconstancy, for certainly she never discovered any thing to the Prince whom she loves, that were prejudicial to her Brother, nor in∣deed doth he so much as know that she is Sister to Brutus.

But at length to return whence I have digressed, this first amazement of Hermilia being over, she carried her self as one that was glad of such a Bro∣ther as Brutus, so that ever after, when there was none but Racilia, Valeria, Lucrecia, Sivelia, Bru∣tus, and my self, our Society was nothing but Free∣dom, Brutus being the most pleasant company, and the most divertive person in the world. Not that he openly professed himself a servant to Lu∣crecia, no more than I did to Valeria, but we had brought up a certain gallantry of friendship, which signified almost as much, since that the desire of pleasing, compliance, services and addresses, were the effects of it. When Brutus was minded to do some high piece of Gallantry, he ever did it under my name; so that directing it openly to Lucretia, it served at once to hide Brutus's love to her, and mine to Valeria. But the love of Collatine and Mu∣tius were extremely troublesom to us, for when they came to Racilia's with the Prince of Pometia and Titus, and that Collatina was there, how plea∣sant soever their company be in it self, we were strangely weary of it; but among the rest Brutus was orewhelmed with it, for as soon as any strange face appeared, he was forced to resume his stupi∣dity, and suffer Collatine to say what he pleased when he was with Lucrecia, which was no small af∣fliction to him. One day I remember above all the rest, which was the last Festival day that we ce∣lebrated in the Country, wherein Brutus was both extremely satisfied, and extremely afflicted. But since you are both strangers, that you may the bet∣ter understand it, you are to know, that there is one day yearly set apart for the celebration of a certain Feast, which is called the Feast of the Foun∣tains, on which every one adorns the Fountains and Wells, which are within his grounds, with Gar∣lands of Vervein and Flowers. This is performed with great ceremony, for these Garlands being pre∣pared, are carried to the Temple dedicated to that use, where he that is to do the ceremony, sprinkles them with Holy water, which among us is in great veneration. This done, they pick out the fairest maids of the Quarter where the Feast is kept, who are that day cloathed like Shepherdesses; and they have each of them as many Garlands as they can conveniently carry. Thus burthened, they march two and two, having before and behind them little Chorus's of Musick, who sing certain things in praise of the Waters, and the Gods which dispose of them. In this order they march from Fountain to Fountain, placing these Garlands upon little Al∣tars of Turfs, purposely erected for that end. This Feast then falling while Valeria and Lucrecia were at Racilia's, it was celebrated with great magnificence and joy: for there being a many Foun∣tains about this vertuous womans house, & that she is very punctual in the observation of all the ancient customs of the Country, especially those which have any concerment of Religion, she was particularly careful for the solemnity of this Feast; and those who thought themselves interessed in the persons that were at her house, would not certainly fail to be at a Ceremony of this nature, For though it was at first instituted upon considerations of Piety, yet there is withal something of Gallantry in it. So

that the Prince of Pometia, Titus, Collatine, Mutius, and my self, went thither, and brought some others with us. As for women, besides Valeria, Lucrecia, Collatina, and Hermilia, there were two kinswomen of hers, who are of the house of the Aquilii, and four or five other handsome Lasses. According therefore to the custome, all the men sent in a huge number of Garlands of Verveine and Flowers, for those who were to carry them; for in these occa∣sions, the Lady who hath most given her, is the most honorable. But that it may be known on whom these Garlands are bestowed, those who send them cause the Garlands to be tied with divers knots, which must be of the same colour as the Lady is in, to whom they are sent, she being obliged that day to have on her Shepherdess's habit divers knots of the colour she is most delighted with. By this means is she known who hath most Garlands; and the people superstitiously believe, that she to whom that happens, will infallibly within that year meet either with some great happiness or some great misfortune. It does indeed often so fall out; and if Reason were not stronger than Example, one would be almost obliged to believe it. However it be, this Feast was celebrated at Racilia's with very gallant Ceremony, for all the women that were to carry the Garlands, were handsome, neat, and well made; there was an incredible abundance of Flowers, the Musick was as good as that of the great Feast of the Salii; the order of the Ceremony was punctually observed, even the day as to weather, favored the celebration of this Country Festival; the Banquet was under a great bed of Jesimin on one side of the Court, in the midst whereof was a Fountain, which they had covered all over with Garlands of Flowers; and the rest of the day was spent in walking and pleasant discourse. It hap∣pened in the mean time, that Collatine and Brutus had, under my name, given so many Garlands to Lucrecia, that she had more than all the rest, unless it were Valeria, to whom I had sent more than would have served to exceed Lucrecia; but desirous to let her friend have the honor of the Feast, she caused some of them to be laid aside. Whereupon Lucre∣cia having the advantage, all according to the cu∣stome, bid her prepare her self for some great joy, or some great affliction, every one endeavoring to expound it according to his fancy. Some told her she should bring all hearts into subjection; others that her rigor would cost some servant of hers his life, whose loss she should notwithstanding re∣gret; only Brutus speaking to her with his eyes, signified to her what she was more pleased with, as∣suring her by his looks, he should love her eternal∣ly. It was certainly a strange torment to him, to see Collatine always near Lucrecia, and I must con∣fess it moved pity in all that saw him. Not that Collatine is a strange person, look'd on now as a Husband, but considered then as a Lover, he seemed not to deserve Lucrecia. For if you look narrowly on him, Collatine is neither well nor ill made: he nei∣ther hath a great, nor a little heart; he neither speaks admirably well, nor excessively ill: He is at no great distance from a good capacity, but he ad∣vances not a subtil intellection of things. If he be guilty of no considerable Vice, neither hath he any extraordinary Vertue to distinguish him from other men; and if he have never done any unworthy acti∣on, neither hath he ever given any Heroick expres∣sion of a great Courage. In fine, he is one of those men who never spake any thing which was not spo∣ken before; one whom a man can neither praise nor dispraise; one of those who being spoken of, are never mentioned in their own name, and who are most commonly better known, by saying he is such a woman's Husband, or such a man's Son, than bare∣ly by their own names. By this account therefore, Collatine should be no great eye-sore to Brutus, who, beside all this, knew that Lucrecia had a natural aversion for this Rival: nevertheless, so prone are we to hate those who pretend to conquer the heart we are secretly possessed of, that how confident so∣ever Brutus was of Lucrecia's affection, yet at cer∣tain times he could not endure Collatine. But there were also other times, wherein he thought himself so happy in the love and esteem of that admirable person, that he easily pardoned the contempt of all others. To advance his satisfaction, it hapned that this discourse was such as suited excellently well with his humor; for all the young people that were in the company, being seated at one of the great beds of Jesimine I spoke of, a young Aquilian began to speak of the glory which Lucrecia had re∣ceived in having more Garlands of Flowers than all the rest, who yet were such as deserved to be first in all places. The truth is, said Lucrecia to him, those who bestowed them on me, may more justly pretend to the praise than I, unless they may not haply be blamed for not making a good choice. But men are so accustomed, added she, to use the term Glory in every thing, that they can hardly speak without it, whereas that word in my opinion, should be attributed to those only who have done some great exploit in War, or to those who are emi∣nent in some Vertue or Science. But do you con∣ceive, said I to her, that one may not say to a beauti∣ful person, that she is very glorious in conquering all hearts, and establishing an Empire to it self without Arms, without Injustice, and without Violence? This Empire is many times so ill established, re∣plyed Valeria, that it were very weakly founded upon the glory which hath no other support than the inconstancy of most part of those who make it their business to love; but after all, I conceive that to be true glory which consists in deserving the e∣steem of vertuous persons, and not in their love, for this passion hath many times such a fantastical birth in the hearts of many persons, that it were unjust to attribute much glory to those women that are loved, though haply it were more unjust, to blame those much who love them. As for Glory, said Mutius, I am of opinion it principally pertains to Military actions, and that the valiant may pre∣tend to it more than others. I agree with you, re∣plyed I, that the valiant deserve it; but withal the vertuous may lay claim to it as much as any. For my part, I am of Herminius's mind, replyed the Prince of Pometia; and I, added Titus, but it must be withal acknowledged, that the gaining of a bat∣tel deserves a higher glory than the simple master∣ing of the passions. To follow custom, replyed I, a victory of this nature makes more noise than that you speak of, but I am yet to know whether the desert be so great, as also whether it be not more glorious for a man to conquer himself than others. But by this account, said Hermilia, we cannot pre∣tend to much glory, according to Mutius's sentence, for women go not to the wars. Ah Hermilia, cry∣ed

I, the Ladies have their victories and their tri∣umphs, and know so well how to wage war even in the time of peace, that, whatever Lucrecia may say, they deserve much glory; but to speak truly men have more than women in some occasions, and I am perswaded it is much more glorious for a man to be loved by a vertuous woman, than it is for her to be loved by a vertuous man. For in my opinion, the excess of beauty takes away from the honor of the conquest, and an exceeding handsome woman, that subdues a heart, deserves no more glory than a Con∣queror, who having an Army of a hundred thou∣sand men, and intelligence within a small City, should take it without resistence. The glory there∣fore of women I take principally to consist in this, that their endowments exceed their beauty, and in a word, their deserts be equal to the love men have for them, though they lost all that rendred them handsom. For my part, replyed Mutius, I am an adorer of the Ladies, yet all considered, I take it for granted, that in the business of Love, Glory is not much concerned. How, replyed the Prince of Pometia, would you think it no glory to be loved? The greatest pleasure in the world, replyed he, but methinks I should not think it that which ought truly to be called Glory. For in fine, if one be lo∣ved by a person of no vertue, he hath nothing to boast of; and if he be loved by a vertuous person, she raises so many niceties, that a man must always disguise himself, he must hardly ever look on her, he must strangely endeavor to conceal himself, he must complain of her indifference, when haply she hath not any; a man must not say he loves her, and must be obliged to so many artifices, and so many mysteries, such certainly as Glory hath no acquain∣tance with. If you speak of vanity, replyed I, am of your mind, but as to glory, I must dissent. For in the first place, I conceive it pertains as much to Love as to War, and that this relation is the more symbolical, by reason of the combats, the victories, and the triumphs of it. But I hold farther, that the more secret a Love is, the more glorious is it to the man beloved; and if you will appeal to the Company to judge, I shall undertake to maintain, that there is nothing so pleasant, nothing so glori∣ous, as for a man to be loved by a person of great merit and a great vertue, though the world know it not, nor haply never should.

As I spoke thus, I observed that I much obliged Brutus, and did not displease Lucrecia by defending a cause wherein they were so much concerned. Be∣sides, that I was not sorry that I had engaged my Rival to maintain an opinion, which, besides its ill consequence, must lose him in the esteem of Vale∣ria; and I pressed him so hard, that conceiving him∣self bound in reputation obstinately to make good what he had advanced, he undertook to do it. He spoke the first, thinking it an advantage to give in his reasons before I had mine, so that the whole company favoring us with a silent audience, Mu∣tius began to state his opinion by a definition of love made to his own fancy. To make you ac∣knowledge that true which I maintain (said he di∣recting his speech to me) it is only to be consider∣ed, that Pleasure is the soul of Love, as I may so say, and that if Love had not in it an ingredient of some∣thing pleasant, people would not be in love. When we speak of love, our minds are carried away only with the pleasures of it; Hope it self is the mother of many sensible delights; nay we find them even in our very afflictions, so that grief and joy are on∣ly the effect of Love, which admits not any thing of Glory. For a man dares not boast of the least favor without dishonor, and a Lover that divulges the indulgences of his Mistress, does himself more injury in divulging them, than she does her self in favouring him. And to speak seriously, what glo∣ry doth that man deserve, who prefers his pleasure before all things, who regards nothing but what should make him happy, who makes it his busi∣ness through all his life to avoid whatever may hinder his enjoyments, and who thinks not of having any thing else to do than eter∣nally to pin himself to her sleeve, by whom he thinks himself loved? I know well, there is nothing so pleasant, nothing so charming; but I also apprehend, that every thing hav∣ing some advantage which is particular to it, Pleasure is the particular attendant of Love, as Glory is of Valour. But though it were true, that a certain kind of Glory might be found in Love, it should not thence follow, that it must be a concealed love; for in my judgement, there can be no secret Glory: and to speak of Glo∣ry according to the notion I have of it, it is pro∣perly that which we mean by the word Fame. If it spread not, and fill all places, it diminishes, and signifies as much as nothing, as being the reward only of transcendent actions. On the contrary, in Love, and especially in these secret Loves, the lustre and noise is that which is most avoided. A man stifles the Letters which he writes and receives; ap∣pointments are commonly in solitary places; they who love for the most part speak as low as they can, they conceal from one another the best part of their thoughts, and were it not for envy and detraction, Fame would not be much troubled with proclaim∣ing amorous victories. Thus I suppose I may con∣clude, that if Love be the subject of any Glory, it must be a publick professed love, as was that of one of our Kings, who having taken a Virgin prisoner in the Wars, fell so deeply in love with her, that he got a Son on her, who afterwards became his Suc∣cessor. But to think that such a love as none have any knowledge of, may be glorious, is that I shall never believe, and you will not find very easie to maintain.

I know not, replyed I, whether I shall find it so hard to make my party good, or no; But this I know, that I do not believe my self confuted. To answer you then in some order, I shall presume to tell you, that (considering how you have endea∣vored to define Love, saying, that pleasure is its soul) I must acquaint you with what Glory is; for you speak of it, you seem not to know it well, and that you have taken Vanity instead of it. It is in∣deed certain, that there is a certain resemblance be∣tween these two, though really there be the greatest difference between them that may be. For Vanity is only a beguiling appearance, which subsists not but by some other, and never makes use of Vertue; but true Glory is something so pure, so great, and so noble, that it admits not the least mixture of this Vanity which you take instead of it. Glory is as ne∣cessary a result of a vertuous action, as light is an ef∣fect of the Sun that causes it, and it results after a manner which hath no dependance on any other dif∣ferent cause. For as a vertuous action continues still

the same, though it be done without testimony, so it necessarily follows, that Glory, which, as I may so say, is born with it, infallibly attends it, though the action be not divulged. Thus remains a glory for well doing, though the world know it not; and, after all, a man must be his own spectator, and though he were sure never to meet with any other approbation than his own, yet must he so act as if he expected that of all the world, imagining as it were a glory to himself, even in his own esteem. Besides, it is certain a man should labour more for his own esteem than that of another, and to deserve glory rather than to manifest it. For in my opi∣nion, if any thing can weaken the glory of a good action, it is the care a man takes to make it known. Not but that it is natural enough to be desirous of praise, but it may be withal affirmed that this de∣sire is an argument of weakness, since it is certain that this violent desire which possesses the hearts of many people, proceeds from this, that they would have divers testimonies of their vertue, and not satisfied with their own judgement, wish theirs con∣firmed by that of others. But, all considered, who ever is over-desirous of the noyse which ordinarily followes noble actions, loses of the honour he ought to expect. It may, I conceive, be easily hence concluded, that if Glory may be lost in the divul∣ging of it, it may subsist without being made known at all; and consequently, though a great action were secretly done, yet is it not deprived of its glory, which is concomitant with the thing whence it arises and depends, on that, and not on the Caprichio's of Fortune, who blames or com∣mends whom she pleases, sometimes with reason, sometimes without.

Having thus proved, if I mistake not, sufficiently, that Glory depends rather on Vertue, than Fame: I am further to shew, that she is not alwayes chai∣ned to the chariot of Victory, and the triumphs of Conquerors. The Empire certainly of Glory is universal, for there is a glory to be learned, there is, to be generous, just, and good. It is glorious to possess all the Vertues together, as also to be emi∣nent in any one; there is a certain glory in all the liberal Arts, nay even to be excellent in the Mecha∣nicks if it stands with a mans condition; nay the simple endowments of Nature want not their glory, and it hath been the express pleasure of the Gods, that it should be the inseparable companion of whatever is graceful and good in this world. It is, in fine, a kind of glory to be well skilled in the games and recreations men have invented, whether it be to shew their slight, or try their good fortune. So that it were a very strange thing, that Glory, which a man meets with every where, should not be found in Love, especially since it is of such conse∣quence in Friendship: for it is generally acknow∣ledged, that it is a glorious thing to be able to love one's friends constantly, and to be so deserving as to acquire noble acquaintances. But to confine my self to Love, since it is the ground of the dis∣pute, by the same reasons that you say Glory ap∣pertains to War rather than to the peaceable Vertues, I maintain, that it is more to Love than to any thing else, since it is confessed that there is a strange resemblance between Love and War. In Love, as I have already said by the way, they talk of Combats, Victories, Conquests, Chains, Irons, Crowns, Slaves, Captives, Prisoners, Prisons, Defeats, and Triumphs, and to discourse gallantly of Love, it is so necessary to use all the terms of War, that a man cannot do it without; since, that in the one as well as the other, there are secret Intelligences, Surprises, and Stratagems. But though it were granted you. replyed Mutius, that Love in general is able to dispense Glory, it will not be given you that this is to be understood of that secret love I speak of. I have told you already, replied I, that that the more secret a love is, the greater is the pleasure, and truer the glory; for can there be a∣ny thing more pleasant or more glorious (added I, looking on Brutus, yet so as was not perceived) than to be loved of that person for whom of all the world one hath the greatest esteem, and to receive as an acknowledgement of his merit, the affection of a woman, who is esteemed and admired, and whose single approbation is more glorious than that of all the sex beside? Do but imagine, said I, what glory it is for a man to entertain secret thoughts of happiness amidst a great company, being neer his Mistress, and seeing her frowning on a Rival, who haply knowes not you are his, and is utterly ignorant that you are possessed of the heart he endeavours to conquer? Do you think Mutius, it is possible for a man to enjoy this kind of pleasure without a sence of that which is in glory most pure, most ravishing, and most delightful? No certainly, but when a man sees himself prefer∣red before all the world, by a person whom he e∣qually prefers before all, he infallibly receives all the satisfaction that glory can afford. Can there be any thing so glorious, as for a man to say to himself, though his Rivals know nothing of it, nay though it may be in their presence, This admirable person who slights all that come neer her, hath bestowed her heart which was never before subdued, on me; she derives all her happiness from me, as I doe all mine from her; I even engage her reason to submit to the passion she hath in her soul; she does for me whatever vertue will permit her to do; I triumph, in fine, over the heart of a person whom I esteem, and whom I love beyond my self; and this triumph is secret, while my Rivals disbur∣then their fruitless sighs in her presence. I assure you Mutius, I should think my self more glorious in this secret triumph, than if I triumphed publickly af∣ter a victory of another nature. Nay I am confi∣dent this kind of secret glory raises the heart even to a certain noble pride, whereby a man contemns those who he knows can never arrive at the hap∣piness he is possessed of; and certainly it must be, that you never knew any such glory, nor ever ima∣gined there was any such thing, since you cannot comprehend that Glory is consistent with this secret Love, and that with such insinuation, that it far exceeds whatever the most glittering vanity can af∣ford, that is pleasant to those whose hearts are pos∣sessed by it. Further, those who are equally made up of Love and Vanity, who love not, but to the end it might be said they are loved, never arrive at a true, nay not at a quiet glory: for though no∣thing be in so much disgrace as Indiscretion, yet those who are most indiscreet would not be thought such as they are. But these, on the contrary, take a thousand trifling and ridiculous occasions to make known that which they would seem to keep very secret. Sometimes they must seem to be di∣sturbed, sometimes melancholy, sometimes fro∣lick, that people may ask what troubles their

minds; to which answering ambiguously, they give men occasion to imagine what they would have believed. They must drop Letters purposely to be seen, though they seem to be very much troub∣led at it; they must trust their secrets to some false Brother or Sister, by which means their pretended favours are blazed abroad, though sometimes they must of necessity be moved to see that people be∣lieve not what they relate. But for my part, I am very incredulous as to what these favourites of good fortune tell me, who give out, that no conquest is difficult for them, and boast of a hundred adven∣tures, which in all likelihood they never knew any thing of: for whoever can love can be silent, and Secrecy is a thing so engaging in Love, that without it all the favours a man receives are neither plea∣sing nor glorious, and to do you justice, it was ex∣cellently well said of you ere while, that were it not for destruction and envy, Fame would not be much acquainted with what passes in the Empire of Love. You might have added, imprudence and va∣nity, for commonly it is not known what passes be∣tween two Lovers, but either through the vanity of the Servant, or the imprudence of the Mistress. But indeed however it may come to pass, there can no great glory arrive hereby; for if the servant be indiscreet, he deserves not the favours he hath re∣ceived, and cannot thence derive any true glory; if the Mistress want conduct, his conquest may be pleasing, but not very glorious: and if Envy and Calumny acquaint Fame with what passes between two Lovers, it never proves to their advantage. I know there are innocent Loves, which yet come to be discovered through pure misfortune; but when it does happen, I believe a person of Honour ought to be troubled that his conquest is made manifest, and that there is none more glorious than that which is not known to any. For, in fine, it is not Fame that bestowes true Glory, she onely pro∣claimes it; and Glory without Acclamations, is a∣ble to subsist, and to render a vertuous man happy. Fame and Love never were much acquainted; Mars may haply employ her upon divers occasions, but for Love, the God of Silence is his onely friend; for as to Fame, she is certainly an enemy to both loves and lovers, and the true glory of two persons mutually loving, consists in this, that they are themselves the onely witnesses of their tenderness and vertue, and esteem themselves and one another so highly, that their own approbation is sufficient to make them happy. Secrecy is principally that which makes for the glory of a Lover; and I maintain, that when a man is so fortunately circumspect, as to be able to conceal an affection of this nature from the eyes of the world, he feels in himself a a certain secret pleasure, which cannot arise but from that glory which a man takes in loving, un∣known to others what he thinks deserves the a∣doration of all the world, together with that of be∣ing loved by that onely person which he can love.

Whereas you say that Pleasure is the soul of Love, I grant it, but I expect you should also grant, that to speak rationally, Glory is the nicest of all the pleasures of this passion: for in fine, whatever you may call favours, signifie in love what the En∣signs doe in war; there must be such things had, nay they must be had out of this main considerati∣on, that they are the emblems of Victory, which is alwayes succeeded by Glory: how pleasing soever they may be in themselves, yet would they not be desired with so much earnestness, were they not at∣tended by Glory: but when all is done, they are not desired that they might be divulged, but that they might be concealed: However it be, this is certain, that when a Lover can oblige a person of great vertue, and a great mind, to do for him those inconsiderable things, which if you take away Love, there was no reason she should do, though the things in themselves are not unlawful: he pla∣ces so great a glory in a triumph of this nature, that it may be said, that as there is no love without pleasure, so there is no true pleasure in that love which hath no concernment of glory: Retract therefore your opinions, and repent of so injurious a design as to deprive the noblest of all the passions of that which distinguishes it from that kind of love which even Tigers are capable of, which is much different from that I speak of.

While I thus discoursed, Brutus, who applied all I said to himself, was incredibly enlivened; for if ever concealed Lover found the sweetness of this secret glory I pleaded so much for, it was questione∣less Brutus; since that while I spoke, he stood neer this Rival, who was so far from suspecting he was loved by that person whom he loved, that he thought him not capable of entertaining any love at all. But if I did him any pleasure by displaying the apprehensions I knew him subject to, I caused so much disturbance in Lucrecia, as that she could not forbear blushing. However her blushes were not interpreted as they might have been, though Colla∣tine observed them; for to speak truely, it was not easily imaginable there should be such an intrigue of affection between those two persons.

But to return at length to the question in debate, the whole company gave sentence against Mutius, who doubtless was sorry he had undertaken that task. Not but that he is naturally given to crack∣ing and ostentation, and consequently spoke as he thought; But that Valeria reproached him after such a manner, as he might easily infer that she would never give him occasion to employ Fame to publish the favours he should receive. Yet Mutius is a per∣son of extraordinary merit, but certainly he is too ambitious of fame and publick acclamations. It is true, he hath a heart contains whatever may de∣serve them, for Rome affords not a stouter man than he, nor one more capable of doing those heroick actions which cast honour even on whole Nations.

But my Lord, to return to my Story, you are to know that the subtil Collatina, whose business at Ra∣cilia's was onely to do her Brother a good office, and who is a person of the greatest curiosity in the world, staying two or three dayes with Lucrecia and Hermilia, took an humour one morning to search Lucrecia's Cabinit; which she had forgotten to lock. Not that she did with any designe look for that which she found there, but with intention onely to take something out which Lucrecia had worn, for to present her Brother with, as a favour she had procured for him; but the first thing she met with, was a Letter of Brutus's, whose writing she knew not. However pursuing her curiosity, she read it, and found it so excellently well written, that she was much surprized at it, though it were couched in such terms, as spoke not clearly, that the writer was loved, yet such as gave occasion to imagine he was not hated, nay put it out of all doubt,

that he might love, and that most passionately. She was so surprised at this accident, that she read over this Letter three times, yet could not imagine who had writ it; but going to search if there were any other, Racilia comes accidentally into the chamber where she was, whereupon locking the Cabinet ha∣stily, yet keeping the Letter, she could not con∣tinue her search, by reason Lucrecia came also into the room. Collatina in the mean time was strange∣ly perplexed, as not knowing whether she should acquaint her Brother or not with what had hap∣pened; for she was loath to raise any jealousie in his heart. But she thought it not unfit, he knew he had some concealed Rival. She at first suspected I might have written the Letter, but coming that day so Racilia, she cunningly engaged me to write something for her, to discover my writing, which seeing it was nothing like that of the Letter, she was at a greater loss than before, for she was confi∣dent that neither the Prince of Pometia nor Titus had any hand in it, since they made it their business to further Collatine's marriage with Lucrecia. As for Brutus, she little suspected him to be her Brothers Rival, clearly forgetting she had ever seen of his writing: but believing him very simple and natu∣ral, she thought she might fish out of him, who had within some few days past, sent to Racilia's, so to discover something of this Letter, which caused her so much disturbance. Being thus resolved, and to that end putting her self in order to go and find out Brutus, who was walking in the garden, Colla∣tine comes in, but in his way meets her alone read∣ing the Letter once more, before she spoke to Brutus, but with so great attention, that as she read it, he looking over her shoulder, read it also, where∣in he found these words, and heard Collatina after she had read it, breaking forth into this exclama∣tion, not thinking any had been so near her; Who would ever have thought Lucrecia should re∣ceive such a Letter?

It is now past all dispute, Madam, that I shall never be satisfied; for if I see you not, I die, and if I do see you, I die also, in that I can but half see you, and that before so many witnesses. What necessity is there I should be miserable? Of all that you say to others, I make no advantage, neither do you Madam, since they do not allow it that esteem which they ought; and though they cannot but admire you, yet they consider not your conversation as the most delightful, and the most charm∣ing of any in the world. But for my part I dare not commend you as they do, nay I may not presume to ho∣nor you with that affection which they call Friendship. O ye Gods, was ever any self-constraint more harsh, more insupportable, and more importunate upon your compassion! If your delicate mouth can say nothing that may comfort me, let your fair hand at least ac∣quaint me with my condition in your soul, that I may know whether, amidst that throng of people that some∣times crowd about you, you secretly afford some few thoughts on a man who bestows all his on you, and who would not live but to love you.

Collatine had hardly read over this Letter, with all the commotion a Lover, who feels the first agi∣tations of jealousie rising in his heart, could be guilty of, but snatching it out of Collatina's hands, Ah Sister, said he to her, is it possible that you should be the bearer of such Letters to Lucrecia, and is it possible she should receive them? As to your first question, replyed Collatina, it is not true; to the second, I must confess it, that you may not justly blame me. But I pray, replyed Collatina; who is this fortunate Rival of mine, who presumes to write so amorously to Lucrecia, and who expects to be answered? I know not, replyed Collatina; and as you came in, I was going to Brutus who is on the other side of the Garden, hoping to know of him who hath sent hither within these three or four days, for I have taken this Letter from Lucrecia unknown to her; I know not the writing, and all I can tell you is, that it is not Herminius's. Ah Si∣ster, you are too cruel to raise a jealousie in me, and not inform me of the Rival that causes it. This past, though Collatine came purposely to give Lu∣crecia a visit, yet instead of repairing where she was, he went with Collatina to Brutus, little imagin∣ing that the Rival he so earnestly looked after, stood nearer him than he thought. Being come up to him, he asked him whether there had been any great company at Racilia's, since his last being there; whereto Brutus not guessing at Collatine's in∣tention, and thinking he asked him that, as concei∣ving him only able to say yea or no, simply answer∣ed there had not been any body. But I pray, re∣plyed subtilly Collatina, came there not some Slaves hither, directed to Lucrecia that brought her any Letters? Brutus, who could not imagine what she would drive at, and knew not of the coming of Slaves, answered, again simply, that he had not seen any. But do you not know this writing (said Collattina, shewing him his own Letter, not think∣ing he had writ it) and did you never know any Letter received by any one of a writing resembling this? Brutus looking on what Collatina shewed him, was much astonished, for he presently per∣ceived what it was. However, he had such a com∣mand of himself, that neither his Rival nor Colla∣tina could observe any disturbance in his counte∣nance. But to gain time to reflect on this adven∣ture, he took upon him to read the Letter over and over, and having in so short a time well considered the business, he concluded that Callatina knew not he had written it, for he suspected not that Lucrecia had betrayed him, but believed that some accident yet unknown to him, had brought this Letter into his Rivals hands. Fearing therefore he might haply shew it to some body that would discover it to be his writing, he took at once a crafty and con∣fident resolution; for having sufficiently consider∣ed the Letter, he, with a simplicity excellently na∣tural, told Collatina that he had never seen any writing so like his own as that was. No, no, I war∣rant you, replyed Collatina, abusing him, you never writ this Letter. I do not tell you that I have (replyed Brutus without the least disturbance) but only tell you that this character is much like mine.

Upon this Collatina and his Sister left Brutus, without the least suspicion that he had any hand in that they were so inquisitive about, so much were they deceived in his fained stupidity; besides that if they had not thought him so stupid, they would hardly have suspected he should write to one in whose company he was every day. Thus was Col∣latina excessively disquieted, for the more he strived to guess who should write this Letter, the more un∣likely was he to find it.

On the other side Brutus was not without afflicti∣on; for he was not a little troubled that this Let∣ter fell into the hands of Collatine, not so much for his own interest, though it concerned his life, as for Lucrecia's. So that seeing Collatine and his Sister halted to talk together, he took a walk about to find out Valeria, that he might acquaint her with what had happened, by whom Lucrecia might be in∣formed, conceiving she yet knew not that she had lost the Letter. He was so happy as to meet with Valeria in a place where he might safely tell her what he pleased. Valeria having reasoned a while with him about what was to be done to hinder this adventure from spreading any farther, went imme∣diately to Lucrecia. To gain time, they entreated Her∣milia, having acquainted her with the business, to go meet Collatine and her Sister, and entertain them in discourse while they should resolve what to do. They were indeed at a mighty loss; but at last Va∣leria told her, that since there was no name men∣tioned in the Letter, it were best that Lucrecia first spoke of it before Collatine, and that she took some occasion to say that she found it in one of the walks on the Fountain Feast day, when there were so ma∣ny people at Racilia's, and that she could not ima∣gine whose it should be. Ah Valeria, replyed Lu∣crecia, I cannot have that confidence. You must have much more, replyed Valeria, if Collatina shew this Letter as directed to you. Besides, Brutus's life being concerned in it, if it should be known to be his, methinks nothing is to be sticked at. But if you would, replyed Lucrecia, you might do what you propose to me, for though I am confi∣dent that Collatina must have taken this Letter out of my Cabinet when I left her in my chamber, you may say you gave it me to keep. I will do so, said Valeria, but you must first see whether Collatina have taken any more. Going hereupon to satisfie them∣selves in what they desired to know, they found that of all Brutus's Letters there wanted only that, and so went to entertain Collatina, his Sister, and Hermilia, who were in a low room, while Racilia was busie with some that were expresly come from Rome to speak with her. They were no sooner entred the room, but Lucrecia perceives in Colla∣tine's eyes the first startlings of a violent jealousie, and in Collatina's a fierce indignation. Neverthe∣less she kept her countenance, and not expressing any notice she had taken of the change of theirs, she asked Collatina where she had met her Brother, and afterwards asked Collatine what news at Rome. Whereto he answering coldly, Valeria, who knew what she had to do, began to play upon him for his sadness, and telling him that when a man is in a melancholy humor he should never make visits, but stay at home. I was not (replyed he coldly) so sad when I came from home as I am now. And what sad accident have you met with by the way, replyed Hermilia? It may be, replyed Valeria, he hath lost a Letter of as great consequence as that I found the last Feast-day, when there were so many people here: I am sure if I had lost such a one I should have been extremely troubled. But before you can lose any of that nature, replyed subtilly Lucrecia, it must be conceived you are fit to receive such. It is then a very strange Letter, replyed Collatina. To be free with you, answered Valeria, it is such a one as in my judgment seems very like a Love-letter; and were it not that the over-curious Lucrecia had taken it from me, lest I should shew it to some one to find out who writ it, and to whom it was directed, I would presently shew it Collatine, that he might assist me to discypher it. Valeria spoke this in apparence so ingenuously, that Colla∣tine began to hope that the Letter he had might be the same which Valeria spoke of. So that desirous to be satisfied, he solicited Lucrecia to shew it him; Collatina, who was of the same opinion with her Brother, tlod her that she must communicate that Letter, for they both concluded that if she could not produce it, they could not charge her with any thing. Hermilia for her part knowing what Valeria and Lucrecia drove at, took occasion to tell Collatine, that that Letter was not so terrible. For, in fine, said she very cunningly, it is easily percei∣ved that he who writ it is in love, but there is no∣thing whence it may be inferred that he is loved. But why did you not shew it me, says Collatina to Valeria? Because Lucrecia was pleased to take it away from me, replyed she, but to engage her to shew it you, I should in revenge make you believe that she her self lost it. Ah Valeria, you take a strange course to make me shew it; but I shall not do it, added she, if Collatine and his Sister promise me not never to speak of it, and to restore it me as soon as they have read it; nay I will do nothing, if, that you may be disappointed from shewing it to others, you consent not it may be presently torn to pieces.

You may imagine, my Lord, that considering the violent desire which Collatine had to be satisfied in this business, he promised to do what Lucrecia would have, and that his Sister did the like. But for Valeria, and Hermilia, Brutus's life being con∣cerned in it, as also the reputation of their friend, they did that in this adventure to deceive Colla∣tine and his Sister, which cannot well be imagined. Lucrecia pretended to go and fetch the Letter which she said was in her Cabinet, carrying her self so in the business, as if she made no question but to find it there. But as she went to her chamber, which was the other side of the house, she spies me coming in, and points to me to come straight to her, which I obeyed; but not affording me leisure to speak, she told me, what had happened, and I promised her my best assistance to deliver her out of the trouble she was in. I went therefore immedi∣ately to the company, as if I had not met her at all, soon after which Lucrecia returning I saluted her, as having not seen her before. But Lucrecia having returned my salute, began to tell Valeria that she asked her for a thing she had not, and that she must have taken it again out of her Cabinet; for, added she, I am certain it was there yesterday, and as cer∣tain that it is not there now. I assure you, replyed Valeria, I took it not. It must be then Hermilia, replyed Lucrecia. For my part, answered that fair creature, I can assure you I have it not. But, replyed Valeria speaking to Lucrecia, is it not be∣cause Herminius is here that you make a new diffi∣culty to shew it? No indeed, replyed she, for I am confident of Herminius's discretion: but there is no∣thing so certain, as that some body hath taken it. It must be then Collatina that hath it, replyed Valeria, for as to Hermilia, I see by her looks she hath it not. Valeria herein speaking the truth, Collatina blushed, so that Lucrecia, Valeria, Hermilia, and I, said all to∣gether, that certainly Collatina had it, that she must

produce, or at least, for her justification, permit Hermilia to search whether she had it about her or not. To be short, this confident wench, who yet does every thing she does handsomely and discreet∣ly, beset her self to do what was given her in charge. Whereupon Collatina perceiving the Let∣ter would be found about her, and believing by the cheerfulness of the other three, that the business was as they made it, told them laughing, that it was true she had it. But she added a little lye to the matter, for she hath since confessed she took it out of the Cabinet, but she then affirmed she had found it in Lucrecia's chamber. As for Collatine, he was so glad to think the Letter had not been written to his Mistress, that he joyned his entreaties with mine to his Sister, that she would deliver it, since she confessed she had it. Collatina accordingly de∣livers it to Valeria, who was very earnest to have it, saying, it was she that found it, and consequently it belonged to her. But as soon as she had it, she shewed it to Collatine, as if she had not known that he had seen it. Collatine also pretended he had not read it before, but coming at last to my hands, I said I knew who had written it, and to whom it was directed, but would not discover it, because the Lover was one of my friends. This past, I ear∣nestly entreated Valeria to bestow that Letter on me; for if you knew, said I to her, in what afflicti∣on the Lover is who writ it, you would pity him. But to satisfie you further in this adventure, you are to know, that this Letter was never seen by the Lady to whom it belongs: for he who writ it had it about him the day there were so many here, in∣tending to send it to his Mistress that evening, which was the time he could with most ease deliver his Letters to a young Slave she hath lately enter∣tained. You will therefore do justly if you restore it to me, and never speak of this accident, for by divulging it, there will be a necessity of discovering what men were here at the celebration of the Fountain-Feast, and then haply it might be guessed what Lady were concerned in this Letter. As for Collatine, added I, I have nothing to beg of him up∣on this occasion; for I look on him as a man so ra∣tional, that I am confident he will do that for my friend wich he would wish were done for himself, were he so happy as to be in a condition to lose some Love-letter which the fair Lucrecia should have re∣ceived. As I spoke this, after a manner, ingenious, yet earnest enough, Collatine and his Sister were convinced the thing was no otherwise than as I said, so that the jealousie of this Lover was by this means absolutely smother'd.

But to disguise the business a little further, Vale∣ria said she found some difficulty to deliver me the Letter; for it may be, added she, if you restore it to him that writ it, he will send it to his Mistress, and so I shall occasion her receiving a Love-letter. And if he do not send that, replyed I, he would haply write another more passionate; therefore trouble not your self with these groundless incon∣veniences, but let me have that which you have found. Hereupon Hermilia, Lucrecia, as also Cal∣latina, telling Valeria I spoke but reason, I became master of the Letter, which absolutely cured Colla∣tine of his jealousie. He was fully perswaded that if that Letter had been written to Lucrecia, she would not have suffered it to come into my hands; for some daies he was not well assured whether I was his Rival or not: however, he did not suspect me to have written that Letter, because he knew my writing. His mind therefore being fully be∣calmed, he was the rest of the day more jocund than ordinary; and to tell you the truth, Valeria, Lucrecia, Hermilia, and I, were not very sad; for we were so elevated, that we had once more secured Brutus's life, and that our imposture had proved so fortunate, that we were excessively merry that af∣ternoon.

But that which was most excellent was, that when Collatine and his Sister were departed, and that Bru∣tus was at liberty to speak in private with Lucrecia, she told him she would not have him write to her any more, and had almost told him as much as that he should not love her any longer. After all, said she to him, when you have well considered it, it is a kind of madness to be engaged in any affection how innocent soever it may be, since it alwayes layes one open to censure. For how can one love with∣out writing? How can one write without passion? How can one be assured not to lose Letters, when one writes so often? And how, in case one may lose any, can we expect alwayes to meet with such as interpret things of this nature to the best? On the contrary, is it not true, that as soon as it is said a man loves a woman, it is believed she also loves him; and that as soon as it is thought a woman loves a man, they distinguish not between her lo∣ving, and her being subject to censure, and then it is immediately imagined that the expressions of her affection exceed their true bounds? Therefore Brutus, if you will take my advice, love me not, for it is a sad thing to consider that the unhappy acci∣dent that discovers the innocent affection which is between us, should expose your life to the cruelty of Tarquin.

Ah Madam, cryes out Brutus, how cruel are you your self to speak to me thus! and with how little experience of Love, if you think he troubles himself with any ratiocinations, or that he can be distracted by fear or difficulty? On the contrary, obstacles and dangers encrease it in a generous mind; and if you knew, Madam, what pleasure I feel when ever I consider that by discovering my love to you, I have put my life into your hands, you would not say what you do. For, Madam, since it is in your power when you please to betray me to the world, methinks I ow you my life a hundred thousand times, and that if you preserve it, you preserve it as a thing which belongs to you, and in which you have a greater interest than my self. Admit not then any repentance, I beseech you, for those inno∣cent favours you have done me: I receive them with so much respect, I remember them with so much gratitude, I enjoy them with so much plea∣sure, and I desire the continuance of them, with so much earnestness, that if you should change your mind, you were the most unjust person in the world. And lastly, Madam, this dayes adventure ought not to discompose you, for if Collatine had taken away my Letter, I should have met him by the way, and rather then your reputation should have been prejudiced, I would have exposed my life a thousand times. Banish then all fears, Madam, I beseech you, recommend your heart to an innocent confidence, be satisfied that you know you are Ver∣tue it self, that your example makes me more ver∣tuous than I should be, that in fine, there is nothing

can upbraid your self with; and entertain not as you do, the apprehensions of misfortunes which likely will never happen: for to expect in love at all times as much Prudence as Vertue, is the onely way to be alwayes miserable. Alas, replyed Lu∣crecia, is it so easie a matter to be happy? I know not Madam, said he to her, whether it be possible the experience you have of my affection, might render you happy; but this I am certain of, that as long as you repent you not of that goodness you shew me, I cannot be miserable, and defie Fortune, though she sometimes makes even Kings unhappy, that ever she shall be able to force Brutus to think himself unfortunate, while he hath the glory of your favour, and while he shall be so happy as not to see you in the power of another. 'Tis true, Madam, I can live contentedly, though I possess you not, provided another do not enjoy you; and I love with so much tenderness, that the onely pleasure of your favour and indulgence enables me to endure, without repining, all the torments which are the inseparable attendants of love.

I know not what you will say of me, replyed Lucrecia, that I permit you to speak so long with∣out interruption; but certainly, there is so much obligation even in my silence, that you should not quarrel at it. For while you have been speaking, my reason hath suggested a hundred things against you, which I was loath to tell you, and indeed ne∣ver shall. And therefore since I am so unjust as not to follow all these advices, you were better spare the grief it would be to you to know, that I do my self some violence when I bear it not, and that it is withal a pleasure to me to hear you.

This past, Brutus said so many excellent things to Lucrecia, that their hearts were in an absolute composure and calm; I restored Brutus's Letter to that fair Lady, and for some dayes she and her Lover met not with any disturbance: 'Tis true, this fair weather lasted not long; for you are to note, that the day of the Fountain-feast the Prince of Pometia, Titus, Collatine, and Mutius, concealed so ill their several passions, that Racilia, desirous to break those haunts, hastned her return to Rome, so to deprive these Lovers of all opportunites, that might be advantageous to their Loves. Not that Racilia was fully acquainted with the designs of those two Princes, but knew as much as engaged her to cross them. But when Brutus came to un∣derstand that Lucrecia was to return to her Fathers, and that he was now to lose all occasions of enter∣taining her, he was insupportably afflicted. 'Tis true, he had the comfort to see that Lucrecia shared this affliction with him, and took this separation most heavily. There was yet a weak hope left of seeing one another at Valeria's; for Brutus being at liberty to go at any time to Valerius's house, he imagined thence great advantages to his love. But all considered, he was extreamly afflicted at Lucre∣cia's parting; and their conversation at that time was so amourously passionate that I shall not repeat it, lest I should move you too much; for I have a many other things to tell you, which will sufficient∣ly engage your pitty. Their onely comfort was, that bidding one another adieu, they promised to write to one another every day if they could; and accordingly, when they were returned to Rome, there passed not a day wherein they heard not of one another. Things fell out at first so happily for Brutus, that his love was no longer secret, nei∣ther to Lucrecia's mother nor Racilia; but these two vertuous Ladies approved it so well, that they were resolved to use all their endeavours to com∣pleat it in a marriage. So that the admirable Lucre∣cia making no longer difficulty to entertain an af∣fection absolutely innocent, writ more obligingly to Brutus than she had ever done before: for as to Visits, they could not be easily contrived, at least with that liberty, that they might speak freely one to another, since it must have been when none were at Valeria's when they came thither. But being both of a disposition highly passionate, they endea∣voured to comfort one another by certain assignati∣ons of the mind, as I may so express it, for they a∣greed upon a certain hour every day, during which they promised to think one of another: and that which was remarkable in it, was, that Brutus did really many times wait for that hour with almost as much impatience, as if he expected to see Lucrecia. For he found something so pleasing in being assured that she expresly thought on him at the same time as he thought on her, that when he thought fit to express to me the enjoyments which this kind of assignation afforded him, I could no longer doubt but that he was the most amorous of all mankind. He would indeed tel me, that he never writ with more ease and greater passion to Lucrecia, than when he chose that hour to write in, and that the confidence he had that Lucrecia was as Punctuall in thinking of him as he was of her, did both sharpen his invention, and augment his love. I shall read you one Letter thus written, that you may see Bru∣tus dislembled not when he said so, and withal ac∣knowledge that the greater a love is, the more in∣genious it is to find it self great pleasures, as well as great affliction. But what is yet further conside∣rable, was the manner how I came to know this new kind of assignation. You are then to know, that coming one evening to see Brutus, I staid there so late, till the hour appointed with Lucrecia was come, so that on a sudden I perceived he had left me, though I was in the room with him. My mea∣ning is, his mind was at such a distance from what I said, that he behaved himself as one whose spirits were otherwise employed, and would have been glad to have been alone. I left him a while in that posture, but after a tedious waiting, out of the curiosity that is permitted in a friend tenderly intimate, I importuned him to tell me what he ailed. He at first made some difficulty to confess the business his mind was taken up with, as fearing I might laugh at this supererogation of love; but at length seeing me importunate to ob∣lige him to speak he turned to me, and having con∣jured me not to make sport at his amorous punctili∣o's, he told me that Lucrecia then thought of him, that he was obliged to bestow an hour on her; and that if I had not the goodness to speak to him of Lucrecia, I should not speak at all, and should leave him either to meditate or to write. It were much better to leave you to the last, replyed I, for you would not find that delight in what I should say, as you would in what you should write; as for what you should onely think and not write, Lucre∣cia were never the better for it. Thus engaging him to follow advice, conditionally I might see what he did, he writ the Letter I am going to read to you.

I cannot, Madam, better perform the promise I have made you, than by telling you in this instant that I am as good as my word, and that my thoughts are wholly taken up with your charms, my love, your goodness, and the eternal faith I have promised you. In this employment I have already bestowed almost an hour: but is it possible for me to tell you how many things I have thought on in that time? I cannot, though I should write till the morning; for the thought is much more nimble than the hand, and the thought of a Lover much more than that of other men. But Madam, you may assure your self I have thought nothing unworthy you; and, if I may presume to say so, unworthy a man you affect. Pardon me this vanity. Madam, it is haply more ex∣cusable than you conceive. For in fine, the acclamations of the people, supposing I could deserve them, Statues and Triumphs should not raise me to so much, nay I should haply think my self as much above all things as I conceive my self beneath you; Ah Madam, it may be I have told you as much before, but I cannot but repeat it again: Is it not possible you should apprehend what plea∣sure it is to be loved by the most admirable and most ac∣complished person in the world? You would find there were nothing so pleasant, and that in proportion to this felicity all other are but misfortunes. Yet conceive not, Madam, but that these over happy minutes are mingled with those that are less happy. But for that I am only to consider the injustice of Fortune, and reflect on the in∣vincible difficulty which hinders me from seeing you of∣ten, and acquiring the esteem of others, that so I may be more worthy of yours. How can I be assured Madam, that you love me as much as I wish, proportionably to the merit of my passion, or at least as much as your last charming seems to promise me, even in not promising? In the mean time, Madam, know that I do not punctually obey your last command, which was that I should love Vertue more than I loved you; for I love you both equally, since that really you are but the same thing. I do by one oath more confirm it to you, and if I fail I shall be content, as an ungrateful and perjured person, to forfeit all the affection you cast on me. But Madam if you will love, even to my Tomb, tell me so much I be∣seech you, and believe me, you can neither tell it me too often, nor too clearly, since that I know no pleasure, no joy, no comfort, save that of imagining that I am alone interessed in your heart, and that you will never force me thence.

Brutus having writ this Letter and shewed it to me, and folded it up in order to be sent away the next day; he opened it again and added this Post-script.

Consider with your self that I am the most mi∣serable man in the world, when I am one day without seeing you; Ah! if you consider it not, I am much more miserable than I thought my self.

I should never have done, if I should stand to particularize all the little circumstances of the loves of Brutus and the vertuous Lucrecia, who was per∣fect in that admirable art of making the tenderest passion in the world consistent with the greatest vertue: for she never was so rigorous to Brutus, as to give him occasion of any rational complaint, nor was she ever so prodigal of her kindness as to que∣stion her innocence.

But not to wrong your patience over-much, I must hasten to tell you, that Brutus was hardly warm in his hopes of happiness, but Lucrecia's mo∣ther died, whereat he was so much troubled, as if he had never met with a greater misfortune; for, besides that the consideration of the friendship that was between them made him more sensible of her loss, as also the grief which Lucrecia took at it, his affliction was increased in that with her he lost all his hopes. About the same time there was a great conspiracy, ready to break forth, discovered: For, my Lord, though Brutus's soul was taken up with the love of Lucrecia, yet is it certain, that of glory and his Countrey were not dispossessed; but even while he seemed to write such excellent and such passionate Letters, was he not unmindful of the li∣berty of his Countrey; and if I should acquaint you with all the attempts he made, and which only Fortune crossed in their effects, you would stand a∣mazed at it. That which is considerable, is, that though he were the first wheel in all the commo∣tions that happened in Rome, yet was he not so much as suspected to have a hand in any; his affected stupidity eluding as well his Enemies as his Rivals. It did indeed much retard his happiness in his love, a misfortune would admit no remedy, since it would have been madness in him to acquaint Spurius Lucre∣cius that he was a more understanding man than he was thought, for it would infallibly have cost him his life, by reason of the obligations which were between Lucrecius, Tarquin, and Collatine. Brutus by this means was incredibly afflicted, and the plea∣sure he before had found in being loved, was turn∣ed into the greatest torment in the world. For certainly there is nothing more cruel than for one to know that he is loved equally as he loves, and yet to meet with perpetual obstacles in the accom∣plishment of his happiness. In fine, to shorten my relation, for six months Brutus writ every day to Lucrecia, there happening no miscarriage neither to his Letters, nor to those of that admirable Lady; but it being impossible to be always so careful, but that sometimes one may forget what he seems most to mind, it unfortunately happened that Lucrecia passing through her Fathers chamber, dropped one of those little Table-books, which I told you Brutus had caused purposely to be made to write to her. Lu∣cretius seeing it fall, instead of calling to his Daugh∣ter, suffered her to go out of the chamber, & took it up; for being made after a particular fashion, he was so curious as to look on it. Opening it there∣fore hastily, not thinking to find in it any thing should move him, he was much surprized to meet with a Letter directed to Lucrecia, and that a Love-letter. But that you may be the better informed, I will read you a copy of this Letter, which Brutus hath furnished me with; for this unhappy writing being that which utterly wormed him out of all felicity, he still remembers it, to encrease his mise∣ry. This was it Brutus writ to Lucrecia.

Fortune was pleased yesterday to punish me for that excessive generosity, which made me prefer the interest of R—not only before my own satisfaction, but haply before yours: for in fine, excellent Lucrecia, I did in a manner nothing of all I had proposed to do, as being extremely out of humor. But that you may know how far the love I bear you exceeds all considerations of glory and friendship, you are to know that my distur∣bance happened through my endeavors for the liborty of my C—and that I could find no diversion even in the company of one of the most vertuous persons in the world, and one most endeared to you and me. But cer∣tainly it is impossible to avoid disquiet, having lost all oc∣casion

of seeing you, and withal imagining the advanta∣ges of your conversation. I go out in the morning about the great affair you know of, and if I can I will come to the place where I could not yesterday. Do me the ho∣nour to meet me there, for I will do whatever lies in my power, to come and tell you in that place, that I die for love, and withal, that there is nothing more pleasant, no∣thing more charming than to die so.

You may well imagine, my Lord, that Lucretius was much surprized at this Letter, yet knew he not the character, as having never seen of Brutus's wri∣ting; nor would he shew it to any who should bet∣ter inform him, because he could not do it with∣out making it known that Lucrecia had some un∣der-hand Loves; besides that imagining some other wayes to scrue out this secret, he thought not of this. In the mean time, being an understanding man, he easily apprehended when he had read the Letter twice over, that the R. standing by it self almost at the beginning, stood for Rome, and the C. about the middle stood for Countrey; but all could not enable him to guess at the person who writ to Lucrecia. He also concluded that this Lo∣ver was engaged in some Plot against Tarquin, nor did he doubt much but that this Lover was loved, yet could not imagine who it might be. He at first thought to call Lucrecia, to make her confess by force what he desired to know; but changing his purpose he thought fitter to take some other course to find out the truth, looking on that as the last refuge, if this failed. Finding therefore in the Letter that he who had written to Lucrecia, en∣treated her to come that day to a place where he was to go, he resolved his daughter should be se∣cretly followed thither, so to discover who was at the place where she was appointed to come. This commission he gave a certain Slave, who being ve∣ry faithful to him, acquitted himself punctually of this charge. According to the appointment and the pleasure of Fortune, Lucrecia came to Valeria's in hopes to meet Brutus there, for that it seems was the place he had appointed her to come to; but Brutus being forced even against his will, to stay at Licinius's, where there was a secret Club, consulting about the great affair they had then in hand, entreated me to go and make his excuses to this beauty, which employ∣ment I was very glad of, not onely out of the great affection I had for Lucrecia and Brutus, but also because of the opportunity I had thereby to see Valeria. To serve therefore my friend, I went to the place where he was expected, not think∣ing there was a spy to observe who came to Vale∣ria's. It happened also, that Lucrecia, Valeria, and my self, being very merry together, we staid till it was very late, besides that Valerius, whom I had left with Brutus, had enjoyned me to stay his return home, that I might know what had been resolved on at the Club, whereat for some reasons it was thought fit I should be.

In the mean time, this Slave of Lucretius, Lucre∣cia being gon from Valerius's, acquainted his Master where she had been, and assured him that none came thither besides but my self. Lucretius was here∣upon perswaded that I was a Servant to his Daugh∣ter, and conspired against Tarquin. This appre∣hension had some appearance of truth, for he knew I had often seen Lucrecia at Racilia's while she was in the Countrey, and there were not many then knew I was in love with Valeria; and as Brutus had often made use of my name in divers gallantries and addresses to Lucrecia, as I have already told you, so had it raised a small report that I had some af∣fection for her, insomuch that sometimes Collatine himself knew not what to think. Lucretius there∣fore having received some slight intimations, of what I tell you, absolutely concluded I was the Con∣spirator, and the Lover: for my Father dying in banishment, he thought it was likely I might be as guilty of hatred to Tarquin, as love to Lucrecia. So that having thus reconciled the business, he cau∣sed this Beauty to be called to him, and carrying her into his Closet, he began to treat her most re∣proachfully, and that with so much transportation and fury, that Lucrecia, who is sweetness it self, was much amazed at it; but what encreased her amazement, was to see in her Fathers hands the Ta∣ble-book, which she thought safe enough elsewhere. Not knowing therefore how to excuse, much less clear her self, she resolved to be patient, and with∣al summoning the greatness of her spirit and cou∣rage, she bore all that Lucretius said to her, and heard him with the greatest attention might be, so to discover whether he knew who had written to her. But she soon perceived he knew not, for Lucretius having tired her with the bitterest re∣proaches, told her there was yet one way left whereby she might excuse her weakness, which was to acquaint him with all she knew. For, said he to her, since your love hath such an influence on Herminius, as to oblige to communicate to you the designs he hath against Tarquin, you must give me the particulars, and by giving me occasion to do the King a signal service, engage me to forget your miscarriage. Lucrecia hearing her Father speak in this manner, was surprized afresh; for she gathe∣red from his discourse, that he knew not the truth, and was not acquainted with Brutus's writing, since he believed me to be in love with his Daughter. She at first was a little glad to see that her servant's life was out of danger, but was at the same time troubled that I was unjustly suspected. She there fore did all that lay in her power to perswade Lu∣cretius that I had not writ the Letter, and to con∣vince him that my love to her was as to a Friend, not a Mistress. But there being a many circum∣stances which made Lucretius's opinion seem the more likely to be true, he was the less satisfied with his Daughter; For in fine, said he to her, if you say true in that, why do you not tell me who writ what I find in this Table-book? For to think, continued he, to deny all, and confess nothing, is absolute madness. All I can tell you, Sir, replyed Lucrecia, is, that my misfortune is greater then my guilt, and if I have entertained his affection, whose Letter you have in your honds, it was by the com∣mands of the most vertuous Mother in the world. I know well that yours, replyed he hastily, affected Tarquin's enemies; but though that be true, yet it justifies not you; and if you discover not to me all you know of the Conspiracy, I shall engage you in such a manner, into the interests of those whom you wish ruined, that you will be forced to change your opinion. I may well change my fortune, reply∣ed she, but for my judgement it is impossible; there∣fore Sir, press me no further, all the favour I beg of

you is, to believe that Herminius is no servant of mine, and that he writ not the Letter you now have in your hands, as I shall make appear to you by shewing you his writing, which is quite different from that. But to deprive you at once of all occa∣sions of persecuting me to no purpose, I declare that I will never tell you who writ that Letter, and and though I knew all the circumstances of any Con∣spiracy, I should not discover it. Nevertheless know, that my heart is still innocent, and that I am not en∣gaged in any thing that is criminal.

Lucrecius being hereupon enraged against this admirable Virgin, treated her with the roughest language he could, thinking thereby to terrifie her into some confession. But seeing her not to be shak'd out of her constancy, he resolved to force her to marry Collatine; for he had long since obser∣ved her backwardness as to that business. Since you will not, said he to her, discover what I so much desire to know, I must needs engage for some con∣cernment of your own, to hinder this secret Con∣spirator from acting any thing against that Family into which you shall be disposed. I therefore com∣mand you to prepare your self to marry Collatine within three dayes; he was importunate with me this morning about it, and I will it should be abso∣lutely effected within the time I allot you, and that in the mean while you see no body, and least of all Valeria; for since you have made her the Confident of your criminal loves, she is not fit to be acquainted with your marriage.

Lucrecia hearing this resolution of her Father's cast her self on her knees, beseeching him with tears not to force her to marry Collatine. You may choose, said he to her, and to avoid it you have no more to do than to name this secret servant of yours, and discover this Conspiracy: for if you will be so obstinate as to do neither, I will immediately carry this Letter to Tarquin, that he may take some course to find out whose writing it is. Nor shall I so much as blot out your name, and thereby mani∣fest your weakness, choosing rather to see you co∣vered with shame, than expose my house to the in∣dignation of an incensed Prince, who haply will come to know this enterprize by some other hand, and thence infer, that my Daughter having a Ser∣vant among the Conspirators, I might be ingaged in the Conspiracy. There is therefore no mean, you must either discover your Servant, or marry Collatine, or be content that I carry this Table-book to Tarquin.

You may easily judge, my Lord, what an extre∣mity Lucrecia was in, for she was confident Tar∣quin knew Brutus's writing and as confident, that if that Prince came to discover he had any under∣standing, it would prove the occasion of his ruin, though he contributed nothing to the liberty of Rome. On the other side, to marry Collatine was a thing almost insupportable, but to expose Brutus's life was much more. She was ever over-burthe∣ned with the thought that Lucretius might haply do what he said, and that it would be spread about Rome that she had a secret Love, which it may be would not have been thought so innocent as indeed it was. So that seeing which way soever she direct∣ed her choice, all was insufferable, she wished for death as the onely remedy could free her of all the miseries she was in a manner over-whelmed with. But looking on this as a fruitless wish, she made use use of perswasions, intreaties and tears, to move her Father not to force her to a choice wherein she must needs be unhappy, what resolution soever she took. What made her the more desperate, was, that when she imagined her self in her Fathers case, she thought he had reason to be displeased, though really she deserved no blame, nor indeed could she oblige him to change his purpose, and all she could do was to prevail with him not to take any abso∣lute resolution till the next morning. But to se∣cure her, he set a guard upon her chamber.

Lucretius being thus convinced, that if I were not a Servant to his Daughter, I must be of the Conspiracy, went and told Tarquin that there was some plot a foot wherein I was engaged; upon which intimation, this Prince, alwayes ready to be∣lieve what ever was said against the children of those whom he had ill-intreated, sent out orders to take me. For besides Lucretius's intelligence, he had been informed by some of my ill-willers, that I contracted not any particular friendship with any but such as were ill-affected to him. Being there∣fore satisfied with a bare pretence to destroy me, he gave order I should be secured, but it could not be issued out so secretly, but a friend of Sivelia's having notice of it, accquainted her. She immedi∣ately caused me to be found out, and told me I must leave Rome and provide for my safety. But there being many things to engage my stay there, I could not easily resolve to depart, nor haply should I at all, had not Valerius and Brutus come and told me that the Tytant had discovered somewhat of the Plot, and believed that I was the onely man had been named to him. It was impossible then for me to stand out any longer; I was forced to depart, and that without bidding Valeria adieu.

Brutus knew not all this while that he was more unfortunate then I, yet that day he began to be a little disturbed, as having neither heard from Lu∣crecia, nor sent to her. Nor could even Valeria her self rid him of this disquiet; for though she had at least so much friendship for me, as to be concerned in my removal, yet was she not in condi∣tion to go as far as Lucrecia's, who on the other side was in an incredible discomposure, as having passed the night without any sleep, and yet not faste∣ned on any resolution. And certainly when she considered that she was to marry Collatine, and should see Brutus no more, she suffered something beyond all imagination: but when it came into her mind, that her Father might carry her Lover's Let∣ter to Tarquin, that he would discover the writing, that she should lose her reputation, and that Tarquin would put Brutus to death. She was at a loss of all reason, and was no longer Mistress of her own thoughts. It could never enter into her imagina∣tion, that she should ever accuse him whom she lo∣ved beyond her self, and so she had onely two things to examine. But the more she considered them, the less able was she to make any choice whether of these two indigestible proposalls she should accept. That which added to her misery, was that she could have neither advice nor comfort; for Lucre∣tius had taken such order for her close imprison∣ment, that she had not the liberty either to write or speak to any whatever. But there was a neces∣sity of resolving on something, though this Beauty after a night passed without so much as closing her eyes, was the next morning as far from any reso∣lution,

as she was the night before, she indeed be∣gan to change her judgement when she understood by a woman slave who waited on her, and was lock∣ed into the Chamber with her, that she heard one tell a man that was talking with her Father, that I had made my escape, and was out of Tarquin's pow∣er: whereupon representing to her self more sen∣sibly the danger Brutus was in by her means, in case he were discovered by this Letter, her onely consi∣deration was how to secure her Lover, and she con∣ceived there should nothing seem hard for her to do upon that account, nay not even marrying with Collatine. So that Lucretius coming into her chamber when her mind was thus taken up, and earnestly pressing her to choose, or expect to see him do what he said he would, she felt in her self so great an apprehension of Brntus's death, and the loss of her own reputation, that she promised to marry Collatine, conditionally Lucretius would re∣turn the Letter he had, that he would never en∣quire further who writ it, and as much as he could, trouble not himself to guess at him. Lucretius be∣lieving that when she were wife to Collatine, and consequently engaged into the interests of a Prince, whose near kinsman she had married, she would be easily induced to ruin even the whole Faction, whereof her former servant was, promised to do what she desired, provided the Letter should not be returned till the wedding day; and that till then, she should pretend her self indisposed, so to avoid the occasions of all visits. Thus Lucrecia, notwithstanding all the aversion she had for Collatine and all the tenderness she had for Brutus, expected the celebration of the Marriage with some impati∣ence, that so she might secure her servant, by re∣manding a Letter which might haply cost him his life. She thought not fit to acquaint him with her condition, because she imagined he would advise her to somewhat disadvantageous to himself, and that he could not easily apprehend what resent∣ments she then had for him.

Brutus, in the mean time, though he were much troubled at my departure, was yet much more that he heard nothing from Lucrecia. But understan∣ding that they gave out at home that she was not well, he inferred that she was out of humour to stir abroad, and that she had failed writing to him up∣on no other account, not dreaming that it would not be long ere he heard the saddest, and to him the strangest newes in the world. According to what he had resolved, my Lord, Lucretius, who thought it the safest way immediately to dispose of a Daughter, cajoll'd by a secret love, managed the business with so much discretion and diligence, that he engaged Collatine to press him for his Daughter Lucrecia; and he carried it with so much judgement, that Tarquin consenting to the mar∣riage, it was presently concluded, and three dayes after solemnized. All was done very privately, Lucretius giving out, that his Daughter being yet in mourning for her Mother, it was not fit it should be done with much ceremony. So that the first newes that Brutus had of it, was, that Lucrecia was in the Temple in order to be married to Colla∣tine; for having been employed in satisfying those who had taken any alarm at my departure, he had heard nothing at all of it. But he had no sooner heard this newes, but he received this Letter from Lucrecia, which contained onely these words;

Being obliged by a cruel necessity, either to marry Collatine, or be the cause of your death, I have chosen rather to abjure all the pleasures and enjoyments of my life, and consequently make my self eternally unhappy, than to expose yours to nny aanger. Bemoan my hard destiny, I beseech you, and, in gratitude for what I have done for your sake, forget me, if you can, and see me no more; for I must love you no longer, and yet I should not avoid it if I saw you. Obey therefore the cruel com∣mand I lay on you, to see me no more, and assure your self I shall lead such a sad and solitary life, that I shall give you no occasion to think me guilty of inconstancy.

I leave you to consider what a condition Brutus was in when he read this Letter; he knows not yet himself what he thought in that terrible instant, and all the account he gives of it, is, that not knowing precisely what he intended to do, he went to the Temple where they said Collatine was to mar∣ry Lucrecia. He was no sooner in, but he under∣stood that the Ceremony was past, and that all things were performed in much hast, because it was feared Lucrecia might swoun. He understood also, that Lucretius, notwithstanding his daughters indisposition had caused the Ceremony to be per∣formed; and that as ill as she was the cruel Tullia was gone along with her to Collatine's house. Not knowing therefore what to do in this distracted condition, he went to Valeria's, whom he acquaint∣ed with his misfortune by shewing her the Letter he had received. But in all things his countenance spoke so much despair, that he moved a great com∣passion in generous Valeria. Well, said he, look∣ing on her with the tears in his eyes, what say you now of Lucrecia? What must I think of her? and what must I do? Can you imagine by what charms Fortune hath changed her heart, or what strange adventure hath obliged her to prefer Collatine before the unfortunate Bru∣tus? For my part, replyed Valeria, I understand nothing of it, nor indeed can imagine either that Lucrecia hath ceased to love you, or hate Colla∣tine, or altered her judgment. But do you under∣stand, replyed Brutus, why she should not acquaint me sooner with this design; or why, in case Lucre∣tius have used any violence, she hath not given me leave to die before she married Collatine? For in fine, since the affection she had for me, was not strong enough to hinder her from becoming the wife of my Rival, she should also have given him the satisfaction of my ruine, and spared me the grief to see her in the embraces of another, and see my self forsaken by a person for whose sake I was willing to forsake all things, and for whom haply I had forfeited much of my reputation. It is just in you, O ye Gods, (said he to himself, while Valeria was speaking to some one that asked for her) to punish me, for having admitted into my heart any passion that should divert it, or haply hinder it from the deliverance of my Countrey. At the first dawning of my love I looked on Lucrecia, as the person by whom I was staid at Rome for the execution of this great design; but I must now look on her as an unconstant woman, who is the cause that I have not destroyed the Tyrant. She took up all my thoughts; her representation followed

me into all places; and though I then believed I did all that lay in my power to revenge my Father and Brothers death, and to shake Tarquin out of his throne, yet now I am of opinion, that I was more employed about the love I had for Lucrecia, than the hatred I had for the Tyrant. But is it possi∣ble, resumed he, that Lucrecia, the vertuous Lu∣crecia, should be dazled with a greatness so weak∣ly established, since it is grounded on injustice? Is it possible, I say, she should ally her self into a Fa∣mily which she knows I am obliged to destroy? Does she believe that any concernment of hers shall hinder me from turning Tarquin out of the Throne, if opportunity favor me to do it? Or will she, to secure the Tyrant, reveal what design I have against him? Proceed Lucrecia, proceed, continued he, for by exposing me to the cruelty of the Tyrant, you do me less injury than by making me feel your own. Valeria coming to him when he had pro∣ceeded thus far, he renewed his complaints, be∣seeching her assistance, at least to find out what might be the motives of Lucrecia's defection: for I cannot be perswaded, said he to her, that she is so poorly opinion'd of my heart, as to imagine that I can entertain death with less ease than I can her loss. Do me but the favor, continued he, that I may see her, for if she be not so merciful to me, I shall certainly think no violence too great for me to do my self.

This discourse of Brutus came from him with such earnestness, that Valeria fearing he might haply do himself some violence, promised to do what he desired, though she was not certain to pre∣vail; for she sufficiently knew Lucrecia's heart, and easily fore-saw that since she was resolved to be Collatine's wife, she would be no longer Brutus's Mi∣stress. But willing to appease the present grief of this despairing Lover, she told him not what she truly thought.

While Brutus thus groaned under incredible af∣flictions, Lucrecia amidst her melancholy, had one great comfort, in that her Father had kept his word with her: for being ready to go to the Tem∣ple, she got Brutus's Letter returned to her, so to secure his life. Nor could she but be somewhat pleased that she was taken ill at that time, and con∣tinued so still, because the indisposition of her bo∣dy served for a foil to that of the mind. But all considered, what comfort soever she might raise from the present thought of having sacrificed her self to the safety of her Servant, yet soon after she thought her self the most unfortunate person in the world: for she irrecoverably lost a man whom she infinitely loved and esteemed; she married another for whom she had an extreme aversion; she ally'd her self into a Family, which all vertuous persons endeavored to ruin, and she resolved to give her self over to perpetual solitude. But at last these considerations contributing to her melan∣choly humor, she fell really sick; by which means it was more easie for her to conceal from Collatine the small satisfaction she found in being married to him. She would needs remove from Rome purpose∣ly to avoid all meeting with Brutus. She began to commend the air of Cellatia, as being better for her health, in so much that she was conveyed thither sick as she was. By this means was she in a condition to be more solitary, never hardly to see Brutus, and to see her Husband less often, who being obliged to shew himself at Court, would be forced to leave her many times.

In the mean time Valeria could not come to sight of her, for Lucrecia writ a Letter to entreat her not to attempt it, for some reasons which she should one day acquaint her with. So that Brutus not knowing what to do, was afflicted beyond all expression. Yet were there some intervals, where∣in he found some slender comfort, to understand that Lucrecia was sick and melancholy: but there were also others wherein he gave so much way to his despair, that he had not the command of his own thoughts, and there was no consideration of violence which his mind reflected not on. But the great vertue which garded his soul successefully, opposed all those irregular apprehensions which his love and his despair suggested; yet could it not overcome the extream desire he had to see Lu∣crecia, though she had forbidden it him in the last Letter she had written to him. Directing there∣fore all the efforts of his mind to find out some way to satisfie himself, he cunningly informed himself, by the means of Valeria (who might more easily come to know it than he) that Lucrecia who be∣gan to recover, though against her will, her for∣mer health, spent the afternoons for the most part, when her Husband was absent, all alone in a Garden, adjoyning to Collatine's house: and that sometimes she staid there till she went to bed, when it was fair weather and the Moon shined. Brutus being thus particularly informed what Lucrecia did, acquain∣ted not Valeria with his intention, lest she might oppose it: but when he was fully satisfied of all he desired to know, he trusted himself to a faithful Slave, who had lived with him ever since his being at Metapont. Pretending to go into the Countrey, he went by night to Collatia, and took up his lodg∣ing, disguised at a man's house whom his Slave was acquainted with: for having been there divers times, he knew the walls of Collatine's Garden were but low, so built purposely for the prospect of the first story of the house, which is built on one side of the garden; which not being absolutely le∣vel, hath in one part divers hedge-rows and little arbors, that the unevenness might the less ap∣pear.

Having thus laid his design, he came, as I have already told you, to Collatia, at a time when he knew Collatine was not there, and that his Sister was at Rome with her Mother, who was yet alive. But to do his business the more easily, he had brought with him one of those Ladders, which fasten on a wall as soon as they touch it, and had so well provided for all things that might contribute to his entrance into the garden, where they said Luerecia came eve∣ry day, especially in the evenings, that he doub∣ted not a successeful issue of his enterprize. For he knew that the walls of Collatine's Garden were in a lone street, through which none passed after it was once night. It is true he had some reason to fear any one came along with Lucrecia; but he had been so perswaded that she was alwayes alone, that, considering the desire he had to see her, this difficulty signified nothing with him. He had also this advantage, that he feared not to be seen from the house, though it were built towards the garden, because that uneven corner which I mentioned, was taken up by two or three large Arbours. But in fine, not to trouble you with so many inconside∣rable

circumstances, which you may easily suppose, you are to know that Brutus, not debating his re∣solution any longer, undertook by this course to see Lucreeia; besides that having the reputation of stupidity, and being withal of some kin to Collatiné, though he were found in the garden, it would have passed for a little extravagance of a man whom ma∣ny believe to be quite out of his wits; by which means Lucrecia should fear neither the jealousie of her Husband, nor censure of the world. Brutus therefore came thither one evening, attended only by his slave, whom he appointed to wait him on the out-side of the garden-wall; and he was so fortunate, that as soon as he was gotten down into the garden, and hid himself in one of the lit∣tle Arbours, he by the light of the moon sees Lucre∣cia beginning her walk, having forbidden her wo∣men to follow her, and left them sitting in a little Lodge at the Garden-door. 'Tis true, he was somewhat troubled to see that in a quarter of an hours time she came, not to that side where he was, nor could he go where she was, without being seen by those women who sate in the Lodge. But at last Lucrecia in her solitary humour seeking obscuri∣ty, quitted the plain part of the garden, and pas∣sing along a thick hedge. row, came to that arbour where Brutus was; who fearing that if he were perceived before she were come quite to the place, she might call her women, hid himself to give her way to come in. She was no sooner in, but sitting down she fetched a deep sigh, and that with such an accent of anguish, that Brutus was extremely moved at it, and transported with love; without any further hesitation. Ah, I beseech you Madam, said he, casting himself on his knees before her, tell me whether the unfortunate Brutus be any thing concerned in the sigh he hath now heard; and if he be, permit him to return you sigh for sigh, till he expire at your feet, and assure you dying, that there never was any servant more amorous nor more faithful, than he whom you have with so much cruelty forsaken. Lucrecia was so surprised to hear Brutus speak, and to see him in the posture he was in, that she was not able to express her astonishment by any crying out: on the contrary she was seized by a most piercing grief, and continued a while unable to speak. Yet thrusting him from her with her left hand, she made a sign to him with her right, that he should be gone, and that he was to blame for what he had done. No no, Madam, said Brutus to her, you need not thrust me away, since I am come for no other end, than to know from your own mouth the cause of my misfortune. And I beseech you, said Lucrecia to him, going to rise, have you as great a care of my reputation as I have had of your life, and expose me not to a suspition of having spoken to a man, at such a time and place as this. The place where you are, replyed he, is so far from that where you have left your women, that they can neither see me, hor hear me; nay they cannot come towards this place but you must see them, and you further know, your reputation can receive no prejudice from the stupid Brutus, and that the Brutus, whom you are acquainted with, hath no design against your innocence. Permit therefore Madam, that I ask you what I would fain be satis∣fied in; for if I were sure to be discovered, I should not be gone, since it is certain I cannot in∣jure you. But am I obliged, replyed he, to obey a person who hath taken her heart out of my hands, to bestow it on, my Rival? Ah Brutus, replyed Lucrecia relenting, I were more happy, and, it may be, more innocent than I am, if either I had done it, or could yet do it: yet raise no advantage to your self of what I tell you, for I assure you, you will be never the more happy for it. Nor shall I satisfie you so far, continued this illustrious Lady, as to par∣ticularize my misfortunes, lest that by justifying my self to your apprehension, and acquainting you how much I have obliged you, and the true state of my soul, I should engage you to love me as you did formerly. How Madam, interrupted he, can you suffer me to be ignorant of what you thought, while you made me the most unfortunate Lover that ever was? Can you wish I should not know what might be the pretence, or excuse of your cruel pro∣ceedings? Can you desire I should be utterly igno∣rant of what is done in your heart? Ah Madam, if it be so, I must think you never loved the unfor∣tunate Brutus, nor ought he to love you, though he were in a condition to dispose of his own thoughts. But alas, he is far from it, for he loves you and adores you, notwithstanding all your infidelity, Ah, I beseech you, replyed Lucrecia, accuse me not of infidelity and be satisfied that I am so generous as not to accuse you as causer of all the misfortunes of my life; since that it is upon your account that I am wife to Collatine. Upon mine, Madam, replyed Brutus? It is certain, replyed Lucrecia sighing; and since you are so desirous to know the true cause of your misfortune and mine, you shall have it: Whereupon Lucrecia told him how she lost that fatal Letter, which her Father had found; which passage she aggravated so with words so smartly expressing the confusion she was in when Lucrecia would oblige her to discover who writ it, or to marry Collatine, that he was extremely moved with it, especially when she fully conyinced him that the fear of hazarding her own reputation, and prin∣cipally that of exposing the life of such a man as he was to the cruelty of Tarquin, had obliged her to submit to her Father. Consider now (added she after she had ended her relation) whether I have loved you faithfully, and whether I deserve to be thought inconstant. However it be continued this vertuous Female, as my love to you hath been alwayes innocent, and that I can love you no lon∣ger, since I am Collatine's, I must, though I die for it, resolve never to see you more. For this reason is it also that I am resolved not to see any, but shall lead a life so solitary, that though you should be so unjust as to persist in your love, you shall never have any opportunity to let me know of it. Nay I will so carry my self towards Collatine, that I hope ex∣cepting my melancholy, he shall have nothing to object to me. Yet can I not but acknowledge, that the aversion I have for him will last as long as I live: but after all, since a consideration of honour hath prevailed with you to conceal your reason for so many years, I must needs think my self obliged by a like motive, to conceal the aversion I have for a Husband, and the affection I have for a Lover. Ah Madam, it is much easier to conceal ones Reason than ones Love, and if you ever had any for the un∣fortunate Brutus, you would rather have permitted him to die a thousand times, than forsake him. For,

Madam, do you consider the sad condition I am in? Another Lover would find a hundred comforts in such a misfortune as this; he would betray betray your inconstancy to all the world by his complaints; he might revenge himself by pretending to some other affection, and he might haply be recovered of his misery by such a remedy, or at least would be the better enabled to bear the ill success of his love through the consolations of his friends. But for my part, Madam, who am the unhappy man that all the world shuns, and no body knows, I am not ca∣pable of any comfort. You were to me all the world; I found in you a Friend and a Mistress; I found in you all pleasure and all glory; and I imagi∣ned my self so happy when I had but one minutes private discourse with you, that I would not have changed fortunes with the most fortunate Monarch in the world. I was somewhat pleased with my self, that my understanding was onely at your ser∣vice, and for your sake; you were absolute Mi∣stress of my will; you had the same power over my desires; and in fine, you had such a soveraignty o∣ver me, that never any Empire was better established than yours. But what said I (resumed he, correct∣ing himself) you had? you have the same power still, and it is onely Death that can dissolve it. It is true Madam, how unjust soever you have been in prefer∣ring my life before my quiet, I am the same man I was; and it shall be your fault, if I find not some lenitive in my misfortunes. Ah Brutus, replyed Lucrecia, since I have changed my fortune, you must change your judgement. But Madam, said he to her, continually I shall beg nothing of you, that I not so much as tell you that I love you, what matters it to you what is done in my soul? Permit me then to see you sometimes; you know Collatine and I are of kindred, that he can never suspect me to be in love with you, and that my palpable stupidity will give me as much freedom any where as I would take. Give me leave to see you, provided I never entertain you with the secret resentment of my heart. No, no, Brutus, replyed Lucrecia, I would not you should esteem me less than you have; nor will I ever do any thing which I may object to my self as destructive to true glory: for all conside∣red, to be Collatine's Wife, and Brutus's Mistress, are two things absolutely incompatible. Ah Ma∣dam, replyed he, will you then be pleased to become my Friend? I heretofore in the beginning of my loves refused your friendship, but I now beg it, and that with tears. When I proffered you my friend∣ship, replyed she, I could without any difficulty en∣tertain your love; but alas Brutus, the friendship of a Lover is not to be accepted when a woman is once another mans wife, and hath the least tender∣ness for her reputation. Resolve therefore not to love me any longer, and that, if I may so say, for my sake, as I have resolved to be unhappy for your sake; and that you may be assured, I do all I can, and haply more then I ought, I permit you to be∣lieve, that I shall grieve for you while I live. On the other side, fear not I shall ever discover your se∣cret: for though you cannot in any likelihood de∣stroy Tarquin, but you must withal give check to the fortune of that Family, into which I am entred, I shall lay nothing to your charge while you med∣dle not with Collatine's person. Not but that if you conceive I speak for my own interest, I should advise you forsake Rome; to set your reason at li∣berty, to go and live at Metapont, where you have friends of both sexes, and where you may be cured of what passion your soul is sick of. For in all likelihood Vice will ever triumph over Vertue. Brutus will be alwayes miserable, and Tarquin al∣wayes happy. How, Madam, replyed the unfor∣tunate Lover, you would have me forsake Rome, quit the design of revenging my self, and delivering my Countrey, but for no other end than that I might be the farther from you. Ah Madam, I neither can do it nor ought, and if Death do not deliver you from my presence, you shall never be delivered from it. I shall be delivered from it, re∣plyed she, if I reside constantly at Collatia, whither you will have no pretence to come; and though Collatine himself should command me to see you, I would intreat him to pardon my disobedience: and this pretended stupidity which heretofore furnish∣ed me with a pretence to see you, shall hencefor∣ward be my excuse not to see you again; but I shall think my self the more obliged, if without any fur∣ther dispute you obey the command I lay on you, not to endeavour it. But is it possible, replyed Brutus, that my sight is become so insupportable to you, and that having expressed so much goodness as to let me believe that I might be the object of all your happiness, I am now thought the onely cause of your misfortune? For I tell you once more, Madam, that if you will be pleased to be my Friend, I shall not think my self absolutely miserable: and if I ever forget my self so far as to speak any thing to you whence you might gather I would be trea∣ted in the quality of a Lover, I give you leave to acquaint Tarquin that I am a dangerous Conspirator, and deserve death. But do you think, replyed she, that when I lost you, I withal lost all reason, and that I can be perswded that Love may be turned into Friendship, or Friendship into Love, when one pleases? If it be so in your heart, added she, you never knew any true passion; and I should punish you for your dis∣simulation past with eternal baoishment. One might indeed in a short time pass from Love to Hatred; one may sometimes pass from Love to Indifference, and it is not impossible to ascend from Friendship to Love; but to descend from Love to Friendship, is that I cannot comprehend how it may be done. I could believe, added she, there may be some Hus∣bands, who having been infinitely indulgent of their Wives, are after a long time cooled, so as to have onely an indifferent affection for them, which may be called Friendship: but for a Lover to become a Friend, is a thing I conceive impossible, and shall never believe. Persist not therefore in the proffers of your friendship, or the desire of mine: for since Fortune hath been pleased to cross the innocence of our affection, I will see you no more, and I profess to you, I shall hate you, if you continue to perswade me to a thing which I believe inconsistent with my duty. For in fine, Brutus, you but too well know that I have loved you, and you haply imagine that I shall love you as long as I live, therefore our con∣versation can be no longer innocent: one look of yours raises a controversie in my soul; I must not a∣ny longer trust either you or my self in such a case as this; and I have already spent too much time with you, in debating a thing already resolved. Go your wayes therefore, Brutus, go, the unfortu∣nate Lucrecia commands you; be careful of the life she hath preserved you, and remember sometimes,

that it hath cost her all the happiness she could ex∣pect. But hold, added she, rising from her seat, think on nothing that concerns me: for if I thought you remembred it, I could not haply forget you. How, Madam, cryes out Brutus, you cannot but re∣member me, and can you imagine I should obey you, when you command me to forget Lucrecia? No, no, Madam, abuse not your self, it is not onely death can raze you out of my heart; and if the des∣pair that hovers about my soul were not kept off by the love I bear you, my hand should soon rid Tar∣quin of an Enemy, and Lucrecia of a Lover. But Madam, since that if I lost my life I should cease to love you if excess of grief take it not away, I shall not, which I do not but out of a pure consideration of love, since, as you may easily imagine, Madam, I must expect to live the most miserable of any man in the world, which can afford nothing more insup∣portable, than for a man to see his Enemy in the Throne, and his Mistress in the embraces of his Rival. For, all considered, Madam, I concur with you, that Love can never be remitted into Friend∣ship, and when I begged the quality of your Friend, I onely meant to tell you, that I should never ask any thing of you but what a vertuous friend might desire of a vertuous woman. Assure your self there∣fore, Madam, that I shall love you to the last gasp, and that I shall love you so intirely, as never any man did the like. But in requital, Madam, added he, promise me that you will not make it your bu∣siness to hate me; for I had rather be deprived of your sight, than that you should not promise to love me alwayes. Ah Brutus, I neither can nor must promise you any thing, replyed she; in the mean time, I must leave you, and be gon, for I see one of my women coming to tell me that it is time to re∣tire; and indeed Brutus turning his head saw a woman-slave who was come half wayes the Garden, and made directly towards the place where he was. This put him into a strange disturbance, for he thought he had a thousand things more to say; nay he imagined that if he had said them, they would have moved Lucrecia; but if he should have offered to detain her by force, she would have taken it in much displeasure. He therefore submissively took her by the garment, and would, out of an amo∣rous transport, have kissed her hand, and intreated her to favour him for one minute more: but this vertuous woman, troubled at her very soul for him, certainly did her self a strange violence in re∣fusing him what he so passionately begged. So that commanding him absolutely to let her go, and doing it as one who expected obedience, he in effect obeyed her: he dismissed the hand and garment of this afflicted Beauty; and he had this comfort at least, to perceive she thought well of his respect and obedience. For having gon as far as the en∣trance of the Arbor, where this discourse passed, she turned to him, bursting forth into tears, and reaching to him the same hand which she had tak∣en from between his, Farewel Brutus, said she to him, might it please the Gods that the innocency of our affection would permit me to think on you, and that you might also think of me. At these words Brutus taking her by the hand she presented to him, kissed it with such a transport of love, that if she had not drawn it back with some violence, he had not soon dismissed it. But this slave, who was come to tell Lucrecia that it was about the time she used to retire, was so near, that he was forced out of a consideration of respect, to withdraw himself without answering the last words Lucrecia had said to him. When she was departed, he looked on her through the leaves as long as he could, but saw she had let down her veyl, which he conceived was to hide her tears from the slave that followed her. He also observed, that she twice turned her head towards the place where she had left him, as also that she went from him very slowly; for though he was in an unconceivable despair, yet the excess of his love quickened his apprehension of any thing related to his passion; but to any thing else was insensible.

Lucrecia and her women being gotten into the House, and having locked the lodge-door that went into the Garden, though he knew not well what he thought on, yet could he not resolve to be gone. For observing a greater light in one part of the house then in any other, he concluded it was Lucrecia's chamber, and looking on the Windowes, he had such a disturbance and confusion in his thoughts, that it were impossible to express them. He found indeed some ease in seating himself in the place where that Beauty had sate, and in that posture he intertained his love and his affliction till the break of day, not thinking of the Slave who knew his design, and waited for him without the Gar∣den. But at last the Cock crowing acquainting him what time it was, he went out as he came in, and repaired to the house where he had taken up his secret Quarters.

In the mean time, as Hope is such a Montebank in Love, as instead of one real pleasure, entertaines us with a hundred imaginary, he was really perswa∣ded he might see Lucrecia in the same manner ano∣ther night: but though he came to the same place, he met not with her; for this vertuous woman conceiving he might come again, went thither no more. So that Brutus not thinking it safe to stay any longer in that place, whither Clllatine came the next day, returned to Rome exceedingly grieved: for Lucrecia's vertue rendring her more amiable than she were otherwise, it made him the more un∣fortunate. Not long after he was told that Lucre∣cia had perswaded Collatine to make the walls of his garden somewhat higher, though it much preju∣diced the prospect from the house, which he might easily apprehend onely for his sake. This neverthe∣less discouraged him not, for having a heart as great as his love, he omitted no artifice or opportunity from the time that Lucrecia was married, to speak with, or send Letters to her, or to oblige her to permit Hermilia or Valeria to speak to her of him; or to procure the favour that he might see her in some place, though he spoke not to her. He also, notwithstanding the hatred he had for Collatine, made frequent visits to him, in hope of some occasi∣on thereby to see Lucrecia: but all these contri∣vances and designs amounted to nothing, Lucreci∣a leading a life so solitary, and disengaged from the disturbances of the World, that I think there ne∣ver was woman gave higher expressions of a great vertue than she did. For it is out of all controver∣sie, that never Wife lived better with a Husband than she did with Collatine, though she had an aver∣sion for him; nor did ever Mistess express such a constant rigor and severity towards a servant, though she had a tender affection for Brutus. Thus

was Brutus extremely taken with her vertue, and fearing that disconsolate solitude might shorten her life, he sent her word by Valeria, that he had so great an esteem for her, as, to break her from that reserved carriage, he would make it his main busi∣ness to avoid her, that so she might quit that melan∣choly course of life; conceiving his misfortune would be the less, if he were alone unfortunate. But she would not be perswaded, nay would not so much as return Brutus thanks for his compliance and respect. However, I dare assure you he was never in his life so deeply in love with this admi∣rable woman as he is at this present; nay I may presume to tell you, that the love he beares Lucrecia is greater than the hatred he hath for Tarquin: but his love is upon the hardest condition that love can be capable of, since it admits no Hope, nor the sight of its object. All the comfort therefore that he hath, is, what consists in the hope of satisfying that just hatred he hath for Tarquin, since he can now pretend nothing to Lucrecia.

Herminius having left off speaking, Aronces than∣ked him for the excellent entertainment of so plea∣sant a relation: and Amilcar expressed himself so well satisfied with it, that if he could have resolved to be constant, he would have wished himself Bru∣tus, as unfortunate as he was, looking on his Histo∣ry as a thing extraordinary, though it was not fur∣nished with those heroick adventures which raise the admiration of those that hear them. But to make some advantage to your self of the acquain∣tance I have made you with Brutus, replyed Hermi∣us, speaking to Aronces, acknowledge that you are neither the most unfortunate Lover, nor the most unfortunate man in the world: for certainly Brutus being now past all hope, and leading such a life as he does, is a thousand times more miserable than you are. Ah Herminius, cryed out Aronces, I am not of your opinion, but account my self much more unhappy, in that I have to fear Clelia's death, than Brutus is to see Lucrecia in the arms of Collatine. But my Lord, the misfortune you fear, replyed Amil∣car, it may be, will not come to pass, and so your fear is of a disaster that is uncertain; but for Bru∣tus he is past the fear of a mishap, he undergoes it, and that without any hope of seeing any end of his suffering. He hath yet this comfort, replyed A∣ronces, to know that Lucrecia cannot suffer any thing but what the affection she hath for him, imposes on her; but for what concerns me, I see Clelia expo∣sed to the violence of a Tyrant, whether he love her or hate her: nor can I yet perceive by what means I can deliver her, nor who will deliver my self. It being by this time very late, Herminius and Amil∣car retired, and left this illustrious Lover at liber∣ty, to compare his misfortunes with those of the il∣lustrious Brutus.