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

CLELIA. The Second Part. (Book 2)

BOOK I.

O Ye gods, cry'd out Aronces, with a doleful accent, viewing the seve∣ral ways, whereof it was now in his power to take his choice, into what a strange confusion am I re∣duced! Why do you not either either enlighten my mind, or force my Will? Or why must I be ignorant of what I ought, or might, or would do? It is indeed high time, replied Amilcar, to resolve on something; for when all is done, you must either for the Camp or for Rome. It is resolv'd, replied immediately Aron∣ces; it is resolv'd, and what ever may be the event, I must go thither where Clelia is, and there expect how Fortune shall dispose of us. The Sage Sivelia will haply favour me with a retirement, she well knows the tender affection of her Son Herminius towards me, she hates the Tyrant, and loves Ver∣tue, which is motive enough to oblige her to do me any good office. If I repair to the Camp, continu∣ed he, I shall be discovered to be the Son of Porsen∣nas, secured, and sent to Clusium, without being able to do any thing for Clelia. In the mean time it is easily conceived she will want assistance, whether Tarquin consider her as the Daughter of his Enemy; or look on her as a Servant; or that Prince Sextus forgetting the beauty of Lucrecia, be absolutely sub∣dued by hers. Therefore my dear Amilcar do you repair to the Camp, and there employ that noble Talent which the gods have bestowed on you, cun∣ningly to divert Tarquin from causing any search to be made for me at Rome; nay acquaint not even Sextus himself with my resolution thither; be both the Protector of Clelia's fortune and mine; engage our friends to contribute their services; and to be short omit nothing which your generosity, friend∣ship, or courage shall suggest unto you, as sit to be done.

This said, Aronces and Amilcar resolved on a cer∣tain place, where they should hear from each other, and so parted, the former making towards Rome, the other to the Camp. Amilcar made such speed, that recovering the time which he had spent with his friend, he overtook Prince Sextus before he had reach'd the Camp, which he did purposely, that he might be an eye-witness of the first transports of Tarquin, when he should understand that Aronces was not in his power. But having joyned with this Prince, and those which accompanied him, Col∣latine asked him where Aronces was; whereto A∣milcar answering, that he had lost sight of him in the Wood, and believ'd he would soon overtake them: Sextus, who was satisfied, he would not re∣turn, and had his imagination filled with the beauty of Lucrecia, began to play upon Collatine, and told him that Aronces was fallen in love with his Wife, and haply was returned to Collatia. Be it so my Lord, replied Collatine smiling, you may lament the misfortune of your Friend; for as to the humour of Lucrecia, if I were not her Husband, I would never be her Servant, were I not resolved to be the most wretched of all Men. Hah Collatine (replied Amilcar, who made it his business to divert the com∣pany from thinking on Aronces) what a happy Man are you to be Husband to one of the greatest Beauties in the World, and yet be guilty of no Jea∣lousie? It is indeed, says the Prince of Pometia, a very rare thing. I am of your mind, replied Sex∣tus smartly, but when all is done it is not so strange that Collatine should not be jealous of a Woman that never sees any body, one that views not her own beauty, and one so jealous of her self, that she will not be seen by any. What Sextus says, re∣plied Artimedorus, is questionless considerable, yet the felicity of Collatine, is not to be esteemed the less, who is married to one who only loves him and solitude. For my part, said the pleasant Zenocra∣tes, I should rather wish to be a while jealous, then to have my wife given so to solitude. But I, replied Collatine, am very well pleased with mine, not that if she were of an humour to be as gallant as they say your Grecian and African Ladies are, I should be ever the more jealous. You would indeed do very well in that, replied Amilcar, for to speak tru∣ly, jealousie in a Husband many times hastens the misfortune by fears, since that his jealousies ren∣dring him hateful to his wife, she most com∣monly bestows all the love she abates him, upon some other.

Such was the discourse this merry company en∣tertained themselves with, when they came to the Camp: but they had scarcely reached Sextus's Tent, but he sees a Man conducted by an Officer of Tarquin's who very earnestly viewed all those which followed him, whence he inferred, that it must be that Envoy of the King of Clusium, who came to

seek Aronces. So that approaching Amilcar, he communicated this observation to him, and asked him softly, where his friend was. My Lord, reply∣ed he, I left him so distracted, as to resolution, that as I dare not assure you whether we may not see him here to morrow morning (though it be contra∣ry to my advice) so am I utterly ignorant where he is, as having onely a promise that I shall know. In the mean time I conjure you to serve him what lyes in your power, as also to protect Clelia; and this continued he, I conjure you to do by the beauty of Lucrecia. It is but a day since, replied Sextus, that if you had made any request to me, I was onely ex∣orable by the fair eyes of Clelia: but now, added he laughing, those of Lucrecia carry it. Ah, my Lord (replied Amilcar laughing with him) you do well to prefer the Brown Beauty before that which is Flaxen hair'd, for the latter is often guilty of cold∣ness and indifference, and seldome discovers any picquancy or passion.

Upon this the Prince enters his Tent, taking no notice that he had seen the Envoy of the King of Clusium, who having viewed the Prince of Pometia, Prince Titus, Artemidorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, Cele∣res, Collatine, and the rest of the company, told Tar∣quin's officer, who conducted him, that he whom he sought was not there, and so made towards this Prince, to acquaint him, that he had not found his Masters Son. But he was hardly in his presence, ere Sextus accompany'd onely by Amilcar, and Zenocra∣tes, came into him. In the mean time, Tarquin be∣ing in a great distraction of mind, asked somewhat hastily, whether he had heard that Ardea should be reliev'd by Collatia, for to be short, continu'd he, I cannot conceive, but that you leaving the Camp, while I was engaged in so important a siege, you had some other design in it than your diversion. Sextus not us'd to brook such reproaches, was in∣cens'd into a blush, and answer'd him as roundly. But Amilcar knowing how much it concern'd A∣ronces, there should be no mis-intelligence betwixt these Princes, he engaged himself into their con∣test with that pleasant confidence, which is so natu∣ral to him, and which gained him the oportunity to speak what he would, without offence taken. So that Tarquin recovering his tenderness towards his son, by the mediation of Amilcar, at length came to ask where Aronces was. My Lord, while we all came somewhat disorderly, every one according to his impatience, to be at the Camp, I am to learn whether Aronces be come before us, or be yet be∣hind, and all I can say of him is, that I have not seen him since we came into a wood, that is not far hence. He had fcarce said this, but Tarquin commanded he should be sought in his Tent, and all places he used to frequent; but it being fruitless to look after him, word was brought to Tarquin he was not returned. This gave him occasion to suspect he might be son to the King of Clusium, since that he appeared not. But to be more fully satisfied, he obliged the envoy of Porsenna, to describe him whom he sought, which he did so naturally, that it was no longer doubted, but that Aronces was the very Prince. Tarquin knowing that Celeres was his intimate friend, he sent him to seek him, and in the mean, inquired of Amilcar and Zenocrates, what they knew of the con∣dition of Aronces. The latter answered, that his acquaintance with him was onely that he casually met him upon a journey, but for his birth and qua∣lity he knew nothing. And for my part, sayes A∣milcar, though I know no more of him than Zenocra∣tes, yet I am perswaded he deserves your Majestyes protection. Ah Amilcar, cryes out Tarquin, I would not wish Porsenna's son in my power, but one∣ly to hinder him from doing a thing which would cause me to hate him, and which one day would raise a war between Rome and Etruria. For, to be short, if Clelius's daughter were once Queen of Clusium, I know nothing should divert me from entring into a war, should dethrone her, which I should be far∣ther incouraged to, for that it were to satisfie the desires of Porsenna, who pretends an aversion she should ever reign over his Subjects. After some other discourse, Celeres returns, but though he an∣swered what ever Tarquin demanded, with much prudence and circumspection, yet was this Prince further satisfied, that Aronces was the son of Porsen∣na; which thought Celeres did not acknowledge, yet was it easily discovered, that, not answering po∣sitively; neither as to the place of his birth, nor quality, there must be some secret reason that hin∣dred him. But to be absolutely resolved; this Envoy of the King of Clusium having mentioned a mole which he that he sought had on his hand, Tarquin had observed it one day, that Aronces pre∣senting him with two Prisoners he had taken, he stretched forth his hand to shew them unto him, so that the business being by this discovery put out of all doubt, Tarquin commanded he should be di∣ligently sought out. He even sent to Rome to take him, if he were returned thither, and he spake with that violence, which easily discovered his mind dis∣turbed by more then one passion. But my Lord, sayes Amilcar to him, may I presume to ask you what crime hath this pretended son of the King of Clusium committed? He loves the daughter of a man I hate, replied he furiously, and the King his father desires me to secure him, lest his passion engage him into something unworthy his quality, and the greatness of his courage. But my Lord, replyes Amilcar, do you know where the daughter of your enemy is, whom Aronces is in love with? In all likelihood, says he, she is among the Captives, which were taken at the fally out of Ardea; but this difficulty is to know which of them is the daughter of Clelius, for they are all very amiable; in the mean time, it is my greatest concernment to be satisfied. If you please, my Lord, replyes cunningly Amilcar, I will be your spie, for (added he slily) since there is no more to doe, then to cross Aronces's Marriage, I shall easily wave the interests of his love to engage my self in∣to those of his ambition. What you say is very per∣tinent, or very generous, replyes Tarquin, but all things considered, I am resolved to be my own spie, for I would not be deceived in this design.

Sextus hearing his Father speaking thus, was troubled at it, as inferring thence, that he must needs love Clelia; which consideration had almost restor'd him to the inclination he once had to that Beauty, and taken away much of that which he now had to Lucrecia. But at length Tarquin being resolved to act alone, Sextus shifting place, changed with all his sentiments, and not considering Clelia otherwise than as his friends Mistress, he directed all his thoughts to Lucrecia, and imagining what a great satisfaction it is to conquer a heart with was never conquered, he could think of nothing else; for A∣milcar, he advised with Artemidorus, Zenocrates,

and Celeres, concerning the interests of their Friend, insomuch, as conceiving it requisite he should be ac∣quainted with the state of his affairs, they sent to him a trusty Slave, directed to the vertuous Sivelia's house, so to be brought to Aronces. But for Tar∣quin, he was in a strange disturbance, as not being able to remain long in that uncertainty; so that the siege of Ardea being in a good condition, he resol∣ved to pass away a day or two at Rome, as well to discover by his own industry, which of the Cap∣tives was the daughter of Clelius, as to cause a strict search to be made after Aronces,

The next day therefore, without any further de∣lay, he departed, and came to Rome the same night, where he was no sooner arived, but the cruel Tul∣lia, who had perceived that Clelia had smitten the heart of the King her Husband, came and acquain∣ted (though she knew nothing of it) that the Cap∣tive whom he preferred before all the rest, was certainly the Daughter of Clelius, and Mistress of Aronces, which she augmented with a hundred other things of her own invention, to induce him to be∣lieve it. But he not being thereby convinced, and that the secret passion of his soul, flattered him into a Wish, that that person might not be the daughter of his Enemy, he gave the less credit to Tullia's relation. I know very well, answered he that by many argu∣ments, Clelius's daughter is among the Captives; for, to be short, they were taken escaping out of Ardea, whence the Envoy of the King of Clusium affirmes, that that daughter of my Enemy was departed not long before the siege. Beside, the Grand Vestal, Sister to Clelius, pleaded for their Liberty, with an earnestness by which I easily perceived, that there was an interest of family, which she was more ten∣der of, than any Vestal Privileges. But all this does not absolutely satisfie me, that this fair Captive, of whom you spake, is the daughter of Clelius. If you were not prepossessed, replied the fierce Tullia, you would believe as I doe; for as she is more beau∣tiful then the rest, so is she the more likely to kin∣dle a violent passion. Nay she is withall more gi∣ven to melancholly, she hath much the aire of a Roman Lady, she will not positively tell who she is; and I have observed, that twice or thrice she hath not answered to the name which she now hath, whence I infer, it is not her own, and that she is not yet sufficiently accustomed to the name which her companions have given her. But I beseech you, re∣plyes hastily Tarquin whence are you so resolved, that this beautiful Captive must be the Daughter of Clelius? When you have told me (replied she as fiercely) the reason, why you would not have her to be your Enemyes Daughter, I will tell you why I would have her to be so: Did you not know it, replyed he, I would tel you, but since it is so easie for you to imagine it, I shall spare my self the pains. However it be, replied she, know that I think it un∣worthy, that he who hath brought Rome it self un∣der subjection, should submit himself to a Captive, and haply the Daughter of his Enemy; and assure your self further, that Tullia, who hath violated all right to put the Scepter into your hand, can easily hinder that person from coming above her, who ought not to look on me, but kneeling.

Having thus said, this fierce Princess departed, and Tarquin being in a strange confusion of thoughts, was onely certain of this, that he had a greater affection to Clelia, than he had ever had for any. But indeed ambition had so taken up his whole life before, that it may be said, he had not the leisure to Love; but as things stand now, Ambition lay in a manner dor∣mant in his heart, since he saw no further object to engage his wishes. And since there is a certain re∣lation between Love and Ambition (since that cer∣tainly it is as great an ambition to reign in the heart of a beautiful person, as in a State) Tarquin was insensibly captivated by the beauty of Clelia. But as the cruel Tyrant knew as yet better how to hate then to love, he was strangely tormented in mind, fearing to find the same person the object of his hatred and his love. Is it possible, said he with∣in himself, that I should be so infortunate, as to love the daughter of Clelius? No, no, added he, it is an absolute impossibility, for my Heart without the as∣sistance of my Reason, would have soon discovered the Daughter of my Enemy, and would not have been guilty of so great a baseness as to have loved her. It must be so, continued he, there is such an Antipathy between Clelius and me, and I have so in∣veterate a hatred for him, that if he were certainly the father of this beautiful person, I should be na∣turally obliged to hate her. But in sine (continu∣ed he after he had paused a while) in case my heart have betrayed me, if I am really deceived, and that this fair and inchanting Captive be effectually the Daughter of my Enemy, what course should I take? At these words Tarquin stopt a while, but suddenly recovering himself, Ah! base spirit that I am, cryed he, do I deliberate how I should deal with the daugh∣ter of Clelius? No, no, continued he, I defie all fur∣ther deliberation, I must renounce her love, I must burthen her with my hatred and chains, and put her to death, to be revenged of her Father. But am I certain I should do what I say (said he again to him∣self) I have certainly in my life done things so ex∣traordinary, that such an action as this might be lookt on as an ordinary consequence of the greatness of my courage; but when all is done, I never did any thing that seemed so heard to do as this: I have sacrificed a Wife to my Ambition, tis true; but I had no great love for her. I dethroned Servius Tullius, I acknowledge it; but I had ever hated him; and I never yet met with a necessity should force me to destroy that which I loved because I have loved nothing but my own greatness, and therefore I must confess I am yet to resolve what I should do: if this fair prisoner proved my Enemyes daughter. Here Tarquin was silent, and having paused a while, he re∣paired to the lodgings of the Captives, with inten∣tion to try all means to discover which of them was the true daughter of Clelius.

But when he was employed in this visit, Aronces struggled with incredible afflictions. For as accor∣ding to his expectation, he had found the sage and generous Sivelia servent to serve him, so he was hid in her house, and by her means held correspondence with all the secret friends of Clelius and Herminius, as also with the Grand Vestal. Thus he knew all that passed in the Camp, and at Rome, for the Slave which Amilcar had sent, was come to him, and by Sivelia he knew all that happened in the City. But that was it that rendred him the more unhappy, for as the state of affairs stood then, he could not ratio∣nally hope to apply any remedy thereto, Tarquin's power seemed to be so strongly establisht, that no∣thing could shake it. He was indeed generally ha∣ted, but withall he was generally feared, in as much

as had he been beloved, he could not have been bet∣ter obeyed than he was; and to be short he was be∣come so dreadful, that men durst hardly think ought against him. There was not one true Roman who wished not it were in his power to destroy him, but there was not one who had courage enough to undertake it: so that it might be said that Rome had alwayes an infinite number of men fit to be con∣spirators, before there ever was any conspiracy; so dreadful were the proud Tarquin and cruel Tullia grown. Thus all that Aronces could do, was to bemoan himself, and endeavour to find out some means to send to Clelia, to see if there were any pos∣sibility to carry her away. But that was a thing seemed not so easie to be done, he being obliged ei∣ther to continue this retirement, or run the hazard of being taken. Sivelia was of such a high spirit, that she never went to Tullias; nor was the Grand Vestall's absence thence without suspition: it was not fit many were acquainted with Aronces's retirement in Rome; all which augmented his misery as much as could be. Tarquin's arrival was no small affliction to him, nay he escaped not the misery of being ac∣quainted with his visit to the Captives, and that the design of it was onely to discover which of the pri∣soners was the daughter of Clelius, so that his suffe∣rings were such as will hardly admit a perfect ima∣gination of them: For he considered himself every moment ready to be discovered and secured, and that Clelia would be found out by her fathers invete∣rate enemy, and the cruellest enemy that ever was. Alas (said he to himself, during the visit) what a deplorable condition am I in? for if Tarquin disco∣vered Clelia, and that the hatred he beares her father exceeds the love, it is said, he bears her, he will de∣stroy her, nay, will invent new torments to do it; but if his love to her shall outvie his hatred to Cleli∣us, to what persecution is she, to what misfortunes am I exposed? But cruel and proud Tarquin, con∣tinued he, though thou were loved as much by the People as thou art hated, and that all my subjects were thy Guard, nothing should discourage me from attempting to deliver Rome, that so I may deliver Clelia, if so be thou art so unjust as to evil intreat her.

But while the unfortunate Aronces thus sadly en∣tertained himself, Tarquin was in the lodgings of the Captives, from whom he had received the greatest civility which he could expect from persons, whose liberty could not be obtained without his consent. The end therefore of his coming thither that day, being to discover Clelia, he entertained them all se∣cretly one after another, as soon as the first civili∣ties were over. He was desirous Clelia might be the last he spoke with, because it was she he wisht might not prove the daughter of Clelia; so that not doubt∣ing but to find her among the Captives, he talkt with the sage Cesonia, the merry Plotina, and her companions before he spoke to Clelia. But though he sifted them very craftily, yet he could not make any great discovery; for being all excellently witty, and withall, bearing a great affection to Clelia, they told him nothing whereby he might be informed which was the daughter of Clelius.

But at length, taking Clelia aside, and viewing her sometimes with the looks of a Lover, sometimes with those of an Enemy (such a distraction was in his soul) I beseech you, Madam, says he to her, de∣liver me out of the greatest disquiet I ever was in, and, if it be possible, restore me into a condition, wherein I may both make you happy, and entertain some hope of being so my self. There is such a distance between your fortune and mine, replyes modestly Clelia, that I cannot easily imagine how the same thing can make us both happy: and, my Lord, continued she, can there be any thing wanting to your felicity? There is Madam, sayes he to her, and to acquaint you wherein my happiness is defici∣ent, you are to know, there are in my soul two passions, both which I would fain satisfie, that is, Revenge and Love; for, for my part, I have every where placed Revenge among the most violent pas∣sions, since there is not any thing from whence pro∣ceeds greater violence as to Desire, nor greater sense as to pleasure. I therefore conjure your assistances to appease these two passions which exercise such a Tyranny over my soul. As concerning Love, pursued the Tyrant, I shall need onely to tell you, that you were no sooner in my chains, but I was in yours, I need say no more to engage an answer from you which shall make me happy. But for Revenge you must tell me which of the Captives is the daughter of Clelius, for as for your part, I am con∣fident you cannot be the daughter of a man indepre∣cably hateful to me, and one whom I will destroy sometime or other, what part soever of the earth affords him a retreat. Clelia hearing Tarquin in such a fury, could not but blush, which he observing, and interpreting to signifie as much as that he might thence conceive she was the daughter of Clelius, he was surprised into the most horrid agitation of spi∣rit could be imagined. However Love prevailing in this first sally, Ah Madam (cryed he taking her by the hand) be not the daughter of my Enemy, I conjure you, for I perceive that all your beauty could hardly fasten love so in my heart, but that hatred would forcibly displease it, If therefore you are not Clelius's daughter, shew me her whom I must sa∣crifice to my vengeance; but if you are she, deceive me if you can, and name some other to me who shall suffer all those punishments which the daughters of Clelius (the daughter of my most mortal Enemy) deserves. I shall presently believe you Madam, con∣tinued he, and I shall not afterwards trouble my self to be undeceived, so you but satisfie the love I bear you.

What you tell me, my Lord (replyed Clelia, with an admirable expression of a great courage) is so sudden and so strange, that I hardly know what to answer to it: But now I am provided, and shall do it so exactly, that you shall not need any further to persecute either my companions or me. Know therefore my Lord, that I do not conceive my self any wayes obliged to tell you whether I am Clelius's daughter, or not, and so I shall tell you nothing which may give you any light in that you so much desire to know, yet shall not stick to tell you what I truly conceive of your demand, whether I am she or not. For if I am not she, but some one of my com∣panions be daughter to that unfortunate Exile, I will dye ere I discover her, having heard what I have said. But if on the contrary, I am she, whom yet you would not know, but that you might hate and destroy, I declare unto you, that if the meatal of my heart be right, I shall wish rather your hatred, than your love, and shall never submit to flatter the passion of a man would take away my father's life. Therefore, my Lord set your mind at rest for this

matter, for as my Companions will not betray me, in case I were Clelius's Daughter, so neither shall I discover whether the Daughter of Clelius be among them: And to puzzle your enquiry the more, I will not positively tell you, whether I am or I am not Daughter to that noble Roman. I would not be∣lieve that you are his Daughter (replyed he ab∣ruptly) but you discover somewhat the fire of his heart; and if the mildness of your looks did not a∣bate the sharpness of your words, I should immedi∣ately treat you as the Daughter of Clelius. As I am perswaded (replyes Clelia) that I have said no∣thing to you, which I ought not to have said, so I cannot admit of any repentance for it. But my Lord, continued she, whether some one of my com∣panions be Clelius's Daughter, or that I am she, is it possible you should not see, that your mind cannot be guilty of these cruel sentiments of detestation, without a greater injustice than any you now stand accused of? All the violence you have committed since you came into the World, were done in order to your mounting the Throne; but what would it advance you to sacrifice a wretched Captive? To be revenged, replyed he insolently, in the Daugh∣ter of all the mischiefs the Father hath, or hath en∣deavoured to do me. For I am certain, continued he, that in what place soever Clelius is, he is perpe∣tually plotting my ruine, and when he shall not imagine any possibility to accomplish his design, he will persecute me with his wishes, and it will be his affliction that he cannot do it.

But to be short (Madam) there is no mean in this case, you must either name me a daughter of Clelius, whom I may as highly hate, as I love you. I have told you already how gladly I would be decei∣ved; but my Vengeance requires a Victim, for in that transportation I now am in, if you do not what I desire, I shall deal with all your companions, as daugh∣ters of Clelius, that so I might not be deceived as to that point: And so while you receive from me a thousand and a thousand expressions of affection, they shall as many of my detestation, and pretended cru∣elty. Ah my Lord, cryed out the generous Clelia, though I were at my own disposal, though Tullia were not your Wife, and though you offered to raise me into the Throne, I should abhor the love of a Prince so unjust as you are. How now Coyness; sayes he to her, do you slight the passion of a man, who never loved any thing but Glory and You? Who hath brought all that have resisted him under subjection, who hath subdued a heart as great, and as high flown as yours, and yet makes you that of∣fer which never was made to any? In the mean time, continued he, do not imagine that what I say is an airy threat, for I go presently, and begin the pu∣nishment of your Companions, by separating them from you. To be short, Tarquin commanded the Captain of his Guards to be called, but Clelia stay∣ing him, no my Lord (sayes she to him, with an undisturbed generosity) it shall never be said, that I have altogether escaped the injustice of Tarquin; and my life, in the condition I am, is not so preci∣ous, as that it should be preserved by any treache∣rous act. Know then, unjust Prince, that I am the daughter of the noble Clelius, and that my true name is Clelia. Ah Madam! replied he, why do you tell me what I desire not to know? I tell it you (replied she with a wonderful constancy) that you may see I am not unworthy my Fathers virtue, and that though I had not my birth in Rome, yet I have a heart truly Roman.

Clelia uttered these words with a confidence so allayed with modesty and composure, that Tarquin was amazed at it. Ah Madam, cryes he, you must questionless have a greater sence of the love I bare you, than I imagined, since you discover such a se∣cret to me. But I know not (continued he sigh∣ing) what reason you have to trust me, for the a∣gitation of mind I am in, makes me uncertain whe∣ther I yet love you, or begin to hate you. Hate me, hate me, my Lord, replied she, for it will be much easier for you to satisfie your love. I have at this instant so great a desire to hate you, replied he, and have so much reason to justifie it, that I despair not to subdue that other cruel passion which is in my soul. But to do it the more easily, I must forbid my self your sight, for though I am incensed by your confidence, yet the sweetness of your looks dis-ingages my cruelty and dis-arms my fury. And I wish it the pleasure of the Gods, my Lord, re∣plyed she, I were so powerful as to re-instate Rea∣son in your Soul, and banish thence that injustice which makes you hate my Father, and so fills your government with violence, that you can never ex∣pect Love where you find Obedience. Ah, ex∣cessive Charm I (cryed he, relenting on a sudden) how little would I have the hatred of all the World, so I had but your love! You are yet, continued he, at liberty, to retract what you told me. Tell me, I conjure you, that your affirming your self to be Clelius's Daughter, was onely out of design to save your Champions, hoping the Love I bear you would exempt you from punishment: I promise you belief, and though all the World should tell me that you were my Enemies Daughter, and that he himself should confirm it, I would not credit it, if you did not tell me so your self. To be short, have you not observed, that I have not done what I might for your discovery, and on the contrary, have on∣ly said that by which I might not discover you? For I might more easily have scrued out this secret, by giving you hopes of all things, and promising to pardon the Father for the Daughters sake, which you might, with justice expect from a man so deep∣ly in Love as I am. Tell me then, I once more con∣jure you, that you are not Clelius's Daughter; de∣ceive me, since it is for your advantage I would be deceived: But to deceive me right, abjure the in∣terests of my Enemy, and if the sacrificing of Tul∣lia can translate you into her place, I can easily con∣sent to it. No, no, my Lord, replied Clelia, with∣out seeming to be moved, I shall never recant; and since I have confessed my birth to you, my discourse and resentments shall be proportionate to it. I will not promise so much for my part, replied he, for if you will obstinately persist to be his Daughter, who hath so often endeavoured to dethrone me, I shall soon deal with you, as such a mans Daughter deserves. When I told you my name was Clelia, re∣plyed she, I prepared my self to suffer all your out∣rages, and that like a Daughter of Clelius, that is to say, with an unalterable constancy. Hah, 'tis too much, cryes out the unjust Prince, so boldly to name my Enemy, and make it a glory to be the Daughter of a man who hates me beyond the mea∣sure of all hatred that ever was.

This fury having seized Tarquin's mind, it ex∣haled such black and ominous vapors into his imagi∣nation,

that though Clelia were the same she was wont to be, that is, one of the most beautiful per∣sons in the World, yet he looking on her with eyes troubled and eclipsed by the several passions which were stirring in him, thought her not now, what he thought her a quarter of an hour before. Being therefore as unlikely to treat her with the same re∣spect, he commanded her to be carried to a lodging apart, that she should be carefully watched, and should not be admitted to speak with any whatever. All her friends and companions, who were on the other side of the Chamber, hearing this unjust com∣mand, cast themselves at Tarquin's feet, to beseech him not to separate them from Clelia. If there be any one among you, replyed he insolently, that will be Clelius's Daughter instead of her, I will be content, if she be. For my part, sayes the generous Cesonia, there's not any thing I will not say or do, to keep such a vertuons person from being ill intreated. What you say is great and noble, replyed Clelia; but if you think me worthy of so high a testimony of friendship, I must intreat you not to envy me the Glory to be Daughter to the most vertuous Roman, that ever Rome was Mother of: Take not that from me, I conjure you, since it is almost the only com∣fort I have left me. At these words, Tarquin be∣ing at a loss of all patience, caused the order he had given for the separation of Clelia and her compani∣ons, to be put in execution, he remaining immallea∣ble amidst the Tears of so many eminent Beau∣ties; which done, he departed to his Apart∣ment.

But he was no sooner arrived there, but one of those he employed to discover what passed in the houses of those unfortunate Nobles he had banish∣ed Rome, acquaints him, that there was a man lay very secret at the vertuous Sivelia's house; adding, that it was in all likelyhood, Herminius, who was come away disguised from Ardea, and come to Rome to raise some tumult while he were ingaged in that Siege. Tarquin being then extreamly disturbed in his mind, did not at the first consider the probabili∣ty, or improbability of this report; but being al∣wayes ready to do violence, he commanded a strong party to go and search Sivelia's house, in case she should make any resistance against those should come and demand Herminius. But he had scarcely given this order, but another relation arrives and con∣firms the former, and assures him that Aronces lurk∣ed somewhere about Rome; so that concluding that he who was said to be at Sivelia's, might very well be the King of Clusium's Son, he called back him he had commanded to the Mothers of the generous Herminius; for considering that the business now concerned the taking of a servant of Clelia's, and one of so great quality, he made some distinction between an Enemy ard a Rival, and added some new Orders to the former, that, in case they should find at Sivelia's neither Aronces nor Herminius, they should bring to him the vertuous Roman Lady, to see if he could sift any thing, he desired to know, out of her.

He who was ordered to Sivelia's house, could not be there so soon, but, by her intelligence at Court, she had understood, that Tarquin had separated Cle∣lia from the other Captives, that she was narrowly watched, and that there was a rendezvous of those whom this Tyrant used to employ, when some vio∣lence was to be committed in any of the houses of those illustrous Citizens, whom he hated only for their virtue. So that she, as famous for her Pru∣dence as her Generosity, conceived that order might concern her, and that haply Tarquin had been acquainted with Aronces's retreat at her house; for Amilcar had once sent thither, and it was not impos∣sible, but that a Slave might reveal a secret of so great importance; So that to go prudently to work, she thought fit Aronces were accquainted with the state of Affairs, and considered what were to be done for his safety, if they came to search the house for him: For having a high esteem for him, and looking on him as a friend of her sons, and, though unfortunate, yet guilty of a great Vertue, she was resolved to do as much for Aronces, as she would for Herminius, for whom she would have done any thing. Engaged in this consideration, she went to Aronces, who had just made an end of writing to A∣milcar, and acquainting him how things stood, she proposed how much it concerned him suddenly to change his lodging. But I beseech you, sayes she, conceive not I make this Proposition to you, out of any suggestion of fear for my own concernments, for it is long since I am prepared for any violence the Tyrant shall be guilty of. But it so much con∣cerns you, that you be not taken, besides the satis∣faction my Son receives in my serving you, that I shall neglect nothing. The safest way therefore is, that you depart my house, and that very sudden∣ly, and lodge your self in some one less suspected. When you are gone, continued she, fear not, I shall discover where you are, though Tarquin put me to the greatest torments, imaginable. I should be very unhappy, replyed Aronces, if I should expose one of the most vertuous Ladies in the World, to so great misery, and I would rather return into the power of Tarquin, than lay you open to his cruelty, To be short, if the admirable and unfortunate Cle∣lia wanted not my assistance, I would spare you e∣ven that trouble of finding me a refuge. But (ge∣nerous Sivelia) it is you have acquainted me with her condition; and if the contrivances of Amilcar, seconded by your endeavours, with those of your friends, and Clelius's, put me not into a condition to carry her away, when Tarquin shall be returned to the Camp, I fear I shall be the most unfortunate man in the World, since that otherwise the earth shall not own a more unhappy person than Cle∣lia.

This done, Sivelia conceiving the departure of Aronces was not to be delayed considering the intel∣ligence she had received, told him, that for to make his retreat good, he should be let out at a back∣door into a blind street, abutting on the Cyprian street, and that there was a Garden-gate, which should be opened to him; as soon as she had acquaint∣ed herewith a certain friend of hers, who was Aunt to Brutus. But that you may be the more confi∣dent of her fidelity sayes she to him, know that this illustrious Roman Lady is a friend of Clelius's that she abominates the Tyrant, and that if her life might deliver Rome, she would be glad to sacrifice it. She is very ancient, yet guilty of a great vi∣gour of body and mind; a lover of Glory and Ho∣nesty, a Kinswoman of my Husbands, and one that hath a great affection for me.

Here Aronces staying her, told her, there need∣ed so much precaution, and that he wholly re∣signed himself up to her disposal; so that to lose

no longer time, Sivelia sent one of her servants to this Aunt of Brutus, whom she before had prepared for the business, having indeed alwaies foreseen what she now feared would happen; so that it be∣ing near night, all was accomplished with ease. Thus Aronces having taken leave of Sivelia, who promised to acquaint him with what she should learn, and to send him what ever came from Amil∣car, went from the house of this vertuous woman to that of Brutus's Aunt, who not knowing him as yet to be the son of Porsennas, entertained him onely as a friend of Clelius and Herminius, and an enemy of Tarquin.

But he was hardly out of Sivelia's, but he who was ordered to come to her house, was at the door followed by those that were able to force obedi∣ence. They soon were masters of the gates: but Sivelia knowing they could not find what they came for, she her self gave order all the lodgings of the house should be opened to them, Which done, the Tyrants officer in this business telling her, that he was commanded by Tarquin to bring her to the Palace; she told him, that heretofore she had more willingly obeyed him, when she was commanded to depart Rome, than she could now, that she was to go to a place where she had not set her foot since the death of the generous Tanaquil, and the Princess of Ameriola; but that howsoever she was ready to go along with him. To be short, followed by many of her Slaves, she is conducted to Tarquin, who no sooner cast his eye on her, but he asked her, whether it were Herminius or Aronces who had lain concea∣led in her house. My Lord (replies she without the least disturbance) if you truly knew what I am going to tell you, that is, that I shall tell you nothing which shall give you the least discovery of what you desire to know. For if neither Aronces nor my Son had been at my house, I should be obliged to say, I had not seen them; and if either of the two have really been there, I should so much the more ear∣nestly assure you that your intelligence hath been false, for there are some emergencies wherein truth it self is criminal. If you might therefore, with less trouble to your self, have spared your pains of sending for the widow of a man of a great vertue, whom you did not love, and mother of another, whom you hate, though all the world assure me he hath all those qualities which can render a person of Honour worthy to be loved. The question is not, whether I have, or have not reason to hate Hermi∣nius, replies the rude Tyrant, for I never much ex∣amined that in all my life, because I suppose those that are in soveraign power do right, when they do what they will. But the business now is, to tell po∣sitively in what place he now is, who lay secret in your house, and whom you now have disposed else∣where. No, no, my Lord, I shall never be forced to tell what I know not, or what I have no mind to reveal; therefore all I have to do, is to assure you that you get nothing out of me which may be pre∣judicial either to Aronces or Herminius, and that this resolution is such as no rewards, nor menaces, can make me change. Tarquin seeing this constan∣cy of Sivelia, was extreamly exasperated, and spoke all he conceived would shake her resolution, but it proved fruitless, and she behaved her self with so much cunning and indifference, that he was some∣what doubtful whether he had been truly informed. So that to gain leisure to examine his own appre∣hensions, he sent Sivelia back to her house, and commanded all out of his presence.

But this solitude lasted not long, for the cruel Tullia, who had learnt how things stood, came to tell him that he was not so diligent as he should be, to satisfie the King of Clusium, that in the mean time he might want the assistance of his armes, seeing the obstinancy of those of Ardea, and that for this rea∣son he should have searched for Aronces in all the houses in Rome. It is true (continued she, out of a hideous design of wickedness) there is a short and a surer way to satisfie Porsennas; for since, as they say, the daughter of Clelius is among the Captives, the onely way is suddenly to dispatch her, for that done, where ever Aronces be, he will soon resolve to return to Clusium, there being, questionless, no more approved remedy against Love, than the death of the person loved. I think the advice very good (replyes Tarquin somewhat sullenly) but present∣ly holding his peace, he studied a while, as if he would have examined whether that which Tullia said, or he said himself, was well or ill spoken. So that in this secret discourse, perceiving that Tullia passionately wished the death of Clelia, rather out of a suggestion of jealousie, than any reason of state, he became the protector of her, to whom he had carryed himself as a Tyrant and a Persecutor, and not acquainting Tullia that he really knew the daughter of Clelius, when you have advised me to put to death all these Captives; said he to her, you consider not, but that onely one can be my Enemyes daughter, that the rest are persons of quality of Ar∣dea; that, if we should happen to treat with that City, which defends it self so obstinately, these La∣dies will be demanded, and that it might prove of ill consequence to have recourse to so violent a reme∣dy in the present conjuncture. Those of Ardea will be the more hardly reduced, and the secret ene∣mies I have in Rome will make it the pretence of an insurrection, when I am returned to the Camp. Of a hasty man you are a very prudent man, replies smartly Tullia, but I am but too well satisfied, that your Prudence is more obliged to your Love, than to Policy. In the mean time I am to tell you, that though Ardea should prove irreducible by the de∣struction of these Captives, and that Rome it self should thence rebell, I shall find the means to destroy the daughter of Clelius, that it may never be said, that a Princess who lifted you up into the Throne, be so slighted by you, as to be thought less conside∣rable than a Captive. Fortune, Madam, replied fiercely Tarquin, hath placed you where you are, and me where I am; therefore let us continue as we are, and assure your self I shall ever do what I ought, to make the best use of that authority, which you say is derived from you.

As Tullia was going to make some mischievous reply, Amilcar (who had prevailed with Prince Sextus to send him to Rome, both to visit Aronces, and endeavour to make Tarquin return to the Camp, so to divert him from seeing Clelia) had sent in a message to the King for audience. Tarquin, who was well pleased, his conference with Tullia was thus interrupted, gave command he should be ad∣mitted, which caused this fierce Princess, who at that time regarded not what news came from the siege of Ardea, to retire grumbling, But Amilcar was scarce come in sight, but Tarquin having recei∣ved him as well as the present disorder of his mind

would permit, asked him the reason of his coming, My Lord, said he to him, Prince Sextus knowing what zeal I have for your service, hath been pleased I should come and represent unto you, how neces∣sary your sudden return to the Camp is, for since the enemy had understood by certain spies, that you were not there, they are strangely encouraged, in∣somuch that they have ever since excercised us with perpetual sallies. There is also a certain report scattered in the Army, which hath generally dis∣heartned your Souldiery, for it is said you intend to raise the Siege, and will not return any more to the Camp: Therefore am I come in the behalf of all your Captains, to conjure you to return as soon as you can possibly. Prince Sextus himself (added he very cunningly) acknowledges that his humour, inclined to pleasures and diversion; is not so pro∣per to retain soldiers in a regular discipline. Thus my Lord, if you credit me, you will soon disburthen your self of those affaires which detain you at Rome, and repair to the Army. For, to be free with you, I do not conceive you should be so ear∣nest to satisfie the King of Clusium, that you should be wanting to a design so important as the siege of Ardea.

Tarquin thanked him for his advice, and told him he would follow it, but that he must conninue yet a day or two at Rome. Amilcar having by this means insensibly dispersed part of the heaviness, which clouded this Princes heart, husbanded so discreetly his humour, that this fierce Tyrant entred into dis∣course with him, about Aronces and Clelia, as if he would play the mediator between Porsennas and them and that he had changed his sentiments of Clelius, though indeed it was onely to lure Amilcar, reciprocally to tell what he knew of them. But he being faithful to his friend and withal, reserved as Tarquin thought himself, told him nothing that could prejudice either Aronces or Clelia, though it were the hardest task in the world, for he must nei∣ther have over-flattered Tarquin's love, nor yet too much awaken hatred and there was a certain mode∣ration to be observed, which onely Amilcar was a∣ble to find out. But at length, after along confe∣rence, which amounted to nothing, Amilcar reti∣red. However, he could not that night have any account of Aronces, because it was too late; and not coming to know what had happened at Sivelia's till the next morning, he durst not go thither in the day-time. But as soon as it was night he visited that vertuous Lady, from whom he received all the civilities, which a friend of Aronces and Herminius could expect: so that as soon as the first salutations were over, and some little discourse about the pre∣sent posture of affaires, she told him she would bring him to the place where Aronces was. But generous Sivelia (said Amilcar to her, when he knew where Aronces lodged) doth not Brutus live with his Aunt? He does, replies the discreet Lady, but trou∣ble not your self for that. I am satisfied, replied Amilcar, he is a man will not dive very deep into your designes; but if I am confident of his stupidity on the one side, I am fearful on the other. To be short continued he, who told you that this man, who seems to have so little judgement and whom the world looks on almost as an Ideot, may not have wit enough to discover that Aronces lyes concealed at his Aunts? Not but that I am perswaded he hath more understanding than is believed, for I have seen him smile twice or thrice more opportunely, than if there were no reason for it. However it be, sayes the sage Sivelia, fear not Brutus, and be assured I would not have exposed your noble friend to any danger. I crave your pardon, Madam, replyes pleasantly Amilcar, and that for no light crime, since it is one of the greatest, that I had not absolutely cast my self on your prudence, but presume to dis∣pute any thing which the sage Sivelia had done. But I assure you I shall not, while I live, be guilty of such a miscarriage, and that I had not now slipt into it, if the friendship I bear Aronces had not made me fear what I needed not, since he is under your conduct. Friendship with me, replies the generous Sivelia, sig∣nifies a thing so sacred, that if it had engaged you into some speeches I must have distasted, I should not have been displeased. But it is not come to that, for what you said proceeded from caution, and were it not that I am better acquainted than you, with the whole family of Brutus, I should have been to blame to have done what I have.

This said, Sivelia, according to her first intention, caused Amilcar to be brought to Brutus's Aunts, where Aronces lay hid; but he had no sooner seen her, but he thought her worthy to be a friend of Sivelia's and that the affections of these two illustri∣ous persons were cemented with Vertue and Gene∣rosity; for she discoursed with him with so much judgement, and so great goodness, that he might justly conceive, that Aronces would not have trusted himself to a greater Sanctuary. But at length this il∣lustrious Romane, who was called Racilia, percei∣ving he was in some impatience to see Aronces, led him to his chamber, where none had so much a sight of him, save two Slaves, of whose faith his Lady was confident, not fearing to be deceived in them, as having in matters of great importance, where her whole house was concerned, made trial of their discretion.

As soon as Aronces perceived Amilcar, his pati∣ence quickly reacht him, to express the joy he had to see him, and to know what occasions brought him to Rome, and what, since his arrival, he had learned of Clelia. He had such an art to make his thoughts so easily intelligible, that though at first he uttered but four or five words Amilcar, by the paraphrase of his looks and actions, under∣stood all he would say. To spare him therefore the pains of asking, he told him in few words the occasion of his coming, and what he had done at Rome since his arrival, assuring him, for his greater comfort, he doubted not but take away Tarquin to the Camp, and consequently remove him, both from Clelia and him; adding, that he was really much obliged to Prince Sextus, who seemed concerned in his safety, and that of his Mistress. Alas my dear Amilcar, said he to him, I am afraid he is but too much concerned in Clelia. No, no, replyes this pleasant friend, you have now nothing to fear on that side, for 〈◊〉〈◊〉, the amiable Zenocrates and my self have done nothing since your departure but railed at 〈◊〉〈◊〉 haired Beauties, and celebrate the brown, and presently Lucrecia runs so in his mind, that he can talk of nothing else, unless it be when 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is present, nor can he well abstain then, and some dayes since transported with his a∣morous imaginations, he had almost discovered to him the passion he had for his wife. Ha, Amilcar, how am I obliged to you sayes Aronces, to have re∣moved

from me so terrible a Rival? and how much would you add to that obligation, if you could hin∣der Tarquin from being one? But if he were not, replyed Amilcar, he would be an enemy to Clelia, and she should be equally a mark of his hatred, or his love. Good God! cryes out Aronces, that which I think in this occurrance, is absolutely cri∣minal; for if I should believe my first apprehensi∣ons, I could wish Tarquin were rather an Enemy to Clelia, than a lover; but after a consideration, re∣sumed he, since that as an Enemy he might take a∣way her life, that as a Lover he may preserve it, and that his love is the necessary obstacle, which staves off the lamentable effects of his hatred; let us, if we can, wish that he may continue his love to Clelia, but let it be withall, our prayer, that we could dispose of her in such a place as where she may fear neither his Hate nor his Love. To this end, reply∣ed Amilcar, I shall make it my indeavour to conti∣nue in Rome, when I have obliged Tarquin to depart, to see if there may not be some means to corrupt the Guards of Clelia, to carry her away, or even to perswade the cruel Tullia to dismiss a Captive, who possesse the heart of Tarquin. Aronces, who could think of nothing but Clelia, swallowed all Amilcar said, as if things were really arrived to that pass, and as those whose souls are governed by a violent passion, he discoursed of occurrences which in pro∣bability would never come to pass. He made a hun∣dred frivolous objections, proposed for expedients, things almost impossible, though he knew them to be such, and he kept Amilcar so long that the sage Racilia was fain to send them word that it was time he retired lest that returning late to his lodg∣ing, he were suspected engaged in some Plot at Rome, and that it should be discovered it were so in∣deed; so that these two friends were forced to se∣parate. My dear Amilcar, sayes Aronces, embra∣cing him, how happy are you, that you are not ac∣quainted with Love! and how wretched am I, who have not the power even to wish I know it not, though all the unhappiness of my life proceed from this passion. Truly, replyes Amilcar smiling, if you knew how idle he is that loves nothing, you would not think me so happy as you do, for many times I know not how to dispose of my leisure, nor of my reason, no not of my thoughts: and were it not that my own frolick humour gave me some di∣version in the Camp, where there are no Ladies, I know not what would become of me; nay, so far am I from being able to elude Love, real of feigned, more or less, that many times I create to my self an imaginary love, which plaies with me the Lieute∣nant of a real one. This created passion, when I have none real, exercises my imaginations without disturbing my mind; and this amorous disposition, causing neither great grief, nor great joy, does yet gently entertain the fondness of my fancy. In this condition I can more easily make Love-verses, than when the soul is hurried away with some violent passion; and in this humour I can be almost as tri∣vially pleasant in talk, as if I proposed to my self all those indulgences, which feed the hopes of the happiest lovers. Ah, my dear Amilcar, cryed Aron∣ces, you rather affect Love in general, than direct it to your particular Mistress, and could I be but of your humour, I should be much less miserable than I am.

Being at this point, they heard a certain noyse upon the stairs, which enquiring what it was, they were told that Brutus was come into the house, so that Amilcar, to give him way to repair to his lodg∣ing, stayed a little longer with Aronces, yet not with∣out a little reflection on Brutus's late staying out, for that he could not imagine, that one of no grea∣ter designs than he, could be guilty either of hu∣mour or business to detain him so long. But he made no longer discant on it, and so parted with his friend, after he had once more promised him the utmost of his power for Clelia, and to engage Tarquin to a sudden return to the Camp, that he might endeavour in his absence to carry away this beautiful person, and that so, as Aronces and she might return to Clelius at Capua, to avoid at once the cruelty of Tarquin, and the violence of Porsennas. But for Amilcar, his intent was to pass into Sicily, and thence return to the Prince of Carthage his Master, knowing well, that by reason of the inte∣rests which were to be reconciled between the Re∣publique and that Island, Tarquin was not to be thought over considerable, Rome being not at that time able to wage a Sea-war.

But as humane prudence cannot with certainty foresee whatever shall come to pass, though one be ever so expert in the art of disputing by conjectures, Fortune disposed otherwise of things. At first sight it seemed likely things would have happen∣ed as Amilcar had imagined, for he acted his part with so much subtilty, that within two dayes he got Tarquin to return to the Camp. It is true, the former of these two daies proved infinitely-crosse to Clelia, for Tarquin came once more to visit her, and talkt to her things so contradictory, that it was easie to perceive that Hatred and Love caused a strange disorder in the heart of that Prince. But as his soul, through the whole course of his life, was ra∣ther accustomed to hate than to love, so he insisted more on things harsh and cruel, than those which speak sweetness and passion; and he much more ea∣sily found out words fit to express his hatred than his love: so that he omitted no menace he thought would oblige her to deny her self to be the daughter of Clelius, and to resolve to satisfie his passion. But she being fortified with a rocky constancy, a vertue that hath no parallel, and an extraordinary faith to Aronces, answered him with a confidence might con∣vince him, she would not retract what she had said. Whereupon having shook hands, with all hope of making her change her resolutions, and his love coming to act the last part, he remained a certain time silent, not so much as looking on Clelia, as if he were afraid her beauty might soften the hardness of his heart. He therefore leaned on a window which opened towards Mount Palatine, and musing on the present posture of his soul, Love became predomi∣nant, and flattered himself with a perswasion, that if he could subdue the hatred he bore to Clelius, he might conquer Clelia.

But he had hardly entertained the imagination, that to gain Clelia, he must send for Clelius, and re∣cant his own former apprehensions, but Love gave place in his turn, and Hatred as being the stronger, entred on the government of his Soul. So that be∣ing resolved to depart the Chamber where Clelia was, disorderedly he lifted himself from the window, and began to go towards the door. But not being able to do it without looking on the beautiful per∣son, and meeting with her eyes pregnant with a

new birth of tears, he once more suffered a change in his imaginations, and not taking the least time to consult. Well cruel person said he to her, what must be done to make you flexible? must I stifle the hatred I bear Clelius? Must I love you as the Daugh∣ter of my Enemy? Must his banishment be revoked? Must he be preferred before all other Romans? Speak Cruelty, speak, and set a price on your heart that I may purchase it; for to be short, I will sacri∣fice the hatred I bear Clelius, and the love I profess to Clelia; but that heart, as obstinate as it is, shall one day come into my possession. I am perswaded, replyes the generous Virgin, that if you should send for my Father to come to Rome, he would not consent, and that it were as hard for him to forget the injustice you have exercised towards him, as for you to forget your own cruelty. Therefore I have nothing to answer you, but what I have alrea∣dy, for I am not only against you, because you hate my Father, but also because he hates your tyranny, and that I hate it my self. Not but that if you could repent you of all your violences, the hatred might dissolve from my heart, but, my Lord, that love should take its place, it doth not follow, that which you desire of me being so absolutely impossi∣ble to be granted, that it is not worth your bestow∣ing a thought on't. Ah, 'tis more than enough (cryes out the Prince exasperated by the constancy of Clelia) and I cannot suffer this obstinate assu∣rance, wherein you so much glory. How, conti∣nued he, blushing for anger, I shall be thought weak for my desire; to love you as the Daughter of Clelius, for endeavouring to subdue my hatred, and offering a horrible violence to all my inclinations; and I shall be ashamed to have been guilty of this baseness to no purpose. If it be so, continued he with a certain threatning action, you shall rather repent your obstinacy. As I have never desired any thing but what reason and vertue suggests, reply∣ed Clelia, so, my Lord, do I never repent, nor can all your power ever oblige me to entertain a thought of that nature. We shall see that, sayes he arro∣gantly to her, when I shall once be able to hate you, which I hope I shall, if you learn not that I am well Versed in the art of Revenge, and that it is easier for Clelius to undergo banishment, than for you to suffer the torments I shall assign you. When you once begin to hate me, replyed Clelia, without the least agitation of spirit, you deliver me from one of my greatest torments, by disburdening me of your love. If I were of your opinion, replyed he, I would struggle with my passion, and love you while I live. If you take it so, answered Clelia, I must certainly be the more wretched, but you will be never the happier: Therefore, my Lord if you will trust me, hate me, since that thence only you must derive your quiet. My life is at your disposal, and there is no punishment which you may not in∣flict on me; but for my will, my Lord, it is not in your power to regulate it according to your humour, and my Father is the only man in the World, whose empire extends to that. Since you will have it so (replyed he with a Barbarism, which carried some∣thing terrible along with it) I will hate you, and that most horribly. But what do I say? continued he, I hate you already, and if I were not resolved to make you suffer a tedious punishment, you should not long hug your self in the vain-glory you derive from opposing one whom never any opposed but to his repentance.

Hereupon Tarquin left Clelia, but withal comman∣ded she might be carefully looked after, and that none whatsoever should speak with that fair and vertuous person, no not even Tullia her self. As he went out he met Amilcar, who desirous to disco∣ver somewhat of his sentiments, said to him smiling that he was come to beg the favour of him, that he might visit the Captives; for, my Lord continued he, I suppose you trouble not your self much to suf∣fer those to be seen whom you do not believe the daughters of Clelius. You are in the right, reply∣ed, Tarquin, and on the contrary, I should be well pleased you saw them, conditionally you will inform me what they shall tell of Clelia. I told you, my Lord, once before, replyed cunningly Amilcar, that I was a friend to Aronces, but that I do not conceive my self obliged blindly to humour his passion, if so be he be guilty of any, and it is not impossible but that I may be very serviceable to you in your design. But my Lord, added he, it is necessary I see Clelia her self, for from her companions I should get no∣thing, since they are not together, and it were much the shorter way, that I should see her the first, whe∣ther your desire be I should scrue something out of her which you would be glad to know, or that I must endeavour to make her change her resolutions. Besides, my Lord, continued he, I must needs tell you, and that with an ingenuousness which cannot proceed but from the earnest desire I have of your quiet, that great Persons, such as you are, cannot condescend to a hundred trifles which yet must be known to make one able well to Husband the incli∣dations of Women. You have spent your whole life, either to learn the art of Government, or to put in practise some noble kingly Science, which consists only in things high and soveraign; but on the con∣trary, to discover the Secrets of Women, and take in the Garrisons of their spirits, a man need ascend no higher than a certain Art, called the Trifling Art, if I may so express it, which I have studied all my life, and am admirably perfect in. In the mean time, my Lord, you are not to conceive, that this Art is easily learned, for, take it from me, there is as much required to know all the several wayes of Applica∣tion, wherein a man must address himself to the Re∣served, the Jocund, the Fair, the Deformed, the Gentle, the Fierce, the Weak, and the Obstinate, as skilfully to govern several nations of several in∣clinations: For whereas ordinarily every Nation is actuated and informed by a certain general inclina∣tion, almost all Women are so wedded to their par∣ticular humour, which must necessarily be found out by him whose business it is to over-master it. There are some a man must be as submissive to as a Slave; there are others which you must in a manner slight, before you have their love. There are some cannot be brought acquainted with Vice, but by continually preaching of Vertue to them; others on the contrary, though pleasantly free in discourse, yet of a constant Vertue. There are some, into whose greatest secrets you skrue not your self, but by entertaining them with trivial stories; there are others only reducible by Presents; others whom you engage when you give them occasion to present you with any thing; there are, to be short, so ma∣ny several sorts, that, without any extraordinary correspondence with Woman-kind, a man may be easily deceived. But for my part, my Lord, I dare brag I cannot be, and if you would pump out any

secret, I am the fittest handle in the World for such a business. I am convinced, replyes Tarquin, but the question is, whether a friend of Aronces be fit to make representations of Clelia. At these words Amilcar was a little to seek, for that a certain punctilio of Vertue made him a little shie, and hard∣ly induced even to deceive Tarquin, though a Ty∣rant; but considering there was no other way for him to serve his friend, he answered him in such am∣biguous terms, that Tarquin might expound them well, even according to his intention. So that re∣ally believing that Amilcar thought it more advan∣tagious for Aronces, to suffer himself to be cured of the love of Clelia, than to persist in the disease of it, he was inclined to burthen him with part of his secrets. Whereupon, taking him along with him to his chamber, he entertained with a Panegyrick upon Aronces, telling him how earnest he was for his quiet and his glory, and to rid him of his love, he was, if possible, to be perswaded that Clelia loved him not, and to perform this the better, it was to be certainly discovered whether she did love him truly. It is true, continued Tarquin, correcting himself, that Aronces is a person so amiable, that it is not to be doubted but that he is beloved where he loves. Ah my Lord, replyes Amilcar, smiling with that freedome he took, when he endeavoured to please, it is apparent that your soul hath been guided by Ambition, rather than Love, since you conceive there is any regard of equity in the choyce of a Lover. Besides that to speak truly, a King can never be well acquainted with things of this na∣ture, for the respect which men bear to persons of your quality, causes them not to appear to you without disguise; and so you are to learn, that there is nothing so humorous as the choyce which Love makes. For sometimes you see men of excellent parts love persons of ordinary merit; and very of∣ten it's observed that Women despise very hand∣some men, and adore others, who can boast of almost nothing recommendable. For which reason I have ever relyed more on the fantastick humours of those I have loved, than on my own Addresses and Services, nay than on a certain Drollery I am guilty of, which they say, is sometimes requisite to entertain Ladies. Therefore, my Lord, though Aronces be indeed, a graceful person, it follows not he is beloved, and if you will grant me the liberty to entertain Clelia, I promise you a faithful account of her heart. I am content, replyes Tarquin, con∣ditionally you truly inform me, whether she love A∣ronces or not. But my Lord, (replyes Amilcar ve∣ry cautiously) I do not engage my self to discover the whole secret of her Soul at the first visit, and you must give me leave to see her more than once; nay it were not amiss if you suffered Plotina to be with her, for she being a merry conceited Lass, and one that pretends some friendship to me, I may make use of that affection to make her reveal what you de∣sire to know.

This Amilcar uttered, in a manner seem'd so na∣tural, that Tarquin, notwithstanding his distrustful humour, was surprized by it: So that by this means Amilcar got one of Clelia's friends to be with her, and had the liberty to see her, which was no small comfort to that beautifol Captive, and the unfor∣tunate Aronces, whom Amilcar acquainted with all this the same day. But to continue this intelligence, he related divers things to Tarquin concerning the consent of these two persons, whence he conclu∣ded, that he really was an engine very fit to discover what he was impatient to know.

In the mean time, the news that came from the Camp, pressing Tarquin's return thither, he left Rome, not being fully resolved whether he should love or hate Clelia, none being able to guess whe∣ther of these two passions should have the disposal of his mind. For, in some strict charges that he gave, he provided that the cruel Tullia should not, in his absence, meddle with the Captives; and in o∣thers he seemed to be the absolute disposer of Cleli∣a's destiny. He set over her as a guard, one he had employed in his most horrid cruelties, for it was the same who was accused of having poysoned Brutus's Father and Brother, by the command of this cruel Tyrant, who had never furnished him but with such tragical Commissions. Nevertheless he command∣ed him to admit Amilcar into Clelia's Chamber, un∣til he should receive order to the contrary, allow∣ing this friendly African eight dayes to find out the true apprehensions of Clelia, which expired, he was to render him an account. He also charged all those Spies, whom he had alwayes kept at his own charge, to use all means possible to discover if Aronces were not at Rome, and to learn precisely who that man was, who (he had been informed) lay hid at the vertuous Sivelia's. He spake more insolently than ever he had done to the cruel Tullia, who certainly wanted not an earnest desire of being able to destroy him whom she had elevated into the Throne, could she have hoped to be countenanced either by the Se∣nate or People.

But her cruelties had so allarmed the general ha∣tred against her, that she could not hope the least assistance, though she should undertake to destroy Tarquin, for that none would have trusted her.

Amilcar, in the mean time, acquainting Aronces with every dayes adventures, they sent to the Camp, and writ to Artimedorus, Zenocrates, and Celeres, that they might take notice of what passed; as also that they should oblige Prince Sextus to do what lay in his power for Aronces, and keep Tarquin from re∣turning to Rome, at least till the siege of Ardea was over: On the other side Sivelia, going almost every day to Racilia's, visited Aronces, where was resolved what was to be done. These two vertuous Ladies went also sometimes to see the grand Vestal, but se∣cretly, and advised with her about the means to re∣lieve Clelia. But though Aronces, by the advice he gave, was as active for Clelia as any other, and was as it were the intelligence of all those designs which were moving for her Liberty, yet he was over∣whelmed with incredible misfortunes, but chiefly for that he was forced to confine himself for certain dayes, not daring to stir abroad for fear of being taken, and that he durst not act by himself.

In the mean time, Amilcar knowing whatever news was stirring in Rome, as well as if he had lived there all his life, found there was a knot of young men, persons of quality, who were very desirous to shake off the Yoke of Tyranny; and when they were sure they were not heard, expressed their ha∣tred of the Tyrant with much freedome, though till that time none durst so much as speak of him, e∣ver since he was established in his power. But being very raw, as if it were the first Year of their ac∣quaintance with this World, their courage much

exceeded their prudence, so that Amilcar looking on those young men as fit for the execution of any dangerous enterprise, if there were need, thought fit to court their correspondence; for though they were of the Army, yet they often came to Rome, the distance between it and the Camp being not great. Besides that, upon Tarquin's return thither, a cessation of all hostility for eight dayes was agreed on; during which time there were some offertures made of an Accommodation.

In the interim, two Nephews of Publius Valerius, a Kinsman of Horatius, and an Uncle of Lucrecia came to Rome, into whose company Amilcar shuffled himself so handsomely, that they distrusted him not; and he so flattered their humours by the sport he had made them, that he soon commanded their hearts: so that he concluded, that if there were any occasion for them, he might command them, es∣pecially if they were to be imployed against Tar∣quin; for they were no longer scrupulous even in his presence, to discharge whole vollies of derisi∣ons and imprecations at the Tyrant. There was one thing which particularly made them glory in their Resentments, which was, that there was ano∣ther combination of young men which they called, by way of abuse, the Slaves of favour; for indeed the young Vitellians, the Aquillians, and Brutus's two Sons, who were yet of the youngest, were much at the devotion of Prince Sextus and the two Princes his Brothers, so that not being able to comprehend how those, whose fathers and most of their friends, had been destroyed through the cruelty of Tarquin, could be faithful to the Prince, they cast at them, among themselves, all the inju∣ries imaginable, whence Amilcar presumed he should find them ready to execute any adventurous action when occasion should serve.

But during the cessation of the siege of Ardea, it seemed to be the pleasure of Fortune, there should be a kind of a general truce in the hearts of so ma∣ny illustrious afflicted persons. For Aronces had the opportunity to write to Clelia, by Amilcar, and by the same hand received her answer. Clelia con∣sequently had the happiness to receive fresh expres∣sions of her Lovers faith, and to give reciprocally the like of hers. Plotina had the felicity to see A∣milcar, who was so precious in her esteem; Amilcar had the satisfaction to entertain her, and the glory of being so effectually serviceable to his friend. And the vertuous Sivelia was felicifyed in the company of her illustrious Son, who taking the advantage of the Truce, came disguised to Rome, not onely out of a consideration of love, but also to see his noble Mother, and visit Aronces, whom he was not a little glad to acquaint with what he knew of Ho∣ratius, as also to endeavour to do him some good office: for he had received by the Spies which those of Ardea had in Tarquin's Camp, that Aronces was not there, and was conceived to lurk in Rome. So that not doubting but that Sivelia could give some account of him, his resolution was to be fully satisfied. Horatius for his part, in his excessive affliction, had some benefit by the Truce, for that it afforded him the leisure to perfect the cure of his wounds, and to consider what he should do to out∣vie the generosity of his Rival, yet without viola∣ting the interest of his love. Nay, even Tarquin himself was at some ease, for that he received from Amilcar, what gave him some shadow of hope.

As for Prince Sextus, he had the least share in this happiness, for the love of Lucrecia exercised such a tyranny over his soul, that he had not the least com∣mand of it himself.

As for Prince Titus, and the Prince of Pometia, they also having some secret interest to manage at Rome, found their convenience of the Truce as well as others: Nay, even the cruel Tullia put on a little more cheerfulness, and became less furious than she was wont, as being in some hopes to corrupt him who kept Clelia, who not conceiving himself suffici∣ently rewarded for the late murthers he had com∣mitted by the orders of Tarquin, seemed enclined to swallow the promises of this cruel Princess.

Things being in this posture, the noble Hermini∣us came one evening to Sivelia's, Amilcar being in the house, who was extreamly glad to see him, for he had a natural affection for him, and infinitely esteemed him for his parts and vertue. Herminius also, who had as great experiment of the merit of Amilcar as any living, was overjoyed to find him at his vertuous Mothers, from whom he had received a thousand expressions of tenderness, which he had requited with as many obliging testimonies of gra∣titude and true friendship.

But Sivelia's enjoyment was somewhat obscured by a certain fear she had, lest her Sons return might be discovered; but Tarquin not being at Rome, and Amilcar advising, that Herminius should for more safety, lodge with Aronces, she was received and with more quiet enjoyed the presence of a Son, in whom all the vertues made a glorious constellati∣on, and in whom his greatest enemies found not the least declination to any evil habit. For indeed Herminius was in his inclinations noble, in heart free, passionate, compassionate, and generous; in humour he was mild, civil, obliging, complaisant, having a mind fit for all things, and fortunate in finding out many pleasant and innocent circumventions to divert his friends of both sexes. Moreover, though he was a very discreet person, and sufficiently reser∣ved among those who had not much of his compa∣ny, yet, when he pleased, he screwed up his humour to a certain bravery and sprightliness; but to those he loved not this was mystical, and his fro∣lickness might confidently be taken for an expression of his esteem and his affection. He was excellent good at writing of Billets of all sorts, and had such a happy and easie vein of Verses, that it was Amil∣car's judgement, Greece afforded not a more gene∣rall, a nobler, and a more nimble wit, than that of Herminius, insomuch, that sometimes he would wish he might change wits with this illustrious Roman saying, that Phocilides the Milesian, who was then alive, had never made better Verses then he, nor Sappho more amorous. Amilcar therefore having an infinite esteem for Herminius, made a thousand obliging expressions to him at his coming to Sivelia's, but at last left this dear Son with his excellent Mo∣ther. But after promise he should go to Aronces his loding, whither he was going himself, and where, according to his custome, he used to pass a∣way the Evening. Sivelia therefore having ac∣quainted Herminius how all things stood which con∣cerned his fortune, sent notice to Racilia of her sons arrival, and begged the same favour for him as she had done for Aronces. To which that generous Matron having made such answer as was fit she should, Herminius went to her house, where he was

received as a kinsman of her husbands, and as a friend for whom he had a great tenderness. He had also the happiness to see a Neece of hers, whose name was Hermilia, a Virgin, if any in the world, had extraordinary excellences both of body and mind; but he was much surprised to find that nei∣ther Aronces nor Amilcar had so much as seen her. Not that Racilia was confident of the discretion of this Beauty; but the reason she gave Herminius, was, that she found Aronces so afflicted, and Amil∣car so frolick, that she thought the melancholy of the one would not admit diversion, and the frolick humour of the other was enough for his friend and himself. But Herminius assuring the interest of a Kinsman of the fair Hermilia, told her Aunt, that his friends must needs see her; Racilia then, without delay, accompanied with her daughter, conducted Herminius to Aronces's chamber, where they found Amilcar, who had that day brought a Letter from Clelia to that illustrious Lover, which consequently affording him as great satisfaction, as the unhappy state of his affairs would permit him to receive, he entertained Herminius with a many expressions of gladness, having first asked Racilia leave to embrace his friend. But these first ceremonies of friend∣ship being over, Herminius presented Hermilia to him, acquainted him who she was. How, cryes out Amilcar, hath this fair Virgin been in the house e∣ver since I came hither? She has, replyed Herminius smiling, and had it not been for me, this Treasure had been yet hidden from you. Ha Madam, sayes Amilcar to Racilia, your generosity is very great in regard of your compassion, not to consider that the sight of this beautiful person is an excellent medi∣cine for unfortunate persons. It may be, replyed obligingly Aronces, she is as likely to make, as to cure such. But if you'l believe me, sayes Racilia, there is no great danger of her doing either, for she ever sayes that a man is not to seek his comfort any where but in himself, and that in her own nature she is so harmless, she can do no hurt, which her compassion shall not allay, if it cannot cure. As I have never been so unhappy as to do any, replied the modest Hermilia, so I am not certain whether I should be so good as I am believed, and so I should have as great a pitty for those ills I were guilty of, as for those I were not.

This past, Aronces being Master o'th' Ceremoni∣es in his own chamber, though it were in Racilia's house caused these Ladies and his two friends to sit down. It is true, that while Amilcar spoke to this vertuous Roman and her Neece, Aronces listned to Herminius, who acquainted him with all he knew of Horatius. As I am true to you, sayes he in a low voyce, I must needs confess that I have discovered in your Rivall, the most generous resentments in the world; for it is constantly believed, that in some intervals, he wishes he could love you, and that he could give over loving Clelia. But in o∣thers he hath an extream indignation to be obliged to you for his life, and cannot but wish himself the possession of her whom you love, or at least desires you might not possess her. So that Generosity and Love being at continual variance in his heart, Reason, instead of deciding so great a difference, sometimes is of one side, sometimes of the other, and rather soments than qualifies this civil war. But I pray, sayes Aronces to him, how long may Ar∣•••••• hold out? for it concerns me the Siege conti∣nue, that it may be the longer ere Tarquin return to Rome. As for Horatius and my self, replies Hermi∣nius, we shall maintain it so well with the general assistance of the inhabitants (who are so resolute, that they will not yield till after all extremities) that in case the Treaty come to no effect; as I verily believe it will, Tarquin shall find he hath more work to do then he conceives; for his Army is dai∣ly weakned, and the People of Ardea becomes more warlike by Discipline, so that it is probable our For∣ces will be the greater at the end of the Siege, than they were at the beginning, though we have no forraign supplyes.

But while Aronces and Herminius were thus inga∣ged, Amilcar entertained Racilia and her charming Neece; and having an admirable insinuation, to sift out any thing he had a mind to know, and yet do it by way of diversion, he pleasantly asked Racilia why the women at Rome were reserved, and more given to solitude, than in Greece or Africk, or in∣deed in any other parts of Italy. Is it that the men are here more terrible? or is it that the wo∣men are guilty of too easie a resentment of (not to say) a greater disposition to love? or is it that they are threatned more like prisoners? If you had known Rome, as I have known it, replied Ra∣cilia, you had much more reason to speak as you do; for when I was young, all the women were as reser∣ved as so many Vestalls, they were not seen but in the Temples, and upon Festival dayes, Marriages were contracted rather upon consideration of the interests of Families, than any acquaintance of the persons, and mens hearts are so inflamed by a love of Fame, that they thought not of any thing else.

But since the death of the vertuous Tanaquil, and the dethronement of Servius Tullus, the greatest part of the Roman Ladies are not indeed Romans, and women live a manner here as they do in other places. But a little farther, sayes Amilcar, I would fain know why they are also more austere here than in other cities, and why they have been yet more then now they are? For my part, replyed Racilia, when she had well considered it; I think, it proceeds from this, that Rome was built by men that had no wives, and who came not by them, but by forcing them from their neighbours. For be∣ing at the first afraid, lest they should again forsake them they kept them very strictly, and used them to a solitarie kind of life, which after became cu∣stomary and decent. Certainly, replyed Amilcar, this decency is very unjust and very rigorous. Be∣sides, continued he, if the women at Rome, were not handsomer then elsewhere, I should be contented they were mewed up, but they are so handsome, that it is an affront to the Gods who govern the world, to hide the greatest ornament of it, and I am confident, he who should take the fair Hermili∣a's opinion in this case, would find that her thoughts and mind were at no great distance. As I am not handsome enough replied she smiling, to oblige you to conceive that I am troubled for the sight of the world, so am I to learn what makes you believe there is such an affinity between our thoughts. If I durst tell you before the sage Racilia, what your Glass tells you as often as you consult it, replies A∣milcar, you would acknowledge I had reason to say what I do, and withall perswade your self, that there is no Beauty in Rome hath so much cause to quarrel with the retirement of Women, nor so

much reason to rejoyce that it begins to diminish I know not (interrupted Racilia, smiling with a certain Majesty) whether Hermilia can answer what you say, but had it been to my self at her age, I should not have been much troubled at it. I am so desirous, replied pleasantly Hermilia, not to do you any dishonour, that if I should answer, I might hap∣ly answer to purpose, but being not assured of it, I had rather return nothing to such webs of flattery; and he that weaves them, knows well enough that I am not to be caught with them, and haply con∣ceives I should, could I not blush at his commenda∣tions. You answer so nobly, in not answering, re∣plied Amilcar, that certainly I am not the first that told you that you were one of the greatest Beau∣ties in the world. But to return into our way (said he, directing his speech to Racilia) I would gladly ask you, Madam, who are Vertue it self, whether you believe these extraordinary retire∣ments are the only pales of Modesty, which is so natural to the Sex, and whether, on the contrary. an honourable liberty may not contribute a great lustre to their vertue. For what commendation can that woman derve, who sees not any either pleasures her, or she can affect, to have all her life∣time a new heart, which she knows not on whom to bestow, had she a desire, and which none desires of her? However, replyed Racilia, there are at Rome, as well as other places, women that bestow their hearts. If it be so, returned Amilcar, I be∣lieve they bestow them unhandsomely and out of time, for there being not here so great a freedom of Conversation as there is in Africk, they must needs bestow them, not knowing on whom, and must measure men onely by the outward sight, which is the most deceitful thing in the world. To be short I know a man in Greece who is well-set, hand∣some, of a good stature, a good face, free in his action, ia his carriage noble enough, and at the first sight, one that seems a man of business and qua∣lity; for he acquits himself very well of his first complements, comes confidently into company, de∣parts the same, is not discountenanced at any thing, and till you ascend higher than the questions, of what weather it is, or some such piece of intelli∣gence, comes off pretty well. He laughs with a good grace, so it be with others, but the mischief is, that when he laughs alone, he laughs in a wrong time, and then are discoverd a low reptile spirit, that creeps not up neer a Mediocrity, and a soul purely materiall, Judge now, if some great Beau∣ty who had seen this man, onely in the Temples, or on some Festival-dayes, and should bestow her heart on him, would not be finely trapanned. Your exaggeration is so pleasant, replied Racilia, that if all men had such excellent parts as you have, •• should not quarrel, that there is a free toleration or Conversation in Rome since Tarquin's govern∣ment, and Tanaquil's death. But to be plain with you •• think it a very extravagant thing to have a house open to all manner of persons, and to enter∣tain a sort of trifling Amorists, to tell trivial stories unhandsomely, and to no purpose; and in what countrey soever I had been born, I should never had loved company without choice. Nor are there many true Romans that do so, and those who are any thing careful to preserve the customes of their countrey, comply with the times with a certain moderation, which makes a distinction between their Houses and an Exchange, so far as to banish so∣litude. In few words there is here a noble perso∣nage, who is called Publius Valerius, who hath a daughter of excellent endowments. To all per∣sons of Honour his house is open, and he freely suf∣fers his friends to see both his wife and daughter Valeria.

At these words Herminius, who was talking with Aronces, and who confusedly heard the name of Vu∣leria, made a stop, and harkned to what was said of her, which made Racilia, who knew that Lady had a great interest in the heart of Herminius, smile a little, however going to continue her story, Amil∣car staying her, Ah Madam, said he to her, I beseech you tell me whether this Valeria be of my acquain∣tance or not, or am I the most abused man in the world, if I have not once seen her with the Queen; She goes not often thither, replied Hermilia; but certainly it must be the same that I mean, replied Amilcar, for, being extreamly taken with her, I ask∣ed whether she came not often to Tullia, and I was told, very seldome. But to be further assured whe∣ther it be the same, I can onely tell you, that she, whom I saw with the Queen, and whom I was infi∣nitely taken with, is a Lady of a mean stature, and hath not such great staring eyes, as are sometimes the emblems of a natural stupidity, but such as be∣ing neither great nor little, cast a ray full of mild∣ness, passion and spirit, which pleases and charmes, and which at once argues ingenuity, vertue, good∣ness and love. Moreover, she hath a sweet, spright∣ly, and a serious look, which is infinitely pleasing. Her mouth is narrow, her lips carnationed, some∣thing a pale complexion, her hair ashie coloured, and the air of her countenance so free and so noble, that a man cannot but come near her as soon as he sees her. And, to be short, I prevailed so much, that I stood two hours near this inchanting Beauty. Could you as exactly describe her mind as you have her person, replied Herminius, you would make an excellent piece of it. I am of your mind, sayes Her∣milia smiling, that indeed Amilcar had admirably drawn Valeria; but he shall give me leave to tell him, that, for her mind it is you onely are concer∣ned to commend it, though it deserve the commen∣dation of all the world. I confess (sayes Amilcar, not giving Herminius leisure to answer) that I had not time to discover the whole mind of Valeria, but if I have not known it, I have guessed at it, and I am confident she hath at once, a great, noble, lofty, pleasing and modest mind; and to advance a lit∣tle higher in my discovery, I also affirm, she hath a heart full of passion and tenderness, and that if she be not in love, she is fit to be, and that most passio∣nately. Ah Amilcar, cryed out Herminius smiling, you know more of her than I, for I can tell you no news of Valeria's heart. Without being curious to dive too deep into your secrets, replied Racilia, I must needs agree in the same vote with Amilcar; for I be∣lieve Valeria fuel for the greatest affection. How∣ever, I have not a whit the less esteem of her, continu∣ed she, because I am satisfied, she will never be guil∣ty of an irregular affection, and whereas she is guil∣ty of tenderness, she is so much the more worthy praise; since it is not to be doubted, that she ever loved what was not worthy to be loved, and con∣stantly endeavours that her esteem and her friend∣ship may be the reward of Vertue. Herminius hearkned to this discourse of Racilia, with an extra∣ordinary

content, and it was easily perceivable, that, if he durst, he would have said much more of her than she: insomuch as Aronces observing it, whispe∣red to him as much as signified, that he was convinced that Valeria governed his heart. But perceiving, as he spoke to him, that he was unwilling to make a publick profession of it, he diverted the discourse, and thought to make an end of it where it began, pleasantly concluding, that though the Roman Se∣verity were guilty of no other inconveniences, but depriving us of the acquaintance and conversati∣on of Valeria, it ought to be condemned.

But I assure you, replied Amilcar, it is guilty of many more, for, to speak truly, there are two things which are in a manner equal in the hearts of all people, in what place soever they are born; the desire of Liberty, and a certain natural inclination to Love; and I am confident there is not a woman in Rome, but could love some one or other, if she would be guilty by her inclination, and would be glad to be at liberty. In the mean time, according to that manner of life which they are forced into, they are reduced to an impossibility both of being loved, or loving innocently, and locked up as Cap∣tives. Whence it will happen, that those whom nature hath endued with a passionate inclination, and a violent desire of liberty, will hate their Fa∣thers, Mothers, the custome of their Countrey, and their own Vertue, which forbids them a thou∣sand and a thousand indifferent things. So, to come nearer what I aim at, walking, conversation, no∣ble entertainments; whereas they are in themselves harmless pleasures which bring no dishonour to those who make use of them, are transformed to crimes to almost all the women of Rome, through the impatient desire they have to them, and the con∣tinual quarrelling they have with those who forbid them the use thereof. For in fine, it is not so far from hence to Capua, but they can hear that such a severity is not exercised there as here. It is true, said Aronces, that to speak rationally, the vertue of women is checked very much by an excessive re∣straint, and a denial of those pleasures, which bring with them nothing of scandal. Ha, generous A∣ronces, cryed out Racilia, that which to you seems so harmless, is not of so little consequence as you conceive.

As I have lived a many years, and have been bani∣shed Rome long enough to know how they live in other places, so I can assure you, that those things whereof you make so slight account, are those which cause the greatest disorders that happen among wo∣men. I am so well opinioned of my own sex, that if my judgement be taken, there is no woman can at first sight prove faulty, nor can be guilty of any pre∣meditated design to engage her self into a dange∣rous affection. But commonly, familiarity, oppor∣tunity, a desire to please, the pleasure of their con∣versation, whom we see often, the enjoyment they mutually receive from us, the desire to be preferred before others, and friendship it self, do all contri∣bute to the generation of Love, who would never be born in Solitude, nor would ever appear, if men would onely be contented to look on women at publique Festivals, and not speak to them. For we must not say that Love is the child of that Beauty which passeth to the heart through the eyes onely; since it is an error condemned by experience, that this passion is not lasting, when it is bred and nou∣rished by the onely desire of Beauty.

But to return where I left, I knew a woman at Tarentum (during the time I followed my banished Husband) who had been brought up by her Mother according to the Roman severity, insomuch, that though she were very beautiful, yet did she live in a great restraint, though in a City where there is li∣berty enough. She however bore it patiently, was satisfied with her manner of life, she was pleasing, jocund, and seemed to be so indifferent, that it was said in the house, that Madam Indifference did what she pleased. For my part, it was ever my opinion, that the moderation of her humour was her onely felicity. However it be, being of this condition, her mother having some business in the Country, left her with an Aunt of hers, who was not so much addicted to solitude as she; but she had not left her behind, had not some little indisposition of body disabled her for the journey. To be short, she kept her chamber four or five dayes, during which time being not very sick, her Aunt, for her diversi∣on sake, admitted to her all those that came to visit her. The first day she being utterly unacquainted with this fashion of the world, was very trouble∣som to her; the second proved little better; the third she did not think very tedious; the fourth she thought very divertive; and the fifth, she was the first took occasion to inveigh against her for∣mer solitude, and did it so gracefully, that she infi∣nitely pleased an honest man who was there that day. The man hereupon making it his business to return her the content he had received from her, came at last to please her effectually; yet could he not assure himself an interest in her heart. For as Indifference is the temperament of pratling Cock∣nies, so she had not much more affection for this Lo∣ver than for another, but had such a huge ambition to be courted, that she became the veriest Gossip that ever was; and all the endeavours of her Mo∣ther, when she returned out of the Country, could never cure the infection she had contracted from this worlds conversation. You had spoke more tru∣ly, if you said that of solitude, replied Amilcar, for in my opinion, all the disorder of her mind proceeded from the solitude she had lived in before, which made all things seem new, all things pleasant to her, her mind and senses being equally surprised by that which was strange to them. The great secret there∣fore is to accustome young people to all harmless pleasures, lest they should one day prove dangerous to them. For certainly it is with pleasures, as it is with perfumes, which a man smells not when he hath alwaies about him. Therefore added he plea∣santly, if ever I have a daughter, she shall dance as soon as she can goe; the first word shall be taught her, shall be Gallant, she shall know Love's name be∣fore her own: and after all this, she is more likely to prove a Vestal, than a Gossip. Racilia smiled at this humour of Amilcar's as well as Hermilia, and Herminius; but for Aronces, melancholy had so stiffened his complexion, that his face would not admit the lightest appearance of joy, so that the vertuous Matron perceiving how little he seemed concerned in the company, retired, taking Hermilia with her, and leaving with him Herminius. Amil∣car, who was not afraid to be seen, thought it his duty to conduct her to her lodgings; which done, he returned to Aronces's chamber, where he staied as long as he could. But at length he left him, and repaired to his lodging, lest in case he did not

come in, it might be suspected he had a hand in some plot in the City. Soon after Herminius also left Aronces, and went into another Chamber joyning to his, where Racilia had designed him a lodg∣ing.

Now is our illustrious Lover left alone to com∣ment on his afflictions past and present. But at last he fell asleep, overwhelmed with his discontents, and flattered with a small hope of the possibility of delivering Clelia. It is true, he slept not long, for the Sun had no sooner appeared, but he heard peo∣ple talking with Herminius, such whose voyce he had no great accquaintance with, so that knowing it was of equal concernment to that generous Ro∣man, not to be discovered, as to himself, he was desirous to know whether they who spoke were his friends or his enemies. Hearkning therefore very attentively, towards the place whence he heard the voyces, one whereof he thought he should remem∣ber, he was fully perswaded that it was the voyce of Brutus, Racilia's Nephew. But soon after he was of the contrary opinion, for that calling to mind his stupidity, he distrusted what a minute before he absolutely believed. For though he heard not di∣stinctly what he said, because he spoke not very loud, yet he concluded him a very understanding man, for that when he had given over speaking, he, to whom he had directed his discourse (who was the same Publius Valerius who was afterward called Publicola, and whose daughter had been so much commended the night before) speaking a lit∣tle louder, told him, all he had said had been excel∣lently well spoken. But, said he, when all is done, my hope tyres, and I expect no more of Fortune. I know, replyed he, to whom he spoke, that whate∣ver Herminius hath proposed, is so strong, that there seems nothing to be opposed against it; and that in all appearance, Tarquins power is so strong∣ly established, that nothing can overturn it. For, the People is accustomed to the yoke of his Tyran∣ny, the Senate is full of his own creatures, or, to say better, his Slaves; the Army is at his devotion, and there seems not even in Rome to be one true Roman. So that to judge of things according to outward appearance, Rome is for ever enslaved, and we quietly expect to see Vice triumph eternally over Vertue, and to see Sextus one day seated in the Throne, for, as to the Princes his Brothers, they are better endowed, than to think they shall ever possess their Fathers place. But, in fine, notwith∣standing all these reasons which seem so invincible, I shall still tetain a hope of Liberty, though I do not yet apprehend the ways whereby Rome may be de∣livered. For when I call to mind how Tarquin came to usurp the Supream power; when I reflect on the vertue of the late lawful King, whom this Tyrant caused to be massacred; when I consider the great number of innocent persons, whom he hath either banished or put to death; when I review all the wickedness of Tullia, and stirring them in my me∣mory with those of Tarquin, I see a confusion of Parricides, Poysonings, Murthers, and all Impie∣ties imaginable, and cannot believe but all the Ro∣mans remember it as well as I, and thence infer, that, though we know it not, there are thousands and thousands of Romans that abhor Tarquin, that ear∣nestly desire his destruction, and only expect a fa∣vourable occasion to manifest the detestation they have for him. I therefore hope, that as Fortune hath dandled him a long time, he may at last meet with a Check in his Game, and that by a happy fro∣lique of the same unconstant Fortune, we shall meet with a conjuncture of time fortunate for the deli∣verance of our Country. It may indeed happen, answers to that Herminius, that the Siege of Ardea, may prove omnious to the Tyrant, and that from our so well defending the City, that he cannot take it; it may be, I say, this is a fit conjuncture to make a rising at Rome. For if the siege last yet a while, his Army will be weakned, he will not lose a Soldier, who leaves not in the family whereof he was a ground of complaint, nay he will lose his power in the Senate; since as you know, when some proposed the difficulty of taking Ardea, he slighted the advice was given him, and treated the Authors of it, as ignorant persons both in war and policy. Moreo∣ver, the people whom he hath employed so long time about the building of Jupiter's Temple, and the Scaffolds of the Circus, is certainly weary of such an endless work, besides that, having expen∣ded vast sums, the Treasure he had got together out of other mens Fortunes to that end, are almost exhausted. So that if it happen, that this Prince should not take Ardea, it is not unlikely but that the vertue of the Romans might be so far recove∣red, as to be strong enough to make the Tyrant flie. But how can the taking of Ardea be obstruct∣ed, replyed Publius Valerius? For when the Army he now hath shall be mouldred away by the obstina∣cy of the besieged, and that the people weary of the War shall not take up Arms; Porsennas, who waits his assistance to bring his Son into his power, and hinder him to marry the Daughter of the gene∣rou's Clelius, who, they say, is in Tarquin's power, will furnish him with Troops. To do what I pro∣pose, replyed Herminius, it must be endeavoured that Tarquin may not be supplyed by the King of Clusium, and that Ardea may be relieved by the King of Ceres; for in this conjuncture, it is the concern∣ment of Rome's Liberty, that her Tyrant may not encrease his power by any additional conquest. You speak very well (replyed he who made the third man in the Dialogue) but since I must say all I have in my mind, it is your part to do what you say is ne∣cessary for the safety of Rome, for it is you must maintain Ardea, it is you must perswade the King of Clusium's Son, that by the correspondency he holds in his Fathers Court, he may hinder Tarquin from having any supplyes, if he desire it; and it is you also, that must perswade him to make use of the intelligence, which I conceive he hath in the King of Ceres's Court, to obtain relief for Ardea, while in the mean time Valerius and our secret Friends shall so dispose things at Rome, as that ad∣vantage may be taken of the first favourable oppor∣tunity which Fortune shall afford. But who hath told you, replyed Herminius, that I am acquainted with the King of Clusium's Son? Aronces himself (replyed he who spoke) yet he thinks not that he told me so much, continued he, for he was decei∣ved as well as others, and believing me the most stupid of mankind, he heeded me not, when one day he talked with Celeres concerning his Fortune; so that I have from his own mouth, all that is to be known concerning his Birth, to confirm what I have said. Moreover, you know that Racilia, as well as your noble Mother, is a true Roman, and conside∣ring how much it concerns all true Romans to have

Aronces their friend, she hath told me all she knew, either from Sivelia, or the grand Vestal who is also of our correspondence. For in point of Insur∣rection, we must be sure to make those who are Ring∣leaders for Religion of our party. Therefore Va∣lerius courts as much as may be; the friendship of the Salii, who you know challenge a great Veneration in Rome as well as the Vestals. Since you are so learned, replyed Herminius, I conceive it is fitting as well for Aronces, as your self, that you two be better acquainted; and if you will give me leave, I will go into this Hero's Chamber, to dispose him to know you as you are, and to oblige you and Vale∣rius to unite your interests for the destruction of Tarquin.

While these three excellent men were in this discourse, Aronces, who heard all, was so surpris'd, that he was at a loss, whether he should believe what he had heard; for he was satisfied, that he was not mistaken in the voyce, and that he who was with Valerius and Herminius could be no other than the same Brutus who seemed to be so stupid. Yet he remembred he had heard Amilcar say, that he had seen him smile very opportunely twice or thrice, and that he had more understanding than was belie∣ved. But after all consideration, he could not ap∣prehend, during the present tumult of his thoughts, upon what rational account so wise a man was resol∣ved to go for an absolute Ideot, nor how he could so naturally seem so having so great a reach; as he found in him by the things he had heard. Hence his astonishment increasing every moment, he could not hear that Valerius and Brutus consented to what Herminius had proposed. But presently he hear∣ing rapping at his Chamber door, which he having caused to be opened by a Slave that waited on him, sees Herminius enter, who not giving him the lei∣sure to speak, My Lord, sayes he to him, I come to offer you the friendship of the two most noble Romans that ever Rome nursed, and to beg yours for them. For mine, replyed Aronces, you shall dispose of it as you please between your two friends; and I am glad to receive theirs. But Herminius, tell me presently, whether my ears have deceived me, is it not Brutus, whose voyce I have heard? Am I not deceived? No my Lord, replyed Herminius, and this Brutus, to whom that name was given for the eternal memory of his apparent stupidity, is the greatest and noblest soul you ever knew; he is a man capable of things of greater, and things of les∣ser consequence; he is both solid and pleasant, and whose obscure life it so strange, that nothing can be more. But I beseech you sayes Aronces, disguise him not any further to me, and so starting out of bed, while Herminius went to fetch in his two illu∣strious friends, he was at the Chamber door ready to receive them.

Brutus, who was at his own house, in that it was his Aunts, made Valerius and Herminius go in before him; but as it was not fitting such an interview should have any witnesses, Aronces bid the Slave, who attended him, though he nothing doubted of his fidelity, to depart the room. Which done, looking on Brutus with admiration he seem'd not to him the same man he had been, for though he was not very handsome, yet now he seem'd indifferent∣ly well-favoured. His Physiognomy was sprightly, and giving his mind liberty without affecting that simplicity, whereby he used to conceal it, Aronces presently knew, that he whom he saw, was the same whom he had heard speak. But he was further confirmed by what this illustrious Roman said to him; for after that Herminius had by a pertinent comple∣ment opened the interview, that Valerius had com∣plemented in particular, and that Aronces had spo∣ken to all three according to his excellent wit, and pleasing way, which is ordinary with him; it co∣ming to Brutus's turn, you see, illustrious Prince, said he, how far the Tyranny of the wicked Tar∣quin extends, since that to preserve my Life, I was forced to lose my Reason, or at least to conceal it, so as he might have no knowledge of it. But I beseech you, continued he, conceive not that my only de∣sign in it was by such a humerous carriage, to avoid death; for if my feigned stupidity proceeded not from a nobler cause, I should not think my self wor∣thy your notice. In the mean time, as I cannot now particularise my Fortune to you, be pleased to give me leave to conjure you not to judge of me before you understand me perfectly, either from my self or Herminius, who knows the mysterie of my life, and whose apprehensions I acknowledge as my own. What I have heard from you not a quarter of an hour since, replyed Aronces, what I received from Herminius just now, and what you tell me your self, give me so much caution, to interpret all things to your advantage, that without knowing any thing of your adventures, I yet believe that your feigned extravagance is an effect of a great wisdome, and a great generosity. You are in the right, my Lord, sayes Valerius, in what you say; for I can as∣sure you, that since there have been any generous men, there have not been any that could ever arrive to such a constancy, or, to say better, obstinacy of generosity, as that of the illustrious Brutus.

Upon this, Herminius, who had not brought them together to commend one another, changed the dis∣course; and, as it is certain, that in great men there is a certain secret Sympathy, which unites their hearts sooner than those of others; so in one half hour, these conceived themselves of a long and standing acquaintance, and the sprightly Her∣minius knew so well how to humour his friends, that he was in a manner the cement of their Society. By no other assurance than that of his honesty, which was equally known to all, he raised such a confi∣dence between them, that upon his single word they mutually trusted to one another that which was of greatest importance in their fortunes. But when they had so discovered themselves one to another, they found that their interests, though different, required the same remedies. For Brutus and Vale∣rius wishing onely Rome delivered from the Tyranny of Tarquin, looked no further than how to take a∣way from him the power he had usurped. Hermi∣nius was ingaged in the same interest, and in divers others; and Aronces desirous to deliver Clelia, and to avoid falling into the hands of Tarquin, could no other way accomplish his design, better than by de∣stroying him who kept his Mistress Captive. Upon which Herminius telling him, that if he hoped to bring about so great an interprise, he must, by the means of the friends he had in his Fathers Court, hinder him to supply Tarquin, and oblige the King of Ceres, to relieve Ardea, or at least to make a de∣version; Aronces having considered of it, told Her∣minius, that he must oblige Zenocrates to go to Ciusi∣um,

for that he was well known, and much estee∣med by the Princess of the Leontines, a Woman of great authority, and much subtilty; that he must take with him a Letter to her, and another to Queen Galerita his Mother, and that Celeres should be sent to the King of Ceres, with whom he had been long enough when he was young, to expect credit, when he spoke on the behalf of Aronces. For though his Court had sometime been a Sanctuary to Porsennas, yet, as he was nothing interessed in the siege of Ar∣dea, so was it not impossible to perswade him, that it concerned him that Rome became not so powerful, as to be able to oppress all its neighbours. To make this more feasible, Herminius engaged himself, that those of Ardea should also send to that King. For though their City was besieged, yet was it not so narrowly, but that some every day came in, and went out of it. But Aronces not knowing how to acquaint Zenocrates, nor Celeres, but by the means of Amilcar, he desired permission of Brutus and Va∣lerius, to communicate their designs to him, promi∣sing he would be answerable for his fidelity; you may also ingage him to contribute his subtilty to the business, replied Herminius. It is not necessary, re∣plyed Brutus, for I know by experience, that one African is more subtil than all the Romans. I have been also told, that he hath suspected that I had more understanding then my words betrayed, and if I had not been very cautious indeed to avoid his sur∣vaying, I am confident, he had pryed into my heart. If he had, replyed Aronces, you would have fared never the worse for it, for Amilcar loves not to hurt those who hurt not him.

While Brutus and Aronces were in this discourse, Herminius was fallen into so deep a musing, that Va∣lerius who awoke him out of it, asked him the rea∣son thereof. He at first seemed a little suspitious to tell him, but Valerius having aloud expressed his curiosity to know it, Aronces and Brutus joyned with him to press him to declare what he thought. At last resolving to comply with their desires, Con∣ceive not, said he to them, that the denial I made you, proceeds from any humour I have, my thoughts should be a secret to you; but I wish you had given me leave to decide within my self, whether a certain scruple of Vertue be well or ill grounded. But since, in the mean time, you will know it, it is sitter you should be Judges of my thoughts, than that I should judge of them without you. Know then that I was considering with my self, whether it were not to be feared, that the different interests which e∣qually oblige us all to destroy the power of Tar∣quin, may not slatter us so, as not to see any diffi∣culty in a design to change the whole face of Go∣vernment. For if you will have my true appre∣hensions, I shall tell you, that if Tarquin had been legally chosen, I should never endeavour to force him from Rome, though even he had banished me, though he had destroyed my house, and were the most unjust Prince in the World, I believe we ought to reverence the Gods in the persons of those who have a legal power, and should undergo their violent domination, with the same patience as we endure Earthquakes and Deluges. I know well e∣nough that the business now in hand is not of this nature. For Tarquin is a Tyrant, and his cruelty is such, that we may innocently endeavour to de∣stroy his power; but I beseech and conjure you, consider well whether we may not expose Rome to a greater Tyranny; and whether while we hope to make her fetters lighter, we may not make them heavier. For, in fine, a change of this nature can∣not be effected without a general alteration of the body of the State; and what is more to be feared is, that, if the design fail, Tarquin may strength∣en his authority by the destruction of so many thou∣sand of Innocents and the ruine of many illustrious Families. So it may come to pass, that instead of being the Deliverers of our Country, we shall be the Destroyers of it, and we may be accused of ha∣ving preferred the desire to be revenged for our private injuries before the publique Tranquil∣lity.

If Tarquin could be more wicked then he is, re∣plyed Brutus, there were, questionless, some con∣sideration to be had of what you say, which cer∣tainly is worthy of your Vertue. But can Rome be more miserably dealt with than she is? Is there any one house of honest people, which Tarquin persecutes not? or can there be one found under his govern∣ment who suffers not? The Rich he impoverishes; the Vertuous he either banishes, or puts to death; nay sometimes he torments the Innocent, only to satisfie his humour, though it conduce nothing to the confirming his authority. Let us not therefore raise any more doubts, generous Herminius, about a thing of such importance, and so much glory con∣tinued he, and let us expect the success of our de∣signs from the Gods. Since I am no Roman, reply∣ed, discreetly, Aronces, I conceive I ought not to speak upon this occasion; and as I am, continued Valerius, I will presume to say, that Rome is so o're∣pressed with the weight of its chains, that there can be no change but must be advantageous to her. Since it is so, I have no more to say, replyed Her∣minius, for it is possible my reason should have a stronger light than both yours.

Hereupon Brutus and Valerius departed, and Herminius stayed with Aronces. It is true, he was not there long alone, ere Amilcar came in, who was strangely surprised at what he heard from these two friends; for though he had some light jealousies that Brutus had more understanding than was con∣ceived, yet he could not believe what he heard of him; and if Aronces and Herminius had not promi∣sed he should see him in the Evening with all his rea∣son, and all the excellences of his mind about him, he would still have doubted their words. In the mean time, not to lose time, Amilcar having un∣derstood about what Aronces had a meeting with Brutus, Valerius, and their noble friend Herminius, sent immediately a Slave to the Camp, to bring Ze∣nocrates and Celeres to Rome, to receive instructions what they were to do. For Herminius, he returned to his Chamber to write to that inchanting Beauty, from whom proceeded all the Enjoyment, and all the Torment of his life; for he was never sensible of any pleasure, but when he thought on her; nor did he feel the hardship of Exile, but onely in this consideration, that being not in Rome, he was far from Valeria. But Friendship had a strong influence over his soul, and that which he had for his illu∣strious Mother, and for the admirable Clelia, caused him both pleasures and afflictions. But at last, Love became Mistress of all the Passions, and he had a greater tenderness for such of his friends as were in love, than others, so penetrable was his heart to this Passion, Aronces in like manner, for his

part set himself to write to Clelia, whom Amilcar visited every day, and his intention was to give his friend his Letter in the Evening, to be delivered the next day to that incomparable Virgin, who led a very melancholy life.

The merry disposition of Plotina was some com∣fort to her, and the visits of Amilcar, allayed her affliction much, not only by the hope of Liberty, but also those testimonies of Love, which she recei∣ved by him from her dear Aronces. That which was heavyest in her affliction, was, that she heard no news from Clelius, nor Sulpicia; but having a great and resolute heart, she underwent her mis∣fortune with a great constancy. Her former mis∣fortunes were now a kind of comfort to her, for when she called to mind that terrible Earth-quake which had separated her from Aronces, and put her into the power of Horatius, when she reflected on what passed in the lake of Thrasimene, where the Prince of Numidia fought with this fierce Rival, who had carried her away, and that to recover her from him; when she was near Ardea, and was an ocular witness of that cruel combat, wherein the illustri∣ous Aronces, after he had delivered her, was like to perish, had not his great Valour, and his good Fortune rescued him; when she considered the con∣dition she was in when she was brought before the cruel Tarquin, and when the grand Vestal interceded for her liberty, and afterwards when she remem∣bred Tarquin's fury after she had acknowledged her self the daughter of Clelius, she considered that in all these adventures she could not hope to have Plotina with her, to see Amilcar, to have the means to write to Aronces, and to receive from him. Con∣ceiving hence some weak hope of a better fortune, during this cessation of Tarquin's tyranny, she spent her time somewhat comfortably with that merry-conceited Virgin, whose humor was so near of kin to mirth, that she made a pleasure of that which would have been an affliction to another.

In the mean time Amilcar to continue the oppor∣tunity of visiting Aronces's Mistress, and to knit longer delays, writ every day to Tarquin, and fed him with hopes, that in time he should discover Clelia's most secret apprehensions; and that she might be brought over to prefer the interest of his Family, before that of Aronces. He also visited the cruel Tullia, and was not unwelcome to her; for as it concern'd him for his friend's sake to keep in her favour, so he knew excellently well how to manage her humour. When he was in her presence, and that it was opportune, he took occasion to set Am∣bition in the front of all the passions, and represent∣ed Love as a Satyr, and all the pleasures that attend it: Cruel actions he called Confident actions, when they conduc'd to their advantage who did them; and (in sine) he had gained such an influence on her, as he doubted not to make use of her in oppo∣sition to the tyrant, if there were need. This cruel Princess knowing that he had the permission to visit Clelia, was glad to hold a correspondence with him, that by that means she might take away that Captive from Tarquin, when she should think it fitting. Tarquin, for his part, wanted not em∣ployment, for the siege of Ardea found him work enough. Love and hatred Dichotomized his heart and was a greater torment to him than his cruelty had caused to others.

As for Sextus, his mind was full of Lucrecia, whose beauty had made such an impression in his heart, that he could think of nothing but the means how to satisfie his passion. The Prince of Pometia, and Prince Titus, were not without their secret Loves; Artemidorus and Zenocrates had each of them their Secrets and their Afflictions; and only Celeres was at liberty, though he had a soul naturally very passionate. But yet in the condition he was in, his tender affection and wit was spent in bemoaning his unfortunate Friends, and in finding out ways how to serve them, and therefore he was over joy'd that he could imagine the means.

But whilst these several persons had their diffe∣rent resentments, there was no mention of the Prince of Numidia, who had been expected in the Camp; nor could Aronces imagine what resolution he should have taken, for there was no likelyhood he should have cast himself into Ardea, besides, that Herminius knowing him, he was confident he was not there. But, in fine, night drawing on, Amilcar return'd to Aronces's chamber, where he found Herminius, Brutus being not yet come, so that while they expected him, Amilcar related to Aronces all he had done, and afterwards renued the desire he had to be informed of that mans life, who had so cunningly concealed his Reason; for I cannot be∣lieve, said he, there was ever any man so unhappy, or at such a distance from all kinds of pleasures. I cannot well apprehend what he could have done; they say he married very young, he hath children, and he seems not to have an estate proportionable to his birth. How then could he conceal his reason from his wife, while she lived? How could he sub∣sist, carrying himself so, as if he had not the dis∣cretion to govern his estate? And how could he live without Love, without society, without friends, without pleasure, and without any comfort? How could he endure to be treated like a stock, and a mad man? And how could he abjure all acquain∣tance with Fame? How could he be perswaded to renounce both to love any thing, or be beloved, and could brook the contempt of all the World? It is indeed true, replyed Aronces, that this seems incomprehensible; but a greater miracle than all this, is, that though Brutus hath constantly acted the Sot, he yet hath preserved that great and admi∣rable understanding, which you shall by and by find in him. When you shall understand it of your self, replyed Herminius, you will be much more amazed; for, as I have told you already, Brutus hath not only a good understanding, comprehensi∣on, judgment, and an acquaintance with great things, but he hath withal, a lively, nimble, delicate, and an admirably versatile wit. Besides he understands so exactly all the contrivances of Love, and knows as well how to make use of all those ingenious cir∣cumventions, which sometimes do sooner conquer the heart of a great Beauty, than the most signal services, that neither Greece nor Africk afford a Gal∣lant that knows better than he, the art of reducing of an illustrious soul. But you consider not, says Amilcar laughing, that while you would describe Brutus, you really draw your self, for I can easily see your picture in it. You know Brutus then so much the better by it, reply'd he, and here he comes in good time to confirm what I have told you. And indeed Brutus was coming in while Her∣minius was speaking of him, but it was after such a

maner as Amilcar was surprised at it. For know∣ing there was none in the chamber, but Aronces, Herminius, and he; he did not shadow his reason as he was wont to doe, but entered with a certain freedome, which Amilcar had never observed in him. But he was no sooner come in, but going straight on to that witty African, since that when I deceived the distrustful Tarquin, and the suspicious Tullia, said he to him, I could not over-reach the subtile Amilcar; I were as good shew him what I truly am, that being obliged to me for my confi∣dence, he may help me to keep a secret, wherein haply the safety of Rome is equally embarqued with my own. What, the Brutus whom I now see, re∣plied Amilcar, is he the same as I have formerly seen! Spare your exclamations, replies Herminius, till you have seen him better than you now doe, for you have yet but a glimpse of him. Ah Herminius, replied Amilcar, I will see him throughly, and I confidently promise there shall be nothing I dare not do, might I but obtain from Brutus the History of his Thoughts, for according to the manner of his life, I believe he can hardly afford us any thing else.

If I had nothing else to tell you, replied he, your demand were easily granted; but my life may af∣ford things of greater consequence than you con∣ceive. If there wants onely fidelity to become worthy the knowledge of your adventures, sayes Aronces, I will be responsible to you for Amilcar's and my own; and if you will think your self re∣quited with twenty Histories for one, added Amil∣car, you shall have all mine for yours; for if you believe me, I was never so much oppressed with cu∣riosity. Since I am obliged in point of honour, to satisfie it, replied Brutus, I promise you an account of my whole life; but if you have it not from my self, you must take it from Herminius, who knowes all my adventures and all my thoughts, or from one of his Kinswomen, who hath known much of the secret of my soul. But it shall be conditionally, that I be not present at the relation, for I do not find my Spirit strong enough to hear the recital of my past happiness, at a time when I pretend to no other pleasure, then that of revenge. and the de∣liverance of my Country, from the slavery wherein it is. Aronces and Amilcar thinking the request reasonable, it was resolved, that on the morrow Herminius should relate unto them the life of Bru∣tus. But he could not do it so soon as these his two Friends could have wished, for that some occasions of his found him writing all the morning, and in the afternoon, he had the happiness to see the inchan∣ting person whom he loved in Hermilia's Chamber, who to further his satisfaction had feigned her self sick, so to obliege Valeria to give her a visit. It was therefore after night, ere he related to Aronces and Amilcar what they were so impatient to know. It is true, that Brutus being employed otherwise, they had as much leisure as they could wish, yet were they so importunate, as if they feared they should never have enough of it. For as soon as Amilcar was come, and had given Aronces an account of what concerned Clelia, they pressed Herminius to a per∣formance of his promise.

Accordingly, this noble Roman, who needed not study long about what he had to say to them, but only to observe some order, began in these terms, di∣recting his speech to Aronces, being first assured, he was not over-heard by any, but those who were to be acquainted with a secret so hidden and so impor∣tant as that which he was going to reveal unto them.

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.

The end of the first Book of the second Part.

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CLELIA: The Second Part. BOOK II.

AS no part of the life of Brutus was reserv'd from Aronces, he went the next day to his Cham∣ber, imagining he might receive some delight by discoursing with an unhappy lover, whose misfortunes parallel'd his; and these two illustri∣ous Lovers did at first so Sympathize. and love so united both their hearts, that though they were both miserable, and that their discourse contain∣ed nothing but melancholy subjects; yet a de∣lightful pleasingness did at this time dispel those dull fumes which clouded their Intellectual Facul∣ties: But whilst they did as it were thus sport a∣way the tedious hours, and that Herminius endea∣voured by the assistance of his friends, both to prosecute his passion, prejudice Tarquin, and serve Aronces, the discreet Amilcar acted for Aronces a∣gainst Tarquin, for Clelia and Plotina, and all the other Captives, and endeavoured likewise to en∣gage the fierce Tullia to deliver all those Prisoners, principally those to whom he was obliged both by friendship and inclination: He writ to Tar∣quin, to the Prince Sextus, to Artemidorus, and Zenocrates: Yet had he time to compose several things, which are usually made but in a pleasing idleness; for Herminius and he made each of them a short song, according to the African custom: They had a certain gallant Air which contained both ingenuity and love, pleasure and rapellery, they using both simple and natural expressions, and it seems that they intended but to trifle time in making these songs, and that 'twas not impos∣sible others fancies should concur with theirs. In the mean time, as they had sent to the Camp for Celeres and Zenocrates, they came to Rome, but could not inform them of any considerable thing in reference to their affairs; for during the Truce, all the young men went continually from the Camp to Rome, and from Rome to the Camp; Artemi∣dorus not being willing to permit Zenccrates and Celeres to be more happier than he, went with them to see Aronces, whom he highly esteem'd; and these three being arrived at Rome, and having the same liberty as Herminius; to visit Aronces; they passed some days in a society plea∣sing to unhappy persons; for as these new Co∣mers were of this secret, they were commonly together; and after Dinner, Racilia, Hermilia, Valeria, and Sivelia accompanying them, there was doubtless a society composed both of accom∣plished and agreeable persons: For though Aron∣ces, Amilcar, Herminius, and Celeres were men of known integrity; 'tis certain that Artemidorus and Zenocrates had extraordinary merit: Artemi∣dorus was well made, he had a judging spirit, and a grandure in his Soul; but he so equally possessed all good qualities, that though he was a complete man, he was just one of those which make a par∣ticular Character, and which resemble not any person, though many would willingly resemble him. For Zenocrates, he was tall, of a fair pro∣portion, and good deportment, white teeth, a lively tincture, brown hairs, a most agreeable smiling, and a pleasant countenance which gave delight to all; but he had a certain languishing indifferency to which his temper carried him; it gave him sometimes a stupidity of Spirit, which made him appear as if he were in an idle dotage, and obliged him to keep in certain occasions a kind of melancholy silence, that he could not suffer without some slight reluctation, when he knew he might if he would speak more agreeably than the most part of those to whom he gave such a peaceable audience: But for all this admirable dulness, the gallantness of his Spirit and ingeuuity appear'd when he writ either in Verse or Prose; and I can assure you, that if he had an heart more susceptible of loves impression, it had been very fit to make illustrious Conquests: for Zenocrates was (as I have already told you) fair, and of a good deportment, he had much Spirit, he was both discreet and wise, he had a charming affabi∣lity; all his inclinations were noble, he was mo∣dest, respectful, and faithful to his friends; but a languishing melancholy so possessed his Spirits, that though he was an accomplished Gallant, he could not affect any one person, though adorned with all the excelling features, had he been assu∣red of a correspondency in love; so much did he fear dangerous enterprises. He had beginnings in love, which should have had continuance; but the Fire which flamed in the morning, extinguish∣ed in the evening. I know not how he could make an opiniative lover, for the faculty would have hindred the augmentation of his passions, the great difficulty would have rebated his Spirit, and the only thought of a long constancy, would

have much perplexed him; he had no desire to engage himself to love a person which was not a∣bove him, neither would he resolve with himself to love one of that quality, if fortune had forc'd him to do it; so little he affected to enterprise difficult things: Had he likewise passed the com∣mencements of his life without having any of those Demy-Mistresses, that are loved without in∣quietude, that are willingly left on the first occa∣sion that presents: 'tis not but confessed, that he had been in love, and he might be again: But those which are intelligent in tenderness, believe not that he was capable of any great attachment; and though he was accused of some temerity and inconstancy in love, he was known to be very sincere and agreeable in friendship, and he was so amiable, and merited such estimation, that he would not be known without esteem in love. Ar∣temidorus and he being then joyn'd with their il∣lustrious friends, this Society had been full of de∣lectation, if those which composed it had been more happy; there was during this time a small cessation in the distemper of Aronces, which de∣ferr'd the Voyage Celeres and Zenocrates had re∣solv'd on; Amilcar having acquainted this unhappy Prince, that he had confer'd with Tullia, that he was the Confident of her Jealousie, and that he did not despair but he should oblige her to deliver Clelia; and farther told him, that this cruel per∣son had promised him to suborn him which kept her, and that on his part he was engaged to carry this fair Virgin into Africa, and not let her return from thence: He knew moreover that those of Ardea, which negotiated with Tarquin, demand∣ed above all things, the rendition of the Captives; and it might be if Tarquin should refuse to do it, he would exasperate the people and the Soldiers, which might justly murmur, to see that he had rather continue the war, than to accord a thing of so little consequence: and that by this means it would be possible to excite some commotion in Rome, and the Camp where they should have need of two men as valiant as Zenocrates and Celeres: Thus their departure being defer'd, and hope ha∣ving taken possession of the heart of Aronces, the conversation became a little more delightful: But there happened an accident which gave some di∣sturbance to this favourable disposition; for as things were reduced to this estate, unknown per∣sons enterprised one night to take away Clelia; they fastening scaling Ladders to the Windows of her Chamber, some of the Guards their confede∣rates having given them admission at one of the Garden Gates: 'Tis true they were constrained to retire, because he to whom Tarquin had confi∣ded the keeping of Clelia, hearing some noise a∣waked, and went with a party of his Compani∣ons to the same Garden, where they found a man of a good presence at the head of 10 or 12 others, whilst two resolute Soldiers ascended those two Ladders they had put against the Windows of Cle∣lias Chamber, who was then in a strange perplexi∣ty; for she did not know whether those that en∣deavoured to open her Windows, were friends or enemies; she saw no likelyhood that this enter∣prise was made by Aronces, since Amilcar who had the liberty to see her, had not advertised her of it; so that she imagined there was more probabi∣lity to think it was the cruel Tullia, who would have her in her power: But this imagination soon vanished, for how valiant soever he was which had undertaken this enterprise, he must yield to number; for those whom he had left to secure the Garden gate by which he entred, being disanima∣ted, and the Gate shut upon him; there was no other resolution for him to take, than to render himself or die like a desparate person: And as the State of his Soul permitted him not the hope to live happy, he chose the last, and acted such pro∣digious things, that Clelia and Plotina who were now drest, and who beheld that which passed in the Garden (by Cinthias beams which illuminated it) had compassion to see a valiant man reduced to such a condition, whose visage they could not dis∣cern: Clelia fearing he (that so valiantly defended himself) might be Aronces, and desiring rather to expose her self to save the life of a valiant Enemy, than let a faithful lover perish, she cryed to him who kept her, that he should not kill one desert∣ed by his men, for there remain'd now none but himself to oppose so many adversaries: The voice of Clelia perswading him to whom she spoke that it may be she knew who that unknown was, who so resolutely defended himself, and believing he should render a great service to Tarquin to take him Prisoner, he commanded him to endeavour it, but not kill him; and this brave stranger who had heard what Clelia said, turning his head to see her, three of those which environ'd him spying this advantage, cast themselves upon him, seiz'd his Sword and took it from him, though he made ter∣rible efforts to hinder them: 'Tis not denyed but he was dangerously wounded in divers places, but being resolved to sacrifice his life (since his enterprise was destroyed) he acted the part of a desperate man; but he was now compelled to yield to number, and submit himself to the con∣duct of them who had disarm'd him; his strength being so decayed by his loss of blood, that his feeble limbs could scarce support him. In the mean time as this news was divulg'd, all the Pa∣lace were alarm'd; the cruel Tullia being adverti∣sed of it, and Jealousie having wholly possessed her Spirit, she was more irritated against him which hindred Clelia from being taken away, than against him which endeavoured to do it, she would have known his name but no person could tell it her, neither would he acquaint her with it: Tul∣lia then demanded if any of his men had surviv'd the Combat, but they answered her that two of those he had employed in this occasion, and who were hurt as well as he, knew not themselves, or at least wise feign'd not to know it: This giving no satisfaction to Tullias curiosity, she sent for A∣milcar, to endeavour to discover if this unknown had attempted this enterprise for Aronces, and he which had the keeping of Clelia sent to advise Tarquin what was passed: there was such a great noise dispersed of it throughout Rome, that Aron∣ces had quickly notice of it, but very confusedly; for some said Tullia had plotted it, desiring to have the prisoners at her dispose; others that Tarquin had contriv'd it, to have them in his power with∣out angring Tullia; and that his design had pro∣ved ineffectual, through the inconsideration of those to whose confidence it was committed: Some said 'twas Aronces, others said 'twas Horatius, and so many various relations were formed according

to the capricious humour of those which repor∣ted them, that 'twas impossible to ground there∣in any real conjecture: Aronces hearing these se∣veral reports by Brutus, Artemidorus, Zenocrates and Celeres, was much perplexed to know how he should comprehend the reailty of this adven∣ture. Herminius assured him, there was no ap∣pearance that Horatius had left Ardea, and it could not be Tullia, because she at this time imployed Amilcar on the same design: there was no reason to imagine it was Tarquin, for he knew better how to carry on his enterprises. Aronces could not then tell what to think, for the more he consi∣dered still what his imagination proposed to him, he conceived far from the truth: but at last he be∣lieved, that as the Prince Sextus had a violent Inclination for Clelia, before he was captivated with Lucrecias beauty, and that he was injust and violent in his passions, he had attempted to steal away this fair person, both from him and Tarquin; finding more true semblance in this o∣pinion, then all those he had premised, he fixed his thoughts here, and was so overcome with grief, that he designed to revenge Clelia for that violence which was offered her, and to seek all means to aslault Sextus; he having need of no assistance both to vanquish and punish him: but after he had contrived this revenge, he saw A∣milcar enter, and not doubting but he was of the same opinion, he went to him and said; tell me my dear Amilcar; do you yet believe that Sextus is more amorous of Lucretia, then Clelia, since the last nights adventures? I assure you replyed Amilcar, Sextus had no hand in it, for I come from being Tullias Agent so discovering who hath made this attempt; and from speaking to him who hath so couragiously exposed his life in this dangerous occasion. What replyed Aronces, have you seen him which hath so valiantly defen∣ded himself? Yes replyed Amilcar, I have seen him, and seeing him, I see that fortune hath gi∣ven you none but illustrious Rivals. Is the re∣port then true that 'tis Horatius? replyed Aron∣ces: No replyed Amilcar, but not to hold you in suspence, it is the Prince of Numidia who hath performed this grand action. What? cry∣ed Aronces, is it Maharbal, which would once more take away Clelia? he had no such thought (replyed Amilcar) for he protests he pretended no other thing then to free her from the cruelty of Tarquin, and to remit her into the hands of Clelius and Sulpicia, whom he assures me are nigh Rome. By your favour Amilcar, said Aronces to him, tell me all you know of this adventure and how you knew it. Since you will be informed in all particulars replyed Amilcar I must tell you that Tullia sent for me, that I obeyed her orders, and I found such a fury seated on her countenance that it almost struck me into a Palsie; at first she accused me to be one of the confederates in the last nights enterprise; but I gave her such solid and satisfactory reasons to excuse my self, that as she is endowed with all the advantages of a grand Spirit, she imagined I was too real to equivocate with her; and not knowing what to think, she sent me to him who appeared to be the chief conductor of this enterprise; but I confess I was astonished when I knew the Prince of Numidia had acted it, as he was almost buried in grief, and very much hurt; he did not so much as cash his eyes upon me when I approached him: No sooner did he hear my voice, but he turned his head, and extending his hand towards me; though said he to me you be alwayes my Rivals friend, yet I am glad to see you, to tell you, be∣fore I expire, that I dye with a strange regret not to have had so much affection to him, as to yeild him Clelia without repugnance, or hate him so much as to dispute her with him; and assure him (if you ever see him) that I pretend no o∣ther advantage in delivering Clelia, then to give her liberty, and render her to Clelius and Sulpicia, who are not far distant from Rome, and are at this time—As he desired to pronounce the name of the place where they resided, his strength failed; and though we applyed all remedies to recover him, there was a full Hour elapsed be∣fore the expiration of this fit; but though his fainting spirits were recovered, he was yet de∣prived of reason; for since that he knew not what he had told me, and I could not demand of him where were Clelius and Sulpicia, and seeing he had lost the use of reason, I conceived it would be dangerous to acquaint me with it before so many persons, and though the Prince of Numi∣dia be your Rival, I should incur much blame, if I should let him be treated with severity, and not disclose his quality both to Tullia and Tar∣quin, to whom they have sent an express to in∣form him of the precedent accidents, and disco∣vering it was the Prince of Numidia which would have delivered Clelia: I shall hinder you from be∣ing thought conscious of it, and clear my self from all suspition. I would do the same (repli∣ed Aronces) were I in your condition, but I am much afflicted: for I fear, and not without cause, that this accident will confine Clelia to a closer imprisonment, and that your design will not take effect.

As 'tis by Tullia's means I hope to procure her liberty (answered Amilcar) this accident will not destroy our intentions; but will, as I conceive, much conduce to the furtherance of them; for Clelia's Keeper having retained her with so much circumspection, hath acquired such credit of Tar∣quin by frustrating this design, that if Tullia sub∣orns him, as she hath promised, it will facilitate her escape; but in the mean time we must arm our selves with patience; as there appeared some probability of truth in this conjectural opinion of Amilcar, and that lovers usually catch at any shadowy glimpse of hope, though grounded on incertainties; yet a dull melancholy eclipsed the countenance of Aronces; Amilcar demanding from whence it proceeded? He confessed he would ad∣mit of no consolation, whilst any of his Rivals pretended affection to Clelia, the Gods know, said he, that I am not capable of envy, and that I do not emulate the glory of any one; but when it reflects on my Passion, I cannot consine my grief, especially when I see a Rival endowed with excel∣lent qualities, expose his life for the safety of a person I love, whom she beheld with her own eyes to contend for her liberty; and 'tis impossi∣ble being as generous as she is, she should requite with ingratitude the curtesie of Maharbal. Oh Sir (replied Amilcar) it is not so, for I have seen Clelia, I have told her his name whom she saw so

couragiously defend himself, but far from retali∣ating any affection to him; she believes that tak∣ing her from the power of Tarquin, he had the same thoughts as heretofore, when he would have taken her from Horatius, when he fought with him on the Thrasimenian Lake; and this de∣lacatesse of love which you testifie, gives you grief built on no rational foundation. What (replied Aronces) do you believe I have just complaint to deplore the condition to which fortune had redu∣ced me? what? do you believe I can support a voluntary imprisonment, without some regret not to have power to deliver Clelia? Ah Amilcar pursued Aronces, 'tis certainly little less difficult for Brutus to draw a Veil of stupidity over his reason, then for me to make use of mine in so strange a manner; for in fine, if I should continu∣ally labour for to deliver Clelia? if I should eve∣ry moment expose my life to effect it, I should not suffer less then I do, in nothing but reasoning with my friends upon incertain hopes; but I am very glad to hear that this enterprise proceeded neither from Tullia's hath, nor from Tarquin or Sextus love. For Sextus, replied Amilear, cast a∣way fear, for Artemidorus hath told me, he is so amorous of Lucretia, that he cannot command his Passion; nor can he teach his tongue to bury her in silence.

As this Rival cannot prejudice Brutus (repli∣ed Aronces) I receive extream satisfaction at it; for if he where not his, I am really perswaded he would be mine; which would be dangerous for Clelia in this estate. Whilst Aronces thus spoke, Brutus arrived, and a little after Artemidorus, Ze∣nocrates, and Celeres, to whom they confided the whole secret of the intended enterprise, reserving only Brutus his affection for Lucrecia; and they being ignorant of it, believed there could be no∣thing more satisfactory to Aronces, then to per∣swade him Sextus had deserted Clelia, and that he was caught in the snares of Lucretia's beauty; but if this discourse pleased Aronces, it afflicted Brutus, whose heart was at this instant supplied with a new hatred against Tarquin, seeing now (as if it were before his eyes) the expiration of his father and brother, and the total destruction of all his family; all the crimes of the Tyrant and Tullia had wholly pressed his thoughts, and Sex∣tus his love for Lucretia, did so discompose the se∣renity of his temper, that he would not suffer them to make any mention of it; for said he to Celeres (who spoke of this Princes Passion that Species of transportment) which siezes Sextus when his eyes saluted a beautiful person, cannot be termed love; for if a clear inspection could be made into his heart, there would be found nothing but impe∣tuous desires, which respect neither a becoming grace, nor vertue, there would I say be found an Antipathy between his Passion and Spirit; I am even perswaded he doth not much care to be belo∣ved, and that he would be as content if a woman should offer her self to him, through the conside∣ration of interest and ambition, without resigning her heart, as if she was forced by a violent affecti∣on to favour his love; but 'tis otherwise in those which are rightly capable of love, they being not perfectly happy, unless there is a reciprocal af∣fection, and there are none but those which are infected with brutish appetites who regard not what motive obliges any woman to use them with civility. 'Tis true (said Aronces) an interessed is a su∣perficial favour, and I should have no great obli∣gation to a woman which would rather submit her self to my fortune not affection. But it happens so often (replied Amilcar) that those whom for∣tune favours, merit not to be favoured by them∣selves, and they would much wrong their judge∣ments to complain that a woman permits their visit, rather through interest then love. I am of your opinion (replied Artimidorus) that an inte∣ressed Lady merits not to have a lover which con∣siders her through any other cause then his own satisfaction; and Brutus hath reason to say that this species of resentment cannot rightly admit the term of love, since 'tis not correspondent; for if we consider well what passes in the hearts of two persons formed after this nature, we shall find a∣varice in the Ladies, and brutality in the lovers. That which you say (replies Brutus) squares with reason; but I must add, that a Lover composed of his humour, can neither be faithful nor happy, for in his heart the end of an irregular desire is the beginning of another; and since he dis-regards the love of his beloved, he respects nothing but pleasure in the fruition, and is capable of an amo∣rous impression at the sight of any thing which de∣lights his fancy: these brutish Lovers cannot con∣fine themselves in their voluptuary passions; some∣times affecting brown, and sometimes fair per∣sons; and in fine, their affections are in a manner so brutal, that the love of the most savage and cruel Animals is no less then theirs; therefore I should extreamly commiserate the fair and vertu∣ous Lucretia, for having surprized the heart of Sextus, did not her solitary retirement shelter her from the persecutions of such a Lover: and as Herminius noted the agitation of the spi∣rit of Brutus, he diverted the subject of their dis∣course to the adventure of the Numidian Prince, which was considerable enough to deserve their attentions; for it seemed very extraordinary that an African Prince should have so much intelligence in Rome as to enterprise to take Clelia from the Palace of such a Prince as Tarquin. And passing from one thing to another, they had a desire to pre-divine the actions of this violent Prince, when he should have notice of this accident; some said he would be transported to the ultimate extremi∣ty against the Numidian Prince; others that for his own interest he would consider the quality of Ma∣harbal; some said he would poison him; but A∣ronces who was wholly composed of generosity, and whose heart was sensible of compassion since the last conference with this illustrious Rival; and since he left a Letter at his departure from the Willow Island, intreated Amilcar to reverse, by his sedulous indeavours any cruel sentence should be decreed against him; and Amilcar so flattered Tullia's humour, and wrote such a judi∣cious Letter to Tarquin, that the storm of anger soon vanished, which threatned the destruction of the Numidian Prince; and what they descan∣ted upon, proved but airy imaginations; 'tis true his wounds were dangerous, and his death almost inevitable, his Fever augmented, his rea∣son was not yet remitted to its proper seat, and those which drest him much feared his Recovery; so that we many very well say his deplorable

condition was some means to secure his life. It was most remarkable in this incounter, that Tar∣quin learning the Quality of the Numidian Prince, conceived his love for Clelia incited him to steal her away, he not being ignorant that Clelius a long time resided at Carthage; imagining then Clelia more amiable since she had attracted such il∣lustrious persons, he felt a reduplication of love in his heart, and the cognisance he had to find a new Rival, renewed his affection, if I may use that term, he had even some joy to think that whatsoever Aronces was, he would have some despight against the Numidian Prince for endea∣vouring to deliver Clelia; and his thoughts were constant with those of a violent Prince, though love had never been the prevailing passion; he gave order to redouble the Guards of Clelia, and confirmed an ampler Commission to him who commanded them, which was very satisfactory to Aronces, because that Amilcar, assuring him that Tullia was perswaded she should gain him, he might hope suddenly to effect Clelia's liberty; he knew likewise that those of Ardea obstinately persisted in requesting Tarquin to deliver the Captives before the commencement of the Trea∣ty, and that people began to murmur at Rome, as well as the Soldiers in the Camp, because Tar∣quin denied their proposition.

These things put such a favourable dispositi∣on in the spirit of Aronces, and all his friends, that they found themselves capable to enjoy all the sweetness hope gives them, who passionately desire any thing; for there is a hope of revenge, as well as a hope to possess a Mistress; those which had no effective interest in this place, were at last interested in their friends behalf; as for Arte∣midorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, and Celeres, 'twas friendship which confin'd them to this place; but for Brutus and Herminius, they had both many interests to induce them to reside here, their friends, their love, and their Country; and things being now reduced to a better estate than they had seen them long before, they were partakers of the same hope; 'tis not that Brutus expected any thing on Lucretia's part, which might advantage him, but at least he imagined, if he destroyed Tarquin, he should likewise destroy Sextus; so that a jealous resentment exciting in him a desire of revenge, it seemed to him he could no less act against Tarquin in quality of a Lover, then of a true Roman. Hope thus finding enter∣tainment in the hearts of so many discreet persons, their conversations was very agreeable, when they consorted at night to render an account what they had learned concerning their common inte∣rests; it often hapned that Racilia, Hermilia, and Valeria were there; for Valerius permitted his daughter to remain sometimes two or three dayes with Hermilia, who was become her chie∣fest friend, since the solitude of Lucretia; for Clelia, she had likewise her part in the repose of others; Amilcar acquainting her with the hope she had, giving her news of Aronces; and assuring her according to the information of the Numidi∣an Prince, that Clelius and Sulpicia were not far from Rome, and Plotina fitted her humour with such Scenes of mirth, that they at this time chas'd away those melancholy thoughts condens'd by the contemplation of her mis-fortunes; there were likewise other happy Lovers, for the Prince of Pometia knew he might claim affection in Her∣milia's heart, who thinking all those which as∣sembled at her Aunts house, contriv'd nothing but how to compass Clelia's liberty, remained satis∣fied to have acquired the affection of one of the most virtuous Princes. Titus on his part had re∣ceived such demonstrations of love from Colla∣tina, that he was glad the time gave him occasi∣on to repay a visit to his Mistress, the most un∣happy were Artemidorus and Zenocrates, who had both assuredly interests without Rome. 'Tis true, the last not being of a humour to send his heart and spirit where he was not, had more tranquilli∣ty than the other. Amilcar one evening noting that Brutus had brought them into Hermilia's Chamber, she keeping it by reason of some in∣disposition, and with whom Valeria was then, de∣manded of him, if the serenity of his spirit pro∣ceeded from his fortune or temperament, and of Artemidorus, if his anxiety was an effect of his mis∣fortune, or the melancholy of his humour, as to Zenocrates (replied Artemidorus) I can only an∣swer you for him, that he makes his own tran∣quillity; and I can answer you for Artemidorus (replied Zenocrates) that the sensibility of his heart acts as much against him as his evil fortune; if those who give us audience, were informed in our lives (replied Artemidorus) they could per∣haps confess that my sensibility is more excusable than sometimes your indifferency; for you know absence (which is a great disease in love) is not a very sensible malady in you, but on the contrary, cures you of many others. In truth, replied Ze∣nocrates smiling, which added a grace to his ex∣pression. You tax me with an unjust reproach; I confess sometimes I do not remember those per∣sons I see not, but I protest unto you, as soon as my memorative faculty represents them to me, they command the same affectionate priviledge as before. You discourse of this so pleasantly (re∣plied Hermilia) that you seem to have no desire to remember those you have loved, when they are absent from you, because you can affect none but those who are present before your eyes. Yet (re∣plied Artemidorus) he is not assured to love all those he sees, for he is subject to certain petit absences of heart, which sometimes must distract his friends; and 'tis certain I have seen him more than once waver in his affection; 'tis not but he knows how to make declaration in love; for I remember he writ four in the compass of a day, which contained much gallantry; 'tis true, 'twas only to divertise a company of amiable Ladies. But (said Zenocrates, dying his cheeks with a blush) I may very well say I have had a thousand loves in my life; but among all those, I can scarce insert three or four in the Catalogue of true loves; and I am assured, if you compare mine with yours, you may conceive me to give you the denomina∣tion. 'Tis not (added he) that I believe those men, who boast of a violent passion, love not a little more than others, which are more sincere; and for my part I believe I love as much as I can love, and that if it were as permanent and dura∣ble as some, I should be the most amorous of men; but I confess it sometimes sooner passes away than that of Artemidorus, who believes he should re∣cede from his honour, if he should be suspected

to change first, there are some hours, when it hath continuance, it disturbs my repose; and when I make my voluntary imprecations to ex∣plicate my self out of this amorous labyrinth; for I may very well say love is a great affair. Ah Zenocrates, cried Amilcar, if love is a great, it is an agreeable affair. You ought then to be per∣swaded in what you say (replied Herminius) since if you love none of this nature, you deny your own expressions. I pray, said then Zenocrates to Amilcar, learn me how I must order my self, when I would dissemble love, for I have more than twenty times essayed to do it, without arriving at my intended end. For my part (replied Amil∣car) I find no great difficulty in it; for when I see a jovial Lady, who hath any facility in her hu∣mour, or gaiety in her spirit, and that I find my fancy disposed to make a volatile love, I can desert when I please, and which gives me delight as long as it lasteth; I accustom my self to speak to this person more than any other, I look upon her, I praise her, I continually cast forth artifici∣al sighs resembling true ones, I sometimes sing some slight Airs I formerly composed, which she applies to her self, and sometimes I express my self in amorous Verses, languishing regards; and in fine, I tell her I love her, or at least make such pretentions, afterwards for that small pleasure she hath taken in my affability, she retaliates hers, hope then possesses my heart, and after that I feel I know not what, that I call love; for in fine, that you be not deceived, it is not of these slight imaginary loves, as others, where love pre∣cedes hope, since in this, hope must precede love, and he must first be assured of the progress of his affection, before he commence his; the Lady you chuse must not therefore be so full of compla∣cency, that her behaviour hath too much facility, neither must you chuse women whose hearts you can conquer but by forms; but you must find one neither too austere nor too facile, who hath no particular Gallant, and who affects Gallantry, neither must she have a furious spirit; 'tis good she should be a little tractable in love; and in fine it suffices she should be fair, young, a little mer∣ry, and without capriciousness; for if she hath more imagination than judgement, she shall be so much more fit to make one of those Demy Mi∣stresses, that I may leave without despair, when my fancy prompts me to do it, and with whom I may pass most pleasant hours. You exaggerate that so handsomely (said Valeria) that I believe Zenocrates will essay it on the first occasion. In truth (replied he smiling) I think I should now experiment it, were there any Lady here which might admit the Character of Amilcar; but for my misfortune, I know none of this humour at Rome, do you know at Leontine, at Panorme, at Syracusa, and at Agragentine, said Artemidorus to him. I confess it (replied he) but it may be be∣fore I return, my fancy will, as usually, soon va∣nish. But, said Herminius to him, it seems re∣quisite to me, that we should be better informed of your Adventures, I know Artemidorus hath recounted them to Aronces, after he had acquaint∣ed him with his own; but it would not be just to trouble him to relate them; and 'tis much better your self should satisfie our curiosity. For my particular (said Zenocrates) should I under∣take to recount my History, I should no sooner mention my self, but Artemidorus would inter∣rupt me; and affirm, I am not well acquainted with my self; and I believe my Adventures ought not to be known of so many persons, and there are some considerable accidents in my fortune, which are not convenient to publish, till it pleases my destiny to change the state of things; but for Artemidorus, it much imports his repose, that all friends should know his fortune, to ba∣nish the most unjust grief, ever seis'd a lovers heart; for till this time none can perswade him he hath injury, and as 'tis convenient for his repose, I offer my self to be his Historian; for though I should not be accused of too much ardency or le∣vity in love, I condemn it not. I would there∣fore have the permission to recount the affection of Artemidorus; for if these persons here pre∣sent do not perswade him, that the excess of his secret grief is unjust, he will never be cured; all then testified a great impatience to obtain the consent of Artemidorus, for Brutus was not dis∣pleased to know, if he might find a lover as un∣happy as himself: Herminius, by a tender resent∣ment, wished the power to consolate Artemidorus: Amilcar, by an universal curiosity, desired to know the life of this Prince, and both Valeria and Hermilia, according to the nature of their Sex, had an earnest desire to hear the narration of Zenocrates, induced thereto by a natural re∣sentment, incident to Ladies of their quality and perfections; for Aronces, as he knew all that which had happened to Artemidorus, he augment∣ed the curiosity of the Company; and in fine, he was so prest by their forcible perswasions, that he consented Zenocrates should relate his adven∣tures; but not desiring to be at the recounting of them; and Aronces having already heard them, he requested him to withdraw into his own Chamber; and after their departure, Zenocrates having consider'd on what he had to say, began to speak in these terms, addressing his speech to Hermilia only, he being then in her Cham∣ber.

The History of Artemido∣rus.

THough Sicily is not so far distant from Rome, that I conceive you are ignorant of the Cu∣stoms thereof, yet I pre-suppose there's many things which never arriv'd your knowledge; for, Madam, to speak ingeniously, the Romans so de∣spise all other people, that they believe they should injure themselves even to know their manners. And our Ladies not being so reserved as here, 'tis requisite you should be pre-acquainted with the general usage of divers places, I shall have occasi∣on to insert in my narration; for fear you con∣demn not in particular those who have interest in things, I intend to relate unto you. I shall then tell you, Madam, that Sicily having at this time the Commerce of Affrica and Italy, as well as of Greece and Asia; I may say this famous Isle is the common Country of different Nations, and

there is a confluency of divers people in all places where Commerce is most consign'd, and except at Panormes there's scarce in any part the true man∣ners of the Country; and 'tis rare that in all the Maritime Towns except that I intend to mention, they have a certain spirit which retains something of their opposite neighbours; so that the Coast of Messina which was called heretofore Zangle, when the Gyants, as is reported, inhabited it, hath a resemblance with those of Rhegium, the Coast which looks on the Ionian Sea, with the Ascatique and Heraclea and Agrigentine with the Affricans customs; but for Leontine which is the native Country of Artemidorus, the Customs there have some Conformity with all these different Na∣tions, agreeing likewise with those of the Coun∣try; but to speak in general, there is in all places so much liberty and gallantry, that without doubt there is scarce any Country in the World, where one may have such a delectable residence: For be∣sides that the Country is pleasant, fertile, and ve∣ry diversified, the people are full of spirit, and have generally so much; as for that reason they are suspected to be artificious and a little incon∣stant. But as I shall speak but of Leontine and A∣grigentine, I shall tell you nothing of the other Cities of this famous Isle, neither shall I much trou∣ble my self to speak of the first, because I cannot do it without mentioning many things, which have reference to the Princess of the Leontines, Sister of Artemidorus, whose Adventures I ought not now to recount to you: be contented then to know, that as the Country of the Leontines is nigh the fertilest in the Isle, all pleasures are there in their great Lustre, except in Syracusa and Agri∣gentine, where I may say with the permission of Amilcar, all the African Gallantry hath passed: But to come to the principal History I have to re∣late to you, without telling you all those slight things which resemble themselves in all the Com∣mencements of love in the World: You must know that this illustrious unhappy person, is his Bro∣ther who is now Prince of the Leontines, and of the admirable Princes who hath now found an A∣sylum in the King of Clusium's Court, and being at his birth endowed with all noble Inclinations, he was in estate to merit the esteem of all those who knew him: For his person I shall say nothing of it, for you see 'tis framed according to the exact rules of proportion; but for his Spirit, though you know it hath all advantages imaginable, yet I assure you, you do not sufficiently know it; for his grief hath so clouded his humour, and left such an indifferency and melancholy, that he hath no more the same agreement he usually had in his conversation, and that he yet would have, should joy resume its usual place in his heart: As for his temperament 'tis without doubt tender and pas∣sionate, he loves glory and is extremely grateful, maintaining the greatest of all Vices, is ingrati∣tude; he is both liberal and just, and few have equalled him in merit: 'Tis true that for those he doth not esteem, he hath not a too regular civility, he is very free to those which please him, else reserv'd to all. Artemidorus then meriting that Character in which I have represented him to you, and being in a splendid Court, submitted to the Love of an amiable Virgin, as soon as he returned from a Voyage he had made into Greece: 'Tis true she was none of the greatest beauties, but she hath such an agreement, that she gave en∣vy to the fairest, and love to the most insensible; for though her Person is well made, and infinite∣ly pleasing, she hath a sweet and tempting spi∣rit, which repels nothing, but attracts all; she hath it neither too free nor too serious, and there is such a charming facility in her entertain∣ment that 'tis not strange if Artemidorus was sur∣priz'd with its attractive Charms, and I may ve∣ry well assure you, that I think this Virgin which is called Clidimira, had nigh as much affection for him, as he for her, at least she gave him such innocent testimonies of esteem, which made him believe she would permit him to bear her Chains: Artemidorus being thus immerged in love, Clidimira made some seeming difficulty to ingage her self to love him, because she foresaw the Prince of the Leontines would not suffer her to espouse him, there being some difference be∣tween him and her Father; but flattering her self with the hope that the love of Artemidorus might surmount this obstacle, she took care to foment his passion, and gave him such innocent demonstrations of affection, as a vertuous vir∣gin might license a man she believ'd might one day espouse her, for as she wrote gallantly and tenderly, Artemidorus received many Letters from her, and during a long time, he was the happiest Lover in the world: But in the end he was eclipsed, by the Prince his brother who see∣ing this love was divulg'd in the Court, cast out some expressions, intimating his dissenting from it; Artemidorus therefore used all possible means to perswade his brother to alter his de∣terminate will, though there was no likelihood to effect it; and the Prince of the Leontines seeing with what order Artemidorus spoke to him; forbid him not only to think of espousing her, but to absent himself from seeing her, declaring to him that if he would not obey him, he would confine this Virgin to a place where he should not see her, and seeing Artemidorus persevere in his affection, he defended Clidimira from suffering his brothers visits, yet she would receive him into one of her friends houses; in fine, seeing all his Com∣mands were slighted, he committed her to the custody of her who commanded the vailed Vir∣gins at Leontine, which are consecrated to Ceres, and he more easily effected his intention, because Clidimira having no mother, and being rich, he made her interest a pretext to inclose her there. In the mean time, Artemidorus was overwhelm'd with grief, for Clidimira was in a sacred place where no violence might be offered her; on the other side, this Virgin being thus immured in a solitude, and not having permission to breath himself in the open ayr became buried in such a languishing melancholy, that it much impaired her health. Artemidorus having notice of her indis∣position, and having ineffectually tried allways both by affability and violence, either ro divert his brothers indignation or to steal away Clidimira, and fearing her grief would bring her to the Mar∣gent of her Grave, caused information to be given to the Leontine Prince, that to essay to cure his passion, he was resolved to perform a Voyage, on condition that as soon as he was departed he should set Clidimira at liberty; or at the least

commit her to a Lady of quality; who should be responsible for her; afterwards divers Per∣sons engaging themselves in the negotiation of this affair, this unhappy lover to deliver his Mi∣stris fled both from himself and Country; by a pure resentment of love, for you must not think he had any design no more to affect Clidimira, he being at this time more amorous then ever, at his departure he writ a Letter, containing many tender and passionate expressions, which he left with a confident of her passion to deliver her, and withall to tell her that he would sacri∣fice all for her interest, and that he would ac∣count himself happy in his exile, if she would inviolably preserve her affection; assuring her that if the state of things did admit of any mu∣tation, he would unknown to any return to Le∣ontine to see her, and to carry her away with her consent, if she had any desire to run his fortune, he recommended her to the Princesse his sister, and to all his friends at Court, not forgetting to perform any thing a faithfull lover is oblig'd to do, after that he embarqu'd in a Vessel which re∣turned to Rhegium, carrying with him all Clidimira's Letters as his only consolation during his exile; for I forgot to tell you that the Prince of the Leontines was not ingaged to free Clidimira, un∣lesse Artemidorus departed the Isle. Behold him then imbarqu'd not for any long Navigation, but as the Sicilian Sea is very dangerous, an impetuous wind rose on a sudden, forcing the Vessel where Artemidorus was, between those two Rocks so famous for Shipwracks, known by the name of Sylla and Charibdis; 'tis true the fortune of Arte∣midorus was so happy that the Pilot having had a design to steer his course to Messina where the Tempest had cast him, his Vessel which was in∣gag'd between those two famous Rocks, after it had suffered much agitation, run upon a shelf of sand not far from the shore, those who were within seeing the Vessel take water on all sides, resolv'd to make their Arms their Oars to save their lives; for Artemidorus he signalized his love in this encounter, for not believing at first he could save a Casket in which were all the Letters of his Mistress, and being not resolv'd to leave them, he remained last in the Vessel; but in fine, ha∣ving tied his Casket on two Oars laid a cross, and fastning them with a Cord to his left Arm, cast them into the Sea, throwing himself after, swimming with so much force that he reach'd the shore, and preserv'd those precious testimo∣nies of Clidimira's love, part of the goods cast in∣to the Sea were again recovered and part lost, and the Shipwrck was very nigh Messina, Arte∣midorus went thither, but he was in a condition to be commiserated, for his equipage was lost, and his men perish'd, and if he had not remem∣bred that he knew a man at Messina, which here∣tofore belong'd to the King his father, he had been expos'd to extream necessity; for the Cap∣tain of the Vessel was not of Leontine, and was withall reduc'd to such misery that he was not in estate to afford him any assistance. Artemidorus being gone to Messina had the fortune to find the party he sought for, but as he would not have his quality known, he chang'd his habit, & took a common souldiers habit, had he desired to ap∣pear like himself, that man who assisted him was not in a capacity to sit him with an equipage proportionable to his condition. Artemidorus found some relaxation in his misfortunes, when he considered that by this divesting himself of his gorgeous attire, he should not be subject to all those ceremonies which are inseparable concomitants to persons of his condition in their passage through forraign Countries, he was much troubled to chuse a place where he should reside; for in the estate where he was he would not passe to Rhegium he having no acquaintance there: after some consul∣tation with himself, he had a design to go to Hera∣elea, from whence he hop'd easily to have notice what transactions passed at Leontine, he thought 'twould be advantagious for him to take this reso∣lution, because there was war now between the Prince of Agrigentine, and the Prince of Heraclea, for the limits of those two petty estates: For as you know Sicily is divided into so many different Dominions, that 'tis impossible they should al∣waies be at peace, and as the Leontine was enemy to the Agrigentine Prince, Artemidorus believed if he should bear arms against him, the Prince his brother after he was inform'd of it would perhaps repent of the injury he had done him against the iuterest of his love, 'tis not but Arte∣midorus as he is just did not know that the Prince his brother was injust in hating the Agrigentine Prince, who was a man of extraordinary merit, desiring therefore to go to the War, he had ra∣ther take the part of the Heraclean Prince then anothers, enemy to his brother; after he had spent one moneth at Messina, he departed from thence with a design to list himself in the Heraclean Troops; but going thither he met some avant coureurs of the Agrigentine Army, as he would not have been taken, he did what he could to escape them, and he having met eight or ten Cavaliers which were returning to the Heraclean Camp, he animated them to their de∣fence; and they so couragiously defended them∣selves, that there was scarce ever seen a Combate so terrible, and of such a long continuance be∣tween such an unequal number, the Agrigentines being four times as many as the Heracleans; for Artemidorus, he acted such prodigious things (re∣maining alone in fighting Posture) that they which environ'd him resov'd to save his life, though he refused to render himself on any conditions: at last, overpower'e by number, he was forced to receive his life, after his Sword was broken: There was amongst these Agrigentines a man of quality, called Terillus, who judg'd this action too bold and advent'rous to be perform'd by a simple Cavalier, such as his habit represented him, and he saw somthing in his ayr so great and noble, that he believed he ought not to treat him as a common prisoner, he caus'd him to be atten∣ded with much circumspection, and after he had sent back part of his men to the Camp, he went himself to present his prisoner to the Prince, who was gone for two or three days to the City of Agrigentine. Artemidorus was doubtless much afflicted to be a Princes prisoner, who was at so much enmity with his Brother, that 'twas almost impossible they should come to any reconciliation; for he believ'd if he knew his quality, he would thereby much advantage himself; and the Prince of the Leontines when he was advertised of it,

would perhaps be transported with anger against Clidimira, because he would look upon her as the immediate cause of this inauspicious accident; he therefore hoped he should not be known, there be∣ing no great commerce between Leontine and Agri∣gentine; and having heard he was at a Castle he had built on the further side of the City, he thought he should not be expos'd to the view of many persons; that he should suffer but the dis∣quietude of Imprisonment, and that in some ge∣neral exchange of Prisoners, he should recover his liberty; and to flatter himself with some con∣solation, he likewise imagined, that the Wars be∣tween those two petty States would soon be put to a period, and that there was nothing more requisite for him, then with constancy to support his Imprisonment: Being settled in this resolu∣tion, he patiently submitted to their conduct. But Madam, before I declare to you in what manner Artemidorus was presented to the Agri∣gentine Prince, and how he was treated, 'tis ne∣cessary for me to give you a brief character of the Prince to whom he was presented, and of the Princess his Daughter, and another person of the same Sex, who hath much part in this History; to the end that in the continuation of my recital, you may have a more perspicuous understanding of what I intend to relate; for, for my part, I love to have an accurate description of those of whose adventures I receive a narration. There∣fore I must tell you, that the Prince of Agrigentine is a man in all things illustrious, His house to which the principality appertaines, is not only most Noble, and of great Antiquity, but more emi∣nent by the opposition it made against the Ty∣ranny of the cruel Phalaris, who rewarded the Inventers of any new punishment, and whose in∣justice is at this time in so much horror amongst the Agrigentines, that I dare not pronounce his name but with detestation; for to entertain their hatred against him, and render his name odious to posterity, they one day in a year pub∣likely shew (with Imprecations) a brazen Bull made by one call'd Perillus, to the end those whom the Tyrant would put to death, should be therein enclos'd, and a fire being made round about it, the voices they pronounc'd resembling bellowings, would the less attenerate the peoples hearts; you may conceive his Tyrannie by this Invention which was made to please him; but he found one act of Justice in his life, for he put him to death in this brazen Bull who was the In∣ventor of it, though he was accustomed to re∣compense those who invented such things; But if he was just to Perillus, the gods were just to him; since after innumerable cruelties, he expired (like Perillus) in this brazen Bull; and the ha∣tred which the Agrigentines had conceiv'd against him was so great, that because his Guards were habited in blew, which he employed to exercise those cruelties, they forbade their dependants from wearing this amiable colour, and 'tis but a∣bout a year since that the Princess of Agrigentine at the earnest request of one of her friends whom she passionately loved, hath again introduc'd it: But to resume the thred of my discourse, the Prince I have mention'd being of an ancient Race, and enemy to this cruel Tyrant, he is in much veneration at Agrigentine, and if he should be recommendable but by his own vertue, he would be very much respected by his Subjects; for besides as he nigh governeth the City as if it were a Re∣publique, he hath spirit, learning, capacity, and experience; He is an excellent soldier, and a great Captain, he keeps his Troops in exact Dis∣cipline, he knows the art to make himself fear'd and lov'd by his Souldiers in particular, and his Subjects in general; he hath qualities befitting a man of his Birth, he is courteous, civil, and ob∣liging, principally to the Ladies; he understands and speaks with facility many languages, he fa∣vours learning, he is magnificent and liberal, and hath an heart sensible of glory; he takes all inno∣cent pleasures, he retains a certain gallant ayr, demonstrating to those which know him that his heart is susceptible of love. But if this Prince merits an high encomium, he hath a daughter worthy of him, and able to command admiration from all, Philonice is the Princess of Agrigentines name; she is the most surprizing Person in the world: for you must know, that as the Princess her mother was wrapt in the cold embraces of the grave ere she compleated a triennial age, her illustrious Father having at this time many war∣like Preparations, which have since impal'd his brow with victorious Laurel, instead of leaving her at Agrigentine, caus'd her to be educated at a magnificent Castle belonging to him, scituated in the Campagne; and as she appear'd in the world, she was adorn'd with all imaginable politeness, and I assure you without flattery, that she is ac∣quainted in many things which her only imagina∣tion hath dictated to her; and for her Person, 'tis infinitely pleasing, her head is crown'd with black resplendent hair, she is of a mean stature, yet so agreeable and noble, that it admits of no dis∣advantage, her action is free and natural without any affectation, the circumference of her visage shews the extreams of an imperfect Circle, and almost form'd it to a perfect oval, the new fallen snow was turn'd in comparison of the refin'd pu∣rity of her complexion, her mouth for shape sha∣med the imitation of the most exquisite Painters, and all the features of her face had so near a kin∣dred of proportion and symmetrie, as the severest master of Apelles art might have call'd it his glo∣ry to have copyed Beauties from her as the best of models, her eyes darted forth such a radiant splendour, as neither the firmest eye, nor the strongest soul could arm themselves with resistance of proof against these pointed glories, but there results from all these perfections such a modest ayr on the visage of Philonice, that her only phy∣siognomie clears what blemish can be imputed to the vertue of her soul, and delicateness of her spirit, 'tis not but when she meets with any that she neither esteems nor pleases her, she hath a certain coldness which (without being uncivil) seems more touching to those to whom it is ad∣dress'd, she's affable, but the grandeur of her soul, and habitual probity, retains her from making those delusive caresses which by many Ladies of the Court are practised with so much Prodigality; but for a person she loves, there's no Princess in the world can testifie her tenderness in more ob∣liging and real expressions; she is of such a liberal inclination, and all her resentments are so discreet and generous, as she believes her action should not

bely her words; for spirit, she hath it to admirati∣on, she speaks both naturally and gallantly, she writes pleasant Letters in a stile so natural, reser∣ving her quality, that I can mint no expression to e∣qual their praise, she hath a solid vertue, glory is the cheifest of her delight, her heart is tender, spirit firm, her amity both constant, sincere, and agreea∣ble, she's discreet in all her actions, she's never capa∣ble of any transportment, she is both young and wise, she hath judgement without experience, and prudence without pride, and she is so accomplish∣ed, that I can tax her of nothing but of too much vertue, since, 'tis certain she is so modest, that she doth not well know it, at least she speaks as if she esteem'd her self not so much as she ought; 'tis true, she accuses her self in such an ingenious manner, that her own words betray her. There's likewise in this place another Virgin, whose Father is Go∣vernour of the Castle of Agrigentine, who is highly esteem'd by Philonice, not without desert, for be∣sides as she is fair, and hath an engaging spirit, which both pleases and charms all those who approach her, she knows how to fit the humour of all Per∣sons, her Discourse is admirable, she never ap∣pears distemper'd at her company, she hath a mo∣dest jovialty, that gives delight to many persons. This Virgin called Berelisa hath moreover such a passionate spirit, that she makes her glory consist in knowing how to love her friends; and as Philo∣nice hath much inclination for her, she is com∣monly with her: The day in which Artemidorus was brought to the Castle of Agrigentine, she was with this Princess in a great Hall, where the Prince her Father was, with many other Ladies leaning on a Balcony which jetted on the Court, to see twelve stately horses that had a little before been sent to her Father, and she desiring to go next morning to the Chace, he would have both her and Berelisa chuse those they would have for that gallant sport; as their eyes were wholly imployed in surveying these Horses; Terillus who had taken Artemidorus entred into the Hall, fol∣lowed by his prisoner, leaving his men at the entry of the gate; you know Artemidorus is of a gallant deportment, which will easily make you believe that he attracted the regards of the Agrigentine, Prince of the Princess Philonice, and the amiable Berilisa, and all the rest of the com∣pany, for though his habit was but simple, yet had he the ayr of a person of Quality, though in the design he had to disguise himself, he affect∣ed unusual simplicity: 'Tis true seeing all per∣fections concenter in these Ladies, he would not hinder himself from saluting them with such a grace, that disposed them to conceive a good o∣pinion of him; In the mean time Terillus who presented him to the Prince of Agrigentioe, see∣ing him prepared to give him attention, thus said, Sir, I come to present to you this Prisoner, I am obliged to praise, and to excuse the weakness of those who took him, and to give you occasion to treat him with civility; for to speak as a person of Honour, who ought to commend the courage of his enemies, it hath sometimes been more easie for me to put five hundred men to flight, then to vanquish this valiant man; for there was so much difficulty to make him render himself after his Sword was broken, that I conceiv'd it requisite to acquaint you with his valour; to the end, that treating him according to his merit, he should repent himself from having exposed his life, rather then to be your Prisoner.

It is so natural (said Artemidorus) for generous Conquerours to praise the courage of those they have vanquished, that I ought to draw no vanity from the praises you have attributed to me. He which praises you is so brave himself, replyed the Agrigentine Prince, that you may glory in his prai∣ses; and if you had ever seen him in any dange∣rous occasions, as he hath seen you, you would retribute the like praises to his Valour; and as your great magnanimity and the air of your Visage easily dispose me to believe you are of illustrious blood, though your habit contradict that opi∣nion: Tell me what you are, and what's your condition, and what motive induc'd you to take such an unjust party? I know by your accent you are no Heraclean, but I am confident you are a Si∣cilian, and concluding you a Sicilian, and not an Heraclean, I confess to you I cannot tell precifely, whether you are of Syracusa, Panormus, Erycine, Messina, or Leontine, though it seems your pro∣nunciation speaks you the last. Sir, replied Ar∣temidorus, as I have many particular reasons which oblige me not to discover either my Name or Country, dispense with it if you please, and I assure you I will not complain of you, if you do me the favour to treat me as a private Soldier, and as a Prisoner of War. Whilst Artemidorus thus spoke, Philonice and Berelisa attentively fix'd their eyes upon him, and the Prince of Agrigentine after an exact survey, noting the whiteness of his hand, turning towards Philonice and Berelisa thus said: I pray, What think you of this Prisoner? may I credit his words, or my reason? For my part (replied Philonice) I find him to have the air of a person of Quality. For my particular, added Berelisa, I am perswaded this Prisoner is a man of condition and spirit, and if he should have con∣fessed it to me, my belief would not receive any stronger impression: For, pursued she, depressing her voice, if he was but a simple Soldier, he would heighten his condition to be more civilly used. Philonice confirm'd what Berelisa had said, and all the other Ladies were of Opinion, that this Pri∣soner was neither a simple Officer nor Soldier: The Prince of Agrigentine turning towards him with a gallant and civil air natural to him; As 'tis ad∣vantageous for you we should doubt of your words (said he to him) and that all these Ladies will not believe you, nor suffer me to do it, permit me to think you are not such a person as you represent your self, therefore you shall be treated with all the civility and courtesie that a generous Prisoner may claim, but kept with as much exactitude as persons of quality; and in time (it may be) you will resolve to speak with more confidence. 'Tis not for the vanquished to give laws to the van∣quisher, replied Artemidorus, and I have doubtless nothing to do, but constantly to support my Im∣prisonment; I render thanks to these Ladies for their advantageous opinion: Artemidorus pro∣nounced these words with such a noble Air, that it added a confirmation to their belief; and ha∣ving sent for Berelisas Father, who (as I have al∣ready told you) was Governour of the Castle, he commanded him civilly to treat him, and to take strict care of him; who departed with his Priso∣ner

as soon as he had received this express order from the Prince. But to the end (said the Prince of Agrigentine, addressing himself to Berelisa) this Prisoner should have no desire to cancel those Chains the fortune of War hath impos'd upon him, give him, I entreat you, those of love. 'Tis affirm'd it is so dangerous to desire to give much, without exposing themselves to take a little, re∣plied Philonice (seeing Berelisa fram'd no answer) that I would not counsel her to obey you. Her silence (he replied) gives consent, and she hath so attentively beheld this Prisoner, that I imagine the Beauty of his Person hath already strom'd her In∣clination. I ingeniously confess (answered Bereli∣sa, a vermilion Tincture shadowing her Cheeks) this Unknown pleaseth me, without knowing him, I pity him as an unhappy person, whom I believe worthy of my compassion, and to whom I will vo∣luntarily render all the favour lies in my power, not prejudicing your service. If you oblige him to love you, replied the Prince of Agrigentine, he will love his imprisonment, he will bless his cap∣tivity, his chains will be grateful, he will it may be change party, and you will give me a new Subject, by procuring a new Slave. At these words all jested with Berelisa, seeing it pleas'd the Prince, and they were minded the more to do it; by reason Terillus there present was amorous of Berelisa, though she could not affect him: This Lover thus finding all to counsel his Mistress to conquer this Prisoners heart, and having noted she had lookt upon him with extraordinary atten∣tion, he even wished he had not taken him, and could not conceal his anger from Berelisa; who perceiving it, and not being thereat displeased, suddenly chang'd her manner of speech, to answer to the Railery of the Agrigentine Prince: She told him that after some consideration, she imagined she should perform a charitable Office, to give love to this Prisoner, but to the end (pursued she) that the more glory should reflect on me, I must first know whether he is a person of quality, whether he is of your enemies Country, or whe∣ther he is amorous, that I may effare his first Mi∣stress from his heart, that I oblige him to re∣nounce his party, and to forget his Country. But if he should change his party (replied Teril∣lus) would he be worthy of your esteem? and do you believe, that a man without honour should merit your love? For my part, replied Berelisa, I love glory as much as any person, and I cannot suffer a degenerate action; but in case of love, I would not have honour to be alledged to me, to destroy my intentions; and if I had a Lover, and that I was so unjust as to demand a testimony of af∣fection from him, which did not rightly square with Justice, I would he should be unjust for the love of me, and that he should yield to love me; for if I make no scruple to be injust for the love of my self, sure I cannot think it fit my Lover should do it for the love of himself, and that he prefers his interest to my will, I know to speak prudently, love ought not to contradict honour, but to speak as Mistress of it; Love ought to make a Lover act any thing to please his Lady. Ah Berelisa (replied Philonice) you say too much of it, for the means to esteem him who obeys you, if you command him any unworthy act. I have al∣ready told you, replied she, that I can esteem my Lover no more than my self, and that I would he should be capable of all that I do, and all that I would have him do; 'tis not that I should be as∣sured, I should be ever incapable to command any indignity; but I am likewise assured, that a Mi∣stress cannot think it good that she should not be blindly obeyed, and that if he disobeys, he should yet pretend to be a lover. For my part, replied the Prince of Agrigentine, which have (it may be) as much experience in love as war, I be∣lieve that a man of honour, which sees himself constrained to commit an unworthy action, or dis∣obey his Mistress, ought not to perform her commands, but desert his Empire, and endea∣vour to cure his amorous Lethargie, by the knowledge he hath of her Injustice, but he ought not to pretend to continue to be beloved, sure to speak of the thing in general, it appertains not to a disobedient lover to aspire to that advantage, and when 'tis ones misfortune to love a less ge∣nerous person, he must renounce her love and favours, to preserve his liberty, to reason on all that she commands him; it is a thing so opposite to the Laws of this Passion, that 'tis only fit to de∣stroy the Empire of Love; all those Titles of Prisoner, Captive and Slave, which are given to a Lover, are infallible marks he is obliged to o∣bey; and he must relinquish the Empire of this God, which makes so many happy and unhappy, if he will not obey without reason and knowledge, but when I conclude, he must always obey his Mistress, I infer he must submit to none but those who have generous hearts. But Sir, replied Terillus (whose spirit was inraged) if a man is obliged to obey without any consideration, what then belongs to reciprocal Love? Do you think it should be just that a woman should refuse in∣considerable favours, saying, her virtue restrains her, and that a man may not say to a woman that he is retained by love from obeying her? For if you desire a Lady to give you an assignation, she says by doing it, she should hazard her reputati∣on: if you entreat her to write to you, she will answer you, that though it may be innocent, it is so dangerous to accustom her self thereto, that she cannot resolve to do it, and these things she refuses by a resentment of glory, are not things criminal, yet you will have a Lover refuse nothing; and that in a word, there should be no reciprocal Love. I pray, replied Philonice, to please Bere∣lisa, do not you imagine, that if it should be true that a woman might love as she should be beloved, she was obliged to the same things, for there are reciprocal affections, whose testimonies ought to be different. 'Tis true, said the Prince of Agri∣gentine, for Kings ought to love their Subjects, and Subjects their Kings, yet their obligations are dif∣ferent; for the one hath power to command, the other ought to obey. Fathers and Children ought likewise to have a mutual affection, and so there should be between Masters and Slaves, though their Duties have no resemblance; like∣wise, though the heart of a Mistress, as well as a Lovers, ought to be tipp'd with a tender beam of affection, yet the testimonies have some disagree∣ment; a lover was never heard to say to his Mi∣stress, I command you to obey me; yet no per∣son is ignorant, but in a Ladies mouth a com∣mand is more obliging than a request, and between

entreating, ordaining and commanding, custom hath yet certain distinctions, which makes a lo∣ver, whose heart is framed in the delicate mould of love, rather to desire his Mistress to ordain, than entreat any thing of him, and to conceive a greater pleasure would accrue to him by the word command, than request; therefore I conclude, that a lover must obey, or relinquish his love; for as soon as he commits any disobedience, he flies his love, and hath no more right to pretend to any affection: and if the fair Berelisa can acquire this valiant Prisoner to inrol himself under my Standard, I shall esteem it a greater felicity. I confess (replied she) I should not be displeased at it; and were I advantaged with a larger pro∣portion of Beauty, or graced with more charms fit to conquer hearts, I would not despair of my intended surprizal; for all my intelligent facul∣ties seem to court my heart to affect him. You sometimes so harshly censure those you know, said Terillus to her, that this your new kind of injustice doth not surprise me. Those you say I know are, it may be such strangers to them∣selves (replied Berelisa to him, her accent expres∣sing her anger) that they have no great reason to accuse me of injustice. After these words the Prince of Agrigentine changed the Discourse, speaking to all the Ladies, which were to ac∣company the Princess, the subsequent day to the Chace; and when night began to vail the skie with its sable mantle, the Prince and Philonice, with all the other Ladies return'd to the Palace situate in the middle of the City; Terillus fol∣lowed the Prince of Agrigentine, and Berelisa re∣mained at her Father's house, who was named Afranor, and who being of the most conspicuous quality next the Prince, had the sole power com∣mitted to him, when the Prince engaged in a∣ny warlike action. In the mean time the Chace next day was performed with all imaginable mag∣nificence; the day was ushered in by a fair morn∣ing, not one cloud wrinkling the brow of hea∣ven, and the company wholly fashioned to de∣light Philonice, who could guide with much dex∣terity the reins of her horse, and who was drest after the most gallant exquisite mode, had this day all the pleasantness of her humour, and Bere∣lisa alone had such disposition to melancholy, that she could not surmount it; Philonice had therefore for her a thousand obliging cares; for though she did not passionately love blue, which she had caused to be used at Agrigentine, on purpose to please Berelisa, she was at this time clothed in that amiable colour; she had sent to her a kind of Coif with plumes, to shade her from the scorching heat of Phoebus; and in fine, she forgot nothing which she thought might oblige her to banish this severe melancholy. Nevertheless Berelisa could not conceal her distemper. 'Tis true, that as she did not affect Terillus, and that he did this day importune her, she conceived him to be the sole cause of her anxiety; and when Philonice having separated her from the company, de∣manded her the reason of it: she answered her it was the great concourse of people. But, said Berelisa to her, who would you banish? I would assuredly banish Terillus, replied she, and if I might effect my desires, added she smiling, I think I should send him to the place of that valiant Pri∣soner, to whom I would willingly resign his, for at least, if he did not delight, he would not im∣portune me. Seriously (said Philonice to her, shadowing her cheeks with a modest smile) I be∣lieve the valour of that Unknown Person sways your inclination. 'Tis true, I have a good opi∣nion of him, replied Berelisa, but above all, that which engages me to desire to serve him, is, a re∣sentment of amity; for (as you know) I have a Brother very dear to me, who hath already com∣pleated a year in peregrination, and who it may be is exposed to such adventures; I fancy that there is a certain equity which obligeth the gods to render us all the good we desire; and I am re∣solved to desire all I may for this Unknown, in hope that the gods will cause the like to be re∣taliated to my Brother, in what place soever he resides; for, as you know, Telesis is as well my Friend as Brother, and I am both his Sister and Confident; and conceiving my self more obliged to love him, because he treats me as a Friend, then because he is my Brother, my thoughts conti∣nually reflect on him, and 'tis assuredly the prece∣dent motive, which hath induced me to interest my self in this valiant Unknown. Telesis is cer∣tainly worthy of your expressive tenderness, re∣plied Philonice, but I know not (added she) if this Prisoner was deficient in those noble qualities which had raised him to the height of an accom∣plished man, he would as much remember you. There's no doubt of that, replied Berelisa, but I principally interest my self in this Unknown, be∣cause there's some resemblance between him and my Brother; for Telesis is nigh of his age, he is (as you know) well proportioned, he hath given some evident testimonies of his courage, he hath spirit; and in fine (if I dare say it) as gallant as the Prisoner seems to be. As Berelisa thus spoke, she was interrupted by the Agrigentine Prince, who told her the Chase would not permit a long dis∣course, and that they should not transpose the pleasures of it; so that Berelisa gallantly answer∣ing the Agrigentine Prince, the rest of the Chase passed in an agreeable manner, and at night the Prince made a magnificent Feast to all the Ladies, which had enjoyed the benefit of this Princely sport; Artemidorus, who was lodged in a Cham∣ber, which looked upon the garden of the Agri∣gentine Castle, had seen them return from the Chase; for though his Chamber was but a foot higher than the Garden, it was built on such a rising ground, that it discovered all the Country which environed the City; the sight of a com∣pany where joy seemed to be so universal, gave some addition to his melancholy; for he imagin∣ed what would be Clidimiras grief, if she knew he was Prisoner to an enemy of the Leontine Prince; he even thought that his absence alone would cause her an incredible affliction, and when he re∣membred all those demonstrations of affection, which had past between them, he doubted not but she should employ all the moments of her life to think of him, and regret his absence; and he felt not only his own grief, but he suffered that which he presupposed Clidimira would endure for his consideration. In the mean time, his Guards reported divers things to Afranor, which per∣swaded him that this Prisoner was of a greater condition than he said; he was kept very exactly,

though treated with much civility, he had the li∣berty in the day time to be alone is his Chamber, and those which had taken, had not risled him, because his Valour claimed their respect, he had divers Letters of Clidimira, which he often pe∣rused to consolate himself; for when he departed from Messina, he thought that desiring to pass for a simple Cavalier, 'twas not convenient for him to carry that precious Casket, which was depo∣sitary of all the secrets of his heart, but content∣ed himself to take the Letters of Clidimira, to give him some consolation during his voyage: Artemi∣dorus living in this manner, spent whole days in ruminating on Clidimira: and Berelisa a resent∣ment of inclination, pity, generosity, and tender∣ness for her absent Brother, was very solicirous to render this Prisoner all those things she con∣ceived might sweeten the rigour of his imprison∣ment: But if in the beginning she believed her self obliged by the prementioned reasons, she found her self afterwards engaged by a more pu∣issant motive: You may remember (as I have al∣ready told you) that the Chamber of Artemidorus was a foot higher than the Garden, from whence the prospect is very delicate; for it had two Win∣dows, the one facing the Campagn, the other the end of a Walk, which looked upon a Garden∣knot, so enamelled with the choisest of Floras trea∣sures, and beautified by Art in such ingenious man∣ner, that Art and Nature did contend therein for mastery. This Walk being very agreeable when the Sun doth not guild it with its radiant Beams, Berelisa towards the Evening often repaired thi∣ther, and there being two seats at the ends, and in the middle of this Walk to repose on, commo∣diously to enjoy the fair prospect, there was a seat against the Window of Artemidorus so con∣trived, that though the Window was grated, it admitted the conveniency of discourse with those which were seated on this side the Walk. It of∣ten hapned, that Artemidorus, which was obliged to Berelisa for the good opinion she had testified of him, saluted her with much respect, when his Window was found open; and Berelisa, who was civil and courteous, and who had a secret un∣known reason, which rendred her more affable than ordinary, did often entertain discourse with Artemidorus; but as 'twas not possible for her to harbour an ill opinion of him; the more she saw, the more she esteemed him; and see∣ing melancholy enthroned in his face, compassion so invaded her heart, that seeing every day the charming Princess of Agrigentine more usually than before; the Prince her Father being gone to the War, she often spoke to her of her Pri∣soner, for she sometimes used that term, she having such a special care of him, and she did it principally to give Berelisa the curiosity to con∣verse with him, to the end that acknowledging his merit; she might at the Prince her Fathers return, endeavour to obtain his liberty, and Phi∣lonice, who is compassionate and generous, and who seeks occasions to render any one any cur∣teous office, told Berelisa, that the first fair day she would go to the Castle of Agrigentine, to see if she had reason to give such encomiums of her Prisoners spirit, as 'twas then the fairest season in the year: the next being serene and calm, correspondent to the desires of this Princess, and she being willing to perform her promise made to Berelisa, went to the Castle with this amiable Virgin, accompanyed with many Ladies, carry∣ing likewise with her one that had relation to her, whom the Prince of Agrigentine had sent to certifie her of a considerable advantage he had gained over his enemies; for he was one of Be∣relisas Friends, and was of a pleasant disposition, she believed he would render their recreation more delightful, and it succeeded as she imagined; Berelisas humour being at this time tun'd to the highest pitch of mirth; but in fine (without tre∣spassing on your patience, by relating those things which have no reference to the life of Artemido∣rus) I shall tell you, that the hour being come when they might take a commodious walk in the place, I have already mentioned, Philonice, and all the company went thither; but as Berelisae told her, she would not expose her Prisoner to speak before so many persons; the Princess only (followed by Berelisa) went towards the Win∣dow of Artemidorus; who seeing the Princess ap∣proach, saluted her with a profound reverence; after which (through respect) he would have withdrawn himself from the Window; but Phi∣lonice recall'd him, Return valiant Unknown, said she to him, return, and do not flye those who seek you. I am, Madam, so unworthy of this ho∣nour, replied he, that you ought not to think it strange, if I would have deprived my self of a pleasure that I am incapable to merit. All honest unhappy persons, replied the generous Philonice, merit every ones compassion; and if you should be but what you pretend, you would deserve the protection I offer you; but to speak sincere∣ly to you, I desire you precisely to tell me whence and who you are? If I would, Madam, replied Artemidorus, I might easily invent a lye, which you cannot presently disprove; but as I profess sincerity, I believe I had better ingeniously con∣fess unto you, that I have reasons which depend on none but my self, which both obstruct me from telling you the place of my Birth, and from inventing any fabulous narration. But at least confess, replied she, that you are of a quality pro∣portionable to your spirit, and that as you have neither the language nor heart, you have not the Birth of a simple Soldier; for in fine, I assure you Berelisa is very much your friend, and I should be as much, would you have this sincerity for me; you may confide your secret to us, without fear∣ing to be betray'd. The secrets of an unhappy person, Madam, replied he, are so little worthy knowledge, that if I should be what you think I am, I should not acquaint you with mine, for I should appear very ungrateful to recompense your generosity by a long recital of melancholy adven∣tures; therefore, Madam, if you please, do not command a thing that I cannot nor ought not to perform; and be certain, that I am so sensible of the honour you have done me, that if my mis∣fortunes were of that nature to admit of any di∣minution, the honour you vouchsafe me, by con∣versing with me, would give a cessation to my miseries. Ah Berelisa, you have reason, said the Prince to her, and your Prisoner is not what he would make us believe. I pray, Madam, (said then Artemidorus) acquaint me whether the Prince of Agrigentine hath given me to the fair

Berelisa. No, replied Philonice, but she so much interesses her self in your affairs, that she is in∣sensiby accustom'd to entitle you her Prisoner, and to oblige others to use that denomination; for as you will not discover your name, you ought to be known by some remarkable Title. I am very happy in my misfortune (replied he) to be the Prisoner of so fair and generous a per∣son. In truth, said Berelisa blushing, you have thereby no great advantage; for though I call you my Prisoner, 'tis not in my power to break your chains. As she had thus said, all the compa∣ny approach'd, so that Philonice being seated, and having commanded all the Ladies to take their seats, and Clisias likewise, whom the Prince of Agrigentine had sent to bring news of his Victory: The conversation began in this place, Artemido∣rus believing he was exempted, would have re∣tired; but as Philonice had found the grandeur of his spirit, which had given her much curiosity, and being perswaded he was a person of quality, she commanded him to stay, and at least to give attention to what they said, if he would not have any conference with them: Artemidorus re∣turned thanks to the Princess for the excessive bounty she had demonstrated to him, and remain'd, leaning against the bars of his Window, which look'd upon the seat where this company were; hardly were they seated, but Clisias said, 'Twas more happier for one to be a Prisoner of War than Love. If one being a Prisoner of War could not be a Prisoner of Love (replied Philonice) you would have reason to speak as you do, but in my opinion, they are not incompatible chains, and one may have them both. In this case (re∣plied Clisias) a man should be very unhappy. As he thus spoke, Berelisa casually looking on Artemido∣rus, saw he changed colour, and presupposing he might be both a Prisoner of War and Love, she had both a desire to say something to him, and to make Philonice note the change of his counte∣nance; but a little after, repenting her self of this first thought, not knowing wherefore, she blushed, and held her peace, permitting Clisias to continue his discourse; who answered Philo∣nice, he would ever maintain, that a Prisoner of War without Love, was less unhappy than a Prisoner of Love in Liberty. It seems to me agreeable, then said Philonice, that as there is no man here, but this valiant Unknown, which can know the weightiness of those divers chains, 'tis for him to give his opinion; for my part, who have ever had my heart free, who have never been a Prisoner, and who according to all appearance never shall be; I cannot give you a satisfactory answer, therefore I request Berelisa to command her Prisoner to answer you. As Love reigns in all Countries (replied Artemido∣rus) and it is found in all sorts of Persons, with∣out any distinction of conditions, I will not say I do not know Love; therefore, Madam, without expecting the command of the fair Berelisa, I will obey you, and on the contrary maintain, that how unhappy soever a Prisoneu of Love is, he had better be so, than a Prisoner of War; 'tis not that the chains of a Lover are less weighty than those the fortune of War imposes on any man; but there are a thousand and a thousand pleasures which accompany the first, and which are not found in the second. But after all, said Clisias, a Prisoner of War, how carefully soever he may be kept, hath his heart and spirit free, and is certain one day to be freed from his restraint; whereas a Prisoner of Love in an apparant li∣berty, is in a continual slavery; for he not only doth not what he would, but doth not think what seems good to him; he knows not when his imprisonment will finish, nor can he wish the conclusion of it. That which you say, replied Artemidorus, seems to make against you; for since a Prisoner of War continually desires to re∣cover his Liberty, and that a Prisoner of Love doth not desire it, it follows that the chains of Love are more pleasing than the others; in effect, there's no punition in Love, which hath not been preceded or followed by a pleasure, and despera∣tion often comes after one hath tasted the sweet∣ness of hope, without which there can never be any violent Love: for is it not true, that the grief of absence comes not, and cannot come till after one hath had the pleasure to enjoy the pre∣sence of a person one regrets? And fear likewise doth not possess a Lovers heart, till hope hath first led the way; and Jealousie is never altoge∣ther violent, if it is not in the heart of a be∣loved Lover, or who at least believes himself to be; 'tis not that other Lovers can be infected with Jealousie, but 'tis not so cruel as that I have before spoken of; moreover, those who have the infelicity to find Mistresses, whose Inconstancy renders them unhappy, have at least had the sa∣tisfaction to be beloved: and I in fine maintain (as I have already said) that all the punishments of Love are either preceded, or followed by most great pleasures; I likewise confidently say (added he) that a part of those pains, which make so many groan, sigh, and emit forth many dolorous exclamations, hath something more pleasing than that Liberty you mentioned, when you affirmed that a Prisoner of War without Love, is less mi∣serable than an amorous man in Liberty. I sub∣scribe to your opinion (replied Clisias) that there's no torments in Love, but are either preceded or followed by some pleasures; but to speak sincere∣ly, those pleasures are dangerous, since they ren∣der the privation more sensible, and imprint all the subsequent misfortunes in a more lively cha∣racter; for 'tis certain, that sometimes a favour∣able regard causes many displeasing hours; be∣cause one imagines, that if he was continually nigh the person he loved, and obtained nothing more than the only pleasure to see, and to be seen of her, he should be crowned with happi∣ness; and nevertheless it often arrives, that after one hath tried a hundred inventions to attain but a sight of the beloved object; It happens, I say, she is found in a humorous temper, and that which he believed would have elevated him to the supreme top of felicity, often precipitates him into the gulf of despair; on the contrary, when one finds her affable, he is but a little more hap∣py; for that Lover, who thinks he should be content, when he should be prostrate on his knees before his Mistress, at that time is deficient in many things, which should compleat his hap∣piness; likewise instead of praising that favour, she accords to him he hath so much desired, he re∣quests an hundred other things, and believes

himself as unfortunate, as if he had obtained no∣thing: I even affirm, that 'tis not in the power of the fairest person in the World, to make an ••norous man confess (during the space of six Months) that he is content; so true it is, that Love is uncapable of power to render one hap∣py. I confess (replied Artemidorus) 'tis difficult to find a Lover which desires nothing, and who always says he is content; but I sustain, that that which frames one part of his pleasure, is, that there's always something wanting to his felicity, that he hath a certain species of an amorous in∣quietude, which is the most pleasing and agree∣able pain imaginable, and that one of the most sensible pleasures is, to hope with an ardent de∣sire. 'Tis true (replied Clisias) you have reason to speak so much of the advantage of hope; at least I know (pursued he) that I have noted an hundred, and an hundred times in my life, in di∣vers occasions, that not only a Lover without hope hath no great pleasure, but that usually he me∣rits no more to be happy, as soon as he is content; no sooner is he assured to be beloved, but the fire of his former love grows extinct, at least he is not so sensible, so solicitous, so exact, so com∣plaisant, and so respectful as before, and the certainty he conceives to have pleased his Mi∣stress, taking from him the desire to please, he comes sometimes to please no more. Ah Clisias, replied Berelisa, I would hate a Lover, if he would take as much care to preserve my heart, as he hath done to acquire it. You have reason, Madam (replied Artemidorus) for I believe a man which is negligent when beloved, deserves to be hated, and that it is as just to desert the love of those negligent Lovers, as those which are un∣faithful: I know not (added he) if the proce∣dure of those persons, whom good fortune bu∣ries in a certain Lethargie of heart, where they lose all the sensibility of love, have not some∣thing more outragious than that of those incon∣stant Lovers, which are charmed with novelty; at least I know, that if I was a Lady in such an adventure, I should be more displeased, that my own charms destroy love in the heart of a Lo∣ver, than if others should deprive me of it. You discourse so well of this (replied Philonice, rising from her seat) that I die for fear you should not be at one time a Prisoner of War and Love. I am very rederable to you for such an obliging fear (replied Artemidorus) I therefore presuppose, Madam, that it only proceeds from a conceit you have, that I have not merit enough to entitle me a happy Lover. As Love is as blind as Fortune (replied Philonice) you know it never favours me∣rit, and I confess to you, my thoughts did not proceed from that cause your modesty dictated to you: In fine, Philonice said something to Artemi∣dorus, to intimate to him, she did not believe that which he said of himself; and to assure him, that she would serve in all occasions: After which she began to take a Walk; but whilst it lasted, Berelisas Prisoner was the subject of their conver∣sation: Philonice likewise prayed Clisias to en∣treat the Agrigentine Prince on her part, that this Prisoner might have liberty to take the Air, his Guards accompanying him; and few days were added to the age of time after Clisias return to the Camp, but Afranor had order to permit Ar∣temidorus to go forth with his Guards, and that they should shew him those things worthy of note in the City, which invite the curiosity of strangers: They presented to his sight the mag∣nificent ruines of a great Palace, called the Pa∣lace of the Gyants, where were Columns of such a prodigious immensity, that it evidently ap∣peared the first Inhabitants in this Isle were of a larger proportion than other men; he likewise saw admirable Aquaeducts, which are at Agrigen∣tine; he visited the Temples of Aesculapius, of Vulcan, of Hercules, of Jupiter, of Concord, of Juno, and of Pudicity, that stately Structure be∣ing erected by the Princess of Philonice, to evi∣dence the immaculate purity of her Soul; he saw many magnificent Tombs, built as Memorials for many Horses; for you must know, that those of the Agrigentine Land in particular, are of such admirable strength and beauty, that they are e∣very where famous, and they are so excellently good, that their Masters have raised for them se∣veral magnificent Tombs, so great hath superflu∣ity been at Agrigentine, since it encreased in Riches; at first it was a City of small importance, but when Phalaris swayed the Scepter, there were numbred nine hundred thousand Inhabitants. But to return to Artemidorus, since he had the permission to walk, he more often saw Berelisa, for in the design he had to acquire her friendship, to the end he might by her assistance more facile∣ly recover his liberty: The more he saw her, the more Berelisa found him amiable; and this puis∣sant inclination became so predominant, that she could not doubt but love did insensibly steal her heart; and as her Virtue was eminent, she blush'd at this weak resistance, and would have made some opposition (thus correcting her self, as she hath since told me) What's become of my Reason? I despise Terillus who adores me, who is of a pro∣portionate condition to mine, and resign my heart to an unknown Prisoner, who hath no affe∣ction for me, and who it may be hath placed his Love on another Object: But, said she, can I doubt of the condition of this Prisoner? His Spirit con∣firms me that his Birth is Noble, and all those groundless suspicions, which my imagination sug∣gests to me of the pre-engagement of his heart; his civility to me disperses those aery vapours, and confirms me, that Love hath not yet tri∣umphed over him, and that his heart is at my de∣votion? No Berelisa (added this amiable Virgin) flatter not thy self, and believe if he were in love, he would acquaint thee with it; and perhaps, if thou should'st disclose thy affection to him, he would not credit it; resolve then to repel this dangerous inclination thou feelest ready to force thy heart; resist the merit of this Unknown, and weave not the web of thine own destruction, thou dar'st not commit this secret to the fidelity of any person, though it should crack the Organs of thy Vital Faculties. This was her last resolution, and during some time, she believed she had eradi∣cated this affection from her heart, there hapning an accident, which diverted her self from the contemplation of this object; for Telesis her Bro∣ther returned from Travel, and as they ten∣derly loved one another, their joy swell'd to such an neight by the sight of each other, that all for∣mer occurrences were now buried in oblivion; he

related to her all those adventures which hapned in his voyage; he acquainted her with all the At∣chievements of gallantry he had performed in those places he had passed, and desiring to go to the Camp, though the Trees now began to be periwigg'd with Snow, he lest with her divers Letters. and the pourtracture of a person whom he then loved, and of whom he made a pleasing relation: Berelisa having her spirit thus busied, felt not for some days her usual inquietude; as her soul was in this tranquillity, she one Morning re∣pair'd to the aforesaid Walk, where she had hard∣ly taken two turns, but she heard one speak very high in Artemidorus his Chamber: Berelisa hear∣ing this noise, and not being able to comprehend the occasion of it, approaching thither, and heard the Prisoner earnestly entreat his Guard to rede∣liver what he had taken from him; and he answering in insolent terms, he would not, but that he would carry it to Afranor, to the end he should transmit it to the Agrigentine Prince: She had scarce heard this, when the Prisoner reiterated his entreaties with so much earnestness, that she conceiv'd what had been taken from him, was of too great a concernment to be seen; so that tender∣ness engaging her heart, and curiosity her spirit, she called him by his name, who so much con∣tested with Artemidorus: This man hearing him∣self called by his Master's Daughter, went to the Window, requesting her to inform him what she desired: I would have you tell me (said she to him) why you give such uncivil language to a Prisoner, whom you ought to treat with civility, and from whence proceeds the grounds of this Contestati∣on? Madam, (replied this man, his eyes spark∣ling with anger) this Prisoner hath suborn'd some of my Companies, for having taken from him a Letter, with intention to carry it to my Master, he so much prest me to render it him, that I was transported with anger, by reason he thought me capable to betray my fidelity. I pray, Madam, (said then Artemidorus, speaking to Be∣relisa) if you repent not of your excessive good∣ness towards me, do me the favour, I conjure you, to use your power over this man, as that Letter I have written may not be seen by any person. You see, Madam, (said he who had spoken to Artemidorus) this Letter must consequently be of importance, and that I should have injured the Trust reposed in me, if I had rendred it to him. I protest unto you, replied Artemidorus, that it neither concerns the Prince of Agrigentine, nor Afranor, but hath only reference to my self. To find a mean to reconcile you (replied Berelisa) permit me to survey your Letter, and relie on my discretion, and if I find that neither the Prince, nor my Father have any interest in it, I will re∣deliver it to you, and oblige him, who hath ta∣ken it from you, not to disclose any thing, neither will I ever speak of it; without this I am assured your Keeper will not render it to you: but on this occasion (added she) I believe I can easily obtain it, sure he imagines I will neither betray the Prince nor my Father. This man consenting to Berelisas Proposition, Artemidorus was con∣strained to suffer this Virgin to peruse what he had written, imagining after she had perused it, she would permit him the favour to write ano∣ther, or to send this to Clidimira, for 'twas to that fair person, to whom this this Letter w•••• addressed: After he had consented to what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 proposed, and when his Keeper had given the Let∣ter to Berelisa, she found it contained these words,

IF I only tell you I am the unhappiest Prince in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 World, I should not sufficiently inform you of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 grandeur of my Misfortune;

At these words Berelisa staid, and a joyful 〈◊〉〈◊〉 motion seiz'd her spirits, seeing that secret in∣clination which had taken possession of her So•••• had a more noble foundation than she imagined so that this resentment renewing the tenderness of her heart, she often read these three or four lines, as if she had there desired to limit her cu∣riosity; but at last rebeginning the Letter, she found the contents framed after this manner.

IF I only tell you I am the unhappiest Prince in the World, I shall not sufficiently inform you of the grandeur of my Misfortune; but assuring you I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the unhappiest Lover that e'er submitted to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Love, my infelicity cannot be paralleld; for in 〈◊〉〈◊〉, my Liberty is restrained, I know not whether you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 free, nor whether till this time you have retained you affection inviolable; I am only ascertained that I ••••••∣cy your Idea continually present before my eyes; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all the compassion of two of the most exquisite 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Nature e'er made for wonder, cannot sweeten the ri∣gour of those miseries I endure: Behold to a Chan∣ing—

As this Letter was not fully finished, Berelisa could know no more, but she knew enough to disturb her repose; since if the beginning flat∣tered her with joy, the conclusion sadded her heart with grief: for if she had learned this Pri∣soner was a Prince, she had likewise learned he was a Lover, and that he believed he was beloved: and as she learned it with some agitation of spirit, her Cheeks were planted with a roseate tincture, insomuch that she turned her head to conceal her blushing from Artomidorus. In this disturbance of her heart, grief produced the same effect, as joy had done before, giving an additional reno∣vation to that esteem she conceived his merits might command; for there is nothing fitter to augment a new-born inclination in the hearts of most women, than to learn that those they love have already gained the affections of others. Be∣relisa was in a strange perplexity, time not per∣mitting her so much leisure as to consult her rea∣son in this occasion; but at last generosity and tenderness being the more prevalent, she told his Keeper, that this Letter neither concerned the Prince of Agrigentine, nor Afranor, expresly com∣manding him not to speak of it; and being in∣duced by a jealous resentment, she commanded his Keeper to endeavour the discovery of him, whom Artemidorus had suborned, to the end he should be dismissed his place; afterwards she de∣sired him to leave the Prisoner at liberty, to speak with her in the Garden, that she might render

his Letter to him; and this man obeying her, Ar∣temidorus came to render her thanks, and to spend some time in walking with her, whilst two of her attendants spoke to him, who commanded Arte∣midorus his Guards at the end of this Walk. How shall I methodise my language, Madam, said he to her, to thank you for your last signal favour, and what may I do to testifie unto you my recogniti∣on? You will cancel that obligation (said Berelisa, the blood leaping into her face) by wholly con∣fiding your self to my discretion, for though your Letter acquaints me you are of Royal ex∣traction, that you are amorous, and that your Love is reciprocal, it doth neither inform me of your name, nor hers you Love, nor of the place of your Nativity; and I desire satisfaction in those things before I re-deliver your Letter. Ah, Ma∣dam, said he to her, if you knew the importance of your demand, you would, it may be, not per∣sist in requesting it; for you are so generous, that I am confident you would not prejudice me in any thing. On the contrary (replied Berelisa) 'tis principally to generous persons, to whom it ap∣pertains to be in power to prejudice, because they have no good will to act it; therefore without repenting what I have said, I redemand satisfa∣ction in those three things. For my Name and Country (replied Artemidorus) I can tell you, not be∣ing ashamed of either, though I cannot do it, both without danger and prudence; but for the name of the person I love, since my Letter hath not declared it to you, I suppose I ought not to do it, and you ought less to persevere in that demand, added he, you are so obliged to that charming person; for, Madam, if she had not enslaved my heart, and had I been free, when I came to Agrigentine, I should as∣suredly have been amorous of you, and doubtless much importun'd you with my complaints; for as I love with an immeasurable ardour, I should have caus'd you more displeasure than Terillus; there∣fore, Madam, since you have this obligation to the person whom I love, constrain me not to vi∣olate my discretion, and remain satisfied that I expose my self to sufficient danger, by telling you that I am Brother to the Enemy of the Agrigentine Prince. What? (replied Berelisa) Are you Ar∣temidorus, Brother to the Leontine Prince, who departed from this place about six months since? Yes, Madam, I am that Artemidorus, who would not, it may be, have been so civilly treated, as he is by the Agrigentine Prince, and the charming Philonice, had they known his true condition; I therefore declare to you, Madam, (said he) that the only interest of my love hath obliged me to to fear a long imprisonment, and hath detained me from discovering my quality. Whilst Arte∣midorus thus spoke, Berelisas spirit was much disturbed; for you must know, that Telesis her Brother, who had related to her all the adven∣tures of his Voyage, had told her, that he was amorous and beloved by a Leontine Virgin, whom the Prince Artemidorus (absent from thence) for∣merly affected, and that he had left in her custo∣dy at his going to the Camp, a Pourtraicture, and many Letters; but as she had given but slight attention to his relation, she not imagining to have any particular interest therein, she had for∣got the name of that person, and not knowing, if it were her, to whom Artemidorus had begun to write, she had both an extreme desire to acquaint him with her Brothers recital; and to peruse those Letters he had left with her, to see whe∣ther she could gather any satisfaction from them: As her imagination fancied divers things, the ir∣resolution of her spirit was visible in her eyes; which Artemidorus nothing, believed her inquie∣tude proceeded from her not being resolved whe∣ther she should discover his quality to her Father, that he might declare it to the Agrigentine Prince: But this opinion soon vanished, for Berelisa de∣vining his thoughts, and not willing he should be∣lieve her capable to reveal a secret he had confided to her, thus said, looking attentively on him; Think not I examine whether I ought to discover your Name, I declare to you I am not resolved to reveal it, on condition you will promise me two things, the one not to enterprise any thing against the Agrigentine Prince, the other positively to tell me all your love; for it may be I know many par∣ticulars in your Fortune, of which you your self are ignorant. As they were on these terms, and that Artemidorus demanded of Berelisa the begin∣ning of his Letter, Philonice arrived; Berelisa therefore not being willing neither to answer nor to deliver him his Letter, went to the Princess, who made her a thousand caresses, and told her she came to bring her good news; for in fine, said this charming Princess, the Prince my Father will return in four days, having finish'd the War with Honour; and having forced his Enemies to make Peace, and till 'tis concluded, Clisias hath obtain∣ed that your Prisoner should be on his Parole, and that he may walk where he pleases without his Guards, on condition every night he repairs to his Lodging in the Castle; the conversation Cli∣sias had with him, having imprinted such a good opinion of him in his mind, that he thought him∣self bound to perform this civil courtesie, and if you believe it requisite, he shall accompany us when we go to meet the Prince of Agrigentine at Carisa∣lis, which, as you know, is about eight miles hence; for it seems just to me you should permit your Prisoner to go, to the end he not appears in∣grateful: Berelisa, whose spirit was prepossess'd with many different things, did not give a regu∣lar answer to that which Philonice propounded; she therefore made a sign to Artemidorus, who re∣main'd behind, to approach; telling him he was obliged to the Prince of Agrigentine, and explain∣ing to him of what nature was this obligation. Artemidorus receiving much joy at this news, gave many thanks to the Princess: But I pray, said she to him, do not thank me yet, for it may be Peace may not be easily concluded, and many Months may be expired e'er you recover your Liberty; but your Guards being dismiss'd (added she) be more cheerful, and expect the end of the War with more tranquillity. Artemidorus answered to this discourse with much spirit and civility; and Be∣relisa being in a profound melancholy study, Philo∣nice jested with her, demanding the cause it; for, said she, you are less subject than any Virgin to those absences of spirit, which reproach so many amiable persons, your heart is ever amongst those with whom you are, you divide not your self be∣twixt your present and absent Friends, and it must necessarily be, there's something which pleases, or extraordinarily displeases you: In the mean

time, you have need that the gayety of your hu∣mour appears in its greatest luster the day we go to Carisalis, since I intend all the Ladies shall go thither on Horse, deck'd in their most gorgeous attire: Berelisa then endeavouring to replant the banish'd joy in her face, told the Princess that she was somewhat indispos'd, but she hoped her in∣disposition would diminish ere the day she intend∣ed to meet the Agrigentine Prince; but whatso∣ever she did, 'twas impossible for her to remit in her eyes their ordinary tranquillity; and Philonice return'd; not being able to penetrate into the se∣cret of her heart. Before her departure, she made known to Afranor the Order of the Prince of A∣grigentine, whose Letter she shewed him, so that Artemidorus was not obliged to suffer the inuti∣lity of his Guards: But though it effectively gave him joy, he could not hinder himself from be∣ing afflicted, that this Order came not one day sooner, because he should not have been exposed to that adventure he had been, nor engaged to discover his secret to Berclisa: He infinitely e∣steemed, and had much amity for her, but in case of love, he affected not to discover it to any one, if necessity did not thereunto compel him. This grief was nothing in comparison of Berelisas, when she was alone in her Chamber; for that violence and puissant inclination she had for Ar∣temidorus, which she thought she had overcome, suddenly assaulted her Soul; and the knowledge of his condition and love, placed both a resent∣ment of glory and jealousie in her heart, which augmented her tenderness: As soon as she was in her Chamber, she had a design to look on all those things T••lesis had left in her custody; but one of her Maids who had shut the door, not thinking of it, remaining yet in the Garden, she must have patience till she could be call'd; but expecting her coming, What did she not think? What said this amiable Virgin to her self? Have I sur∣mounted my heart, when I did not know Arte∣midorus? and can I not be Mistress of it, when I know he is amorous, and is beloved? But if it chance (replied she) that the Person my Brother loves at Leontine is the same who hath inflamed Artemido∣rus; would it not be possible to banish her from his heart, by displaying her infidelity? for by that means I shall render a curtesie to my Bro∣ther, by taking from him such a Rival, and it may be to my self, if I can acquire such a Lover. But what do I say, Fool as I am (replied she, as she hath since told me) have I lost my Reason? or am I so inglorious as to desire to love one who doth not affect me? No, no, added she, I have not doubtless such degenerate thoughts, as to love Artemidorus, but I at least imagine that the de∣sire to gain his love is not criminal, whilst it neither makes me say or do any thing repugnant to the exact rule of decency; the desire to please in general is not esteemed a crime, wherefore then should it be one to desire to please a great Prince in particular, without any other design than to be preserr'd by him before all other per∣sons in the World. As she had thus said, her Maid arrived, and opened the Cabinet, where she presently entred; and visiting all the Letters her Brother had left, she was clearly convinced that the person who had writ them, was the same of whom Artemidorus imagined he was faithfully beloved; she looked on the Pourtraicture; but though her Mirror spoke her Beauty superiour to Clidimiras, she found a certain Air in the Phy∣siognomy of her Rival, which much displeased her, it seeming very agreeable, and she even dis∣paired, finding so much spite in Clidimiras Let∣ters, because she feared the sight of this Pour∣traicture, and those Letters would only intro∣duce jealousies into Artemidorus his heart, with∣out chasing Love from thence, and that she should give an Enemy to her Brother, without acquiring a lover, yet had she some pleasure to think she should acquaint him, whose heart she would con∣quer, that his Mistress was unfaithful; for, said she, as soon as he shall be informed what had passed at Leontine, he shall know the very next day after he departed, there arrived a stranger who presently gained the estimation of Clidimira; and perhaps, if I pre-acquaint him with her infi∣delity, he will esteem himself obliged to retribute to me my courtesie I desire: But presently sup∣pressing the imagination, she could not resolve to do it, and doubtless she would never have per∣formed it, had she not received the next Morn∣ing a Letter from her Brother, intimating to her that the Prince of Agrigentine had sent him to Sy∣racuse, to negotiate some important Affair, and that from thence he would go to Leontine, to have some private conference with Clidimira. Be∣relisa then seeing her Brother absent, conceived it the best time to prosecute her intended resolu∣tion: Though this thought did seem to settle the emotion of her spirit, sleep did not this night close the casements of her eyes, and the Sun did no sooner guild the fringes of the Clouds with his luminous radiations, but she took an exact survey of Clidimiras Pourtraicture, and reperused her Letters: She would have reserved some Let∣ters from Artemidorus, they being flourished with too much Eloquence; but it hapned that in those which were most Rethorical, her affection to Te∣lesis was painted in such lively Colours, that they conduced most to eraze Clidimiras love from the heart of Artemidorus; Pity likewise invader her heart, when she read those affectionate lines this Prince began to write to this Leontine Virgin, con∣sidering •••• what height his grief would swell, when he learn'd his love was requited with such ingratitude; but when she remembred he had told her, that if his heart had not been pre-engaged, she should have been the Saint, to whom he would have paid his devotions; and the Letter he be∣gan to write to Clidimira, evidencing this veri∣ty, her modesty could not hinder her from wish∣ing his love to Clidimira, was now buried in obli∣vion, though she was resolved not to testifie any affection to Artemidorus, nor to act any thing which might in the least blemish her reputation, unless he first by his amorous, yet real expressi∣ons, confess'd Clidimiras inconstancy had stop'd the progress of his love; and that he made to her a total resignation of his heart: But not knowing how to compass the discovery of this design, Artemidorus presented her with an op∣portunity to effect it; for after he had visited Afranor, and the Princess Philonice, he thought himself so obliged to Berelisa, that she might just∣ly chalenge the next visit; he therefore went to her Chamber, and found her in her Cabinet,

there being nigh her on a little Jasper Table, the Pourtraicture of Clidimira (the case whereof was shut) her Letters were likewise there, he not know∣ing whose they were, by reason he could not see the Writing; Her eye no sooner reached him, but Berelisa blushed, and would have treated him with more ceremony than ordinary; but Artemido∣rus opposed it with much address: I pray, Madam, (said he, in a low voice approaching to her) re∣member that 'tis but for you I am Artemidorus at Agrigentine, and that in what estate soever I may be, I should have more glory by respecting you, than by receiving so many inutile demonstrati∣ons of your Bounty. After that she desired Ar∣temidorus to take a seat, which having done, he earnestly entreated her to render him that Let∣ter he had begun to write to the person whom he loved. That Person, replied Berelisa blush∣ing, is so unworthy to receive, that I believe my self bound not to restore it to you. Ah, Ma∣dam (cry'd Artemidorus) it appears you do not know her, for I can assure you, if you knew her. I know not (replied she, her Cheeks being stain'd with Blushes) what I should do, if I knew her by my self, but I am very well assured I hate her for the love of you; for not to vail truth with artificial conceits, you love an unfaithful per∣son, who certainly is very affectionate to them she loves, but who contracts an irreconcile∣able hatred against those whose affections she hath deserved. But, Madam, (cry'd Artemidorus, much astonished at those words) I have not told you the Persons name whom I love, and I believe 'tis impossible since yesterday you should have no∣tice of it. To demonstrate to you what I know (replied she, opening the case where Clidimiras Pourtraicture was enclosed) see if you know this Picture. Ah, Madam, (cry'd Artemidorus) I know it too well, if 'tis true, Clidimira should be unfaith∣ful; but, Madam, (added he, changing colour) who gave you this Pourtraicture, which was at first intended for me, and which had not received the last hand of the Painter before my departure? Hath not Clidimira sent it me to bring me some consolation during my imprisonment? And hath not this charming person, heving notice of the place of my residence, by some way unknown to me, thought by this means to obstruct my death? You will see by this Letter (replied Berelisa) gi∣ving him one her Brother had left her; and Ar∣temidorus taking that she offered to him, suddenly opened it, and knowing the Characters were framed by Clidimiras hand, he read these words,

Clidimira to Telesis.

I Confess to you Artemidorus hath given me many testimonies of affection, and likewise assure you this Picture was at first designed for him; but the muta∣bility of my Fortune intruding many intimable obsta∣cles to impede the progression of this love, my reason did at last free me from it; and as I doubt not but absence will be a sufficient remedy to cure the affection of Artemidorus, I freely engage my self to permit yours; and promise you (as you desire) that if his love receives no variation; it will not in the least alter my intent, of having no Commerce with him, and of loving Telesis, whilst he perseveres in his love to Clidimira.

Whilst Artemidorus read this Letter, Berelisa attentively fix'd her eyes upon him, and noting the change of his countenance, expressed some emotion of joy; which Artemidorus taking no∣tice: What, Madam, (said he to her) have you the cruelty (though you exceed in all excellent qualities any person in the World) to acquaint me with such doleful news? For in fine, there's nothing more cruel than to know Clidimira is in∣constant, and that my Rival is the Brother of the generous Berelisa, to whom my obligations are in∣numerable: But, Madam, (added he) how can I so soon deface Clidimiras Image engraven in my heart, for whom I have acted those things which deserve a larger compensation; for her alone I have contracted the anger of the Prince my Brother, for her I have destroy'd my Fortune, and rejected Glory; can it be then possible that Clidimira, from whom I have received so many a∣morous testimonies, should resign her love to a∣nother? Speak, generous Berelisa speak, for though I have accused you of cruelty, you can bind me in no stricter obligation, than to disco∣ver all you know of Clidimiras infidelity, and to suffer me to peruse all her Letters which serve to the confirmation of it. I will voluntarily do it, replied Berelisa, on condition you promise me not to be my Brother's Enemy, who hath not in∣jured you, since he knows you not, and that he believes you did not in the least pretend to her, when she engaged her self to him. Ah, Madam, replied Artemidorus, 'tis not possible for me to pro∣mise you not to hate a Rival, crown'd with the Title of Happiness; and all that I can promise you is, That your amity shall retain the effects of my hatred against Telesis: Speak then, Madam, speak, but do not speak yet, and let me first see all Clidimiras Letters; and she having given him one, he opened it, which contained these words,

Clidimira to Telesis.

IF Joy is a favourable Disposition to Love, you will sometimes find me the pleasantest person alive; I know not whence it proceedeth, whether from the simple effect of my Temperament, or from the Conquest of your heart; and neither you nor Fortune can ruine this serene humour, unless you banish my love from thence.

Ah Clidimira (said Artemidorus, casting this Letter on the Table) 'tis your gayety will cha∣nel my Cheeks with tears, but 'tis requisite for me to know how far your perfidiousness hath transported you; and opening another Letter, he was much surprised to see 'twas one he had for∣merly wrote to Clidimira; which he would have sacrificed to his anger, had not Berelisa hindred him. Ah Artemidorus (said she to him) what

intend you to do? I am but the depositary of these things I shew you, I ought to render them to my Brother, with whom I should have great contestation, had I lost that he confided to my care. But, Madam, said Artemidorus, can I suffer a Letter I heretofore wrote to Clidimira, to be in my Rivals hands? Look on another (said she) and let me view that: and Berelisa by an amorous curiosity being dispos'd to read that Letter, Ar∣temidorus desired to hear it read, conceiving it would be a means to heighten his intended hatred against Clidimira; and Berelisa opening it, it spoke these words.

Artemidorus to Clidimira.

I Shall have this day, Madam, the honour to visit you, but 'twill be only in Ceremony, and with as much care to smother my passion, as I should have had in the Declaration of it: Pity me, I pray you, and whether my spirit suffers an Eclipse or not, assure your self, that the sole love of the admirable Clidimira, can either give or deprive me of it, and that neither my words or silence serve but to evidence your domini∣on over me.

I spoke this, Madam, said Artemidorus, when I believed Clidimiras heart was moulded in the same frame as mine; but alas, her thoughts now stream in another current! After this he opened one of Clidimiras Letters, charactered in this manner.

Clidimira to Telesis.

I Think you ought to be assured of my affection, when I tell you I love you; and that I voluntarily re∣solve (without my Parents consent) to desert my Country, and run your Fortune. But since you re∣quire new assurances of my Love, I declare to you, that if I ever violate my promise, I willingly consent you should blot me out of your remembrance, as I have Artemidorus out of mine.

Ah! 'tis too much, cryed this afflicted Lover, and I should degenerate from all men, if I should still retain the same affection for Clidimira: But alas (added he) I cannot hate her when I would! I crave your pardon, said Berelisa to him, for oc∣casioning this distemper; for I imagined my self obliged (Clidimira being soon to be titled my Si∣ster) to incense you against her, that you might sequester a Passion from your Spirit, which would infallibly rob it of all repose. I am bound to you Madam, (replied Artemidorus) for your good intention; but my obligation would be extream, if you would so far honour me, to condescend to permit my love, to the end my heart might be imprinted with an indelible hatred against Cli∣dimira. Berelisa blushed at this discourse, and had not power to shape a reply: 'Tis true, Ar∣temidorus took notice of it; for his grief did so exceed the limits of moderation, that he scarce knew in what language he had expressed himself to her: And having entreated Berelisa to relate to him the commencement of the love of Telesis for Clidimira, she told him, the same day he de∣parted from Leontine, Telesis there arrived; and seeing Clidimira come forth of the Temple of Ceres, where she had been enclosed, lest she should see Artemidorus, he at first sight found her so a∣miable, that he sought her acquaintance; and having the happiness to please her, she had so much joy to find her self free, after she had en∣dured such a long imprisonment, that she was resolved to deliver her self from a Pareille per∣secution, by forgetting her first Love; and to suffer that of Telesis, who engaged himself to her at his departure, to return to espouse her, as soon as he should have obtained Afranor's consent. But, said Artemidorus to her, is not this a delusion of Clidimira, to acquire some tranquillity during my absence? No, replied Berelisa, my Brother hath told me, that what you alledge being suspected, Clidimira submitted her self to the proof of that famous and sacred Lake, which (as you know) clears all dubious conjectures. But as we are not acquainted with the operations of it, said Amilcar interrupting Zenocrates, and that the re∣ports which are framed thereof do not give us a plenary satisfaction, we entreat you (as far as you know) to content our desires. As I am no Leontine, replied Zenocrates, I cannot give you so full an instruction as others; I only know 'tis a general opinion, that when one assures any thing as true, and that he swears it on the brink of a Lake nigh Leontine, if he writes his name on a little Table of Wood, destin'd to that purpose, and that he casts it into the middle of that Lake, it floats at the top, if what he says is true; but if false, it descends to the bottom: It is like∣wise ascertained, that he which is perjured, is at the same time seised with a kind of a slow con∣suming Fever, which pines him to death. And this opinion is so received at Leontine, that when a person puts himself to the Tryal of Dela, for so 'tis called, the verity of the words are unquesti∣onable. Berelisa having told Artemidorus, Clidi∣miras affection to Telesis was experimented in this manner, his affliction was so unconfined, that Be∣relisa repented her self for having reduced him to such extream misfortune: He was not transport∣ed with anger against Telesis, but complained of none but Clidimira, all whose Letters he severally perused; but the more he read, the fuller evi∣dence he had of her infidelity: At length Bere∣lisa smoothed his grief with such obliging words, that he rescued part of that consolation his affe∣ction had put to flight; for, said she to him, it grieves me that my Brother should occasion your displeasure: 'Tis not (added she) since Clidi∣mira was capable of change, she would not have changed, if my Brother had never seen her; for I believe inconstancy doth not so much proceed from one who particularly delights those which are capable of infidelity, but because their plea∣sures are generally sway••d by novelty: therefore generous Artemidorus, seek to consolate your self, till your good fortune presents you with a Person more constant than Clidimira, to recom∣pense

that fidelity you have wasted on an unfaith∣ful person. Ah, Madam, said he to her, were it possible for me to unchain my heart from Clidi∣miras love, and level it at another object, would you counsel me to expose my self to suffer such unparallel'd affliction, as I now endure? If I be∣lieved (replied Berelisa blushing) that all women were as unfaithful as Clidimira, I would not infi∣nuate such dangerous counsel; but, Sir, I cannot harbour such an ill opinion of my Sex, as to be∣lieve it impossible to find a constant Virgin; I know there are many that deserve that Title. Alas, Madam, said he to her, I fear I shall not be so happy to disinchant my self from this passion; I would now act the most difficult things imagina∣ble to force my hatred against Clidimira; I would willingly resign my affection to another, though a thousand dangers attended it; but I feel in my heart such a grand confusion of Jealousie, Grief, Anger and Love, that I know not which of them will be the most predominant. In the mean time, Madam, added he, the friendship and respect you com∣mand from me, retains me from expressing any anger against that happy Rival, which triumphs in my miseries; and believe that except the un∣faithful Clidimira, never any person could claim the like esteem as you; Dispense therefore (Ma∣dam) with so much goodness, as to alleviate my affliction, and let me find more stability in your friendship, than the love of that inconstant per∣son hath denyed me. I assure you (replied Be∣relisa) that if it lay in my power, I would soon period your misfortune; but as that depends more on Artemidorus than Berelisa, disquiet not your thoughts, but yield to reason, which will soon remedy this unjust grief. Ah, Madam (re∣plied he) this Disease destroys the cure of reason. After this Artemidorus incited by an irresistible motion, would have opened the case of Clidimiras Portraicture; but Berelisa who feared the sight of this Picture would rather encrease than decrease his Passion, took it from him, and told him he ought now to contemplate nothing but the infi∣delity of his Mistress. You have reason Madam, said he to her, I would hate Clidimira, and I would have your friendship be my sole consolation. But generous Berelisa (added he) why do you not en∣deavour to heal the passion of Telesis? for as Cli∣dimira hath left me for him, she will perhaps de∣sert him for another; do him this courtesie, and by this means you will act my Revenge. For what concerns my Brother (replied Berelisa) I have no desire to blot out his affection, it being not so easie to cure a Beloved as a Deserted Lover; and for what concerns you, I would rather gain Clidi∣mira twenty lovers, than deprive her of one, that your hatred might extend so far as never to per∣mit any reconcilement. After this Artemidorus expressed many obliging words to Berelisa, but they were so interweaved with others which glanced on his former affections to Clidimira, that she hearkned to them with different resentments; when he was returned to his apartment, he e∣steemed himself so unhappy, that he wished his death had anticipated that day in which he lost his liberty; for he was at variance with his Bro∣ther, he had destroyed his Fortune, he was a Princes Prisoner enemy to him from whom he derived his extraction, he saw himself cashier'd by that person, who had wounded his heart, he had a Rival, which generosity and gratitude forbid him to destroy, being a Virgins Brother to whom he ow'd the favourable treatment he received in his restraint, and who knew him to be the Prince of Leontine's Brother; not knowing then how to di∣rect his thoughts, his sole consolation was Bere∣lisas friendship. On the other side this amiable Virgin was not exempted from inquietude; for though her joy exceeded the ordinary limits of moderation, she having introduced Anger and Jealousie into a Lovers heart, from whence she would have banished love; yet she feared his despight would not ascend to such a degree, as utterly to extirpate this love, and that if this first should be extinct, his heart would remain incapa∣ble of a second Passion: The words of Philonice tending to the conclusion of the War, did in some measure heighten her grief, because she imagined Peace should no sooner be composed, but Arte∣midorus would receive his liberty, and that secret love, which had scal'd the Fortress of her heart, even forced her to wish the declaration of the true quality of Artemidorus, to the end his liber∣ty should not be so soon licensed, she conceiving his life would not thereby be exposed to any danger: But generosity soon strangled these un∣just thoughts which Love would have imprinted in her mind.

In the mean time the charming Philonice, who thought of nothing but how to manage rhe re∣ception of the Agrigentine Prince with most mag∣nificency, sent out her Orders to that purpose, so that all the Ladies were wholly imployed in providing those things, which might most advan∣tage their perfections; the Princess was like wise advertised by a Letter from Clisias, that the day the Agrigentine Prince should come to Carisalis, she should receive a Letter from the Syraousan Princess, who is a Person embellished with all those Graces which compleat a perfect Beauty: Her Body shaped with such exact Symmetry, that Nature hath here shewn how far she transcends the Art of the most curious Pencil: For the Prince of Syracusa having sent me to the Agrigen∣tine Prince at that time as he sent Telesis to him, the Princess of Syracusa entrusted me with a Let∣ter for the Princess Philonice; and having told Clisias, when I arrived at the Camp, he gave her notice of it; and when I delivered her Letter, she parted with so much goodness, as to receive me with an extraordinary civility, bringing a Testimony of the Friendship of such an exquisite Person.

But before I relate to you what passed that day the Prince of Agrigentine returned, 'tis expe∣dient for me to acquaint you with three things, to the end the Narration of this Festival might prove more delightful to you: The first, that I had been a long time one of the principal friends of Artemidorus. The second, that I believed he had undertaken a long Voyage, not in the least suspecting he was a Prisoner at Agrigentine. The third, That 'tis necessary to describe the Scitua∣tion of that place the amiable Philonice had se∣lected to receive the Prince her Father; for I ought to render justice to this Beautiful Princess, to demonstrate to you that there appeared both Spirit and Judgement in all her actions; and there

hapned in this place so many things depending on this History, that I believe I shall not traverse my reason by describing a place which hath given me so much delight, both by its natural Beauty, and by the merit of him who resides there: For Cleodamas to whom Carisalis belongs, is a Person of eminent desert, whether one considers the grandezza of his Spirit, or the solidity of his judgement, his capacity, politeness, integrity, gallantry, or generosity; But to execute my De∣sign, Carisalis is a place so framed for pleasure that 'tis impossible to give you a perfect descrip∣tion of it; 'Tis not one of those whose Beauty appears by the opposition of the circumjacent places; for you no sooner come from Agrigeu∣tine, but fair objects salute your eyes; the way lies in a direct line, a river with its silver streams travelling along with you this pleasant Voyage, the diversity in all places where you pass, and the only pleasure of the beautiful prospect, seems to cheat the length of the way; 'tis even so sin∣gular, and the ascension so inperceptible, that you receive no incommodity by it, though 'tis scituated on a mountain; this mountain is crown'd with a great Plain, it having nothing ordinary but the commodity to discover all the Beauties of the adjoyning fields, to limn out in lively colours this amiable Country in general, 'tis suf∣ficient in particular to character Carisalis; Ima∣gine as if you were now in a Court of a propor∣tionate grandeur to a Building your eyes at your entrance survey on the left hand, the symmetry whereof framed to breed delight; on the Super∣ficies is a Balustrade, beyond which is a kind of a Rustick Vestibulum, the Columns whereof are Cy∣prus; This Vestibulum is bounded by a row of great Trees, placed on purpose there to hinder at first sight the pleasure which doth compose this place; on the top Madam of the prementioned mountain, there is a grand Parterre, like a Terass, along which is contrived a Walk, flanked with fair Trees, you ascend this Walk by two stately steps, between which are two Balconies erected, fixt to a marble Balustrade, from whence one might discover so many different objects, that I fear I shall be taxed either of equivocation or exaggera∣tion, if I only represent a part of them unto you; for in fine, Madam, there is to be seen all those which frame a delightful prospect, you may see ma∣ny remote and cacuminous mountains, embroy∣dred with spreading Trees of a famous Forrest, which without coustraining the sight, confine it to an agreeable arrest; but before your eyes meet with these Mountains and Forrest, a great and pleasant River for some while detains them, which to shew it self with a better grace, forms a Cres∣cent, whose horns of Silver, (if this term is not in Prose inconsistent) bury themselves in the grass of two delicate Meadows; but as if 'twas not suf∣ficient to see this fair and great River, there is a less, which not daring to appear so nigh the other, presents but a little Rivulet, which diverse times shews, and then again hides it self; for some∣times its Maeanders deludes the eyes, and some∣times one may see its Argentine Streams shine through the Willows, and run into a little Valley expresly made for modest Ladies to bath their na∣ked Limbs: This fair Valley is at the foot of a little hill, so pleasantly seated; that no words can reach the full description of it: For, Madam, there is a thousand agreeable inequalities: You may see Groves with little Rustick Houses, a small Village where an Hill almost denies the sight of the eye, a little Temple, and several other things which have now slipt my memory; on this side between the great and little River, there's divers Meadows enclos'd with Willows, as if they were several Halls destin'd for rural Sports: This Country is so spacious, directly opposite to the Parterre, that you may see all that which the industry of Agri∣culture hath taught men for the preservation of life, and Nature hath so stor'd the Fields with di∣versity of Flowers, shaded with such exquisite co∣lours, that all others serve but as Foyls to set forth the lustre of this amiable place. I may likewise very well say, this Country hath all the tranquil∣lity of a solitude, though not so dismal as Deserts, for the great River hath boats of all sorts, the less hath sometimes Shepherdesses, which in their Ba∣thing sport themselves in this watry Element; and all these Meadows are as it were sown with flocks of Sheep and Pastures: This is not all the beauty of Carisalis, for behind this high Ally from whence you may discover so many things, is an agreeable Wood, the beauty whereof cannot be limited to any praise; 'tis of no great extent, there is eight principal Alleys, in the middle of which is a Statue of Venus, they are divided into several little paths and solitary retirements, which so often cross one another, that one may weary themselves and not find the place where they first entred: There are seven Cabinets, every one carv'd a several way, the Trees are so fair, the Ground is so plush'd with verdant Grass, and the Shade so charming, that my eyes never met with a fair∣er object: The Air is so pure, and the sight of two Rivers so sweetly seduces the imagination, that it dispels those melancholy cares which op∣presses a Lovers breast; the scituation of this place doth admit of several prospects, the eight great Alleys of the Wood have different objects which limit the sight; one faces a Balcony insculpt with divers curiosities of Art, another a pleasant Grove, there's one which looks on the Plain, a∣nother from whence your eye cannot reach hea∣ven; in fine, there's such an alluring diversity in this place, that none can come in competition with it. This variety of objects runs through all the parts of the Building, but especially from an high Hall you may take a full survey of this de∣lightful place; there's round about Carisalis many Structures which have consum'd inestimable Trea∣sure, and if they are advantag'd by Art and Mag∣nificence, yet Nature is deficient, which lively shews it self in Carisalis. This Building being then adorn'd with singular advantages, 'twas a fit place to receive a Prince who returned plum'd with vi∣ctory.

The Princess Philonice forgot nothing which might contribute to the honour of the Prince her Father; Afranor went at the head of all the Agrigentine men of quality; to meet the Prince six miles beyond Carisalis, and from thence to A∣grigentine; the Inhabitants of the City which us'd to bear Arms, ranked themselves in a Warlike posture, the Princess followed by Berelisa and the fairest Beauties of the Court, habited alike; in magnificent Chariots went to Carisalis, where Cleo∣domas

received her with his accustomed Civility. But before I acquaint you with the reception of the Agrigentine Prince, you must know that every Lady was accompanied by a person of quality, when she mounted on horseback to meet the Prince, for Philonice had retained as many Men as Ladies, which in sumptuous Apparel should illustrate the glory of this day: She desired Artemidorus to wait on Berelisa, telling him that since he was her Pri∣soner, 'twas fit he should supply that Office: Ar∣temidorus whose melancholy had altered his dispo∣sition, excused himself, fearing to be known in such a confluence of people; but Philonice and Be∣relisa added so many perswasive entreaties, that he at last complyed with their desires: As all men ought to be invested in the richest attire in this occasion, Asranor offered to supply Artemidorus with all things necessary, but he refused to accept his courtesie. To return to Carisalis, no sooner had Philonice notice that the Prince her Father was four miles distant from thence, but she mounted on her Horse, followed by twenty Ladies of Qua∣lity: These Ladies were habited as Diana's Nymphs are painted, they had a Bow in one hand and a Quiver on their Shoulder; their heads were shadowed with Coifs of Plumes, mixt with such lively and different colours, that they composed the fairest and imaginable object: In this Plain I have before mentioned, which is on the top of the Mountain, on the right hand from Carisalis, Phi∣lonice amongst the others, seemed Diana her self, she had such a noble air, and such an innate mo∣desty appeared in her face, but as a mark of di∣stinction, her Bow and Quiver were enamelled with precious Stones, the Tower of Plumes which formed her Coif, had a knot of Diamonds, which represented that demi-Crescent placed on Diana; head, every Lady was attended by a person of qua∣lity, proudly mounted and richly habited, who seemed to be there to serve and defend her, and every one had two slaves cloathed in her colours, with Collars of Silver, who marched on both sides her Horse, to stay him if need should require: And to signifie the arrival of this gallant Troop, there was an Harmony part Pacifick and part War∣like, which infinitely pleased; and after all these Ladies came all the Officers of the house of the Princess, and after them two hundred Archers on Horseback, which equally divided themselves both before and behind: The day was fair, and the way so commodious, that every Knight entertain∣ed his Lady with what discourse he best imagined would conduce to her delight. Artemidorus be∣ing nigh Berelisa, the secrets of whose heart lay open to her knowledge, turned towards her, and casting forth a sigh, thus said: I could wish, Ma∣dam, the unfaithful Clidimira did behold me this day, for you are so attractive and amiable, and this dress so becomes you, that certainly she would believe you are the Goddess who sways my thoughts, and I am so acquainted wiah her hu∣mour, that I am confident she would be highly displeased. Your expressions savour too much of flattery, replied Berelisa, yet to recompense you, I willingly consent to be the immediate cause of your revenge; and though I fancy not the reality of your words, I should be extremely satisfied should Clidimira credit this perswasion. Madam, replied he, you are composed of too much good∣ness, to interess your self in my revenge, but to render it effectual, I must submit to love you, and you may not contract any hatred against me. Truly, replied Berelisa smiling, which of these two things believe you the most impossible? It seems to me a sufficient difficulty to oblige a per∣son who never affected any thing to begin to love, and there's as much to relinquish one, and assume another love. Ah! Madam, replied Artemidorus, I am not in a condition to reason on that que∣stion you have proposed to me; all that I can an∣swer, is, that sometimes I hate Clidimira, and am transported by an earnest desire to love another, but I dare not pronounce your name. As Artemi∣dorus thus spoke, he was interrupted by a Lady marching behind Berelisa, who jestingly told him, He was so attentive to his Discourse, that he no∣ted not the appearing of the Agrigentine Prince: These two Troops following their received Or∣ders, made a stand at an equal distance, from a great triumphant Arch erected in the middle of the way which traverseth this Plain, the Prince of Agrigentine was preceded by those who made a warlike harmony, who were followed by five hun∣dred men on Horseback with Javelins in their hands: Next came the Officers of the Prince's houshold, who led many stately Horses, the Guards of the Agrigentine Prince came after them, and next came the Prince himself at the head of many Officers of the Army, and men of Quality: Though this Prince had out-past his juvenile years, yet he appeared on Horseback with more grace and vi∣gour than any of the Courtiers, he was this day richly habited, and his Deportment alone spoke him Master of his Followers. As I was a stranger, and had been sent to him by a Prince whom he highly esteemed, he vouchsafed me all imaginable honour, retaining me always high him: For Te∣rillus who was a great adorer of Berelisas beauty, and who desired the first advantage of her sight, he was in the first rank: 'Tis true his condition claimed that place, but his Love proved the more forcible inducement; as some days were fyl'd on the Register of time since my arrival at the Camp, I had heard there was an unknown Prisoner at A∣grigentine, whom Terillus had taken when the Trees began to shoot forth their vernal blossoms, whose Spirit and Behaviour commanded respect from all. No sooner did these two Troops come in sight of one another, but those who made the harmony hastned their pace to joyn at the Triumphant Arch erected in the Plain, where they made a kind of Military Consort, which in its irregularity seem∣ed agreeable: After that those which preceded the Prince and Princess, ranked themselves on the right and left hand; these two Troops slowly marching towards one another, the Prince of A∣grigentine (who is an accomplished Gallant) re∣mained at the head of his Troop twelve paces from the Arch, saying it appertained to none but the Ladies to pass under the Triumphant Arch: He therefore caused them one after another, fol∣lowed by their Knights and Slaves, to go under this Arch; after which they went towards him, wheeling on the right hand, to resume the way of Carisalis: Then the Prince and those which were with him, saluted all the Ladies with much civility, which they repaid with an obsequious flexure: This Prince noting every Lady had but

one Knight, commanded some of those which at∣tended him to supply the vacant place; for which purpose he elected the chiefest of his Train, ex∣cept me, whom he only chose as a Stranger, and instead of giving every Lady him who had the greatest desire to wait on her person, he separated all those which he conceived had any familiarity with one another: He did it princi∣pally to please Berelisa, who did not affect Teril∣lus, though he wasted his time in courting her affection. For the Princess, she had with her the young Prince of Messina who was then in this Court, and the Prince of Ericine who is one of her alliance; but when Berelisa approached accompa∣nied with her Prisoner, I was surprised at the sight of Artemidorus, but I expressed no mark of my a∣stonishment; for knowing the contestation be∣tween the Agrigentine aed Leontine Prince, I imagi∣ned he was not known; the Prince of Agrigentine willing I should accompany Berelisa as the most a∣miable person in the Court, and as favorite of the Princess his Daughter, declared to me so many things of this unknown Prisoner, that it confirm∣ed my belief 'twas the same whose Character I had received in the Camp; for when Berelisa passed by, whose perfections did this day shine forth in their greatest splendor; Go Zenocrates, go, said he to me, lend us your assistance to discover this Un∣known Prisoner; make love to Berelisa, more ea∣sily to effect it, whom I presuppose he now loves; for 'twould be a shame for him to have remained so long Prisoner of War in a Castle where she re∣sides, and not become Prisoner of Love: Go then Zenocrates, go, added he, and endeavour the dis∣covery of your Rival. I receive, Sir, so much ad∣vantage by your commands, replied I to him, that I am sorry time will not give me leave to return you thanks for such an unexpressible favour. But Madam, if I was surprised to see Artemidorus, he was no less at the sight of me, for I feared I had discovered him; and remembring he had seen me at Leontine when he made his addresses to Clidi∣mira, my sight excited a commotion in his heart, which I taking notice of, and imagining from whence it proceeded, to resettle his troubled thoughts; ranking my self on th' other side of Berelisa, with a respective observance, thus said: Madam, the Prince of Agrigentine whose curiosity can be confin'd in the discovery only of this va∣liant Unknown, hath sent me to you, that I might share his happiness by attending your person: But Madam, added I, my infelicity would be extreme, should you deny your consent. You have so little knowledge of your pretended Mistriss (replied Berelisa) that I would advise you not to obey the Agrigentine Prince. If you knew him who speaks to you, replied Artemidorus to her, you would know that several passions in his heart do at one time receive both their life and death: But I pray, added he, disguising my knowledge of him, for∣bid him to discover me, though he should hap∣pen to be one of my intimate acquaintance. We marched in this order to a place where we made a stand, because the Prince of Agrigentine desired the Ladies should arrive last at Carisalis, he there∣fore passed before them with all his Troop, that the fairest shew might conclude the Triumph. For my part, I confess my heart was wounded with the perfections of all those twenty Ladies, who accompanied the Princess Philonice; for as I am an universal Lover of all those objects which delight my eye, even at the first sight, and these twenty Ladies dressed in this Nymph-like habit appeared, graced with the accession of such charm∣ing features; that my amorous heart could not resist those piercing beams shot from their con∣quering Twins of light. In fine, we arrived at Carisalis, where Cleodamas welcom'd the Prince with an eloquent Oration, penn'd in such concise terms, that it far transcended the capacity of vulgar In∣tellects: The Prince not desiring to return to A∣grigentine till the darkness of the night began to ru∣ine the days splendor, Cleodamas treated him with a magnificent Collation: But whilst things were preparing more ceremoniously to invite his stay, the Ladies by the assistance of their Knights dis∣mounted from their horses, and went to breath out the fourth part of an hour in that high Walk I have before mentioned: For my part (I confess) never any sight did so much please my eyes, as these twenty Ladies and forty Knights: To avoid con∣fusion, the Prince of Agrigentine had commanded all his other followers not to enter into the house of Cleodamas, but that they should be entertained in the fairest houses of the same Village, and not seeing in this Alley and the pre-mentioned Wood none but persons exactly proportioned in all the dimensions of their Bodies, and beholding their waving plumes and glittering habits through the leavy Boughs, I may confidently say, never any object did more deserve my attention, as the plea∣santness of the place inspired joy; all the compa∣ny were so fashioned to delude time with amorous discourses, that they perceived not the melancholy which denyed mirth to Artemidorus and the jealous Terillus: In the mean time Artemidorus had an ur∣gent desire to confer with me, and on the first pre∣sented occasion, he briefly acquainted me with his adventures, demanding of me what I had heard concerning Clidimira, he not being ignorant that all memorable accidents which passed at Leontine were obvious to me. I know, said I to him, she is both ingrateful and unfaithful; and imagining she should be constrained, if she made not a pub∣lick recantation of your love, she engaged her af∣fection to a deserving person, and submitted to the tryal of the Lake of Dela, to assure him of her fide∣lity: Therefore if you credit my words, I would advise you, by another love to banish this passion from your heart. Ah Zenocrates, said he to me, none can renounce love so soon as you. Time would not permit us longer discourse, for one came to advertise the Ladies that Dinner was now pre∣pared: They were conducted into the fair Hall I have before mentioned, where they were served with all magnificence befitting persons of their condition; and the Prince of Agrigentine din'd with some of his Nobility in a low Hall, a foot higher than the Garden. The Ladies after this Repast entred into a fair Chamber, directly opposite a∣gainst the Hall, with a part of the most accom∣plished Gallants, the rest remaining with the A∣grigentine Prince, who related to Cleodamas divers things concerning the last Campagne: But entring there, Philonice whose curiosity extended to all de∣lightful objects, cast her eye on a Picture hanging on the way to this Chamber, it being designed by a Virgin allied to Cleodamas; and as this Picture

merited some observation, Philonice called Berelisa to see it: This Picture is framed with ingeni∣ous Art; one may see there a pleasant Country, with a fair Tree, at the foot whereof is a beau∣tiful young person sumptuously attired, and be∣hind her three Women, she holds a Distaff in her right hand, presenting it to Hercules, whom a young Cupid holds chained in a golden Chain, and drawing it with her left hand, she forces him to cast away his Club, and to take the of∣fered Distaff; but better to explicate this Pi∣cture, the little Cupid holds in his right hand a Torch, and with the other retains the Fillet that blinds his Eyes, which seems to be fanned by the gentle Breizes of the Wind; underneath are some Greek words, which speak thus in our Language,

From my Fire proceeds my Force.

After Philonice had considered the explication of this Picture, she said (turning her self to Be∣relisa) That for her part she believed the power of Love proceeded not but from the debility of those whom it assaulted. But, Madam, (replied she blushing) do not you see Hereules, who ap∣pears far superior in strength to that young Child, forced by him to embrace what he desires. Ah, Berelisa, replied she, there's a certain weak∣ness of heart commonly found in men, which is not incompatible with the force of the Body, nor with the greatest Valour: Philonice had hard∣ly pronounced these words, but all maintained Love's Party: The Prince of Ericine amongst the rest, said, He could not admit Love to pass for Debility, unless in the hearts of those who per∣severe in loving an unfaithful person. Artemido∣rus, who felt himself touched with the expressi∣ons of the Prince of Ericine, changed colour, and could not frame an answer: Whereupon Terillus thus replied, that it argued not so much weak∣ness to continue to love a person, though she had changed affection, as to persist in loving a person, whose affection 'twas almost impossible to acquire; for (added he) 'tis the greatest sub∣ject of complaint one can imagine, to court a Person without hope to attain her love. 'Tis doubtless a great unhappiness (replied the Prince of Ericine) but the inconstancy of a Mistress is far greater. Ah, Sir, (replied Terillus) 'tis more in jurious not to be beloved, than to be deserted by a Mistress. After this, every one took the part either of the Ericine Prince, or Terillus, except Artemidorus and Berelisa, whose interest were engaged in this question; for if Artemidorus yet affected the in∣constant Clidimira, Berelisa treated Terillus, with so much cruelty, that she saw he spoke against himself, to have occasion to speak against her; but as the conversation seemed curious to Philonice, she seated her self, and caused the other Ladies to take their places, the men standing before them, except some, who kneel'd upon Cushions, more conveniently to entertain their Ladies, whilst the Prince of Ericine and Terillus disputed nigh Philonice and Berelisa, on the precedent sub∣ject: For my part, replied the Prince of Ericine, I find no comparison between these two things; for as 'tis not impossible that a Woman who loves you not should esteem you, I find that in ceasing to love her, you are not obliged to hate her, that 'tis sufficient to render indifferency for indifferency, that you are even bound to express Civility to her, when you happen to meet her; and if you disesteem her, and unchain your heart, you sufficiently punish her for her injustice and in∣sensibility, without adding hatred and despisal, but for an inconstant person: Ah, Terillus (pur∣sued he) you cannot too much hate; nor too much despise her: I likewise assert, that if a man hath been very amorous, and hath believed his affection hath been requited, he cannot limit his hatred to an unfaithful person; and I believe 'tis very easie to cure his passion, by ballancing the grandeur of her love and her inconstancy; for by remembring that his anger will be screwed up to such an heighth, that he will think it punishment sufficient to requite her wavering nature, which should not be expressed to a person which hath contemned your affection, either through aversi∣on or indifferency.

Ah, Sir, replied Terillus, our resentments are different, for I believe 'tis more easie and more just to despise a woman which hath flighted his love, than one from whom you have received many demonstrations of affection, though she re∣tains those testimonies, and varies in her for∣mer thoughts; for 'tis the greatest injustice one can offer to an amorous man, who is perma∣nent in his love, to reject his Passion; 'tis so na∣tural to love them who affect us, that when a man is so happy to perswade his love to any person whom he adores, if this woman doth not cor∣respond in her affection, disesteems the Lover, is averse to his Passion, or hath entertained ano∣ther; if she loves another, she is criminal for permitting a new Lover to engage to serve her; if she doth but a little esteem him, the Lover should be very unjust to esteem her much; and if she is averse to him, he ought to retribute the like to her; and in what manner soever it should be, a generous Lover, which hath wasted many days, and not gained the affection of his Mistress, ought to hate and contemn her, who hath with such pertinacy resisted his love, since 'tis certain that ingratitude is a capital crime; and there is nothing more ingrateful than not to love those which loves us: For I have already told you 'tis so natural, that love produces love; that if this pas∣sion is not produced in a womans heart, which is ardently loved, it either proceeds from the small desert of the Lover, the capriciousness of the Mistress, or from the abovesaid reasons; no∣thing seems to me more just, or ought more easi∣ly to be done, than not to have any esteem or complacency for an insensible person, I say one ought to requite her with all the civility a discreet person can be capable of: And if it was possible there should be any matter of indiscretion, be∣tween a neglected Lover and his Mistress, I think I should permit him to be indiscreet; for in fine, as he should have no indiscretion, which might make him be suspected of vanity, or which might injure the reputation of an unsensible person, it would be a sweet and innocent revenge; if I did not generally hold that Persons of Quality ought not to revenge themselves of their Ladies in the same manner as they would revenge themselves

of their Enemies. I am of your opinion, replies the Ericine Prince, that an insensible person, to whom one hath given many testimonies of Love, if she ungratefully requites him, she merits the same ingratitude; but that which I maintain, is, that 'tis more easie to hate an inconstant than an insensible person, and that the revenge appears more just. On the contrary, replied Teril∣lus, I assert 'tis more difficult to relinquish the love of an unconstant, than an insensible per∣son, and that if a man hath been once favoured and affected by a Lady, he is indispensably obliged, not to be desicient in his discretion to her, though she hath changed her thoughts; but one should not so act with an insensible Mistress, of whom he might more innocently revenge himself, be∣cause her insultation is greater by beginning not to love her than the other, by deserving the affe∣ction of his Lady, nor can he be obliged to any discretion. But separately to speak of these two things, I will at first make you to see, that 'tis more easie for an abused Lover to dispel love from his heart, than for a Lover which hath been fa∣voured; there is in the memory of a Lover ob∣stinately despised, nothing which can or ought to retain love in his Soul; since that, if he call'd to remembrance the person whom he had served, he sees her cold, insensible, and always indifferent, if she remembers to have written to her, he will likewise remember that she hath not answered to him; or if she hath, her answers have contained no affectionate expressions; if he remembers his eyes have saluted hers, his memory will tell him, that he turned her face from him with contempt; or that she beheld him with a kind of stupid in∣differency, which is insupportable in love; if he thinks what actions he hath performed to please her, he remembers either she hath slightly re∣ceived, or scornfully disdained them, perhaps he hath praised her Beauty, but it often appears he hath thereby betrayed his judgement; for it of∣ten happens love intitles those fair which deserve not to be placed in that number: Moreover, a Lover hath no obligation to a person whom he loves without the same requital; so that his heart raising no opposition against his resentment it seems easie to me, even by his anger to cure his love; honour likewise might do it with much fa∣cility; since there is nothing more fit to banish love, than the remembrance that one hath lavish∣ed much time in courting a person, which de∣spises him, and who hath distinguished him from the rest of men by a secret aversion; but for a woman which hath once loved you, it is not so, for she hath esteemed you, and preferred you before all men; she hath chosen and confided in you; but 'tis not so in the other; for there's nothing in his memory but indifferency, which might retain affection; there is a thousand and a thousand thoughts in a Lovers heart which hath been beloved, which may retain his love in de∣spight of the inconstancy of the beloved person, he may see tender and passionate Letters, not re∣specting the person who hath wrote them; she being unfaithful, he may behold her Pourtraict, no acknowledgement retaining his resentment, and even the possibility to revenge ones self, ar∣rests a part of ones revenge, and every time one remembers so many amorous regards, so many obliging assignations, so many favourable dis∣courses, and so many innocent favours, there's means enough to destroy the desire to reconquer the heart one hath lost, and likewise to destroy the hope thereof; for after he is assured he hath done all he can imagine to please her, since he hath pleased her; he thinks he is wanting in some∣thing, that in demanding pardon, he may re∣cover the treasure he hath lost; and even sup∣poses if he can accuse himself of nothing, but lay the whole accusation on her, 'tis a capricious humour which will soon vanish, and that then he shall receive more affectionate assurances than he did before; therefore hope may subsist in a Lovers heart, whose affection hath been entertained with a correspondency, though his Mistress hath proved inconstant, and there is much difficulty to disin∣gage his Passion: To speak with sincerity, there's nothing so puissant to retain love, in an heart composed of tenderness, than to hope a pleasure he had before enjoy'd; one will sometimes re∣cede from Glory to preserve his Conquest, and to hinder his Rival from gaining any profit by it; Jealousie which boasts it self to be the most pu∣issantest Enemy of Love, retains it often in a Lo∣vers heart deserted by his Mistress, when he is devoid of hope: Judge then (I pray you) if an indifferent Mistress, which gives you neither hope nor jealousie, can or ought to be difficult to for∣get, for the remembrance of the pass'd cannot render it amiable to you; the present exasperate you, or the future slatter you with success: But if you consent (replied the Ericine Prince) that 'tis more easie, and even more just to hate a per∣son of whom one cannot be beloved, than one of whom one hath been favoured, though she hath now cancel'd all favours, consent likewise that a Lover is confined to a stricter limit with her, which hath always despised him, than with her which hath betrayed him; for she which hath ne∣ver loved you, having promised you nothing, she hath not injured you so much as that person, who after she had sworn to you an eternal affecti∣on violated her word; and I conclude you ought to be more reserved to one than to another. I am of your opinion (replied Terillus) but 'tis not according to your Method; for I maintain that a man, who hath been uncivilly dealt withal by a woman, owes no more civility to her than to all women in general; I know not whether he can dispense with it in some occasions; but for a woman which hath once loved, I affirm, that if she at length hates him, he ought to respect her, and is obliged to discretion, though his love seems extinct; and as it is just that an abused Lover should ever perpetually keep in his heart the re∣sentment of the ingratitude and indifferency of his Mistress, so a deserted Lover should ever pre∣serve a kind of acknowledgement for his Prece∣dent favours; and this recognition must even o∣blige him not to be so far transported, as to in∣jure the reputation of his Mistress, from whom he once received favours, which might still de∣serve his love. I believe it (replied the Prince of Ericine, yielding to Terillus) for as all the fa∣vours of Ladies stream from pure Fountains; I am of opinion they may retract them when they please, without being termed indiscreet, prin∣cipally when they practice no Gallantry; as I

never fathom'd the resentments of a forsaken Lo∣ver, and believe that I never shall be exposed to try those of an injured Lover; 'tis not strange I never attained to the knowledge of those excel∣lent things you have so judiciously discoursed of; I have (it may be) less experience than you, in the Estate of a Lover forsaken by his Mistress (replied Terillus) and have more interest than you imagine (added he, looking on Berelisa) in the condition of a Lover whose Mistress slights all those favours he offers to acquire her esteem; but to take my choice in these two things, I had rather continue in the same resentments I now am, to have been once affected by the person I love, though she should vary in her affection, than to believe I shall never arrive to that happiness: The event is so dubious (replied the Ericine Prince) that we ought never to admit of despair; we commonly use those expressions to an unhap∣py person, replied Philonice, but there is some things we may confidently say will never happen, you have reason, Madam (replied Berelisa, on pur∣pose to anger Terillus) for by Example, when one hath a natural aversion against any person; how is it possible to vanquish it; but if it is not possible to surmount a natural aversion (replied Artemidorus) is there any way to subdue a vio∣lent inclination? In truth, answered the Ericine Prince, I believe there's much equality in these two things; and that if it is not easie to expel hatred from his heart; 'tis very difficult to ba∣nish love from thence. Ah, Sir, (replied Berelisa, who would not have Artemidorus entertain this resentment) I assure you there's divers occasions, to which our hatred may not extend, and yet they blot out our love. Who will not say (re∣plied Philonice) that Berelisa hath had many Lo∣vers and many Enemies, which hath experimen∣tally taught her to frame these distinctions? and how can't be true she hath never yet had either love or hatred. Ah, Madam, replied she, her cheeks being dy'd with a modest blush, if you had remembred my true sentiments, your language would not have so far exceeded—I pray (said Terillus, interrupting her, speaking to her in a low voice) do not give a clearer explication of your thoughts; for the person to whom you speak, too well knows what she hath said: Berelisa had an∣swered him, had not the Prince of Agrigentine en∣tred, which caused all to rise from their seats; but every one was surprised to see the Prince so soon as he was entred go directly to Artemidorus, and looking upon Berelisa, know (said he, to her) your Prisoner is a Prisoner of importance, and that if you have profited of the Counsel I here∣tofore gave you, when I desired you to inflame his heart with an amorous affection, you have gained an illustrious conquest. As I believe I have not done it, replied she blushing, I think, Sir, I may say for my honour I never had any de∣sign to effect it; Conquests of this nature being more often performed when one hath the least suspicion of them, replied the Agrigentine Prince, 'tis therefore impossible for me to give any di∣rect answer, but expecting till you resolve my question; let me complain of the diffidence the Prince Artemidorus conceived of my generosity, by concealing his true condition; at these words, every one cast their eyes on this Illustrious Priso∣ner, who was plunged in a deep perplexity; for he knew not whether it was Berelisa, or I who had made this discovery; Berelisa, who suspected the thoughts of Artemidorus, sought by her eyes to justifie her innocency; and I likewise by some private signs evidenced to him, I was not consci∣ous of this action.

In the mean time, as his heart is great and no∣ble, he did not much study for an answer, for see∣ing he was known, he did not deny the truth, but ingeniously confest it, and addressing himself to the Agrigentine Prince, Sir (said he to him) I in∣treat you to believe you are not the cause of my disguise, and those who have declared my quali∣ty, have perhaps told you that I have departed from Leontine, but for an interest of State. I know it very well, replied the Agrigentine Prince, for the Parents of fair Clidimira, having sent hi∣ther a man express to inform of them Telesis, who is to espouse her; it hapned that this man being born at Agrigentine, though he resided at Leon∣tine; and coming hither with a desire to see this solemnity, knew you; and being born my Sub∣ject, he thought himself bound by Allegiance to discover you to me: but when he acquainted me with it (added he) it seemed he had no design, but that you should live in splendor proportion∣able to your Quality; for he highly exaggerated the injustice of the Leontine Prince, and your own Merit; neither am I resolved to use you otherwise, nor to change any thing of your For∣tune, but to give order you should be treated like a Prince: for though the Treaty of Heraclea be not concluded, you shall receive your liberty as if your condition was not known; I offer you likewise my Court as an Asylum, till the Prince your Brother remits his anger, and resolves to respect you according to your merit. Your ex∣pressions are so generous (replied Artemidorus) that I can frame no language to reach the gran∣deur of your excessive Favours, immeritedly be∣stowed upon me, nor can I requite your gene∣rosity, but by assuring you I will unsluce the a∣zure Conduits of my Veins for your service, whilst Honour permits me to expose my life for your Interests.

After these words the Prince of Agrigentine say∣ing, 'twas time to depart, the Princess thereto disposed her self, but not till she had made an o∣bliging complement to Artemidorus, to whom all the Ladies, and the rest of the company did the like; Terillus did likewise salute him, but with a kind of compulsive civility; for remembring all those courtesies Berelisa had performed to this Prisoner, he believed it may be she knew him; and had more suspicion of it, because she expres∣sed a great emotion of joy at the generosity of the Agrigentine Prince, when Cleodamas, who came with this Prince approached her, she could not restrain her self from testifying her satisfacti∣on. Sage Cleodamas, said she to him, what say you of this adventure? You who can set a just price on heroick actions, how do you esteem this acti∣on of the Agrigentine Prince? and how do you like the reception of it by the Prince Artemido∣rus? I find (replied Cleodamas) you have your part in the glory of this day, since Aetemidorus is your Prisoner, and that you were the first who knew his merit. As Terillus had attentively

hearkned to the words of Berelisa, his heart was enslaved with such a jealous passion, that swaying all his rational faculties, it retained Love, which was ready to for sake its residence. But not to intrude on your patience by reciting several things not material to this History, I shall retrench them, and only tell you, that the Ladies having re∣mounted on their Horses, returned to Agrigentine; where the Prince was received with all the Cere∣monies usual in such occasions: before he de∣parted from Carisalis, he caressed in a singular manner the sage Cleodamas, highly commending his sumptuous entertainment: for the amiable Philonice, she was so pleased with the delectable Scituation of his House, that she promised to retire thither ere Cynthia had once repaired her wained Horns, to pass away some few days with more pleasure and delight. I shall, Madam, tyre your attention by the recital of the Feast in the Princes Palace, or the Masques and Balls, which lasted the space of eight days: but shall only tell you, that the Agrigentine Prince incited by his na∣tural generosity, forced Artemidorus to accept an e∣quipage correspodent to his condition; this Prince then appeared without constraint the most amiable of men, though his melancholy did eclipse his humour; and esteeming Berelisa in a high degree, 'twas not easie for to vanquish her puissant in∣clination: As Berelisa was the first Lady in the Court, to whom I had spoken, and who favour∣ed Artemidorus, being my particular friend, she testified unto me so much goodness, that I be∣came wholly obliged to her; and sometimes I imagined if my heart had not been already en∣gaged, I had disposed my self to love her: Judg∣ing then Artemidorus by my self, I counselled him what I could to love Berelisa. Alas, said he to me, when I spoke to him of it, my heart is framed to love her, there's nothing I would not do to con∣tent her; and I esteem her a thousand times more than Clidimira: but I cannot raze that unfaithful person from my heart, & in despight of my anger, jealousie and grief, my soul is disturbed; when I suddenly hear her name pronounced, my imagina∣tion represents her to me, and my heart desires her; and if my words may not be construed in a degenerate sense, my heart yet affects her, though she is inconstant: I am likewise resolved (replied he) to re-enflame, or cure my passion, to write once more to Clidimira, to see if she'll have the confi∣dence to forbid me to love her, and always to de∣ny love. I would have diverted him from his inten∣tion, because I feared this person would flatter him with uncertain hope; but as his Design was ab∣solute, I assisted him therein, commanding one of my men to carry his Letter, which contained these expressions, if my memory prove not treche∣rous.

The Faithful Artemidorus to the Inconstant Clidimira.

YOur variable Nature (Madam) is the subject of all Discourse; and though the Title of my Letter doth seem to evidence my Belief, yet I confess to you my doubts are not fully resolved, till your own hand clear my suspicion: I know you have given all my Let∣ters to my Rival, that your Lines to him demonstrate the Reality of your Affection, and that you have given him the Pourtracture designed for me: Though these things may be convincing, your Writing only can render me happy, or undeceive me. I am perswaded you fancy Love to acquire your repose during my absence: For my part I shall not declare to you what affection sways my heart, before you have resolved my question; Inform me then whether your Perfections are still graced with a permanent Love, or whether your Inconstancy hath deformed your Beauty.

Artemidorus somewhat scrupled to send this Let∣ter before he had shewed it to Berelisa, but as she was the Sister of Telesis, he thought if he spoke to her of it, she would not permit him to send it; at last he did not insist on this consideration, where∣upon I gave it to one of my men, who went to Le∣ontine, I having other Interests which obliged me to send thither: I know not (Madam) whether you remember I told you, that when Telesis departed from the Camp to go to Syracusa, where he was sent by the Agrigentine Prince, who wrote to Bere∣lisa, he would go privately to Leontine, desiring her to tell no person of it: It hapned that when Cli∣dimira received the Letter of Artemidorus, Telesis was there; you may judge then what answer she returned to oblige the last, and to introduce de∣spair into the first Lovers heart, she wrote to him but these words, which doubtless were framed on purpose to banish love from the faithfull'st Lo∣ver Nature ever produced.

Clidimira to Artemidorus.

AS we ought never to engage to Love, without the Hope to be crowned with Felicity, I hold we may desert that Love, to the end we should not be plunged in misery; therefore, Sir, Knowing the state of your Fortune and mine hath distanced our Happiness, I have changed my Affection, to change my Destiny: Forget, I pray you, all that which hath passed between us, as I am resolved to bury it in Oblivion.

You may judge, Madam, this Letter quickned the anger of Artemidorus; for my part, I never saw any man more enraged after he perused it: What Zenocrates said he to me, Clidimira! the ingrateful Clidimira, hath she wrote unto me a Letter of this Nature, after she hath buoy'd up my Love with Lines both tender and engaging! Can I still preserve an inviolate affection? Ah no, no, added he, I can hate her, I will hate her, and I already hate her, I will love another, or expire. Your thoughts are so various (replied I to him) that I fear you can resolve on nothing. Ah! to hate Clidimira (replied he) I feel my self already disposed, and the difficulty is to know whether I shall persevere in this hatred. If I was in your place (said I to him) instead of perplexing my self with hatred, which is an unquiet passion. I would assume love, Ah Zenocrates! (replied he) when

one seeks it, 'tis not so easily found, for it com∣monly steals on you on a sudden; and after this adventure, I fear any more to enter the List a∣gainst it; for I confess I never in the least appre∣hended that infelicity which hath hapned; I lov'd, I was lov'd; I acted many things to please Clidi∣mira, and I received from her the same demonstra∣tions: In this condition my passion was glorious to me; I alienated my self from her to compass her repose; I never had any suspicion she would change her resentment; yet I was no sooner be∣nighted from her piercing eyes, which had fired my soul with a beam of their mingled luster; but she deserted my love, and embraced another, thereby becoming the most unjust and unconstant Person in the World. Cannot you do by reason what she hath done by Inconstancy? replied I. Ah Zenocrates, said he to him, 'tis easie for you to counsel me, but 'tis not for me to pursue your counsel. Thus you see, Madam, how the spirit of Artemidorus was seated. As for Berelisa, her thoughts were divers, her aversion still reigning against Terillus, she had a violent inclination to Artemidorus of whose affections she had some ex∣pectant glympse of hope; but her heart was con∣fusedly disturbed at her involuntary weakness. Terillus had both Love and Jealousie; 'tis true, he had heard Artemidorus was amorous at Leon∣ine, but he saw him daily pay so many devoirs to Berelisa, which she accepted with so much sa∣tisfaction, that he repented himself for having presented this Prisoner to the Agrigentine Prince, not having left him concealed as he desired, he re∣pented that he had took him; and though all his actions were noble, yet he repented for not de∣priving him of his life: Artemidorus always civi∣ly acknowledged that curtesie he had received from him; and since his condition was discover∣ed, he repayed him in generous and obliging terms.

In the mean time, the Treaty of Peace which appeared so nigh conclusion, was quite dissolved, so that the liberty of Artemidorus was as far di∣stant as ever; 'tis true, he was not the more confined, for the Prince of Agrigentine suffered him to go on his Parol, highly esteeming and affe∣cting him, though he was Brother to his Enemy; his esteem was augmented by the information he had, that the Prince of Leontine, having notice how Artemidorus was treated at Agrigentine, was so displeased, that he intended to declare him criminal; as if 'twas an effectual crime civily to use a Prisoner of War; and if the Princess of Leontine (his Sister) had not retained a part of his violence, he had accused Artemidorus of com∣plotting with his Enemies, and proceeded against him as a rebellious Prince. But to enlarge his in∣justice, he sancied Telesis being at Leontine, and Artemidorus in this Court, the love of Telesis was but a fictive invention to carry Clidimira to the Prince his Brother, that 'twas but a feigned love, and specious Nuptials, and that Clidimira did yet affect Artemidorus: Being advertised Telesis was unknown at Leontine, he would have arrested him, and would have re-entomb'd Clidimira in the Temple of Cores; as for Telesis, he could not have him in his power, by reason a faithful friend who concealed him, gave him notice of it, and advised him to return to Syracusa, where he had been sent by the Agrigentine Prince: For Clidimira she alledged her love was now extinct, but he would not credit it, neither would he be∣lieve the Tryal of the Lake of Dela; therefore to repose his Spirit, he designed to espouse Cli∣dimira to some other; as she is opulent in riches, he found a person of Quality, who not being a∣ble to maintain himself in that garb his condition required, resolved to espouse her: But Clidimira was much afflicted at this new persecution, because she utterly disliked that person which was pro∣posed to her.

In the mean time as this news was soon known at Agrigentine, the joy of Artemidorus was extream, when he had first notice of it. But Be∣relisas breast harboured inquietude; for she fear∣ed that the persecution this Virgin suffered for the consideration of this Prince, would foment his love; her fears proved not vain: The first emotion of joy being passed, Artemidorus became very passionate, being much afflicted because she was persecuted for the love of him; so that pity now changed that design, he had conceived to hate her: The Sun had not eight times measured this Terrestrial Globe, when there was an alte∣ration in his thoughts; for we were informed at Agrigentine, Telesis had been secretly at Leon∣tine, that Clidimira had invented a way to escape from the place where she was inclosed; that she was at Syracusa with Telesis, from whence he had sent to Agrigentine to demand permission of his Father to espouse this Virgin, and to bring her to his House, representing to him that he had al∣ready consented to the Marriage, and that the goods of Clidimira were of such a Nature, they might easily be transported thither.

Artemidorus hearing what Clidimira had done for Telesis, formed a resolution to banish her his heart, appearing somewhat displeased at the in∣tended coming of Clidimira to Agrigentine: A∣franor at first seemed highly incensed against Te∣lesis; but as the Prince of Agrigentine is always favourable to Lovers, he straight allay'd the fury of his anger; for Berelisa she could not imagine what to desire; for it imported, her Brother should espouse Clidimira, but she wished not her company at Agrigentine, for fear her sight would revive love in the heart of Artemidorus, there was no means to obstruct it, because Clidimira being amiable, gained the esteem of the Syracusian Princess, whilst she resided there, for though this Virgin was stole away from Leontine, it appeared not so to every one, it being generally conjectured her Kindred had carried her from thence to free her from an injust persecution; one of her Aunts, com∣ing with her from Leontine, therefore the Princess of Syracusa, who esteemed and loved her, wrote concerning her with so much affection to Philo∣nice, that she obtained of her Father and Afranor what Telesis desired: Berelisa on the other side, durst not openly display the secret thoughts of her heart, and Artemidorus by the grandeur of his Soul, would not oppose the return of Telesis, since he could not solemnize his Marriage with Clidimira, neither did he believe in the estate he was now, he could render with honour any dis∣courteous office to the Brother of Berelisa, and Afranor's Son, by whom he had been so civily treated during his imprisonment, he imagined

how apprehensive his grief would be when he should see Clidimira in the arms of Telesis, who had already contracted his hatred though he had never seen him: Telesis in the mean time, know∣ing his affection for Clidimira, would not come back to Agrigentine, till Hymen had tyed that in∣dissoluble knot, which none but death can dis∣solve: During this negotiation, Artemidorus was continually with Berelisa, for he alwaies lodged in the Castle, and as she is a most charming per∣son; the more he saw her, the more he esteemed and loved her; he did not imagine his heart was betrayed to her perfections, but conceived his spirit would still retain his love to Clidimira; Be∣relisa on her part did too well perceive, that if she did not yet affect Artemidorus, she might ea∣sily thereto dispose her self.

In fine, the Spring hod no sooner cloth'd the Trees in their verdant Liveries, when Telesis af∣ter he had espoused Clidimira at Syracusa brought her to Agrigentine, the Troops being then ready to begin the Campagne, Artemidorus whose grief had impaired his health, was ordered by the Phy∣sitians for change of air to go to a pleasant house in the Precinct of Carisalis, at the same time, as Telesis brought Clidimira to Agrigentine. It like∣wise happened that Philonice after the departure of her father, went to the house of Cleodamas to dissipate that melancholy his absence had contract∣ed, accompanied by Berelisa and four or five o∣ther amiable persons; amongst which was one cal∣led Lysicoris, to whom Berelisa confided her most secret thoughts, she had not yet declared to her, her inclination for Artemidorus; but she had ac∣quainted her with her aversion for Terillus, his unhappiness could receive no addition, he being jealous, his affection slighted, and being forced to go to the Army, and to leave Artemidorus with Berelisa.

Things were on those terms when Telesis and Clidimira arrived at Agrigentine, as she had Let∣ters from the Princess of Syracusa to Philonice, she went the next day to Carisalis, where she saw her Sister in Law, she having a noble and spright∣ly air, extreamly pleased Philonice who admit∣ted her into her Chamber, and after some dis∣course went with her to Berelisa, who secretly wished she might not appear amiable to her; but she was constrained to alter her desire, and to confess she was indowed with some charming features; Philonice thinking to please Berelisa, intreated her to stay at Carisalis; and Berelisa not willing to oppose her was forced to thank the Princess for a civility which would conduce to her affliction: Artemidorus who was prescribed some remedies to disperse his disease went not for some daies to the house of Cleodamas, and being very melancholy he had rather not see Berelisa, who was his sole consolation, then to see so ma∣ny other persons; so that 'twas his onely diver∣tisement to breath his languishing thoughts, when night began to mantle the skie with a gloomy shade, nigh that little River I formerly mention∣ed, which travelled with its silver streams through a delightful vale; for as heat did at this time u∣surp the most part of the day, the evening and morning were onely commodious to invite our recreations; Artemidorus then every night repair∣ing to this amiable place, commonly left his men a remote distance from thence, he one time des∣cended, his melancholy not permitting him to note his way, into a little Grove, ore-spread with close compacted bushes, not far from a place where this little River formed a Demi-circle between two Meadows; but as he was ready to leave this little Wood, he spied through the bushes many women at the brink of this pleasant River, and it seemed to him his ears were invaded by Clidimi∣ra's voyce; for you must know this night all the Ladies who were with the Princess Philonice a∣mongst whom were Berelisa and Clidimira, had designed to bath themselves in this delightful place. When Artemidorus first perceived them, they began to re-invest themselves with their ap∣parel, 'tis not easie to divine his thoughts when he heard Clidimira's voice, since anger and hatred with some interval of pleasure, mixt with curio∣sity did then surprize him, seeing he might make a nigher approach, he softly stole between those bushes, till he had attained one which might shelter him from the Ladies sight, and from whence he might over-hear their discourse, when he was there, he looked upon the Ladies, who though newly come out of the Bath, were in such a modest manner, they might not fear the sight of the most curious eye, amongst those Ladies Artemidorus spyed Clidimira: hardly had he given passage to his regards, when he saw Be∣relisa nigh her, but in a different nature, all the Charms of Clidimira being Epitomized in her face, her hands lean and squalid, her breast de∣formed, and not any part matching the agree∣ment of her eyes, Berelisa's hands are shaped with exact proportion, her breast white as snow, and all her other parts correspondent, the beau∣ty of the one displaying the defects in the other, Artemidorus was highly pleased at this sight, ima∣gining Berelisa's husband would receive a far grea∣ter happiness tben Clidimira's. In fine, Madam these Idea's were so strongly imprinted in his spi∣rit, that when the fear of being seen commanded his retirement, he contemplated the remainder of the night, the ones beauty, and the others defect, remembring the infidelity of Clidimira, and all those curtesies Berelisa had conferred up∣on him, his person likewise did wholly imploy their thoughts whilst darkness blinded the World, they not imagining themselves the objects which kept unsealed the inclosure of his eyes, for though Clidimira had the confidence to justifie her actions, she fled the sight of Artemidorus, and 'twas not possible for her to remember so many testimonies of affection she had bestowed upon him, without being confused at her inconstancy: Berelisa both feared and desired this interview; for if Artemidorus should never submit his heart to her love, she would have some satisfaction if he deserted Clidimira, in these thoughts she wished the conclusion of this dangerous occasion, fearing there might happen something which might cloud her propitious fortune; for she had acquired so much esteem with Artemidorus, that to her his thoughts wore no cover; but as she would not be too curious in prying into his Actions, she in∣treated her dear Lisicoris to observe with a vigi∣lant eye the Passages betwixt Clidimira and this Prince, she did not relate to her the cause of her curiosity, though she was one of her dearest friends,

colouring it over with her Brothers interest; for 'tis more difficult for a woman adorned both with spirit and vertue to confess a violent inclination to any person, who doth not express his love to her, then to avow she favours a Lovers passion, as the last adventure had armed Artemidorus a∣gainst the charming force of Clidimira's eyes, knowing that if he went not to visit the Princess at Cleodomas his house, she would prevent him by coming to him, he determined to wait on her after dinner, which surprized the company, they not imagining the state of his health had yet li∣cenced him to leave his Chamber. When Phi∣lonice was informed of his arrival, she was in the great Hall, I have formerly mentioned, no sooner did Clidimira and Berelisa cast their eyes on this Prince, but their faces were shaded with a crim∣son colour, which even planted his Cheeks with blushes; he could not conjecture whether this a∣gitation proceeded from his new or ancient love, confusion did at this time so distract his senses. In fine, after he had saluted Philonice, she presented Clidimira to this Prince, and knowing what acci∣dents had formerly happened between them, she did not ingage them in any long discourse, but spoke to Artemidorus, who seeing now only the beauties of Clidimira, was glad he had discover∣ed the dissimilitude of her other parts, she be∣ing so discreet that her hands never lay open to the sight of any person, her breast was masqu'd with a pleated scarf, which barred the eye from descrying her deformed features, so that if any one had seen her dressed after this mode, would have judged the whole composure of her body proportionable to the splendor of her eyes; but Artemidorus contraryed this opinion, her defects being now as apparent to him, as if they had been visible; for Berelisa, he knowing the pure whitenesse of her breast, and the perfect shape of her hands, admired her modesty for not dis∣closing those things, which Clidimira concealed through affectation; and concluding it an effect of her vertue, began to feel his heart retreating from Clidimira's love, to be stormed with Bere∣lisa's perfections: as Clidimira's spirit was a little disquieted, it stopt the Organs of her speech, which incited Berelisa's desire to wing away the time in pleasant discourses; 'tis true her spirit was not yet re-stated in its former tranquillity; but knowing how far her beauty surpass'd Clidi∣mira's, her joy framed her to this agreeable hu∣mour; Philonice after a little stay in the Hall, went into the Wood followed by Cleodamas and all this company; at first they discoursed of the beauty of the place, and clearness of the day, but the company being strayed into these divers alleys; fortune placed Artemidorus between Be∣relisa and Clidimira, all three were surprized to hear no words break from each others lips; the unfaithful Mistress durst not speak to Artemidorus before her sister, to appease the distemper of his spirit, caused by the levity of her former acti∣ons; and Berelisa willing to see to whom Arte∣midorus would address his speech, did not unlock the silence of her harmonious voice: this Prince not knowing in what language to express him∣self, in the presence of these two persons, ex∣pected one of their tongues to supply its office; in this manner they arrived to a Balcony at the end of this Ally, where Philonice, Cleodamas and Lysicoris stayed his coming; the Princess seeing them walk in this mute posture, scarce taking notice of her, demanded of Artemidorus on what subject he entertained the attention of these two amiable persons. I assure you (replied Berelisa not giving this Prince leisure to shape an answer) my sister and I are not jealous of what Artemido∣rus hath said, for he hath been so sparing of his words, that he hath spoken no more to one then to another. I had more to say to one then ano∣ther, replyed he, but I did not think it conve∣nient to declare my thoughts; for my part (ad∣ded Clidimira) being a stranger here, I did not imagine my self obliged to begin any discourse; for my particular (added Berelisa) I am so plea∣sed with my own idle fancies, that my words would have been a pennance to me for inter∣rupting my sweet repose: it seems to me (re∣plied Cleodamas) that the fancies of such an ex∣cellent person (as Berelisa) if she declared the subject of them, would produce much delight; for it only appertains to those who have tender hearts, to be skilled in the pleasures of a cer∣tain pleasing deliberation, which diverts the spi∣rit, and so sweetly seduces reason, that one can∣not desine its inticing allurements: 'Tis true (re∣plied Berelisa) all mens humours do not comply with this delightful dotage, and there's many speak of it, who believe it only consists in licen∣cing their Spirits rather to the motions of their hearts, then to the conduct of this imperious reason, to enjoy our pleasant fancies we must let our spirits wander up and down, confine them no where, we must have something in our souls which whispers no disturbance, our temper must be inclining to Melancholy, we must think on something which pleases us, and we must be capable of a certain Lethargie of the senses, which imprints belief in all our thoughts, and the use of reason must be for some time suspended; I say, we must but confusedly hearken to the singing of the Birds, or the murmuring of the Springs, nei∣ther must our eyes distingush the diversity of co∣lours. Ah Berelisa, cryed Cleodamas, you de∣scribe these fancies too clearly to be ignorant of them. If idle Imaginations were a crime (reply∣ed she) I would subscribe to your opinion, but as they are the most innocent pleasures, I con∣fess I know them, and that I sometimes prefer them before all company whatsoever. But you do not dream (replyed Philonice) that you have said, to draw these fancies to the life, there must be something in our hearts which doth not displease us. Pardon me Madam (replyed Bere∣lisa) but that something I have named, is not that something you imagine. I assure you (re∣plyed Artemidorus) that if one mention some∣thing that you have done, it will admit of no other explication then that of the Princess. What∣ever it should be (said Cleodamas) I should think that man happy which should insinuate into Bere∣lisas heart, that she hath called something, which in a vulgar expression is termed Love. Berelisa blushed at this discourse, and fortune conducting Terillus to this place, they changed the subject of their conversation: on the contrary, Philoni∣ce finding her self on a square Base of stone on the right hand from the house as one ascends the

high alley, Cleodamas sent for several embroider'd Cushions for the Ladies, who seated themselves in divers ranks on the two sides of this Marble stone, leaving the middle void, lest any person should hinder the sight of the Princess Philonice; as a mark of distinction from the rest, Cleodamas placed the Cushions destined for this Princess, at the foot of a fair Tree, whose distended bran∣ches served as an Umbrella to shadow her from the Sun's heat. All the company being seated, 'twas the fortune of Terillus to be next Clidimira, and of Artemidorus to be next Berelisa; for Lysi∣coris, she was next Cleodomas Philonice seeing these two dear friends separated, ask'd Berelisa if she was not jealous to see Lysicoris leave her for Cleo∣damas? Ah Madam (said Terillus, whose Jealou∣sie even consumed his vital spirits) Do not so much injure Jealousie, as to believe it can be found in friendship, and do not deprive love of that thing wherein its power is effectually seen. Be∣relisa who knew what consequence he would draw from his own words, opposed him, demanding (in an angry voice) on what reason he built his conjectures, that he durst affirm Jealousie belong∣ed more to Love then Friendship? For my part said Artemidorus, as I never had but the Jealousie of Love, because my friends have always proved constant, I cannot give any satisfactory answer to this question. For my particular (added Clidi∣mira, not seeming to take notice of what the Prince had said) I believe that as there is not a long love without Jealousie, so there is no Jea∣lousie without Love; and that it cannot be ad∣mitted in friendship. For my part, said Philo∣nice, I am such an enemy to Jealousie, that I dare not give my Judgement of it: I therefore consti∣tute the sage Cleodamas to be the Soveraign Judge when Berelisa and Terillus have alledged all they can to assert their opinions. I consent to't said Berelisa: and I likewise said Terillus; whose Jea∣lousie pressing him to speak, and he beginning to attaque Berelisa, she declared she would not be denyed from interrupting Terillus when her fan∣cy prompted her to do it. I consent thereto said he, on condition you will grant me the same liberty; but to speak ingenuously, added he, I think you will have sufficient difficulty to confute my reasons, without desiring that per∣mission. There's none so ignorant said he, but knows Love produces Jealousie, and that they are inseparable concomitants; and that that which is called Jealousie in Friendship, resembles not the true Jealousie. Is it not certain that Jea∣lousie is the violentest of Passions? That 'tis more sensible then Love which produces it? 'tis restless, cloudy, and sometimes furious? That 'tis ca∣pable to inspire all crimes, that it transports one to revenge, and that it often excites a man to dye his hands in blood? It admitting then this defini∣tion, can we believe it may proceed from Friend∣ship, and that such a tumultuous Passion can spring from such a pleasing and peaceful Mo∣ther? To speak truth, Jealousie is an effect so necessary in Love, that one cannot be wounded with the Darts of Love, without being poyso∣ned with the stings of Jealousie: For, if one hath no Rival, it receives production from se∣veral other things: By a Jealous resentment one envies the glory of the beloved object; one de∣sires alwaies to be with her, to entertain her a∣lone, to admire and adore her, one would have sometimes so much Jealousie essentially attach'd to Love, that the Beloved person should not love none of her acquaintance, that she should have no manner of attachment for sensible things; and I know not whether one would have her love her self, unless for the love of another; I know there's some injustice in these fan∣tastick thoughts, but I likewise know that a prudent love is no love; and that the dis∣orders of this passion which are blemished by no crime, compose the most sensible pleasures. Judge then if Jealousie which is the greatest irre∣gularity of love, and from whence proceeds the most various subjects, can be found in friendship: For if you are not ignorant that this kind of affe∣ction is ordinarily produced more by reason than inclination, and that if the proper effects of things were ascribed to their right causes, Friendship would be termed a necessary effect of merit and virtue, since Friendship sways men to love all those who deserve esteem; but if it should not be so, 'tis true, there's friendship for many persons, and if one should yield to your opinion, there would be many jealousies which would be the terriblest things imaginable: All the world should then be filled with crimes, and as there's none but either love many, or one particular person, it would follow all the world should be jealous, and every one would seek to destroy or hate each other; and it may be a man would be so unhappy to have re∣sentments of Jealousie mixed with the friendship of his Father, Mother, Brothers, Sisters, Kindred, Friends, Wife, Slaves, and Mistress. You exag∣gerated this so pleasantly (replied Berelisa) that I am much pleased at it, for when one is constrain∣ed to insert agreeable things, when solid reasons are necessary, 'tis an infallible sign one maintains a wrong part. What (replied Terillus) do you believe that by explaining to you 'tis possible to have many friendships and many Jealousies, my reasons are more pleasant than solid? If you could prove your words (replied Berelisa) I would not have said that which I have done, but far from consenting to that opinion, I pretend one cannot love nothing of which one might not be jealous: For without examining if there's reason to te•••• jealousie a passion, or if one ought to consider it as a simple effect of the tenderness of our heart; let's look upon't in its self, Jealousie is not to speak properly, but a violent desire to preserve that we either affect or possess, and to hinder another from the enjoyment of that we would attain the posses∣sion: From whence I conclude, we may be jealous of all that we love, and that we cannot love no∣thing without Jealousie. I know this resentment is sometimes so weak, that those which have it have no perception of it, but when 'tis so, 'tis doubtless that the attachment we have, which gives such a feeble Jealousie, is not great, and that those which have it, have a confiding Spirit, which makes them repose so much trust on their own Fortune, that they believe no power able to destroy that which they have once gained. But after all, who∣soever loves any thing, wishes the possession of it, and desires to possess it when he hath acquired it, he hath even an inquietude to preserve it, propor∣tionable to the inclination and reason which hath

fixt it in his thoughts; so that the jealousie is stron∣ger or weaker, according to the power of the at∣tachment, and 'tis that which without doubt makes the difference between those effects the jealousie of love inspires, and those which are produced by friendship; but the difference which is seen be∣tween these two jealousies, are sometimes found in jealousies caused by the same passion: For Lo∣vers are not equally jealous, the diversity of their Temperament and Fortune altering their resent∣ments; and though they all have jealousie, yet per∣haps in theirs is as much difference as between that of Love and Friendship: There's jealous persons who evaporate their sighs, complaints, and tears, in amorous verses; there's some whom Jealousie makes to compose a Song, and there's others whom it deprives of reason and vertue, who have re∣course to Steel and Poyson, to carve out their re∣venge on the person they love; but this diversity doth not hinder that the jealous Lover, who only makes a Song to testifie his Jealousie, should not be effectively jealous, since 'tis true one cannot otherwise name a certain resentment which is pro∣duced in our heart, with the desire to acquire something of what nature soever: But to speak of Friendship, I affirm that though 'tis prudent, it cannot be tender, unless it be infected with a little Jealousie; I know that the jealousie of Friend∣ship doth not take from us the light of our reason, and that it doth not make us act such fantastical things as the jealousie of Love; but Friendship is not tender, if we do not desire to be preferred be∣fore others, if we do not do all things we can i∣magine to effect it, if we have not some despite when we believe we have not attained our desires, if we are not displeased at those who we see pre∣ferred before us, and if we take neither care nor inquietude to preserve what we have gained; you will it may be tell me we may see a thousand and a thousand which have no sensibility of what you have alledged: To that I will answer, there are many persons who believe they love when they have no affection, and who call Friendship a kind of Society, or necessary commerce of life; but when I speak of Friendship, I mean an effective Friendship both tender and solid, of a Friendship where there is a commutation of hearts and se∣crets: Every one is not jealous according to the proportion of his Friendship, neither doth every one seat it in its right place; but to speak sincerely these luke-warm friendships do not produce vio∣lent Jealousies, no more than that love which tunes our Spirits to a musical harmony: But that doth not shew that Friendship doth not produce jealou∣sie, at least I know I have sustained it for Lysicoris, for I remember when she once went into the Coun∣try without bidding me adieu, I was extremely grieved at it; 'tis not but that I am an enemy of all constraint and ceremony, but because she gave her farewel to another of her friends that she ought not to respect so much as me: I was extremely dis∣pleased; and I complained a thousand times of her, and even hated her whom she had visited. But it may be (replied Terillus looking on her) you have sometimes Love, not thinking you have any: No, replied she blushing, for I assure you I know so well how to distinguish Friendship, Hatred, and Jealou∣sie, that if I had love it were difficult to deceive me. But is it possible (said Terillus) you can call Jealousie all those light despites that a resentment of glory produces in friendship, when that one renders you not the Justice you think to merit? But is it possi∣ble (replied Berelisa) that you doubt Friendship hath not its Jealousies as well as Love? That which makes me doubt of it (replied Terillus) is, that I am perswaded Jealousie is not but an effect of the irre∣gularity of Love; and that Friendship cannot have the same irregularity, neither can it have Jealousie. But Friendship (replied Berelisa) hath it not all that which is found in love? It hath little cares and great services, it contains the desire to please, com∣placency is always thereto annexed, there is like∣wise of the favours of Friendship effective confi∣dences, and of trifling secrets; one esteems the letters of his friends absence is not rude, Presence is sweet, and in fine, there is found in a tender Friendship all that one can attribute to a tender Love. But, replied Terillus, Do not you compre∣hend that one cannot be jealous but of that one possesses, or may possess? And that being so, one cannot have Jealousie in Friendship; sure 'tis true that our friends cannot be absolutely ours; for take the perfectest friend in the world, if he hath a Mistress, he will be oftner with his Mistress than Friend; so that Friendship giving nothing which might solely depend on us, it is impossible to be as jealous as if one had a Mistress: But as solid Friendship is too little divertising, Love is robb'd of divers things which have dependance only on it; so that those little cares, and all those things of which you have spoken, are become its mode by Usurpation: But for Jealousie, believe me Be∣relisa, it hath ever appertained to Love, neither can it be admitted to any passion but this. But how call you that I felt for Lysicoris, replied Bere∣lisa? for I would be more loved by her than ano∣ther: I should be angry if I was less, I would know her thoughts, I would have her if she is in love with any one, to declare it to me; and I should never suffer her without much distemper to write to any of her friends, without shewing me the Let∣ter: And I very well know the commotion of my Spirit proceeds from Jealousie; I even hold (added she) that the Jealousie of Friendship is more Jea∣lousie, if I may so say, than the Jealousie of Love; for as it retains Reason still entire, the least effects it produceth in a friends heart, ought to be more considered than those it produceth in a Lovers: But in what place may we see jealous Friends, (replied Terillus) who have their eyes wandring, their tincture pale, their humour melancholy, and their spirits disquieted through excess of their Jea∣lousie? But in what place, replied Berelisa, have you seen Friends which receive contempts without grief, which patiently suffer tepedity, oblivion, indifferency, and irregularity when they believe they are neglected by a new Friendship. I consess it would be difficult for me (replied Terillus) to shew you a friend so patient to suffer all those things you have named without resentment; but I call it despite, and not jealousie: And for my part (replied Berelisa) I will call revenge all the resentments of a jealous person after your mode, but to speak rationally, as Love and Friendship derive their Original from the heart, and that we know not how to love nothing but by a certain universal cause, which forms all Loves and Friend∣ships in the world, there is likewise in the heart

of all men, as well a jealous as an amorous disposi∣tion, and this disposition acts doubtless more or less violently (as I have told you) according to the form of the affection which causes it, according to the subjects one hath to entertain Jealousie, and according to the temper of men which are capable of it: To speak truly, Friendship being no other thing than an imperfect Love, it would be strange if the inseparable concomitant of Love doth not follow it, though not with all those torments and punishments it trails often after it in a Lovers heart. Therefore I entreat the sage Cleodomas, who ought to be our Judge, to condemn you to have an eter∣nal Jealousie in all manners imaginable, and to exe∣cute his arrest. I offer my self (added she with a malicious smile) to solicit all the persons you the most love to give you cause to be jealous: Terillus would have answered Berelisa, but the last thing she said having framed the company to laughter, he had an extreme despite, and could not have re∣tained himself; if the Princess, who noted his grief, had not turned towards Cleodamas to tell him he should pronounce his sentence on this question in which so many were interessed. As universal as Jealousie should be (replied Cleodamas) it appears Madam, that you are not a little jealous of your authority, by commanding me to speak before you, but at least (added he) do me the honour to give me your advice, and permit me to take the opini∣on of all the Company: No, no, replied Philo∣nice, I would know your pure resentments in this occasion, before I declare mine. Since 'tis so, re∣plied he, permit me to render exact justice, and to begin by the Elogium of Terillus, for he with∣out doubt so ingeniously sustained. Jealousie ap∣pertains not but to love, that if Berelisa had less spirit and eloquence, I should have been exposed to have given an injust arrest: But to speak sin∣cerely, she hath so couragiously defended the part of truth, that 'tis to no purpose I should declare their jealousie in Friendship as well as jealousie in Love, and that if there are found friends without Jealousie when they have cause to have it, there are friends without tenderness, which unjustly usurp a quality they do not merit, since 'tis absolute im∣possible to have a durable love without some stains of jealousie. Nevertheless to clear up the spirits of Terillus for asserting a grand error; I believe as he hath more love than friendship, he knows not but one kind of jealousie, and judging others by himself, he hath believed there would be no jea∣lous friends: On the contrary, Berelisa who knows by her own experience that Friendship gives Jea∣lousie, and who perhaps hath lovers to whom she hath given it, hath been better instructed than Te∣rillus, and hath so admirably maintained her part, that I am forced to pronounce my arrest, and Crown her with the Victory. In effect, I declare none can better sustain the truth, than Berelisa hath defended hers, she having acquired the sole ad∣vantage of the dispute. I therefore entreat her (added Cleodamas) to moderate her resentment, and not to wish that Terillus who knows so ingeniously to defend a bad cause, should have at one time so many different jealousies; for the jealousie of friend∣ship if there is any, replied Terillus, I do not fear to have it, but for the jealousie of Love if I have it, I shall be very much deceived if Berelisa takes it from me: She is doubtless more fit to give than to take away, replied Philonice rising from her Seat: I assure you Madam, replied Berelisa, that I know not how to do neither the one nor the other; but inthe choice of these two, I had rather give this evil to whom I would than desire to heal it, for the power to give replied Terillus, one must have given it another before, and for to cure, one must take the first one hath given.

As I know not how to divine Enigma's, replied Berelisa, I cannot answer to what you say; if you desire said Terillus, I will more clearly explain it to you: It is better (replied Philonice, beginning to walk for fear Berelisa would give him too severe an answer) at this time no farther to insist on it, for Berelisa is now in such an humour, she will not un∣derstand what she desires not to hear: After this all the company began to direct their steps towards the house, for Artemidorus he was so melancholy, that he scarce knew the subject of their disputati∣on, and his passion for Berelisa did so much possess his Spirit that his former love for Clidimira seemed almost extinct, his soul was likewise so suspended between love and hatred, that he would not speak to Clidimira for to complain of her, nor to Bere∣lisa for to tell her he feared she had too much cured his love for her Sister: Berelisa and Clidimira explain∣ed his melancholy in the same manner, for Berelisa thought Artemidorus was buried in this anxiety because he yet loved Clidimira, and Clidimira ima∣gined that this Prince yet loved her, so that mau∣gre her inconstancy she had some slight compassi∣on; but for Berelisa she had a strange despite to see Artemidorus should be so little sensible of the outrage he had received, that he should yet affect Clidimira, though her affection lay not open to the discovery of every person, she could not ore-ca∣nopy her grief from Lysicoris who perceived it, and demanded one night from whence it proceed∣ed, as they were leaning over a Balcony at the end of the high Alley. When Cynthia with her borrowed light repaired the essence of her Bro∣thers lamp, and silence so reigned in this fair so∣litude not troubled by the agitation of the leaves, that Lysicoris and Berelisa cast forth two or three sighs, and desiring to know the reason of them, I pray said she to her, tell me what makes you sigh? For I confess I am ignorant of the cause thereof: Your for∣tune is happy, the Princess prefers you before her o∣ther attendants, you are beautiful and in the flower of your age, you have naturally both spirit and ver∣tue, and you command the affection of all: Ah Lysicoris, replied she, a sigh stealing from her heart, you are a flatterer: Truly, replied she, I do not flatter you; it is certain I know men whose affe∣ctions are changed to you, but none who desire not your love, yet you are melancholy, you flee company and sigh, not willing to declare the sub∣ject of them; do not you repent your rigor to Terillus, and dare you not through pride publick∣ly confess it? No, replied Berelisa, and I can assure you the more Terillus loves me, the more he be∣comes insupportable to me: I know he is magna∣nimous, and is advantaged by a great spirit yet he hath many other things which displease me. 'Tis true, replied Lysicoris, his body is not of so per∣fect a composure as that of Artemidorus, but it seems to me love should not solely submit to beau∣ty; and if I am not deceived there are other quali∣ties more essential than this: 'Tis true, added

she, if this Prince was the Rival of Terillus, I should think you had reason to prefer him, for he hath not only a more graceful deportment; but more affability and vertue, but as you know if he is yet amorous, it is certainly of your Sister, and Terillus being the completest of our Court, you act too much injustice by treating him with such severity: It is needless to know whether it is justice or in∣justice, replied Berelisa, but I confess to you, I would have you discover if Berelisa loves my sister, and if you desire to be informed what thoughts possess my heart when I sigh, they only spring from my Brothers interest, and from the apprehension I have that Artemidorus and Clidimira renew their former gallantry; the face of Artemidorus appears masqued with so much melancholy since the arri∣val of my Sister. I have noted it as well as you, replied Lysicoris, but others sigh not in such a man∣ner for a Brothers interest, and your words varied from true sincerity, when you invented the pre∣cedent expressions. What would you have me tell you, replied Berelisa: I would know, replied Lysicoris, from whence proceeds these sighs: Real∣ly, replied she, I think Artemidorus hath occasion∣ed them: If so, you are captive to your Prisoner, replied Lysicoris, for I am assured when one breaths forth such heart-breaking sighs as yours, they must of necessity proceed from an amorous tenderness You are so knowing in sighs, replied Berelisa, that one may imagine your life hath been but a continual suspiration. If I have not sighed, replied she, I have seen many sigh, but the sighs of love differ from others, and if you will speak sincerely, con∣fess to me those sighs I have heard were not pro∣duced by domestick affairs or ordinary accidents: If they were sighs of Jealousie, replied Berelisa, what would you say of them? I should much murmur, re∣plied she, for they must then proceed from a concea∣led passion which precedes it. Murmur then, answe∣red Berelisa turning her head, since 'tis too true for my misfortune, that my heart is infected with a ter∣rible jealousie, though I have no violent affection: Ah Berelisa, replyed Lysicoris, that cannot be, and if you are very jealous, you must doubtless have much love; in truth replyed she, I feel no∣thing but jealousie, if so replyed Lysicoris, you feel more grief then pleasure; 'tis not so reply∣ed Berelisa, but 'tis that I dare not tell you, for the confusion of it hath almost prescribed limits to my life; but it may be there's something more contemptuous, replyed Lysicoris, then to confess one hath jealousie; yes replyed Berelisa, and if 'twas not that I conceive it expedient for me, you should know the secret of my heart, to endeavour to know that of anothers, and the more easily to conceal mine from the rest of the world, I should never tell it you, though you have ever been the confident of all my se∣crets; you have then a strange secret replyed Lysicoris, more strange then you can imagine replyed Berelisa, since in word my dear Lysicoris, I swear I have a simple desire in my heart to be affected by Artemidorus, in the mean time it gives me such a violent jealousie, that I fear I can∣not conceal it, for since my sister-in-law came hither, such melancholy cogitations so benight his pleasing humour, that I doubt not but he yet loves her; believe me Berelisa, replyed Lysicoris, when one ardently desires the love of any person, there must needs be a strong affection to the de∣sired party. In truth replyed she, I do not be∣lieve I love Artemidorus, but I would not have him love Clidimira; he hath so much friendship for you replyed Lysicoris, that I believe if he loves her, and you demand satisfaction in that point, he will not deny it; if I was not the sister of Telesis answered she, I should ere this have demanded it: 'Tis not added this fair Vir∣gin rather then to remain in this incertitude; I resolve in the end to speak to him of it, but as I fear he'll divine 'tis not the interest of Telesis which frames my curiosity; I should be much perplexed to execute my design, though hither∣to I have had sufficient power over my self not to perform any action, or speak any word, which might give any occasion to Artemidorus to suspect I had any particular inclination for him, for in sine I love glory, and I so much wish the estimation of this Prince, that if I should not be severe by my own vertue, I should be cruel for the love of him; those Madam were the resent∣ments of Berelisa, those of Clidimira were of a∣nother nature, for when she thought Artemidorus yet affected her, she was more confused at her insidelity, then ever she had been before; 'tis not that she would renovate her affection with this Prince, for she hath vertue, but she at least would not have been displeased if she could have excused her self to him. As she considered she could not easily effect it, she avoided him as much as possible she could; for Artemidorus he sled every one, his grief was so extream to find himself amorous of Berelisa; 'tis not but he wished he might be in love with Berelisa in the first transports of his anger, but he wished it when he did not think 'twould arrive, so that now feeling himself in a different estate, he contrary'd his former wishes, but they proved ineffectual, for the defects of Clidimira and her in∣fidelity were so recent in his memory, that they banished from his heart his precedent love; on the contrary, Berelisa appeared to him both a∣miable and charming. The great care Clidimira us'd to hide her deformity, and the little care of Berelisa to shew her excelling features, did produce such a strange operation in his thoughts that Artemidorus despised the one, and estee∣med the other; but after all, he saw he had better not ingage himself to love Berelisa: if there had been no other reason but that this fair Virgin was a Princess, whose Father was enemy to the Leontine Prince his Brother, who would doubtless say when he had notice of it, that he thought only to love his enemies. As his reason was already accustomed to yield to his love, his greatest grief was, to think that per∣haps he might not be loved, for Terillus seemed to him a discreet man, and he feared to share his fortune, he knew Berelisa had more friend∣ship for him then Terillus, but his friendship e∣ver disquieted him, and he thought t'was an ea∣sie matter to compass the love of any person which had but indifferency for him, then a Virgin who was already of his intimate acquain∣tance; for Terillus he was altogether unhappy, he was a lover, his love was rejected, he was Jealous, and not without cause, he must go to the Camp and leave his Rival with his Mistress,

but mauger so many melancholy thoughts; the charming Philonice made the society at Carisalis appear very agreeable; the sage Cleodamas like∣wise desirous to ever use the memory of her re∣sidence there, parted all the Alleys and Cabi∣nets of the wood, between ten or twelve per∣sons who composed the pleasures of this il∣lustrious Princess and fixt inscriptions at the end of every Alley, consonant to the humours of those persons from whom they derived their names; he gave likewise names to the little paths which crossed this amiable wood, and he called one the Alley of sighs, because it seemed a fit place to cast forth a secret sigh: 'twas in this that Berelisa not thinking him to be there, ha∣ving found Artemidorus alone whilst the rest of the company were in the great Alleys, heard this Prince sigh; he had not yet any design to tell her he loved her, neither had she any inten∣tion to speak to him in particular, but a casual accident making them meet in this Alley, pre∣sented them with an opportunity, they little ex∣pected; as they both sought this place of the wood to flie all discourse, they blushed when they saw one another, they explained not the change of their colour as they ought; for Ar∣temidorus believed the modesty of Berelisa made her blush, and Berelisa imagined the alteration of his countenance proceeded from his being surprised in an amorous deliration for Clidimira, whom he ought to blot out of his remembrance, she having stained her vertue by her unfaithful levity, and the curiosity she had in her soul be∣coming more strong; confess the truth said she to him, her cheeks being replanted with blushes. You are not so vindicative as you imagine, and you yet permitted the inconstant Clidimira a fir∣mer seat in your heart then her mutable affection might claim: Nevertheless added she, I will be∣lieve you constrain your self for the love of me, for I presuppose it's because Clidimira is my Sister that you flie her, that you do not speak to her, and that you see not the occasion to essay to re∣venge your self of her infidelity. I ingeniously confess replyed Artemidorus, (looking on her with an amorous eye) you are the cause that I flie Clidimira, but charming Berelisa, 'tis not by the reason you imagine; No, no, replyed Bere∣lisa, invent not a deluding sincerity to punish me for my ralery; for in fine, since the first instant you have reviewed Clidimira, you are not the same as before, and the change of your humour is so great every one takes notice of it. I con∣fess to you I am surprised at it, for 'tis true, Cli∣dimira hath performed such unworthy actions, that I conceive not how you should yet retain your love: ah if I have any for Clidimira cryed he; I intreat the Gods Berelisa should never have any for Artemidorus, though he cannot hope to be happy unless he is once honoured with Bereli∣sa's affection. I pray, replyed this Virgin with much astonishment, do not answer in this manner, a person who speaks to you seriously as a faithful friend. I pray Madam, replied he, do not thus answer a person who speaks to you with sincerity, and as a faithful Lover restrain me from the senti∣ments of Terillus; and do not crucifie me more by your rigour, than Clidimira hath done by her in∣constancy.

Whilst Artemidorus thus spoke, Berelisa's spirit was in a deep disquietude, for she knew not with what temper to receive these expressions of the Prince: She saw doubtless in his eyes and visage all the signs of an ardent love, and the tone of his voice justified his sincerity; but fearing Artemi∣dorus would deceive her, to have a pretext more easily to see Clidimira, her spirit was enraged, and not to expose her self to such an adventure, she thus spoke to him: Sir, said she, a serious gravity being seated in her face, though it is not my custom to remember any persons of those courtesies they have received from me, yet I entreat you to recal into your memory the intention I ever had to ren∣der your restraint more pleasing. I pray Madam, said he interrupting her, change not your thoughts I conjure you, and act as favourably for a Prince, who will be always fettered in your Chains, as you have acted for your unknown Prisoner: But to be∣gin to do it (added he) believe (if you please) I am sincere, that I love you a thousand times more than I ever loved Clidimira: Yes, charming Bere∣lisa, I have learned to love by serving her, and you alone have taught me to hate her; for I con∣fess unto you my imbecillity and stupidity, if you had not chased her from my heart, she would have maugre her inconstancy, still triumphed in my misfortune: Commiserate then a Lover, who is so well skilled in the tenderness of love; for if you do not, I know not what will become of me. That which you say is so surprising (replied Berelisa) that I know not what to think of it; for in fine, Sir, if I could believe you loved me, if I should desire it, how should I be perswaded your affecti∣on is real? Is it not true that the day which pre∣ceded Clidimiras arrival, you yet loved her? I very well know (said he) that I would not have loved her more, and that I wished my heart was submitted to your Love; but as I am sincere, I confess if I am not deceived, I had then some love for Clidimira; and admiration and friendship on∣ly for the charming Berelisa; but alas things have now assumed a new face; for I love Berelisa, and so contemn Clidimira, that I resolve to upbraid her with her infidelity: Let Telesis peaceably possess her, added he, I will not emulate him; and if he bestows on me his amiable Sister, I will vo∣luntarily resign to him my ancient Mistress. But Sir (replied Berelisa) how can Love so suddenly die, and soon revive? Do you desire Madam I should tell you, said he to her, that it may be I am as unfaithful as Clidimira? And that I did not love you, when I believe I loved her? But I know I love you more then ever I did any, and there's nothing I should not be capable to do to convince you of it; I know (pursued he) you use to give love without receiving any, and that Terillus hath a cruel experience of it: But Madam, since he hath the unhappiness of your hatred, and that it seems you sport your self with his misfortune, use the occasion I offer you, to torment him, and love me by a cruel resentment for him; if you will not love me by a resentment of tenderness for my self. But yet replyed Berelisa, how shall I know how this pretended Love hath entred into your heart? By the trecherous window of my Body, replyed he. But you do not consider what you say, replyed she, for I am not graced with more perfections then I was three months since;

and Clidimira (as my Brother hath said) is more beautiful than ever. 'Tis true, said Artemidorus, but Clidimiras Beauty is lessened in my esteem, and and yours is heightned by the opposition of her defects, demand therefore (Madam) no more sa∣tisfaction of me, and rest satisfied, that I love both your spirit and person with an equal ardour, and that I am perswaded whosoever takes from Clidimira the splendour of her eyes, the freshness of her tincture, the carnation of her lips, and a certain gallant air in her face, will deplume her of her attractive features; for her Spirit as 'tis inconstant, it admits of no praise. Berelisa hear∣ing Artemidorus speak in this manner, was sur∣prised at it, for as the perfections of a Rival pi∣cture a strong impression in the spirit, she remem∣bred Clidimira had no charms to allure the eye but her visage, and the proportion of her body, and she was not ignorant that she was imbellished with all those graces which are required in the com∣posure of a perfect Beauty; and this imaginati∣on spreading her face with a scarlet colour, she shadowed it with her vail to conceal her blushes: But as she was shaping an answer, she saw Teril∣lus and Clidimira appear, who not seeking them, accidentally found them in this place, this sight confused all parties, but as there was no way to fly their company, they joyned them in the mid∣dle of this alley, regarding one another with a different aspect; for Artemidorus, who desired to perswade Berelisa, Clidimira was now banish'd his heart, looked only on his new Mistress: Terillus being jealous, looked both on Berelisa and Arte∣midorus; Clidimira, who thought she might yet chalenge some affection in this Prince, blushed at her infidelity, looking on the curious weaving of the leavie branches; for Berelisa she sometimes looked on Artemidorus, and sometimes on her Si∣ster, to the end to discover what imaginations swayed their Souls: The conversation of these four persons was very reserved, and I assure you, their words did not countervail their thoughts, and what they said, dissented from their resent∣ments; in fine, after they had shared an hour in discourse, other persons coming thither parting this company, Artemidorus was necessitated to joyn with Clidimira or Terillus: In the choice of these two, he had rather speak to his Rival than his inconstant Mistress, since he could not enter∣tain Berelisa, with whom a Lady had some pri∣vate conference: As Terillus was jealous, and prepared for his martial expedition, and that he knew Artemidorus was generous, he resolved to speak to him of his love; and singling him from the rest, Sir, said he to him, you will perhaps tax me of audacity and injustice, for demanding of you if you are but a Prisoner of War, and for en∣treating you to call to mind, that if I had not re∣tained those whom your valour had incensed, your death only could have ransomed the rashness of your courage; I say not this, Sir, added he, to reproach you, you are indebted to me for your life; but only to demand of you whether you are but a Prisoner of War, or whether you are become Prisoner of Love; for in fine, if you are amorous, your heart is chaned to Berelisas Beauty. Before I give a precise responsion to your demand, replied Artemidorus, I confess to you your generosity hath preserved my life; but Terillus, I sell my liberty dear enough, if I tell you I should have dyed without shame in that oc∣casion, and as I was not too happy, but am yet very miserable in giving me life, you have not given me so much as you imagine; and it belongs only to me to accuse you of all the misfortunes of my captivity: But Terillus, I am more just, and too generous for to tell you, your preservation of my life reflected more from the Prince of Agrigen∣tines's interest than mine; I look on you as my Conqueror, but Terillus, added he, you must know Mars and Love are not at variance, and that I am not obliged to tell you, whether I do or do not love Berelisa; if I should be amorous, I should not be conscious of any injustice to you, for your love is disesteemed, and I should deprive you of nothing, if I should be so happy to gain her love; but Terillus, things are not yet come to this point, and if I love Bere∣risa, she hath yet no knowledge of it. Ah, Sir, replied Terillus, if 'tis so, let her never know it, and disengage your self from the service of that person; I know your quality hath seated you above me, but since the Fortune of Arms li∣censes me a freer liberty of speech than another, resist the charms of her tempting Beauty, and let not my Prisoner become my Rival. I pray Teril∣lus (replied Artemidorus) if you well understand your Interests, press me no more; for Love is such a capricious passion, that difficulties augment it; and to consider it in a rational manner, as Love is not a voluntary thing, they are even unjust which would constrain it; act then what you can to com∣pass Berelisas love, and if I love, permit me like∣wise to conquer an heart; she hath refused you, and for the life I owe you (pursued he) I will put my self in estate to render it you when you re∣quire it. Terillus, who is fierce by nature, gave a sharp answer to Artemidorus; and if some men had not interposed, seeing them heated with an∣ger, some misfortune would have put a period to their incensed minds; but as the agitation of their spirits was visible in their faces, Philonice was advertised of it, who following the counsel of the sage Cleodamas, made them seeming friends, not diving into their secret thoughts: Since this time both Artemidorus and Terillus cancelled their former obligations, he after a little time return∣ing to the Camp; for Artemidorus, he accompa∣nyed the Princess to Agrigentine, where he per∣formed so many things, that Berelisa was per∣swaded he loved her; but though she had a strong inclination for him, and that she wished his love, yet her actions were so reserved, that he was a long time ignorant of his felicity; and they so prudently managed their affections, that their loves was not yet divulged: 'tis true, Terillus declared them, but as he was known to be jea∣lous, none made reflection on his words; and Clidimira believing Artemidorus yet loved her, though he did not speak to her of it, acquainted several of her friends with her resentments, so that his love for Berelisa was not in the least su∣spected. But in sine, not to disoblige your pa∣tience, in the time that Artemidorus was favoured by Berelisa, news came that the Fates had exiled the life of Telesis, which afflicted both Berelisa and Clidimira; but grief reigned with a fuller power over Berelisa than Clidimira, she having a

spirit which easily admits of consolation; on the other side, Berelisa seeing her Sister at her own dispose to make a free election, feared, that af∣ter her tears were banished, she would reconquer the Princes heart, who was obliged to share his visits betwixt these two fair afflicted persons; 'tis true, when he repaired to Clidimiras Chamber, he always chose a time when others were there, to the end he should not be engaged to make a long complement, entertaining her with some consolatory discourses, according to the custom of such visits. In fine, when time hath calmed the displeasure of this fair Widow, and that she believed her self in a capacity to make an inno∣cent conquest, she perceived Artemidorus loved her Sister, so that jealousie remitting in her heart her former love for Artemidorus, she repented her inconstancy, and designed by all enticing al∣lurements to gain what she had lost: Being re∣turned to Agrigentine, my eyes presented her to me with such an accessional luster of perfecti∣ons, that knowing Artemidorus had renounced her love, I was caught in those snares laid to re∣entrap his heart; I gave her assiduous visits, and some amorous expressions slip'd from my tongue, but as soon as she perceived I was en∣gaged in her service, she used this occasion to ju∣stifie her to Artemidorus, with whom she had had no particular discourse since she came to Agrigen∣tine; for knowing the intimate familiarity be∣tween us, she did not doubt but what she declared to me, I would make to him a full declaration of it; and I ingeniously confess, she over-reached me with subtlety of her wit: As I then one day spoke to her of my pretended passion, being a∣lone in her Chamber, she cut off very short, but in an obliging manner: I pray Zenocrates (said she to me) silence your passion; and to testifie un∣to you how infinitely I esteem you, I will not treat you as I ordinarily treat those who are so prided with their imaginary fancies, as to declare their affections to me; if you will therefore dis∣claim your love, I will embrace your friendship, and confide to you the whole secret of my life: You know (pursued he) we have been of long acquaintance; and I know that when you went to Leontine, you were linked to Artemidorus in such a strict bond of amity, that you cannot be ignorant of what passages happened between us; but Zenocrates I will discover that to you, which neither you nor Artemidorus knows, and which perhaps he may never know. But, Madam, said I to her, Artemidorus doth not love you, and you ought to have no more affection for him, which is the reason hath engaged me to serve you. I knew, replied she, Artemidorus hath wound him∣self out of the labyrinth of his love; but Zeno∣crates (added this artificious person, seeming to have some confusion) Artemidorus is unjust, for he hath believed me more inconstant than I have been; and if I dare say it, I have been more un∣faithful to Telesis than Artemidorus. I say not this to you (pursued she) that you should de∣clare it to him, but only to the end to unlock to you the secret Cabinet of my heart, and to me∣rit your esteem and friendship, since I am not in estate to receive your love: Know that when Ar∣temidorus departed from Leontine, my Parents per∣swaded me that this Prince estranged himself, to the end that during his absence, the Prince his Brother might marry me by his authority to whom he pleased, so that despight possessing my spirit, I resolved to obey those who proposed Telesis to me, seeing I could not be free but in marrying my self, and I thought I could not bet∣ter revenge my self of Artemidorus, than to en∣gage my self to Telesis, whom I chose rather than another, because he was no Leontine, and that if I could not forget the love of Artemidorus, I at least hoped I should never see him; for I did not foresee any likelihood I should find him at Agrigentine; but for my misfortune Fortune hath dispos'd it o∣therwise, and I see my self exposed to the most cruel adventure in the World; every one knows I have lived so well with Telesis, that I have not spoken to Artemidorus, that I am neither justified nor excused to him, and that I have acted as a person which cares not to be esteemed unfaith∣ful; but Zenocrates maugre all this, I have pre∣served in my heart such a great esteem for Arte∣midorus, and such an obliging tenderness, that I should be sorry if he knew it. I tell you this, lest you should accuse me of ingratitude; for as you see me young, I do not refuse your affection but to accept anothers; But not to tell you a lye, I will not engage my self in all my life to suffer the constraint in which I have lived; and since I cannot destroy the remembrance of Artemidorus, I will at least in not pretending more to his love, never suffer any others; 'tis not that he merits the tenderness I have for him, for he hath received my infidelity in such a manner, which makes me see it had been difficult for him to have been un∣faithful: he hath done me the favour to hate both Telesis and me, but is resolved to destroy me with so much tranquillity, that I am not asto∣nished to see him engaged in a new affection: But in fine Zenocrates, I esteem you a too discreet man to receive you in a divided heart; content your self to be my Friend, never speak to him of what I have told you, and believe I could not have given you a greater testimony of esteem, than to open to you the secrets of my heart. Cli∣dimira framed this Discourse with such ingenui∣ty, that I believed it; and though at first Love was the Theme on which I discoursed, I at last was contented to be her Confident; as I knew the engagement of Artemidorus, I told her, that I would not counsel her to think of reconquering his heart; for, said I to her, if one hath at any time committed any infidelity to her, I do not believe one ought to renew love with him, who hath done it, because I believe confidence can ne∣ver be re-established; all other subjects of com∣plaints which may be between two persons which love, are nothing, which may be presently recon∣ciled; but for infidelity, Madam, (replied I) it is not so; and 'tis much better to make a new affection with me who am not scrupulous. No, no, Zeno∣crates (replied she) I will not follow your coun∣sel, for I will love nothing; I do not think to re∣gain the love of Artemidorus, who hath blotted me out of his thoughts; but Zenocrates, added she, I conjure you never to speak to me of your pretended love, if you will not aggrandize my af∣fliction. Can I hearken to that you tell me, without thinking you tell it me, if 'twas not that you knew by an infallibly certainty, that I am ab∣solutely

indifferent to Artemidorus? I entreat you do not multiply my grief; and be certain that if I was disposed to a new engagement, I should pre∣fer you before all my acquaintance. Clidimira had doubtless stretched her Discourse to a fur∣ther length, had not some Ladies interrupted us. In the mean time I was so astonished at her words, that I knew not where I was, and as I was assured that Artemidorus did no more think of Clidimira, and that she was already expelled his thoughts, I did not fear he would re-entertain her love, I went therefore to seek him, to tell him he had com∣pleated his revenge on Clidimira, since she yet loved him: My expressions did so surprise him, that he believed I did but jest with him; but I at last spoke to him so seriously, that he knew I in∣vented not any fiction; and though he loved Be∣relisa with an extream passion, that which I told him of Clidimira made him change colour; for he then remembred divers things which made him imagine this person had a design to recal him; anger was solely seated in his breast, and if Be∣relisa had seen that which passed in his heart in this occasion, she would have had no subject of jea∣lousie: He did not believe he ought to make known to her this adventure, because he held that a wise man ought never to tell (without an ab∣solute necessity) that a woman loves him, nor whether he loves her, or loves her not; he did not testifie to me that he believed he was loved; on the contrary he counselled me not to shake off my Love, and I followed his directions, but I found a strong resistance, that ere the Sun had fifteen times run its diurnal course, my passion was buried in its own ruines. Though Artemi∣dorus had defended me from telling Clidimira, I had acquainted him with what she had told me; and though he constrained himself as much as pos∣sibly he could, yet she saw by his eyes he knew it, hoping then that in continuance of time there might happen some slight quarrel between Bere∣lisa and him, which might tend to her advantage, she acted many things to effect her design; for when she was with any friends of Artemidorus, she would be lavish in his praise, she always frequented those places where he went, she oppressed Bere∣lisa with visits and testimonies of friendship, and when she encountred the eyes of this Prince, she made, as if she would shun them, though she carefully sought them, likewise making him see in her a certain emotion accompanyed with confusion and modesty, she excited some kind of trouble in the heart of Artemidorus, which obliged him to fly her; 'tis not that he did not feel himself faithful to Berelisa, that he should al∣ways be so, and that the infidelity of Clidimira would yet much anger him; but after all, Clidi∣mira acted in such a manner, which both grieved and perplexed him: This fair person therefore to attain her desires, contracted a particular friendship with Terillus, she told him she was touched with his merit, that she would protect him nigh her Sister, and she effectually become the confident of his love, and his jealousie of Ar∣temidorus; she even gained one of the Maids which waited on Berelisa, she entertained like∣wise some commerce with me, and in this man∣ner, whether by Terillus, by the Maid which she gained, or by me, she knew all which passed be∣tween Berelisa and Artemidorus; 'tis not that I told her any thing in particular, only as I well knew Artemidorus desired she should believe he would love her no more, and that he desired not her affection; I would confess her he was very amorous of Berelisa; but to tell you the truth, she knew all things both by jealous Terillus, and the aforesaid person: so that a furious anger pos∣sessing her spirit, she plotted all her designs to sow division between these two persons. As she hath a subtle spirit, she judged that 'twould not be easie for her at first to put any difference be∣tween Artemidorus and Berelisa; for 'tis a person who hath a tender heart, a regulated spirit, who thinks not but of that she loves, who believes there ought to be as much probity in love as any other thing, and who doth not give the least subject of jealousie to Artemidorus; but she thought 'twould not be so difficult to put distrust in Bere∣lisas spirit; therefore after she had been acquaint∣ed by the pre-mentioned ways in several parti∣culars, reflecting on the affection of Berelisa for Artemidorus, she wrote a Letter to her Sister by an unknown hand, and another to Artemidorus, under the name of one of his friends who was in the Army; she put them both in one Pacquet, and by a secret way sent it to Artemidorus, he know∣ing not from whence it came, and unripping the Seal, he found a little Note directed to him, which contained these words.

I Demand your pardon for not writing to you my self, but having received a slight hurt in my right hand, I have employed another, to entreat you to deli∣ver this inclosed Letter to Berelisa; I assure you it comes from a Person who hath much interest in her affairs, and who so far engaged me to render it safe to her hands, that I believe I could not better cancel my Engagements, than directing it to you: I shall not ex∣cuse my self for the trouble I impose upon you, since you will be fully recompenced by the sight of that beau∣tiful person.

Artemidorus having read this Note, did not suspect there was any deception in it, for he knew the name they had subscribed to this Letter, whose name I cannot at this time remember, and 'twas true, that this man had been hurt in the right hand, so that Artemidorus being impatient to perform this service to Berelisa, went to car∣ry the Letter to her, and as Clidimira had a de∣sign to be an ocular witness of the effect of this deceit, she went to Berelisa's Chamber, where Ar∣temidorus came; and imagining this Letter was not of much consequence, he gave it her before Clidimira, telling her in what manner he had re∣ceived it. Though Berelisas curiosity incited her to peruse it, principally because she could not imagine who writ it, she would have by a resent∣ment of civility put it in her pocket; but Clidi∣mira, who saw Artemidorus take notice of it, said to him; Do not you think my Sister renders you a respect, which is the most difficult in the World, fot my part I know nothing so weighty to carry as a sealed Letter, when one dares not open it by reason of Ceremony? Artemidorus be∣ing now roused from that Lethargick slumber in

which he was buryed by Clidimiras sight, told her, he would dismiss himself from her company, if she would not read this Letter; so that being con∣strained to open it, she found it poysoned with these dangerous words.

I Pray, Madam, receive with a favourable eye the advice I intend to give you, and do not think strange if the person subscribes not her name; for your Friendship is so dear to her, that not knowing how you will receive this advice, she dares not expose her self to your hatred. Know then, Madam, he which ren∣ders you my Letter, doth not possess your affection with∣out the knowledge of divers persons; I know not whe∣ther 'tis his fault or yours, but many know you loved him first, and may yet love him last; for as he hath not been too strongly touched with Clidimiras change, he is not perhaps so faithful to you as he ought to be; every one knows you love him, that you receive his Letters, and return him affectionate answers, that he wholly sways your soul, and that you vouchsafe him many favours, which he doth not receive with such transport of love as Terillus would, did you please so far to honour him: Every one knows Clidimira doth not hate him, that he hath not sealed her justification, and that his extinct slames may be re-ascended, if they are not already: You would therefore attract much more glory, to recompense the inconstancy of Terillus, to leave Artemidorus to Clidimira, and by this means you will free your self from that obloquy which doubtless will blemish your Reputation, if you do not regulate your self by my Counsel.

As soon as Berelisa began to read this Letter, she blushed, and blushed with so many signs of an∣ger imprinted in her face, that Artemidorus who looked attentively on her, knew it contained something which displeased her, and had much vexation, because he had delivered to her: Clidi∣mira on the contrary had an extreme joy to see the inquietude of Berelisa, she testified her notice of it, to the end to give more curiosity to Arte∣midorus, for she believed Berelisa would not shew it him. She had no sooner perused the Letter, but she said to her, I entreat you Sister to tell me, if the news you have from the Army, ac∣quaints you with the death of any of your Friends, for I see so many marks of grief in your counte∣nance, that I already seek to divine who we have lost. For my part, added Artemidorus, looking on Berelisa, I shall esteem my self very unhappy, if I have brought unto you any doleful news; but if so, I can at least assure you, I know not who writ it. Berelisa seeing her self prest to shew this Letter, told him, that there was nothing consi∣derable in it, and that it contained certain Do∣mestick Affairs. You have not a soul so interessed (replied Clidimira with much confidence) to be sensible of things of this nature. I blush some∣times so easily (replied Berelisa, cloystering this Letter in her Pocket) that one must never judge of the resentments of my heart, by the emotion of my face; but though Berelisa made a great effort to constrain her self, Artemidorus knew some disturbance had entred her spirit; in effect, so soon as Clidimira was gone, she thought on nothing but this cruel Letter, and she imagined it had been wrote by the contrivance of Terillus; but though her spirit was incensed, she did not believe she ought to shew this Letter to Artemi∣dorus, for fear he did not credit what she believed, and lest he should be transported against Terillus, to whom they had both obligations; and her an∣cient jealousie beating an alarm to her heart in this instant, she had intention for some time to observe Clidimira and Artemidorus. In the mean time Clidimira, who secretly triumphed at this deceit, was in hope this Letter would prove ef∣fectual; for if Berelisa did not shew it to Artemi∣dorus, 'twas an evident sign this Artifice had made some impression in her heart, which might in some time breed a difference between them; and if she shewed it him, Clidimira drew from thence at least this advantage, to make known to Arte∣midorus she yet loved him; for though she imagin∣ed I had told him, she was not certain of it. So soon as she was departed, Artemidorus pressed Berelisa to shew him this Letter; but as Clidimira when she went away saluted this Prince in a man∣ner which augmented her suspicions, she confirm∣ed her self in her intended resolution not to shew it him: Artemidorus who could not suffer she should conceal any secret from him, thus complained of her injustice: Do you then believe Madam, said he to her, that it is permitted you to hide any se∣cret from me, who have made an entire resignati∣on of my heart to you, and who tells you without any reservation all you desire? Is it thus, Madam, you requite my Tenderness, my Fidelity, and my Respect? You know (added he) that you have re∣fused me a thousand and a thousand favours, and that I have promised never to breath forth a∣ny dislike of your actions, whilest I am assured to possess your heart: Speak then, Madam, I entreat you, and tell me if this is to be the master of it, not to know what passes there? Do you think, Madam, that one cannot be unfaithful but in cea∣sing to love any person? Or that one cannot love others more than Clidimira? And believe you not that it should be a kind of Infidelity to trust more to ones self than to the person one loves, and con∣ceal any thing from him. I believe at least (repli∣ed Berelisa blushing) that when one faithfully loves a person, one ought never to mention a woman one hath loved, if he is not constrained to it; but you do not so: For I am assured you speak an hun∣dred and an hundred times of Clidimira without ne∣cessity; I have even heard you mention her name for anothers, there being no resemblance betwixt them: If you would speak of some quarter of A∣grigentine, the street where Clidimira remains; if one asks you the time when you were freed from close restraint, you say it was a little before Clidi∣mira came to Agrigentine, and Clidimira is yet so strong in your memory, that you speak not so much to me of others, as you do of Clidimira to me. But Madam, replied he, I have mentioned her an hundred times to you, to declare her unworthy actions. You would have done me more pleasure never to speak to me of her (replied she) to dis-ac∣custom your mouth from pronouncing her name: For in fine, it is a general maxim, not to mention the first Mistress to the second, unless (as I have formerly said) one is constrained; and I had rather hear you call Clidimira Berelisa, than Lysicoris Clidi∣mira: But Madam, said Artemidorus to her, Do

not you think hatred presents persons one hates to the memory, as well as Love those which one loves? And do you think it should be possible I might ever love Clidimira if I should not love you? No, no, Madam, added he, I cannot love an unfaithful Mi∣stress: 'Tis true, I am not so much transported as another, but it is because I believe discretion ought to reside in the hearts both of happy and unhappy Lovers, and that they should retain a kind of ci∣vility for the Female Sex: But after all I hate and despise Clidimira, and I despise her it may be more than you can imagine. Time will demonstrate it to us, replied she: What? Madam, replied he, do you believe time is necessary to assure the fide∣lity of a man to whom you have promised your af∣fection? And can you conceal a secret from me? Ah Madam if it is so, Terillus is less unfortunate than I am, for at least he can ground his happiness on no future hope; but for my part, Madam, who think to be happy, I find my self plunged in misery. In the mean time added he, there is it may be several things within these few days happened to me, which merit a more favourable treatment. But if there is happened things I know not (replied she with precipitation) you ought not to think it strange if I declare not a secret to you, since you have one I know not. Artemidorus seeing his own words had betrayed him, and not willing by ge∣nerosity to acquaint Berelisa that her Sister yet lo∣ved him, would have explained it otherwise than he had said; but as he is naturally very sincere, he could not frame himself to tell a lye. Berelisa then knowing by the manner of his speech he had something he would not tell her, had such a strong curiosity, that she earnestly pressed him to tell her what had happened to him, which made him desist from desiring to know the contents of the Letter: So that both having a strong curiosity, and this curiosity augmenting by their resistance, in the end Berelisa's being the stronger, it obliged her to tell Artemidorus, that if he promised her not to be transported with any resentment against the party (whom she imagined) had wrote the Letter she received, she would shew it him. And he likewise told her, that if she engaged her self not to speak of what he said to her, she should see that she had much injured him in speaking to him of Clidimira in that manner as she had done. In fine, Berelisa gave to Artemidorus the Letter he had given her; which so surprised him, that the foun∣tain of his utterance was a long time sealed, be∣fore he could perform his Word to Berelisa, for they at first so sympathized in their thoughts, that there was doubtless a transmigration of their souls: For he likewise believing Terillus had invented this fallacy, he then began to exaggerate his misfor∣tune, for having a Rival to whom he had many obligations, and to seek by what way Terillus had known what he had wrote in his Letter: For, said he to Berelisa, if there was nothing there but my Love for you, and your goodness for me, I should say Jealousie had dictated it to him; since there is no bet∣ter spy than the spirit of a jealous Lover: But Ma∣dam, I am surprised of what he relates concerning Clidimira, since that (in fine) if I must tell you all things, it is true that this unfaithful person would without doubt once more deceive me. Berelisa hearing Artemidorus speak in this manner, pressed him to retail to her that which he had said; and this Prince willing to obey her, recounted unto her that which I had told him: But though she might remain satisfied, yet she was angry he had concealed that from her so long time. Never∣theless (added she by a motion of Jealousie) do not you imagine Clidimira would reconquer your heart by a resentment of hatred for me; and if a∣nother had deprived you of your Love, she would have resigned to her a peaceable possession, but as I am unhappy, I would not swear you will not be∣come unfaithful. Ah Madam (interrupted Arte∣midorus) you are the injustest person in the world to use those words. As they were on these terms, the amiable Philonice entred acccompanied by the Prince of Messina, who came to Agrigentum during a suspension of Arms: I came likewise to Berelisa's house a little after; and as I was taxed of incon∣stancy, Lysicoris who was come with the Princess Philonice, having something to tell me called me, whilst Philonice spoke to Berelisa towards the win∣dows: But as I answered not; I pray, said she to a Lady which was nigh me, tell that unfaithful person who is by you, that I would entertain him. Hardly had Lysicoris said this, but turning towards her; I pray, said he to her, call me not unfaithful; yet for Inconstant (pursued I) I endure it; but for unfaithful I cannot suffer it: I have not such a de∣licate Spirit as you (replied Lysicoris) and I know not too well between Inconstancy and Infidelity. As Lysicoris said that, the Princess Philonice who had heard her, turned and seated her self, and making one in this discourse, she demanded who could doubt there was no distinction to be made between an unfaithful and inconstant person. In truth (replied Lysicoris) I think in case of Love, these two things very much resemble. For my part, replied I, I am not of that opinion, that one cannot sometimes be inconstant without shame, and that one cannot be unfaithful without baseness. Berelisa seeing then such a fair occasion to insult o∣ver Clidimira, and to darken her esteem with Ar∣temidorus, engaged so discreetly this conversation, that she saw her self obliged to make the distincti∣on; and she did it more easily than any part of the Company, and the Prince of Messina, as others without exact examination said; that inconstancy and infidelity might easily be confounded. For my part said then the Princess Philonice, I am of the opinion of Berelisa and Zenocrates, for I believe one cannot say there is a kind of inconstancy with∣out infidelity; or fidelity without inconstancy; and if it was not that I am now in a melancholy humour, I might very well bring my thoughts to tryal; bvt since Zenocrates and Berelisa are of my opinion, I give them Commission to declare my resentments; for I imagine they know them: But said then Lysicoris smiling, is he not an unfaithful man which changeth love? And an inconstant Lover is he not likewise who changes his Mistress? A liberal man who makes a present without choice (replied Berelisa) gives something which is to him, and a prodigal man which casts without choice, gives likewise that which appertains to him; the one practiseth a virtue and the other makes to see he hath a vice; this which is well more estranged the one from the other, than inconstancy and in∣fidelity; for I say not that inconstancy should be a vertue, but I say that an honest man when he is young, may sometimes be inconstant without dis∣honouring

himself, and that in some times, in some age, and in pretext that this should be, no person can be unfaithful without baseness and infamy: I sustain likewise that infidelity and inconstancy are yet more horrible in women than men. Bere∣lisa said this with so much emotion, that I knew well that I might do her the greatest pleasure in the world to remit my cause in her hands, and that she was not sorry to speak on this subject, finding likewise much more fit to oblige her to defend me, than to defend her self; I left her at least to begin this innocent war. But then, said the Prince of Messina, I would know precisely what is that de∣licate distinction you make of inconstancy and in∣fidelity? I call inconstancy (replied Berelisa) a cer∣tain incertitude of heart and spirit, where young men are more subject than others, since there is without doubt two or three years of life; where those which are naturally of an inconstant inclina∣tion, find nothing which pleases them which at∣taches them not successively. For by example, if Zenocrates would say the truth, he will confess that a great number of women have pleased him, that he hath fair brown, and fair yellow, he hath many times felt in his heart enough disposition to have love, he will even confess I assure you that he hath began to tell it to many fair persons; and that there's likewise some others for whom he hath changed his thoughts before he had occasion to speak to him of his passion. I ingeniously confess, replied he, but above all I believe not to be un∣faithful. You have reason, replied Berelisa, and one cannot without doubt accuse you but of a sim∣ple inconstancy which hath even nothing which re∣sembles infidelity; for as I have already said it, to speak of this kind of inconstancy in general, it comes from this, that those which are capable of of it, are sensible to all that which appears fair to them, of all which is new to their eyes and to their spirits, of that which they seek to please without difficulty, of that which they have any irresolution in the spirit, which hinders them from chusing of that that the first youth of inconstancy have some resemblance: But after all, those men there which see pleasures from quarter to quarter, from street to street, and from house to house, do not assured∣ly betray the person, because no person trusts to them; and to speak truly, the inconstants of this kind only vex themselves, since they have pain to attaque an hundred hearts without gaining one; one hearkens to their pleasures without believing them, one receives their incense without vanity, one leaves them without pain, one destroys them without regret, and they come through the world as Butterflies on Flowers, without resting on any thing and without leaving any sign of their passage, likewise not doing any discourtefie to a person, there would be much injustice to confound those inconstants with the unfaithful I have spoken of; sure their inconstancy is without perfidiousness and superchery; it is not but to say the truth it should be desired this inconstancy was banished from the heart of young persons; for if it is not very criminal it is not at least laudable; I will like∣wise consess with sincerity is not yet altogether a true inconstant, and he hath only a simple dispo∣sition to be so. I am obliged to you (replied I) for enrolling me in the number of the inconstant persons, and not placing me among those which are unfaithful, for it is certain I cannot suffer it. But, said the Prince of Messina, I comprehend not wherefore those which vary in their thoughts have not infidelity. You will easily be satisfied therein (replied Berelisa) if you consider that to make a Lover truly merit the quality of unfaithful, one must suffer his affection, one must hearken to him, one must give him hope, one must love him; if a man on the contrary loves a woman without be∣ing beloved, and that he hath served a long time without attaining her love he leaves her; one loves another, one cannot in this case place him in the number of the unfaithful, nor that of the incon∣stant; for as one loves not but for to be loved, as soon as one destroys the hope, Love may diein a Lovers heart, without being culpable of any crime; and to speak truth, it is not even possible that it dies not there: 'Tis therefore not doing that but which one might hinder themselves from doing; one leaves love without inconstancy, and one can∣not love otherwise without infidelity; but the most odious and the most degenerate crime in the world is, when there's a concatenation of affection be∣tween two persons, and that it happens one breaks the Chain; for in this case there it is not a simple inconstancy, it is an infidelity, where in∣constancy, perfidiousness, and baseness are found: And it is in fine, as I have said, the greatest of all crimes in this point, before you engage your self you consider not what you do, you examine not your thoughts, and do not well know the heart you give nor the heart you receive. 'Tis true, said Philonice, I find something very strange to see men of spirit suddenly change their thoughts: But, said then Lysicoris, when one hath this misfortune what shall one do? I will, replied Berelisa, one should continue to love by generosity, when one cannot by inclination; that in fine, when one is promised an eternal affection, no reason can dis∣pense with it but the infidelity of the person one loves: And in this case we must not only love her any more, but hate her, despise her, slee from her as from a Monster, and revenge our selves though ne'er thereby prejudiced: For if it is a man which is unfaithful, no person should force him to go to say to a woman he loves her, and to tell her it of∣ten to make her love him; therefore when he changes he hath no excuse in effect: Probity, Sin∣cerity, and Fidelity, ought to be in love as all other things, and more than in other things; because the consequences are more dangerous, being cer∣tained there is no exchange more important than the hearts of two persons which love one a∣nother. But if a man is criminal of being unfaith∣ful, at least confess, replied the Prince of Messina, that a woman hath the same injury as a man. I say, replied Berelisa, and I'll maintain she hath more, for as cruelty befits women in love, they might take him to examine themselves, ere they engage to love any one; but after you have considered of it, a woman accepts the heart is offered to her, and that she gives hers, she cannot change without in∣samy; and truly a woman at least in my opinion, cannot innocently love but once in her life; besides baseness and perfidiousness, which is common to her with an unfaithful man, neither can one yet accuse her of imprudence or little modesty: For for my part, I conceive not how a woman who hath vertue and good judgment to resolve her, should

voluntarily renounce the love of a man, to whom she hath given many testimonies of affection, when she feels her love decay.

Nevertheless, replied Philonice, one sees they make no difficult to do it. I am of your opinion, replied Berelisa, but if I was a man, I should have an horrible aversion for those women. But I pray, said the Prince of Messina, in what rank do you place those men who make a seeming love, when they love not, and sometimes obtain love? I put them in the rank of deceivers, replied she. But amongst the unfaithful, replied I, it seems to me there are many sorts; for there are some which become so, because they find defects in the per∣son they love, that they noted not before; and there's others which cease to love, because their own good fortune destroys their love. For the first (said Berelisa) I sustain that when one hath solidly contracted an affection with some one, there is but one only defect of love, which might be a legitimate cause to break it, and the loss of beauty, youth, change of fortune and health, ought to change nothing in the hearts of two per∣sons which have promised an eternal love; but for those whose love destroys it self, I find them so criminal and so odious, that I boldly say 'tis impossible their spirits are seasoned with any good qualities, or that their heart is noble; and the change of thoughts without any strange cause, is the greatest sign of imbecillity, and desining of judgment, and that in the end, the infidelity in love from whence soever it proceedeth, is the basest and criminallest thing in the World; all other duties of life approach not the ingagement of this, because one is born subject to all the others, and this is by a voluntary subjection one makes it a law to himself, which ought to be as much more inviolable as one imposes it, and one cannot in∣fringe it without condemning himself, without destroying his own pleasures, without blemishing his Honour, without trampling Justice and Vir∣tue under his feet. All that which you say, is admirably well said, replied the Prince of Messina, but above all, if in despight one hath of it, one feels one loves no more, what shall one do then? I will, as I have already told you, that one loves by generosity, when one cannot love more by inclination; and I will, if one can no more love, that one constrains himself therefore to act, as if one loves not; yet since that it is in this occasi∣on only, that it permits to deceive innocently, and that it is even good to do it; at least I know well, that if one act otherwise, one must resolve to be hated and despised of all persons, which have Virtue and Reason; for I confess to you, that I know not how one hath boldness to shew himself in the World, after a perfidiousness of this nature; nevertheless there is found women which shew themselves, replied I. And there is likewise sound men, added Philonice, which leaves not to love them. Ah for these men there, said then Berelisa, it is assuredly they should not be too delicate in love, nor in generosity; for, for my part, if I was a man, it would be impossible for me to love a person which should act any infideli∣ty. But yet, said the Prince of Messina, without knowing the Interest she had in this Question, which excuse you more sooner, whether a man who should love a woman, which should have made an infidelity to another, or of a Lover a Lady should have betrayed, and which would re∣new affection with her? In my opinion, replied Berelisa blushing, I cannot ballance these two things, for he which should have suffered infide∣lity, would be more condemnable than another that at least might flatter himself with the opini∣on to have more merit, than he which should have been abandoned. Nevertheless, added she, to make Artemidorus speak, I should be glad but for this Article, one demands that he seemeth of it to all men in the company. You are so equita∣ble in all things, said then Artemidorus, who had not yet spoken, that your thoughts should be those of all honest persons; and for my part, I de∣clare, I approve all that you have said, and even all that which you think.

For my part replied I, I am not so complaisant, for I find both have an equal wrong: And I, added the Prince of Messina, I think that a Lover who hath conquered the heart of a woman, ought (if he can) reconquer it, when he hath lost it; for what knows he, but he will find it better: But, it may be, he may find it worse, said Berelisa. Though it should be so, replied Philonice, I find Berelisa hath very well made the distinction be∣tween Inconstancy and Infidelity: I confess to you Madam, (replied she) I have not said the third part of what I think, for better to understand it, one must after to have separated the inconstant from the faithful; one must I say divide the un∣faithful between them and the inconstant, there are unfaithful persons by weakness, by interest, by capriciousness, and by impiety, and there is likewise inconstant persons of temperament, of occasion, of vanity, of little judgement, of de∣bility, of wantonness, and of idleness. If you will examine these divers things, said I to her, 'twould require doubtless much time. As one accuses to be a demy-inconstant, replied Philonice, I see well you fear that one puts you not in the rank of those, of which Berelisa would speak; but since you take no interest to infidelity, and that you have never loved long enough to be un∣faithful, I would willingly demand of you, which of the two a woman should love best, in the ne∣cessity to suffer infidelity? Ah, Madam, inter∣rupted Berelisa, always thinking on Artemidorus, I put no comparison between these two things? for a man which leaves one woman to love ano∣ther, or a woman which breaks with a lover for a new ingagement, commits a more outragious action, than if a lover diminishes by little and little. For my part, replied Lysicoris, I am not of your opinion, and I know nothing more cru∣el or more ouragious, than when without any strange cause, one sees the fire extinct; for in this estate, one knows not what to do to re∣tain such a lover; I have had a friend to whom this adventure was hapned, who told me the fantastical things in the World to exaggerate to me her grief; for, said she one day to me, I am the same I was, when he of whom I complain, was deeply in love with me; my mirrour and my eyes speak the same, and all those who ap∣proach me, confirm me by their flatteries; I am not deceived, I am likewise pleasant, and as faith∣ful as ever, I have no less spirit, and he is not the same he was; yet added she, if any amiable

Person hath deprived me of him, I should have the consolation to hate her, I should find a hun∣dred inventions to displease her; I should even think her adulation had attracted him, that novelty had charmed him; and in continuance of time, he would repent himself of his infidelity, and re∣turn to me; but ye think being, as it is, one would say he hath forgotten to love, and that he remem∣bers not to have loved: I know not likewise what to do, neither to remit love in his heart, nor to hate him, though I know there's nothing more outragious, than to cease to love in this manner, because it must of necessity be supposed I have no puissant charms, since I cannot keep an heart I had conquered, that no person deprives me of it. After this (pursued Lysicoris) I have nothing more to tell you to assert my opinion, since the complaints of my friends I have report∣ed, sum up all my reasons. If you have no better (replied Berelisa) it will be easie to vanquish you, since 'tis certain there's no comparison to make between these two sorts of Infidelities; one cannot imagine but he ceases to love with∣out making any new love, doth it not but because a certain scrupulous sagacity perswades him this passion is a weakness; or that being of those men who can stay long in any place, he is troubled at his own conquest; so that to reason well one may say, that a Lover of this nature renders himself worthy of the despisal of her whom he aban∣dons, without one may positively say that he de∣spises her; for in ceasing to love a person with∣out loving another, one sees he despises love in general, and not in particular, the person whom he deserts; but for a Lover who makes a new Love, there's nothing more injurious, more cru∣el, nor more sensible; the tenderness of the heart is thereby wounded, Honour is thereby engaged; and in fine, one suffers all that he can. I am of your opinion that this other kind of Infidelity is rude, that one sees no remedy, and that its very just, and very natural to hate whosoever denies his love, I boldly confess that one ought more to hate one of those Lovers, than a true Enemy, who hates you as you hate him, and who not having never loved you, hath not at least be∣trayed you; but after all you may not have in your heart in this occasion, hatred against him, and against your self; on the contrary, an infide∣lity of the other manner, seats in your heart not only hatred against your self, and against your Lover; but that which is the most cruel of jea∣lousie, of fury, and even sometimes of injustice and cruelty; for the means to see ones self to at∣tain between the hands and heart which is very dear, without hating not only him which gives it to another, but her to whom it was given; at least, I know I have seen women, who have ha∣ted all brown Beauties, because that some Lady who had black eyes and brown hairs, had rob'd them of their Lovers; and in effect it is altoge∣ther hard to see that one prefers another person before you, and rhat one leaves assured for incer∣tain favours. Moreover, what grief is it to think this Lover sacrifices you to his last Mistress, and that he tells what obliging curtesies you have be∣stowed upon him, to the end to oblige to be∣stow more; for my part, I believe that this kind of grief so much troubles reason, that though it would be more shame in appearance that one pre∣fers another person without merit before you, one therefore had rather the thing should be so; to the end that at least one hath the consolation, that if this adventure is known every one blames her, which hath made such a bad choice. But, replied Lysicoris, can you yet hope that this un∣faithful, which is not become insensible to love, will recover reason, and will return to you; in∣stead that if 'tis one of those Lovers, whereof the fire is extinct, what do you, and what can you do to refire him. Nothing, replied Berelisa, for I declare to you, that whosoever should cease to love me, should never be loved of me; but had you rather love an unfaithful, which becomes so by ambition, replied Philonice. In truth, replied Berelisa, it is of infidelity as of death; for in any manner that one dies, it's very rigorous to die, I think nevertheless that I should rather forget an ambitious unfaithful, than an unfaithful, as I have spoken of, I would therefore despise him very much, added she, but as I should not fear so much, that he would go to recount my favours to Fortune, than another to his Mistress, I should have less grief. But, replied I, do you think it fit one should leave you for glory? By no means, replied she, for the love of glory is not incon∣sistent with that of a virtuous person, and not to trouble you further with any frivolous discourse concerning infidelity, assure your self I should ne∣ver think well of him that should for sake me, though it were even to save his own life. The fair Berelisa says right, replied Artemidorus, for when all's done, there can be no excuse for infi∣delity. You speak but light of it, for one that hath experienced it, replied she blushing, for, for my part, I declare, that I cannot imagine any thing, more unjust, more base, more ungrateful, more unworthy, a gallant Soul, nor more incom∣patible with Virtue. However, said I to her, smiling, give not so cruel a verdict against such as are inconstant without any evil design, whom you ere while so pertinently compared to Butter-flies. I acknowledge it, said she, but that I may neither flatter nor surprise you, I think that if people do not in time recover themselves out of that harm∣less inconstancy which you speak of, it may prove a disposition which may arrive to the habit of infi∣delity. I therefore think it much concerns any one, to shake hands with it as soon as may be; for to be plain with you, inconstancy, though never so little, is a crime. But, I pray, replied Philo∣nice, of the inconstant, what kind are you most pleased with? Those which are such out of af∣fection, replied Berelisa. But are there any such, replied I? For my part, I assure you, if I am guilty of any inconstancy, I mean no hurt by it, I think not of it, even when I am seised by it; and if there happen a change in my Love, the true rea∣son is, that which did please me, pleases me no more, or that there is something else, I am more taken with.

The whole Company having laughed at this ex∣travagant sally of mine; Berelisa maintained against me, that there were some that were inconstant out of affectation, who only to shew themselves Gal∣lantillo's, Wits; and Sparks, pretended one while to love such a one, another some other, without any other design, than in a short time to beat a

many bushes, and to raise talk of themselves in di∣vers places: But take it from me, added she, ve∣ry pleasantly, that as there are some young Gallants who conceive themselves obliged in reputation, to pick up the little news that are sown up and down; to sing tolerably well, the songs that are most new and most in vogue; and to treasure up in their Pockets such compositions in Verse or Prose (good or bad it matters not) as are new, there are also others so vain as to make it their business to complement all those, whose perfections may in∣deed challenge it; and though neither guilty of inconstancy nor love, perpetually wander into those places, where they have nothing to do, nay where indeed they are as slightly entertained. And whereas such people would seem to be what they are not, I abhor them beyond the inconstant, and can afford them no other predicament than that of the faithless. But, replied I, if all manner of in∣constancy were banished the World, it would fol∣low, that a man must never speak to above one woman in all his life, and must commend none but her, which in my opinion would to many people be a thing insupportable. Ah Zenocrates, replied Berelisa, you screw up the Peg too high; for there is a certain complemental civility allowed in con∣versation, which permits you to commend all beau∣ties, which keeps you from being savage or brutish, and you may sometimes celebrate the brown, sometimes the fair, in as much as beauty is every where commendable, what dress soever it be in. But there is a great distance between a general ci∣vility and inconstancy, for a person generally ci∣vil begets in all hearts an inclination of love and esteem for him; but a man professedly inconstant, such as I know some, spends his whole life in say∣ing what is never believed, in praising those which dispraise him, in snatching at every thing though he fasten on nothing; to fight without victory, and to love without any return. Thus it happens at length, that men of this humour feel all the af∣flictions of love, and never come to be acquainted with the pleasures, and after they have shifted their hearts from hand to hand, they are forced to take them home withered, because they can meet none that will be troubled with them. This expression of Berelisa causing a great laughter in the company, I publickly declared that I would reform that careless inconstancy whereof I stood accused, and made a vow either to become a con∣stant Lover or insensible. Whereupon Philonice said pleasantly, that she believed I should rather prove the latter than the former, and that she should be as glad of it as my self; which said, she rose up, and the company being dissolved Berelisa was extremely troubled: For though she had said many things handsomely, yet came they from her, rather out of that concealed interest which she had in what was discoursed of, than any freedom of humour, insomuch that being left alone, she was excessively melancholy. She read over the cruel Letter she had received, and found in it so much matter of grief, that she could not sleep all night. That which disturb'd her most in all this adventure was, that Artemidorus had told her, as a secret, of the recommencement of Clidimira's love to him; for as to what was said, of the affection which she her self had for that Prince, as it was very inno∣cent, so was she not much troubled at it. She was also much incensed against Terillus, as believing it was he who had directed the packet which Artemi∣dorus had received, nor could she but fear the bu∣siness might have some unhappy consequence; but all considered, she feared nothing so much as that Clidimira might recover the heart she had lost. On the other side, Clidimira was in doubt whether she should gain her ancient Servant from Berelisa; but withal had this considerable satisfaction, to think that she caused a disturbance in her Rival. As for Artemidorus, he was extremely perplexed and out of tune; for in the imagination he had that Terillus had sent him the terrible Letter he had delivered to Berelisa, he was almost out of himself that he was in debt for it, and that he was withal obliged in point of generosity, to pretend not to believe it was he had put that trick upon him. Be∣sides, the jealousie he observed in Berelisa, made him fear the consequences of it; nor was he less disordered by the affection of Clidimira. Yet was he not without some intervals wherein he was not much displeased, to think that it was now her turn to feel what punishment it is to love, and not to be loved again.

But to hasten as much as I can to an end of this long Relation, Artemidorus returned the next day to Berelisa's, to ask her what she would have him do. In the first place, said she to him, I would have you not pretend to believe that it was Terillus who directed that Packet to you; in the next, I would have you without doing her any violence; put some publick affront upon Clidimira, which may serve you as a pretence never to go to her house more, nor speak to her any where else. That I should never more see her at home (replied he) nor speak to her again, I gladly submit to you, but to do her any affront publickly, is a command you cannot justly lay upon me, insomuch that com∣mon civility will not allow a vertuous man to do any such thing. I know not (replied Berelisa) whether civility will permit it, but I am certain Love will, since I would have it so: For in fine, what confidence can I have in your affection, if you obey me not in this business? You know (added she) that it is with much reluctancy you have re∣solved to hate the unfaithful Clidimira, how then can I be assured that you will persist in this disaffe∣ction, since she still behaves her self as if she loved you? But Madam, answered Artemidorus, if I have been so much troubled to cease loving the faithless Clidimira, how do you conceive I can pos∣sibly cease to love the faithful Berelisa? However it be (said she) I must have this expression of your affection. But Madam, replied he, I do not ab∣solutely deny you, but entreat you to take some days to consider, whether you do not your self an injury by engaging me upon such a business; for Terillus and Clidimira who have of late seemed very kind together, will be sure to lay it at your door, if I do what you would have me: If there∣fore you will take my advice, you will be satisfied with that security I give you, never to see Clidimi∣ra at her house, to avoid her elsewhere, never to speak to her, and to love you eternally. Ah! Ar∣temidorus, replied Berelisa blushing with vexation, you are too discreet to be a Lover, and if the hu∣mour takes me to be discreet also in my turn, you shall find that Love and Discretion hold not so good correspondence, and that they are more likely to

destroy than support one another in the same heart. But Madam, replied this Prince, what have I said which might incense you? What have I done which might deserve your indignation? You husband your self too much between Clidimira and Me, replied she, and that I am not able to endure; whereas if I were as cautious not to displease Terillus as you are Clidimira, either you would renounce all love for me, or be very angry. But Madam, replied Artemidorus, are you not confident of my affecti∣on? And can you suspect that I still love the faith∣less Clidimira? I do absolutely believe you love her, replied she, but if there should happen some little difference between you and I, I should not think it impossible you might love her again: My desire therefore is, that you were at such a distance with her, that you should never be reconciled, and con∣sequently never give me the grief to see you in your ancient fetters: Not (added she) but that if I were to hate you, I should wish you that misfor∣tune; for I know nothing more unhappy, more poor, nor more unworthy a man of a great and no∣ble soul, than to be matched with a faithless one, and put himself into a condition to be over-reach'd the second time. I assure you Madam, replied Artemidorus, that I am not likely to meet with this sad misfortune, and that I cannot be unhappy by the means of any faithless person if you do not become such. But why then (replyed she) do you not raise me out of the weakness you see I am in, since that while you restore me, you should withal be revenged of Clidimira? If I could do it without your being concerned therein as well as my self, replied he, I should gladly obey you: But Madam, I beseech you consider what commands you lay on me, and assure your self I shall ever love you, Cli∣dimira never, even though she should have a greater affection for me than ever I had for her. Artemi∣dorus (replied she) you are too tedious in debating a thing pleases me not.

While she said this, Clidimira comes into the room, which caused a fatal interruption of the conference. In the mean time Artemidorus think∣ing to oblige Berelisa, took his leave; but not be∣ing able to quit the room without passing by Cli∣dimira, he had not the power to do it without a civil salute; which Berelisa took very hainously: Not but that she knew well enough that he could not avoid saluting her; but she conceived it but just, after the discourse she had entertained him with, he should have acquitted himself with more neglect and less Civility. Nor was it in her power to dissemble the disturbance of her mind; which Clidimira perceiving, and looking on it as a conse∣quence of the Letter she had caused to be written to her, began maliciously to press her to tell the reason of it. When you shall have told me that of the Joy I see in your countenance, replied Bere∣lisa coldly, I shall happily give you that of the me∣lancholy which seems to be in mine. Truly, re∣plyed Clidimira, if my eyes do discover any joy, they betray me; for since the loss of Telesis I have had no great reason to be joyful. To deal as tru∣ly with you, replied Berelisa I also assure you that if mine express any melancholy, they are impo∣stors and deceive you. But Sister, replied Clidi∣mira, it were more unlikely that I should arrive to any joy after the loss of Telesis, than it is that you should be sad. There are so many things like∣ly to be true which are not true, replied Berelisa; and so many true things which seem not to be so, that I think it not fit to measure your joy by the ac∣count you give me of it: Not but that (added she) after the loss of such a Husband as you had, it would be thought very strange that you should so soon have overcome all grief; but it seems youth, and a greatness of mind and beauty will not suffer affliction to be long liv'd. If it be so, replied Clidimira, since you have so great a Wit, since you are so Young and Handsom, and have only lost a Brother where I have lost a Husband, it is likely you should be much more light-hearted than I. As I have not lost a Brother, but I have withal lost a friend, replied Berelisa, I have haply thought my self more concerned in this loss than you have: For to speak generally, when one loses a Husband one loses a Master, who many times di∣sturbs our pleasures; and therefore it is not im∣possible but that the loss of Telesis may cause me a greater affliction than it does you. Not to exa∣mine whether it be impossible or not, replied Cli∣dimira blushing for madness, I am certain Telesis is nothing concerned in the melancholy which is now legible in your eyes. And not to examine, repli∣ed Berelisa, whether you have reason to speak as you do; I am certain that the gladness which may be read in yours ought not to be there, there being no great reason it should. You may be sa∣tisfied, replied she, that if I am glad I have rea∣son to be so. And I for my part tell you, replied Berelisa, that if I am troubled, I will be revenged on those that are the causers of my trouble. As angry as you are, replied Clidimira, I should wil∣lingly contribute to your revenge: And so you shall, replied Berelisa in a malicious tone, for be∣ing related as we are, our interest cannot be with∣out some relation, and so not to be divided. Tell me then, who are your enemies of either Sex, re∣plied Clidimira? You see them every day, replyed Berelisa, I need not name them to you, and it shall go very hard but—

As Berelisa would have continued what she was saying, Aphranor comes into her Chamber, to ac∣quaint her that the valiant Prince of Agrigentum, who had defeated his enemies, had at length for∣ced them to Petition for Peace, which was signed; adding withal, and directing his speech to both her and Clidimira that they must needs go imme∣diately to the Princess Philonice's. Which said, he acquainted them with some of the Articles of the Treaty, they not offering to interrupt him as having their several expectations, that he would not forget that which concerned the Prisoners. But Aphranor conceived they were not to learn, that in all Treaties of Peace, the prisoners of War are set at liberty, and therefore said no∣thing to them as to that point. Insomuch that having both an equal curiosity as to one Article, wherein yet they were not equally concerned, they spoke both at the same time, to ask the same thing. But having received their answer, they blush'd, they became more jealous one of another, they hated one another more then before; and to consummate their affliction, Aphranor told them that all the Prisoners were set at liberty; 'Tis true (added he) that the Prince of Agrigen∣tum had ordered him who had brought him this news, to tell Prince Artemidorus, that his Court

should be his Sanctuary, as he had offered it some∣time before, and conjured him to remain there, till such time as he had made his peace with the Prince of Leontum. But when he had quieted them a little with this weak hope, he added, that it was thought this Prince would not accept of the proffer, because of the mis∣intelligence which was between the Princess of Agrigentum and Leontum So that Berelisa and Clidimira perceiving that Ar∣temidorus would be obliged to remove, were both extreamly troubled, which trouble yet had a mixture of some reflections of joy, which either of them raised from this consideration, that this absence of his would afflict her Rival. But to speak truly, it was a joy was neither serene, nor of long continuance.

In the mean time, Aphranor pressing them to go immediately to Philonice, and they not think∣ing it civil to discover they were not so loving one to another, as to make a visit together, were forced to obey him. But all the way as they went to this Princess, they spoke not one to a∣nother till they were come neer her Palace. Cli∣dimira, purposely to vex Berelisa, and to sist out her thoughts, asked her whether she thought it not fit that she sent to congratulate Artemidorus: For, added she, with a seeming simplicity, since he was pleased to give me a visit in my affliction, I conceive it but fitting I should return this ci∣vility. If there be a necessity that he depart and leave us, it were fit you did what you say; but if he remain, I should conceive you did well, if you had no more to do with him, considering what hath passed between you. I assure you, re∣plyed Clidimira maliciously, that were it not that I found him constantly in your Chamber, I should be very indifferent whether I returned him this civility or not; but since there is a decorum ob∣liges me not to refrain visiting you, there is no great fear I should receive any incivility from such a Prince as Artemidorus. I know not whether I advise you well or not, replyed Berelisa, but I conceive it were better you received an incivility, then expose your self to Calumny. As for Ca∣lumny, replied Clidimira, I fear it not much; for when one is conscious that he deserves it not, he need not trouble his thoughts with it. You are very happy, replied Berelisa, to have such a serenity in your thoughts; which said, they entred into Philonicas, where all was filled with joy. But they had not been there an hour, ere Artemidorus came to that illustrious Princess, to express his gladness of the satisfaction, which the so glorious success of the Prince of Agrigentum had caused to her; and withal to acknowledge how much he conceived himself obliged to the ge∣nerosity of that Prince. Philonica answered Ar∣temidorus with her ordinary Prudence and Civi∣lity; which done, the sage Cleodamas being come in, began to whisper something to Philonica. For being a man of the most ancient and most honou∣rable House of any in Agrigentum, and had withal the recommendation of a great Under∣standing, Vertue and Honesty, he was more then any other concerned in the Peace which his Coun∣try was now to enjoy; so that having acquain∣ted Philonica with many things, which it concer∣ned her to know, he began openly to commend the Prince of Agrigentum, who had now satisfi∣ed the World, that he had not raised a War but to settle Peace, and not out of any Sally of Ambition, adding that he was truly a Father to his Subjects, since he preferred their quiet be∣fore the carrying on of a War, which it had been more to his glory to have continued, had he not preferred the publick good before his particular advantages. It is true, continued Cle∣odamas, that to speak rationally, it is much more glorious for a Prince to have preserved Plenty in his Dominions then to have ruined his neigh∣bours; and is more noble out of a consideration of Justice and Humanity to be thrifty of the blood of his Subjects, then out of a Punctillo of glory and ambition, to be prodigal of his ene∣mies. All approving what Cleodamas said, and acknowledging the praises he gave the Prince of Agrigentum to be just, they congratulated Philo∣nica, and afterwards, Artemidorus. For there being some or other continually, coming in, and going out of Philonica's Chamber, the com∣pany stood, and every one was at liberty to go from one place to another. So that there was not any either man or woman, which did not complement Artemidorus, except Berelisa and Cli∣dimira, who had not the courage to go and tell him that they were glad of a thing which in∣deed caused all their affliction. But Berelisa de∣sirous to conceal her trouble from her sister in∣law, and being withal, almost out of her self to put her into some disturbance, came to her, and speaking softly; for one who thought her self so much concerned to send congratulations to Artemidorus, said she to her, methinks you make not much hast to tell him that you are glad he is at liberty, I expected you should have shewn me the way, replied Clidimira; for I believe you think your self as deep in the concernments of that Prince, as I do; but since haply you con∣ceive, that by reason of the relation I have to you, I ought to speak first, I shall do it: Where∣upon Clidimira without expecting any answer from Berelisa, drew near to Artemidorus, who was not far from her, and made a very hand∣som and obliging complement to him, Artemido∣rus thinking it in a manner barbarous not to re∣turn a civil answer before so many people, gave her thanks for her good wishes. But persisting in the desire of tormenting her sister, she beha∣ved her self so, that though he had for a good while indeavoured to avoid discourse with her, yet she forced him to answer her divers times: Whereat Berelisa, who heard not what passed between them, was extreamly vexed, Artemi∣dorus who was not ignorant of the ticklishness of her humour, would have gone to her as soon as he was dis-engaged from Clidimira, but she avoided all discourse with him, and gave him such a lesson of vexation to read in her eyes, that he was infinitely troubled at it. He nevertheless continued following her, and pursued her from place to place, insomuch that at last taking her leaning on a Window which looked into the garden, he went to that next it, and taking hold of a corner of her garment to stay her from going away: Well, cruel Berelisa, said he to her, will you eternally avoid me? And when all the World congratulate me though for a thing which afflicts me, do you think it a trouble to comfort

me? You are then already resolved, replied she roundly, to take Clidimira along with you to Le∣ontum? I am resolved to die, cruel Berelisa, if you prove not more favourable to me; and I am resolved to hate and be revenged of you, replied Berelisa, if you prove unfaithful. I am content you shall do both, replied he, if I do prove such; but if I am both constant and unfortunate, pity me, and love me at least as much as you have pro∣mised. Philonica hereupon, calling Berelisa to her, Artemidorus had not the opportunity to speak to her any more all that day; nor could he sleep all the night following, such a distraction did the humourousness of Berelisa, and the insinuations of Clidimira raise in his thoughts. Not as I have al∣ready acquainted you, that he had any design to ingage himself any further to Clidimira, and had an excessive affection for Berelisa; but he had a conceit that it were a kind of aspersion to a per∣son of honour, uncivilly to shake off the love of a woman, whether she have forsaken him or not; so that not finding any mean between these two things, he was in a strange perplexity. His liber∣ty, which he now was Master of, contributed to his disturbance, for if it favoured him to be rid of Clidimira, it also removed him from Berelisa, without whom it was impossible for him to be happy. On the other side, as to what concerned his fortunes, he easily fore-saw that if he remain∣ed at Agrigentum, now that he had obtained his liberty, he should be proclaimed Traytor to Le∣ontum. So that which way soever he looked, whether on what concerned Berelisa, or Clidimi∣ra, or on himself, his mind was still in the same disturbance. That which further augmented his disquiet, was the arrival of Terillus; for being perswaded it was he had sent him the cruel Let∣ter which he had delivered to Berelisa, he was no longer able to indure the affront; and if Be∣relisa had not charged him to keep the business secret, he could not have forborn expressing the resentments he had of it.

In the mean time, Clidimira having understood by the Gentleman whom she had corrupted, that Berelisa and Artemidorus had had some little con∣testation, failed not to make her advantage of it, and was so diligent in finding an opportunity to talk with him at Philonica's, that indeed he could not with civility avoid her. To acquaint you, Madam, with what discourse passed between them, were no easie task for me; for neither Artemi∣dorus nor Clidimira could yet be perswaded to give an exact acount of it. Yet thus much hath been gotten out of Clidimira, that Artemidorus entertained he with the bitterest reproaches, which, without a visible affront, and an abjura∣tion of that civility which is due from man to womankind, he could imagine; and Artemido∣rus hath discovered so much, as that Clidimira without telling him plainly, I love thee, had en∣tertained him with the greatest tenderness and passion, in the excuses she made, that she had married Telesis. To be short, the very same day I saw this Prince, but so clouded with sad∣ness, as I had never seen him before. Not but that he loved Berelisa with the greatest affection imanigable; but believing withal, that Clidimi∣ra loved him as much, he looked on it, as what would raise a Tempest between him and Berelisa. Nor indeed was it unlikely, for there cannot happen a greater disturbance to a vertuous man, then to be loved of two women that hate one a∣nother, and yet are obliged to be almost perpe∣tually together.

But Berelisa having understood what discourse had past between Artemidorus and Clidimira, by one of Philonicas women, who had over-heard some part of it, was so troubled that Artemido∣rus had said nothing to her, that without disco∣vering her affliction either to Lysicoris or me, or yet to Artemidorus; she (to be revenged of the dis∣loyalty of this Prince, as she interpreted it) re∣solved to be more kind than ordinary to Terillus. But to tell you the truth, these two Lovers were equally surprised at her carriage: for if it was matter of wonder to Artemidorus, to see a remis∣sion of her affection to him; it was no less to Te∣rillus, to find from her that little kindness she was pleased to shew him. He at first imagined, that she foreseeing that Artemidorus was shortly to leave Agrigentum, thought fit to make sure of him; and having a subtle and piercing wit, and that sharpned by his jealousie, he soon discovered that this kindness and compliance of Berelisa was but personated and artificial, such as wherein her heart was nothing concerned; so that it caused him to be more jealous than ever. As for Artemido∣rus, though he doubted not but that Berelisa still loved him, and that it was only for his sake that she was so kind to Terillus; yet all considered, he could not avoid some reflections of jealousie, which obliged him to hate this Rival. For Be∣relisa, though she was satisfied that Artemidorus had a tender affection for her, yet being not as∣sured but that the flatteries of Clidimira might have some influence on him, she was seised by a jealousie which distracted her beyond all imagina∣tion: and as concerning Clidimira, though she then could without any return of love, and in a manner without hope of any, yet was she subject to jealousie: So that it may be said, that jealousie never had such an Empire in any amorous trans∣action, and was withal so ill grounded, as in this. For Terillus was jealous, though he could ne∣ver hope for any love from Berelisa. Artemido∣rus was jealous of Terillus, whom Berelisa hated; Berelisa was jealous of Clidimira, whom Artemi∣dorus loved not; and Clidimira was jealous, though there was not any rational likelihood she should ever regain the heart she had once lost. Nor could it otherwise be, but that the consequences of these several scenes of jealousie must be sad and tragical, and such as hindred these persons from those enjoyments of Peace, which the Prince of Agrigentum brought along with him, who was now come burthened with glory to receive the acclamations of his people. But I should tire you with a second relation of the honours were done him, and withal I must remember, it is the History of Artemidorus, and not his, which I re∣late to you. I shall therefore only tell you, that things being in this posture, there hapned to be a consort of Musick in the Gardens of the Palace of Gyants, whereof I told you the ruines were so magnificent. For though this Palace be ruined, yet the Gardens remain, and they are so well or∣dered, that it is the general Walk of all persons of Quality, of either Sex, especially in the Sum∣mer,

when we court the fresh Air, to avoid the inconveniences of the heat. The Prince of A∣grigentum therefore desirous to hear some Musick in this Garden, wherein there are a many Walks with Trees on both sides, which cross one ano∣ther, had it after an excellent manner: For the Moon not shining that night, and that it is nei∣ther pleasant nor handsome to be in the dark, especially in a place where so many people meet, he caused Lamps of Crystal to be fastned to all the Trees of the principal Walk; as for the rest, they were only at the places where they crossed, to the end that those might be humour'd who de∣light to walk in dark shady places, and are desi∣rous of recollection, or would confer of some∣thing which cannot be spoken without a change of colour: So that it being noised abroad that there would be a Consort in the Garden, which is called the Cyclops Garden, abundance of people came thither that evening. Among others came Artemidorus, Berelisa, Clidimira, Lysicoris and Te∣rillus. For my part, I was never taken with any thing so much as that nights walk: For those lights made a strange shew through the thickness of the Trees and the darkness, and that multitude of excellent persons, whereof one had but a glimpse, made a delightful confusion, and caus'd a many advantures. Some walk'd one way, some ano∣ther; some walk'd up and down, as those that look'd for what they were nor likely to find; others having met those they look'd for, pos∣sess'd themselves of those seats, which are in did∣vers places of the Garden, and without any regard to the Musick, nor those that pass'd to and fro, they discours'd freely, having their minds so far disburthen'd of all things, as if there had been no other people in the world. There were others on the contrary who conti∣nually remov'd from one place to another, pre∣tending they had much to do in every place, where indeed they had not any. There were also some who having quite forgotten the Com∣pany, hearkned only to the Musick and were wholly taken up with that: on the contrary there were others, who not minding the Musick at all, acted the parts of publick spies, and seem'd to have no other business there, then to observe what was done, that so they might have som∣thing to discourse of the next day. There want∣ed not those, who pretending they had some de∣sign in hand, and some business to do, seem'd to be much troubled, which made them quit the company they were engag'd in, to go into the Walks, as if they had appointed to meet some body there, though they knew there was no∣thing to entertain them but obscurity. There were also some, who neither discoursing with any body nor hearing the Musick, nor giving them∣selves to any recollection; walk'd up and down, singing as if they had been alone in some solitary place. In fine, I saw so many pleasant spectacles that night, that I never spent any with greater delight. 'Tis true, it was the mother of one unhappy accident; for you are to know that Ly∣sicoris having observ'd Berelisa to be very melan∣choly, and that she minded not the Musick, took her aside, and conducting her to a seat which is neer the Cypresse Labyrinth, importun'd her to tell the reason of her sadness. Berelisa who felt her self almost over-burthened with it, told her all her mind, heightning and aggravating the affliction it was to her to be more favour∣able than ordinary to Terillus, purposely to vex Artemidorus. But (added she, her soul being dissolved into tenderness and passion) if this Prince depart, as I believe he will, I will be revenged upon Terillus, both for the disloyal∣ty of Artemidorus, and the Letter he caused to be sent me; as also for the jealousie which Clidi∣mira causes me, and the correspondence that is between him and her; for I am confident it is he hath distilled into her those inclinations which she hath, or pretends to have for Artemi∣dorus.

Lysicoris hearing her speak so violently, told her she was very much too blame in all things; that for Terillus he was unfortunate enough in that he was not loved, abating the cruelty she had used in abusing him for some time; that as for Artemidorus, she might assure her self of his affection, and therefore should not entertain a jealousie that he would be so unworthy, as ever to return into the fetters of the faithless Clidi∣mira: So that there remained only her Sister-in∣law, for whom she might have any just aversion. And therefore, said she to her, you need not think it strange now that Telesis is dead, that she should endeavour to repair her disloyalty past, by a fu∣ture fidelity. Ah Lysicoris, replied Berelisa, she would not certainly have renewed her love to Ar∣temidorus, were it not to rob me of him, and in∣deed it is only envy, that hath let love into her heart. It happens in the mean time, that I who had resolved not to love any thing, had broken my resolution, to oblige a Prince whose affection I thought I might innocently entertain, and of whose heart I thought to have been possest for my life, whereas now I am in a strange disturbance, and a fear he should be guilty of an infidelity to me, to satisfie the most faithless, and consequent∣ly the most detestable person in the world. But, said Lysicoris to her, you torment your self with∣out any reason; for I am confident that Artemido∣rus loves you, that you love him, and that Clidimira will love without any return of her love. To what end then do you trouble thoughts to hate Clidimira, to entertain jealousie, and to pre∣tend kindness to Terillus, since you hate him? I hate Clidimira, replied she, because I cannot help it; I am jealous for the same reason, and I am kind to Terillus, purposely to vex Artemidorus, to put a worm of jealousie into his brain, and to make him quit all thoughts of Clidimira, and oblige him to love me better. Alas, 'tis too much, cruel Berelisa (crieth out Terillus, who stood behind a Cypress near Lysicoris) and I should be the basest of man kind, if having heard all this, I revenge not my self on you in all the ways and circum∣stances that a person of honour may be revenged of a woman. Now, Madam, to represent unto you the amazement of Berelisa, were not easie for me, for she had not so much as suspected, when she left the company with her dear Lysicoris, that Terillus had followed them. Nevertheless how angry soever she might then be with Artemido∣rus, her first reflection in this accident was, a fear that Terillus might attempt something against

him. Whereupon doing her inclinations the greatest violence could be, she earnestly intreated him, to give her the hearing out of a considera∣tion of generosity. But the more she intreated, the further was he from satisfying her, and sud∣denly stealing away, she soon, by reason of the thickness of the Trees, and the obscurity, lost sight of him. However, she imagined not that Terillus should take such a violent resolution as he did, or or that it should be taken and executed in so short a space. She and Lysicoris thought to find me out, to acquaint me how things stood, that without in∣teressing her in the adventure, I might have a care of Artemidorus. But there being an infinite number of people in the place, and that wo∣men cannot shift places so easily as men, they saw me not. Besides that, the Princess Philonica, seeing them pass by, called to them, and obli∣ged them to stay with her, which they did, but with little ease, as being extreamly troubled at what had happed. For Berelisa thought not fit to acquaint Philonica with the disturbance she was in, since she could not do it without discovering the mutual love which was between her and Artemi∣dorus. That which yet increased her disquiet, was, that this Prince was neither with Philonica, nor with the Prince of Agrigentum; however, ho∣ping to meet with me before the night were passed, she said not a word, and only charged divers people, in case they saw me, to tell me, that she would gladly speak with me about a business that required great hast. So that in fine, one of Berelisa's friends having found me among some women told me of it; but it happening to be just at the time that the musick gave over, and that all people were departing, I could not by reason of the throng get from among those La∣dies with whom I was in discourse, nor yet come near Berelisa. Besides that, not able to con∣ceive what she was so hasty to acquaint me with, I resolved to put it off till betimes next day. By this means she went away without seeing me, and I went my ways, without any thought of Arte∣midorus, to whom there had happened what is indeed to be admired. For you are to know, Madam, that Terillus having over heard what Be∣relisa had said, took a resolution in the first trans∣port of his indignation, either to destroy him∣self or Artemidorus. To which end, it being or∣dinary for men to take their swords with them, in such evening walks as these, because it is very late ere they retire, and that in regard they are obliged to convey the Ladies, it seems fit they should be in posture to defend themselves; Te∣rillus found it an easie matter to execute his de∣sign, yet so, as that it might not be discovered. He had no sooner left Berelisa and Lysicoris, but he went to find out Artemidorus, whom he soon found; for as a jealous Lover is very observant of what his Rival does, he knew the place where he had left him. Finding him accordingly, and taking him aside unperceived by any, he led him into one of those cross walks, which I told you had only Lamps at the places where they cros∣sed. He was no sooner in it, but Terillus broke forth thus, My Lord, said he to him, you will haply think me very bold, if I presume to ask you whether you remember not a certain thing you said to me in the Wood of Carisalis; further, if I desire to know whether you will make good your word; for since you cannot bestow Bereli∣sa on me, though you would, there is a neces∣sity you should deprive him of his life, who once saved yours, according to your promise, so dis∣pose of your self, that you may return me the life which I have preserved for you, Terillus at these words having drawn, Artemidorus saw it was no time to consider what he had to do, he retreated two or three steps to put himself into a posture of defence, and moved by a resentment of generosity and gratitude, I beseech you, cry∣ed he to him, force me not to your ruine, since it is no fault of mine that you are not loved by Berelisa. But Terillus in stead of returning any answer to Artemidorus, made such a thrust at him, that this Prince was satisfied, that if he did not look to himself, he who sometimes had saved his life, would now take it away. However, for some time he stood only upon the defensive; but at length, finding himself hurt on the left side, he became more prodigal of his Valour, And now looking on Terillus as a furious Rival, there hapned between these two Lovers, a most terri∣ble Combat; for being at good distance from those Lamps which were in the cross walks, all they could do was to see the glistering of their swords, not perceiving one another distinctly. But in fine, not to trouble you with the descrip∣tion of a Combate, which was not seen by any body: I shall onely tell you, that it proved so bloody and so obstinate, that Terillus fell dead at Artemidorus's feet, after he had received four great wounds. 'Tis true, Artemidorus had received three, whereby he was disabled to walk, as ha∣ving one of them in his thigh; and being got in∣to one of the most remote Walks, they had not haply been found out, if by chance Berelisa, who was to lie with Lysicoris that night, so to avoid the opening of the Castle gate of Agrigentum at an unseasonable hour, had not slunk away from Philonica, to go out at a back gate of the Garden which was neerest to that Quarter where her friend lived. Berelisa therefore following her, and being conducted by a Brother of Lysicoris, and some others, they passed through that Walk where Artemidorus and Terillus had fought, and where they yet were in a most sad condition. The slaves who went before them, with a kind of Torch made of the Bark of Pine trees, which they use in that Isle, to light them in the night, spyed Terillus laid along on the ground all bloody, and Artemidorus leaning against a Tree, as hardly a∣ble to keep on his feet, and having his own Sword in his right hand, held that of his adversary in his left, to help to bear himself up. These slaves making a great exclamation at it, Lysicoris, Bere∣lisa, and the Gentlemen who waited on them, came neer, and found these Rivals bloody all over. To tell you what impression it made in Berelisa, were a thing would trouble me much. As for Artemi∣dorus, he spoke so, as that it was soon seen his wisdom and discretion had not left him; for he bemoaned his misfortune, in that he had been for∣ced to fight with a man to whom he was obliged; and concealing the occasion of their quarrel, to preserve the reputation of Berelisa, he only ac∣quainted them that he was not the beginner. But while Lysicoris, her brother and the other

Gentlemen went to find out Chyrurgions and people, to have a care of, and remove the per∣sons hurt, Artemidorus turning to Berelisa, All the suit I make to you, Madam, is, that if I die, you will believe I die with all fidelity to you, and that if I live, you assure your self it shall be only for your sake. These words having softned the heart of this great Beauty, it soon dissolved into tears in her eyes, so that she was not able to re∣turn him any other answer, then these three words, I wish it; as being partly hindred by the arrival of a multitude of people in an instant, which ob¦liged them to provide for the wounded, whom for the present they carryed to Lysicoris's house as being the neerest.

They were no sooner gotten thither, but the Prince of Agrigentum, who had been acquainted with this accident before he had reached his own Palace, was there also; where he had not been long ere Terillus dies in the hands of the Chyrur∣gions who dressed him. Whereupon the Prince of Agrigentum, who knew how powerful the Fami∣ly of Terillus was, caused the Corps of this un∣happy Lover to be immediately carried to his own Palace, so to divert his friends from coming where Artemidorus was, whose wounds were very dangerous. But that Berelisa might not grieve for this misfortune, with that freedom she wished, Clidimira going homewards in her Chariot, passed by Lysicoris's house, and so came to understand what had hapned; pretending a tenderness for the health of her Sister in Law, by reason of the fright she had received, she would needs see what condition that Prince was in, for whom she had so infinite affection: I leave you to imagine what resentments these two Rivals might have, as also what might be those of Artemidorus, who when he had been dressed, saw all people came freely into the Chamber where Lysicoris had disposed him, and found these two women about him. 'Tis true, this disturbance lasted not long; for Lysicoris having observed what trouble he was in, as also what Berelisa suffered, caused the Chyrur∣gions to give order that the Company should quit the Prince's Chamber. By this means Clidimira was forced to depart, and to allow Berelisa the li∣berty of bemoaning this unfortunate adventure, which she was more sensible of than can be well imagined, for she was not only troubled for him whom she loved, but was also afflicted for his death whom she loved not. This done, the Prince of Agrigentum fearing the friends of Teril∣lus, who was descended of a House to which courage and boldness was hereditary, should com¦mit some violence, left part of his Guard at Ly∣sicoris's, and returned to his Palace. For my part, I heard nothing of this accident till the next morning, no more did Philonice, but at the first noise of it, I was more surprised than ever I was at any thing in my life. This day the friends of Terillus making a great stir about his death, Arte∣midorus was secretly brought into the Castle of Agrigentum; for the Illustrious Prince, who is Master of it, would not, out of considerations as much of Generosity as Policy, expose Artemi∣dorus to the violence of his Enemies; so that now it was Berelisas charge to have a care of this Illustrious wounded person. 'Tis true Clidimira kept her company much, for it having hapned that a house stood next to hers falling down, had brought with it part of the Walls of her Lodgings: Upon this pretence she desired to be entertained at her Father-in-Laws, who not considering the consequence of it, received her; so that Artemi∣dorus, notwithstanding his aversion, was obliged to see her, and Berelisa could not blame him for it, nor indeed durst take it ill. Now Clidimira being very subtle, behaved her self so, as that she really perswaded Artemidorus that she had never loved him with that tenderness as she did then. On the other side Berelisa, notwithstanding all the secret discontents which she had gone through, and those she struggled with, assured him, that never any woman was inspired with a more vio∣lent, and withal a more vertuous passion, than that she then had for him; and what was most remarkable, was, that these two Rivals, out of a fear of disturbing the Illustrious Patient, as also to conceal their loves from the world; and lastly, for fear of losing the happiness which it was to them, to see what they loved, seemed to live in an absolute Peace, though they really hated one the other as much as might be.

But Artemidorus beginning to recover, and having past all danger, fell into an incredible dis∣quiet. For though he faithfully and fervently loved Berelisa, yet could he not without incivility reject the applications of Clidimira: so that it was a perpetual trouble to him, for to entertain them but coldly, he could not without some violence to his own inclinations; if he received them with any satisfaction, he must expect to find in the eyes of Berelisa, those characters of affliction which brought him infinite trouble. But in fine, to put a period to my relation, you are to know that this private combat proved of publick con∣cernment. For Artemidorus, being Brother to the Prince of Leontum, and there being no pro∣bable account given of this quarrel, the friends of Terillus were so ill satisfied with the Prince of Agrigentum, for giving Sanctuary to him who had killed him, that the people being engaged in it, and the Magistrates taking notice of it, he was forced to acquaint Artemidorus, that, though he were quite recovered of his wounds, it were hard for him to carry the business so, as that he might promise himself safety in his Court, as he had hoped he might, by reason of the difference that then was between the Prince of Leontum and him∣self. But at length that the business might be carryed on with as much generosity as might be, the Prince of Agrigentum assured him of a safe Retreat with the Prince of Syracuse, and withal forced him to submit to be put into an equipage sutable to his condition, and that he might con∣tinue it to him at Syracuse, till such time as he had made his peace with the Prince his Brother; assuring him, that if the friends of Terillus might be reduced to hear any reason, he would send for him back to Agrigentum. Philonice, for her part, expressed a thousand civilities to him; and it may be said, that never man had so much cause both to commend and complain of his Fortune, as Ar∣temidorus then had: For as he was infinitely ob∣liged to the Prince of Agrigentum, so was he e∣qually unhappy in that he was forced to leave Be∣relisa. It added some grains to his unhappiness, that he was loved by Clidimira; these three Per∣sons

suffering no mean afflictions; yet such as were not alike in all. For Berelisa was ex∣cessively afflicted at the absence of a Prince whom she loved, and of whose affection she was assured, though she was not without some jealousies he might prove false to her. Clidimira was for her part as highly troubled, in that she lost both the hope of regaining him, and that of seeing him of a long time. They had accordingly each of them to express their several passions, a confe∣rence in private with this Prince the night be∣fore his departure. Although it be the most ter∣rible thing in the world to a woman to love, and not be loved (said Clidimira to him) yet (my Lord) I am of opinon, that rule ought not to be so general, and that a person whom only the ma∣lice of her Fortune hath made seem unfaithful, may and ought to repair the crime whereof she stands accused, and persist in her affection, even though she be not loved any longer. And there∣fore (my Lord, added she) permit the unfortunate Clidimira to assure you, that into what part so∣ever of the Earth Fortune shall dispose you, she shall have those sentiments of affection for you, which she shall never for any other. I quarrel not with you (continued she) that you have quitted the affection you had for me, and have directed it to Berelisa; for when you began to love her, it was because you believed me unconstant: I was then at the disposal of a Husband, and could not love you any longer with innocence. But be you withal so favourable, as not to accuse me of a crime, which my ill fortune forced me to commit: I do not certainly deserve you should have that consideration of my love, as to make you disin∣gage your self from Berelisa, but you may haply think me worthy to look on the heart that she possesses as a jewel, which it is possible I may en∣joy, in case she either neglect or lose it. All then that I crave, is, that if by some accident, yet unforseen, you should with-draw your affection from her, you would promise to bestow it on me, and forget my weakness past. Ah, Madam, (said Artemidorus to her) you propose to me things im∣possible, for Berelisa will not lose me, and though she should, I shall be thought certainly at a loss of all reason, if I should ever be induced to resign my self to a person who had so unmercifully for∣saken me before. All therefore I can say to you, is, that as I have endured your infidelity without any disturbance or revenge, so I shall without indiscre∣tion admit those obligations you shall lay upon me, and shall so entertain them, as not to be de∣ceived by them a second time.

This conference had certainly put Artemidorus into some disorder, had I not interrupted; but as to the discourse this Prince had with Berelisa, it was longer and fuller of passion, for the tender∣ness of it was reciprocal. However, Artemido∣rus could not absolutely force all jealousie out of Berelisas heart, though in those things he said to her, he discovered the greatest passion in the World. I am easily perswaded (said she to him) to believe that you love me; nay further, I am confident you love not Clidimira; but I am with∣al certain, that you are satisfied she loves you, and I doubt not but that if there should happen any difference between us, you would renew your affe∣ction to her.

In the mean time, this consideration is no small torment to me, and if you desire I should not die of grief, you must promise me in case absence should consume the affection you bear me, or that some other unhappy accident divorce me from your heart, or that my death make an eter∣nal separation between us, that you will never love Clidimira; for I perceive that when you shall be returned to Leontum, there may happen such a turn of Fortune, as may bring her thither also. But can I give you a greater assurance of my affe∣ction, answered Artemidorus, than by promising to love you eternally, and to love none but you? You may, my Lord, replied this powerful Beauty, for amidst those fantastick apprehensions I am now engaged with, I should be more satisfied to hear you once say, that you will never love Clidimira, then that you should swear you will ever love Be∣relisa. But when I protest that I shall love you as long as I live, replied he, does it not signifie as much, as if I said I shall never love her? No (my Lord) it does not (replied she) and if you were sufficiently read in love, you would not think this distinction so extravagant, nor would make so much difficulty to humour my affection. Here∣upon Artemidorus was obliged to promise her all she desired; and moreover, assured her, that as soon as he could, he would return to Agrigentum, that it should be only for her sake that he did re∣turn; and that if Afranor would but give his con∣sent, he would marry her. He had once intend∣ed to have proposed it to Afranor, before his de∣parture, but in regard it would have proved ve∣ry unseasonable, Berelisa would not permit him. She also made him promise he would not write to Clidimira, though she should write to him; to be short, she made all the proviso's which the nicest jealousie could suggest against this dangerous Rival.

This posture were Affairs in, when Artemi∣dorus left Agrigentum. He loved Berelisa, and she him: He had renounced all love to Clidimira, yet she still loved him, and though he could not guess what might be his fortune, he immediately went to Syracuse, whither I accompanied him. He was no sooner gone from Agrigentum, but Clidimira did two things, one was, she entred into Combi∣nation with one of the friends of Terillus, pur∣posely to oblige him to use all means to ingage the rest to oppose the return of Artemidorus; the o∣ther was, that she got leave to return to Leontum, where she hath managed her affairs with so much policy, that at the present she is so powerful in that Court, that Artemidorus cannot hope ever to come into his Country, but through her means.

On the other side, Berelisa left no stone un∣moved to hasten his return to Agrigentum; but those with whom Clidimira held correspondence opposed it so stifly, that the Prince of Agrigen∣tum thought himself obliged, out of considera∣tions of his own interest, not to send for him. But there fell out another accident in the Court of Syracuse, which obliged Artemidorus, and me, to leave it. There hapned also other alterations at Leontine, which forced thence a Princess, who is at the present at Clusium, and we were by divers motives induced to come into Italy with Amilcar, with whom we took shipping together in Sicily, af∣ter

we had entred into a solemn friendship. But I forget to tell you, that since Clidimiras coming to Leontum, and that she hath gained great reputa∣tion there: Artemidorus is much more unfortu∣nate than ever he was; for being still passionately devoted to Berelisa, and standing upon a punctilio of fidelity, he was so far from intreating his for∣mer Mistress to continue her favours and good of∣fices, that he vouchsafes not to answer the oblig∣ing Letters, which she writes to him. On the o∣ther side, he understands that the Prince of Eri∣cium, is fallen deeply in love with Berelisa, and that he is joyned with the Friends of Terillus to hinder his return to Agrigentum, and that he might be absolutely unhappy, he durst not have any cor∣respondence with the Princess his Sister, lest he might offend the Prince his Brother. But when all is done, the afflictions of Artemidorus, pro∣ceeding from no other cause than the excessive af∣fection towards him of two of the greatest Beau∣ties in the World. I cannot retract what I said in the beginning of this relation; but on the con∣trary maintain that this Prince is too blame for taking so much trouble upon him, since what oc∣casions his trouble might felicifie any two the greatest persons in the World.

For my part (said Amilcar, perceiving Zeno∣crates had ended his relation) I think you are in the right, and that it is properly of such things, that it may be said a man cannot have too much. I assure you (replied Hermilia) I am not of your mind; for I believe a vertuous man thinks it a great affliction, to be loved by one woman, of me∣rit and quality, having bestowed his affections on another. For what concerns me, said Valeria, I think a woman who is so unhappy as to love, and not be loved again, deserves more pity than a vertuous man who is loved, and yet cannot him∣self love. However it be, said Brutus, I think Artemidorus condition very sad; for he hath loved a faithless woman, whom it is unlikely he will e∣ver hate, since she hath such an infinite affection for him; he now loves a person whom he cannot come near; he hath a powerful Rival, and this Rival is absent; his love is an obstacle to his Am∣bition; he can neither be among his friends, nor yet among his enemies, and he knows he were happy, if he were not where he is: All which certainly is the greatest punishment that absence and love put together can inflict on him. It is but too certain, says Herminius, and I am of opinion that a Lover who is loved, when he is forced to be at a distance from the person he loves, and is subject to a fear of losing her, is in a far greater torment, than a Lover who simply fears that he may not be loved. I do believe indeed it is the greater torment, said Zenocrates; but yet there is a great pleasure in the very thought of being loved, and it is as great an affliction to be assured that one is not. I agree with you (replied Her∣minius) and yet the fear of losing a good which one is possessed of, and the impossibility of enjoy∣ing, signifie, haply, something as hard to be in∣dured, as the bare distrust of not being able to attain that good which one desires. But it is certainly too late to begin the disposition of a thing of this nature, especially in the Chamber of one that is sick, and that a fair one too. For fair∣ness (replied Hermilia) I must decline it, and for sickness it is not so great, as that such pleasant company should be any inconvenience to me; but certainly it proceeds from the impatience you are in to return to Aronces and Artemidorus. They are certainly (says Amilcar) too much subject to melancholy, to be left for so long time alone; besides that to deal truly (added he smiling) it is already so late, that it is fit all address themselves to that God, who alone is equally propitious to the fortunate and the unfortunate, without any alteration in their fortunes, and that I have al∣ready observed some effects of his power, in the fair eyes of Valeria. Hereupon the whole com∣pany rising, the entertainment was concluded, though Valeria would not acknowledge what A∣milcar said, and that so many honourable persons were very unwilling to part.

The End of the Second Book of the Second Part.

CLELIA: The Second Part. BOOK III.

BEing come out of Hermilias Chamber, Brutus, Amilcar, Herminius, Zenocra∣tes and Celeres, went to Aronces and Artemidorus, whom every one (ac∣cording to his humour) comforted after the best manner he could. That done, they fell into discourse about what their minds was taken up with: The Liberty of Rome and of Clelia, was the business in debate, as be∣ing the main scope of all their Designs. And whereas it was only in the night, that the secret friends of Herminius, Brutus and Valerius, had the opportunities of Conference, as soon as they had quitted Aronces's Chamber, Brutus went to Vale∣rius's, to resolve on several things with him: but all the way he thought of nothing but Lucre∣tia. Alas! said he to himself, how much more happy are all other Lovers, whose adventures I am entertained with, than I am? For those who are not loved, hope, or at least may hope to be; and those which are, receive those expressions of it, which come not without pleasure. But for my part, I am much more miserable, for the over∣vertuous Lucretia, would not so much as that I should know she hath not forgotten me: so that I am forced to suffer all the malice of a cross for∣tune, without the least diversion of comfort. Instead of one, I am seised by a many passions; since I am obliged to entertain hatred, jealousie and ambition as well as love: and besides all these extremities, I must chain up my reason, and make it a slave to the cruellest Tyrant that earth affords.

But whilst Brutus talked thus to himself, as he went to Valerius, and that Rome seemed to be a depopulated City, the Inhabitants of it being bu∣ried in their rest, the implacable Tullia, whose heart was upon the rack of an ambitious jealousie, which is much more cruel than that which ordi∣nary love inspires, had secretly sent for him who was Clelias keeper, out of a design to corrupt him if she could. You know, said she to him, all that I have done for Tarquin, as also what he hath done to raise himself above all others; and after all; he is not ashamed to submit himself to a Slave, the Daughter of his Enemy. Nor are you ignorant how often he hath endeavoured to take away Clelius's life; consider then what an exor∣bitance of passion this Prince is hurried into, to descend to love Clelia, who hates him above all others; who yet might in time haply pretend to love him, that her Father may be restored, and put into a condition to revenge himself, and, in his turn, banish those by whom he was banished. You may assure your self, added she, that if Clelius were once in power, you would not be one of the last banished; and you may easily conjecture by what is past, that he would never be quiet till Tarquin were turned out of the Throne, and till I were possessed of my grave. Serve me then couragiously in the Design I have to take away Clelia from Tarquin, and doubt not of a reward proportionable to so great a service; for into what place soever you would repair for Sanctu∣ary till Tarquin were appeased, I will take order you shall have no cause to complain of your For∣tune. Besides that, all the employments which Tarquin hath put you upon, have raised you so many Enemies here, that it were not amiss if you removed: and that Tarquin hath so poorly re∣warded all those confident executions you have done for him, that you cannot expect any future advantage by them. Let me then by my entrea∣ties, by my reasons, and by the hopes I give you of making you happy in what place of the World you please, perswade you to do what I will have you. You know that I can do almost any thing that I desire to do; submit therefore to my will, if you would not rather disoblige the Woman of all the World, who hates to extremity what she is once displeased with, and can most easily de∣stroy what opposes her; but withal, who most magnificently rewards those who serve her with cheerfulness and confidence.

The fellow whom she spoke to being subtle, and standing in fear of her, and knowing her to be the most revengeful Woman in the World, saw it was no time to contest with her; for he considered, that having discovered her self so far to him as she had, he were a lost man if he de∣nyed her. Besides, reflecting how ill he had been rewarded for all the crimes he had committed in executing these unjust Orders of Tarquin, he con∣cluded, that the dangerous conjuncture he was in, he could not do better than entertain the pro∣positions which Tullia made to him. He therefore

answered her as one absolutely engaged in her in∣terests, and only demanded some few days to dis∣pose of his affairs, that he might with safety obey her: For Madam, said he to her, I must first make sure of some of the Guard which I command, I must give other Orders to those that are upon the Guard at present, and I must put all things into such a posture, as that nothing may hinder the execution of this noble design of yours, of deli∣vering the King from a person which might really prejudice you, and haply prove his ruine. Tullia agreeing to what he said, dismissed him; and slept the rest of the night with more quiet, than a per∣son so cruel deserved to find.

According to this design, Amilcar having been with her the next morning, she told him that within eight days at farthest, she would put Cle∣lia into his disposal; so that burthened with this great news, he came to acquaint Aronces with it, who certainly received it with no small joy; though he was not so sensible of it as he thought he ought to have been. 'Tis to be feared (said he to Amil∣car) I am so accustomed to misfortunes, that I can∣not be otherwise than unfortunate. But however it be (says Amilcar) you are to blame not to give Hope a place in your heart; for if Tullia do not what she intends, we shall execute our other reso∣lutions, and you shall find that the same persons who are employed to restore Rome to her liberty, are also engaged to restore Clelia to hers. You have moreover this advantage, that your Rival is one whom all true Romans wish destroyed, and all vertuous people abhor. You speak reason in∣deed (replied Aronces) but when all is done, Clelia is still in captivity under an unmerciful Tyrant who is in love with her: I live concealed in Rome not being able to do any thing but bemoan my self and give orders; Clelia's liberty is uncertain, the effect of the conspiracy is very doubtful, and sup∣posing Clelia were out of Rome, we were still equal∣ly miserable, for what part of the earth would af∣ford us Sanctuary, since we neither know where Clelius is, nor where Sulpitius may be, and that the Prince of Numidia who could inform us, continues still in his madness? But all things considered might it please the Gods, I could but see Clelia once out of Tarquin's power, for could I but see her at li∣berty, and might but once more cast my self at her feet, and protest that I die for love of her, I should render fortune thanks and acknowledge my self more obliged to you than ever I was to any man.

But while Aronces was thus distracted between hope and fear; while Amilcar employed all his wits to serve him, while the Prince of Numidia was in some danger of death; while Brutus, Her∣minius, Valerius, and their friends plotted secret∣ly in Rome to make some insurrection which might Usher in the liberty of their Country; while Ar∣temidorus, Zenocrates, and Celeres were ready to hazard their persons in any thing wherein they might serve Aronces, while Mutius who still con∣tinued his addresses to Valeria, divided his heart between the love of her, and that of glory; Hora∣tius was in an incredible disturbance at Ardea, ha∣ving understood by some spies that Clelia was in Tarquin's power, that this Tyrant was faln in love with her, that the Prince of Numidia had endea∣voured to deliver her, and that it was not known where Aronces was. If he had durst he would have come disguised out of Ardea as Herminius did, to see if he could have delivered Clelia; but he knew he was so much looked on by the besieged, that there was no possibility to do any thing of that na∣ture; and all he could do, was to carry things so, as to oblige the Ardeans to persist in demanding the liberty of the Captives. But being withal a per∣son of conduct and experience, he easily conceiv∣ed it was not very likely Tarquin should deliver them up, as being one that was obstinate in all his resolutions. He therefore could do no more than what he did, unless it were to bemoan his fortune, whose pleasure it was, that at the same time he should be in exile in love, ill intreated and obliged to his Rival.

As for Tarquin, he was astonished to hear that it was the Prince of Numidia who had attempted the delivery of Clelia; for it was easie to infer thence that this Affrican Prince must needs have a considerable party in Rome, to carry on such a design as that. However he doubted not when the Siege were over to discover the truth of the business; and so for the present spent not his thoughts on any thing so much, as how to gain the place by some treaty, or if that could not be done, take it by storm, which way they had not yet at∣tempted. For Titus and the Prince of Pometia, their minds were rather employed in Love than War, and Herminia and Collatina were yet absolute Empresses over their Souls. But as concerning Sextus, Lucretia was the continual object of his i∣magination, he always saw her, even when he saw her not; he thought of nothing but her, he talked of nothing else, he conceived a hope though he knew not what should oblige him to it; and his ap∣prehensions were so violent and so distracted, that never since it was loves employment to put the sen∣ses into rebellion against the mind, did he inspire into any one a passion more exorbitant, more ty∣rannical, and more fit to overturn all reason than that which had seized his soul. Thence it proceed∣ed that he troubled himself not much, either at what was done in Rome or passed in the Camp, and it took up all his wits to find out means to see Lucre∣tia again.

While these things were in agitation, the En∣voy of the King of Clusium, staid in expectation, though to no purpose, to hear some news of A∣ronces; for though there were many persons, who could, if they had so pleased, have acquainted Tarquin where that Prince was, as also with the true worth of Brutus, and all the Plots that were a∣foot in Rome; nay, though there were two women who understood this whole secret, and two Maids that knew the greatest part of it, yet did it not take the least air that could be. For the Interest of the Country being thought at Rome of equal concernment with that Religion, there was a greater observance of faith and secrecy in such emergencies than there is elsewhere. And for the women, who were trusted with the knowledge of a business of so great importance, they were not ordinary persons; for Racilia, Brutus's Aunt, she carried about her that generosity which was (as it were) hereditary to the Family, whence she was descended, and Sivilia doubtless wanted not those perfections, and that greatness of Courage as were requisite to qualifie her for the trust of a thing of such consequence. Nor could it o∣therwise

be, but that the illustrious Herminius was so well acquainted with her worth, that had she not been his Mother, he would have made her his Friend. For Valeria there need be no more said to give her the greatest commendation that may be, than that she was Valerius Daughter, Lucretias friend, and Herminius's Mistress; and for Hermilia there needed no more to distinguish her from the Commonalty of women who can keep nothing secret, than to say she was Bru∣tus's Sister, Racilias Neece, and Valeria's intimate friend. 'Tis true, she was as yet very young, and for that reason was she not acquainted with all that was designed against Tarquin; and for what she knew besides, there was no fear she might discover any thing, since she could not have done it without hazarding the life of her Bro∣ther.

Thus was this great business carried on so se∣cretly amongst these illustrious persons, that there was not any thing discovered that might prejudice either Aronces, Brutus, or Herminius; nor was there any thing suspected abroad of the great de∣sign wherein the illustrious Lover of Lucrecia had been ingaged ever since his coming from Me∣tapont; nay, this year he had two sons were re∣ceived into the service; who were so far from knowing any thing of the design of their generous Father, that they were sufficiently engaged in his Sons Interest, whom Brutus was designed to ruine; and besides were entred into a Cabal opposite to that of those young men, with whom the subtle Amilcar held a secret correspondence against, if there were occasion to make use of them. Be∣sides all this, there passed neither day nor night, but there were secret meetings in Rome, either at Racilias, or at Valerias, or at Sivilias. The Salii, and the Vestals wanted not their concern∣ment in these negotiations, all which related on∣ly to the liberty of Rome. They caused divers reports to be scattered among the people, preju∣dicial to Tarquin, either relating to the Siege, or of his refusal to deliver up the prisoners, or of the loss of his Army, which grew weaker every day; or his past Crimes, his present Tyranny, or his future exorbitance. Care was also taken to possess the multitude, that if Tarquin took in Ardea, Rome would be reduced under a more cruel subjection than ever; thus to infuse into the minds of the inhabitants of that famous City, a general inclination which might ingage them to a rising, when there should be occasion. It is certain there needed no more than the violences of Tarquin and crimes of Tullia, to dispose the Romans into a desire of shaking off the yoke of so unjust a Tyranny; for there were none but knew, that Tarquin was no lawful King of Rome, and that instead of having been chosen according to the Fundamental Laws of that State, he had caused to be murthered one of the most vertuous Kings in the World, so to possess himself of the power he injoyed, so that it may be said he ac∣quired it through the blackest of all crimes, and conserved it through the most insupportable ty∣ranny that ever was. But though this Prince un∣derstood by some of his creatures that the peo∣ple was discontented, yet contrary to his custom, he slighted the information; as having his heart at that time wholly taken up by love and detesta∣tion. Clelias resistance had filled his soul with those two passions, after so strange a manner, that they afforded him not the least quiet, and his mind was hurried by such violent agitations, that it was perpetually taken up with one of these two thoughts, either that he should injoy Clelia or destroy her. Troubled therefore with a per∣petual imagination; either of forcing her to love him, or putting her to death, his mind could not admit much quiet; nay, Aronces and Clelia, as unfortunate as they were, were less disquieted than he, it being the property of virtue to fill with serenity those hearts it is possessed of. Not but that even the most virtuous people are some∣times most unfortunate, and most sensible of their being such, but it never happens that their hearts are tossed with those impetuous distur∣bances whereby the souls of wicked persons are shaken through the conscience of their crimes, and if those are forced to complain of some o∣ther, they have withal the happiness to have no cause of complaint against themselves, which is no small advantage. For as it would trouble a man more to have any thing to object against a neighbour, than against a stranger, against a kins∣man than against a neighbour, against a friend than a kinsman, against a mistress than a friend, so it must be most troublesome for a man to have any thing to object against himself above all o∣thers. But there being nothing that Aronces and Clelia could reproach to themselves, they indured their misfortunes with an admirable constancy, though the sence they had of them were as deep as their affection was great.

There hapned in the mean time a very strange accident which might in all likelihood have proved the mother of a world of mischief. Va∣lerius being come one night to Racilias to confer with Herminius, who was within three daies to return to Ardea, the Slave whose charge it was to open the gate having over-watched himself be∣fore, forgot to put out a Lamp, which set the house on fire, at a time when all in it were so se∣curely a sleep, that the first notice they had of it, was by the cries of those that passed by the next morning who perceiving great flakes and erupti∣ons of fire, soon noised it all about by knocking at the adjoyning houses, and making horrible out∣cryes. Of all those that were lodged at Racilia's, Aronces was the first took the Allarm, and could not be much surprized at such a confused noise, but must needs be much more, when, having got∣ten hastily out of his bed, he found his Chamber full of smoak, and whole roof opposite to his win∣dows, so all of a fire, that it was not imaginable how it could be quenched, Awaking hereupon the slave that attended him, he sent him to do the like to all those of that side where the fire had not yet taken, and went himself and knocked at the several Chambers of Racilia, Hermilia, Brutus and Herminius, the Stairs being as yet free, in re∣gard the Slave who had been the occasion of this disaster, lying in the highest room in the house, the fire began at the roof. That which was most sad in this accident, was that it was broad day; by which means an infinite multitude of people being gotten about the house, were pressing to get in, to indeavour to keep the fire from spreading to the next houses. This put Aronces and Herminius

into a strange disturbance, for it was impossible but that among such a crowd of people, there might be some one that knew them, and conse∣quently might cause them to be taken. Aronces whose thoughts were wholly taken up with the de∣liverance of Clelia; was now in danger to be taken himself, and Herminius was now within the reach of Tarquins cruelty, and not unlikely to lose his life; insomuch that those two illustrious but unfor∣tunate persons were in some doubt whether it were better for them to expose themselves to the flames then fall into the hands of such an enemy, were it not that in hazarding their lives in that manner, they had also brought Racilia, Hermilia, Brutus and divers other persons that were in the house in∣to imminent danger. When therefore they un∣derstood that it was absolutely impossible to stop the violence of the fire without assistance from without, they were the first who opened the Gates to the multitude of people, who demanded entrance, telling Racilia and Hermilia, that they chose rather to be the Victims of the Tyrant then expose the lives of two such considerable persons to the cruelty of the flames.

But that there might be a combination of gene∣rosity and prudence, and that whilst they endea∣voured the preservation of others, they might not be thought absolutely negligent of their own, they disguised themselves as much as they could, and their design was, as they opened the gates, to follow Racilia and Hermilia with burthens of Pur∣ple, Tapistry, and other things of that nature, pretending they were employed to carry them to Sivelias, whose house was not very far thence. But to the end they might also defend themselves if oc∣casion were, they took every man a sword. As for Brutus it was his business to conduct his Aunt and Sister, who had left in the house such as they thought able to hinder the disorders which are done upon such occasions. For Brutus not daring to make any discovery of his understanding, it was not thought sitting he should give any directi∣ons in an accident, wherein it is but requisite a man had his judgement at liberty, to act as he ought; Besides that desiring to be in a condition to serve his friends in case they were set upon, he chose rather to go out of the house with them. To be short, this unfortunate company had fortunately made a shift to break throw that throng of peo∣ple which was knotted together before Racilias door, and was gotten within twenty paces of that of the vertuous mother of Herminius, when this illustrious Roman was discovered by the Captain of Tarquin's Guard, who was going to visit a friend of his in that quarter. The man thinking it a fair occasion to gain a considerable reward from the Tyrant and Tullia, by putting into their hands a person whose destruction they had so long endea∣voured to bring about, cryed out to the people, charging them in the King's name to secure a tray∣tor who was there present, whom he shewed to those whom he spoke to: And that they might take heart by his example, he immediately drew his Sword, and was seconded by two of his com∣panions who did the like.

Herminius had scarce perceived that they made at him, but casting away the Purple Tapistry he had on his back, he put himself into a posture of de∣fence, and indeed behaved himself so valiantly, that he made his way through the croud that was about him. Aronces who went before him, had almost reached Sivelias, where he doubted not to have found Sanctuary, but turning about, he finds his friend engaged; Disburthening himself therefore of what he carried, instead of providing for his own safety, he came to relieve Herminius, Brutus seconded him, having conducted Racilia, and Her∣milia into Sivelias. The danger they was in was more then ordinary, for what was most remarkable in this adventure was, that though Tarquin were infinitely hated, yet the charge that man made for the securing of Herminius proved effectual. It is true, that as that infinite conflux of people which throng to such unfortunate disasters, brings along with it a many persons apt enough to commit any disorders, so is it not much to be wondred at, that there were those that promoted this injust design. But Herminius, seeing Aronces and Brutus engaged in his relief, was so far from being encouraged at it, that it very much displeased him, and he made a shift to tell them so much as might acquaint them, that they should not have hazarded themselves for him. But they were deaf to such advice, on the contrary they were more eager in his defence then they had been in their own, though they were set upon and kept in by abundance of peo∣ple. Those who were spectators of this action, were astonished to see Brutus fight as he did, for the Captain of the Guard spoke to much purpose, when he told them that the business now was to take an enemy of Tarquin's, the other heard him not. 'Tis true, that having gained among the people the reputation of one out of his sences, the people looked on his valour in this encounter as an effect of his madness, and therefore consigned their respect to him as Nephew to Tarquin. For Aron∣ces, his valour made him be observed, though not discovered, for he who would have taken Her∣minius, would fain have had him alive, and have dispatched Aronces, who defended with such a courage, that never was there seen any thing like it. On the other side Herminius, to reward his ge∣nerosity by another worthy eternal memory, knowing him who would have taken him to be the same who had promised Clelia within a few days, would not by any means kill him, and was content only to ward off his blows, lest he might ruine that design. But by unhappy accident, Aronces not knowing that to be the man who should have delivered Clelia, plaid upon him so effectually, that having dispatched three or four of those that se∣conded him, he run him with his sword quite through the body, so that he fell dead at his feet. Herminius who saw the beginning of the business, cryed out purposely to hinder Aronces from mak∣ing that thrust, yet his generosity proved ineffectu∣al, for his voice was not heard till after the blow was past. But if it came not soon enough to hin∣der his death who was to give Clelia liberty, yet came it time enough to discover to Aronces what he had done, for in the instant the man fell, he remembred his Physiognomy, and perceived that he took away his life who was to deliver his Mi∣stress, which proved the greatest affliction of any that ever had happened to him. The horrid ap∣prehension of despair which in that instant seized his spirits, yet could not suspend his valour; on the contrary it inflamed it, and desirous at least to

save his friends life, he did things so prodigious, that he astonished the multitude that encompassed him: Brutus and Herminius for their parts did what (truly represented) would exceed probabili∣ty, insomuch that the Captain, and two of his Guard being dispatched, they were not so much pressed upon as before.

Nevertheless, they must needs have fallen at last, had they not been relieved by the prudence of the generous Sivelia; for as soon as Brutus's Aunt was gotten into her house, and had acquain∣ted her how things stood, she immediately sent to the place where lodged Amilcar, Artemidorus, Zenocrates and Celeres, to acquaint them, and de∣mand their assistance. But it happened that the first was gone to visit Clelia, by order from Tar∣quin, from whom he had to that purpose received a Letter, for it was ordinarily in the morning that he went to see this fair Prisoner, so to have all the other part of the day free to do other things wherein he was obliged to serve his friends. Besides that Clelia was in a condition that she awaked very betimes, and was so negligent as to matter of dressing, that Amilcar had admit∣tance as soon as he pleased, without any distur∣bance; for it having been long ere they could force open Racilias gate, to quench the fire, as having not yet the assistance of those that were without, it was far days. But in fine, Artemidorus, Zenocrates and Celeres being acquainted with what passed, came immediately to Sivelias followed by all the people they had. In this posture entring at one gate of this virtuous Matrons house, and going out at that, where Aronces, Herminius and Brutus were, they came in to their relief; and their arrival was so seasonable, that the multi∣tude seeing so many armed people come out of the house, was easily perswaded there were a many more within; so that running away, they left those whom they would have taken, at li∣berty to enter into Sivelias. They were no sooner in it, but they thought it the best course to dis∣lodge; for they easily imagined, that as soon as Tullia were informed of the business, she would be-set the house. Without any stay therefore, they only passed through the House, and went to that where Artemidorus, Zenocrates and Celeres lodged, where taking their Horses, they mount∣ed Aronces on Amilcar's; which done, Brutus having found them a guide, directed them to a House which Valerius had near Collatia, there to lie concealed, till such time as they had more lei∣sure to consider what they had to do. For his part, he would not depart, telling them, that his apparent stupidity would excuse him in this adventure, and bidding them not trouble them∣selves about him. There being no other course to take, they went where Brutus directed them, and were there gladly received; for Valerius who had left Rome at the break of day to go thither, was there two hours before.

But as they went, what did not the unfortu∣nate Aronces think on? If he had followed his own inclination, he could not have been prevail∣ed with to quit Rome, but as it had been madness not to have done it, considering what was past, so was it his concernment to leave it, which yet he could not without so much regret and relu∣ctancy, that never was there any Lover so mise∣rable. Ah! said he to himself, How unfortu∣nate art thou! Canst thou express no valour but what must be prejudicial to Clelia? Is it possible thou shouldst destroy him, who was to deliver her? Is it possible, after such a cruel and mon∣strous disaster hath hapned to thee, thou canst doubt thy own destruction, or conceive the least hope? No, no, it were more rational to de∣spair, and that thou shouldst by an inconside∣rate death put a period to so unhappy a life.

While Aronces entertained himself in this sad manner, Herminius, who was extremely troubled at the accident, came up to him, and demanded his pardon, as if he had been guilty of his death. Alass, dearest Herminius, said he to him, what do you mean? It is I should rather demand your par∣don, as the cause of your misfortunes, for I am perswaded that my single unhappiness causes that of all my friends, and that Fortune, who is re∣solved to make me the most miserable of all, thinking it not sufficient I should be such through my own misfortunes, is pleased I should have no friends but what are unhappy. It is indeed easie to discover that my unhappiness is particular to me, and waits on me every where, for it hap∣pens, as it were, by appointment, since when it so much concerns Clelia, that I should remain un∣discovered at Rome, the particular house where∣in I lay concealed must needs take fire, which must force me out of it, in the sight of two thousand persons; and the malice and inconstancy of my Destiny must needs have it so, that of the infinite number of people, who made it their business ei∣ther to kill or take us; I, who would have been content to die a thousand, and a thousands times for Clelias Liberty, must precisely kill that man who should have delivered her. It is certain, my Lord, replied Herminius, this unhappy accident hath in it something more insupportable than were the loss of a Battel, or something else of that nature; but all considered, I find in my self a certain confidence, that something will happen which we expect not; for, in fine, there hath not been in Rome since Tarquin's assuming the power, so general an inclination to some great turn of af∣fairs, as I have observed within these few days. Ah Herminius, replied Aronces, was there any thing more certain in appearance than Clelias Li∣berty? and yet by a strange shifting of Fortune, I must needs kill him who was to deliver her. If you then take my advice, let us not hope any thing, added he, but let us rather prepare our selves, either to endure all misfortunes imagina∣ble, or by death to accord them.

Whilst Aronces and Herminius was thus en∣gaged, and that Artemidorus, Zenocrates and Ce∣leres bemoaned their friends, and their own mis∣fortunes, and were upon their way altogether to Valerius's house, divers things past at Rome. For Brutus, whose great heart admitted not the least fear, went to Tullia, to acquaint her, with his ordinary simplicity, that he was present when the Captain of Tarquin's guard was killed, who, he said, came by his death among a great multitude of people, by setting upon certain men who en∣deavoured to quench the fire at his Aunts house, exaggerating, according to his affected stupidity, how much he was to blame for disturbing such as

were burthened with her goods, which they were carrying to the house of a certain friend of Raci∣lias. Tullia, who had already understood the death of the Captain of the Guard, and was ex∣tremely troubled at it, took no heed to what was told her by a man, whom she thought no great master of his senses. On the contrary, without any further discourse with him: Did not your stupidity excuse you, said she to him, I should teach you how those are to be treated who pre∣sume to make use of their Swords against his Ma∣jesty's Officers. But since your madness secures you, get you gone out of my sight, lest in the transportation I am now in, I treat you for your stupidity, as your Brother was for his too much prudence.

Brutus hearing Tullia threatning him so inso∣lently with death, had almost broke forth, and at once discovered his reason, his indignation, hatred, and his revenge: But at length master∣ing his resentments, he withdrew, as if he had not heard what Tullia said, and repaired to Raci∣lia, who was at her illustrious friends house. In the mean time the fire being quenched, the streets were clear of people; and that which was most observable, was, that though abundance of peo∣ple had been spectators of this accident, yet could not Tullia have any punctual account of it. For the Captain being dead without discovering any thing, or so much as naming Herminius, and his companions being also out of the way, all that could be made of it, was, that they had been kill∣ed, endeavouring to secure an enemy of Tarquins. The people knew not Herminius from another man, because he was disguised; and for Sivilia, the reputation of her virtue was so great, that none durst inform against her, nor tell Tullia that those armed people, who had rescued the other two, came out of her house. As concerning A∣ronces, there was mention made of him; and in∣deed the business was handled in such a confusion, that nothing could be made of it, there be∣ing an hundred several relations of the same thing.

But while these things were in agitation, Amil∣car was gently entertaining Clelia and Plotina, who were so transported with the hopes of Liberty, that their conversation that morning was as free, as if they had really been at Liberty. For though Amilcar had received a Letter from Tarquin, wherein he easily discovered what a Tyranny Love and Hatred exercised over him, yet he shewed it not to Clelia, but entertained her alto∣ther with discourse concerning Aronces, telling her what satisfaction it would be to him to see her at liberty, what it would be to her to receive new assurances of his affection, and the joy that attends a happiness which succeeds a misery. He gave her also a Letter from Aronces, wherewith she was extremely satisfied, as containing the greatest tenderness and passion; nay, so much was she pleased, that having perused it, she gave it Plotina, who reading it aloud, found therein these words.

Aronces to the Incomparable Clelia.

THe bare hope of seeing you once at Li∣berty, causes so great, yet so pleasant a disturbance in my soul, that fearing to dye for joy when I see you again, I conceive my self obliged to assure you, that I am still the most amorous of Men, and the most faithful Lo∣ver upon Earth. I know I should be some∣what ashamed that I can survive my grief, and withal fear I may die for joy; but all con∣sidered, if you well examine the apprehensions of my soul, you will find that a Lover, who hath been accustomed to misery, may rational∣ly doubt his ability to bear the most sensible of all pleasures: However it happen, I shall think my self obliged to my Destiny, and e∣steem it such as may move envie, if I but die at your feet, after I have once more said, I love you.

Plotina having read this Letter, told Clelia, that there was something more to be done, that she was obliged to return some answer thereto, and let her see it. Accordingly this excellent per∣son, who had an extraordinary command of her Pen, was pleased to do what Plotina and A∣milcar desired, and answered it in these words.

Clelia to the Generous A∣ronces.

SInce you have survived your grief, you shall not need fear dying for joy, this being more properly the Messenger of Life than Death. But that I may be absolutely happy in my Liberty, remember you have pro∣mised never to break those chains which I have put you in; for according to those passionate resentments I have for you, I believe I should chuse rather never to quit my Prison, than that you should get out of the Fetters you are in. Excuse me then, if while you make Vows for my Liberty, mine are, that you may be my perpetual Captive. Farewel, I crave your pardon, if writing to you, I have offered at any Wit; for where there is either Love or Misery, it suffices if there be but Pas∣sion.

Clelia having done, Plotina and Amilcar, who were discoursing at the Window, while she was

writing, drew near her, and read what she had written. Whereupon Amilcar assuming the dis∣course: Ah, Madam, said he to her, how ex∣tremely am I pleased at your demanding pardon of Aronces, for being too witty in your Letter. There should not certainly be too much wit in Missive and Love Letters, which is the reason that it is so hard to find any Letters or Addresses of this Nature composed as they should; for there must be neither artifice nor negligence; it must not express too much Wit, yet it must speak a certain Gallantry and Passion: In fine, it is so hard to write well in Love, that there cannot be any thing more. But for my part, says Plotina, I can∣not conceive there should be more difficulty to write of one thing than of another; for I think that, in point of Letters, all one hath to do, is simply to express ones thoughts. For where there is a conjunction of Fancy and Judgement, one for the most part hath reflexion on every thing which he ought to have, and consequently writes what is fit to write of it. For instance, when I am to write of a business of consequence, I shall not so express it, as if I were only to acquit my self of a simple Complement: If I am to write something of News, I shall not trouble my self a∣bout Complements: If I write a Letter of Friend∣ship, I must not labour for any high Stile: If a Love-Letter, I have no more to do than to consult my own heart. I cannot therefore well ap∣prehend why you conceive it so great a difficulty to write Letters of this nature. To dealy truly (says Clelia), I think it not so easie to write any kind of Letters, and that there are but very few persons absolute masters in it. I am of your o∣pinion, replied Amilcar, but of all Letters, those of Love are the hardest to write, as being such, whereof there are very few that are able to judge. Yet Plotina speaks (replied Clelia) as if she thought all sorts very easie, whereas I think, as I have al∣ready told you, of all things in the world, it is that requires most judgement. But to shew you I am somewhat versed in it, replied Plotina, and that I know somewhat what belongs to the com∣posing of a Letter, is it not granted that Letters containing business of consequence, ought to be apposite and exact; that they require a foundness of Judgement rather than Eloquence; that they admit not any superfluity or expression, and are compleated by what is pertinent; and that it be especially considered, that there be order and perspicuity? Yet I told you there must be withal, added she, a certain dress of Civility, which is that which puts a difference between the Letters of consequence, written by persons of Honour, and those of others: and in fine, it is necessary that the person who writes, understand well him∣self, what he would express to another; for I know not any thing more insufferable, than to write a Letter that shall need an Expositor, and confounds things instead of explaining them. And yet there are a many people (replied Clelia) who think they understand themselves when they do not. But Plotina is none of those (replied A∣milcar) for I assure you she knows very well what she says, and therefore I should take it as an in∣finite obligation, if she would shew me how Let∣ters of consolation are to be written; and where∣as there happen frequent occasions to write such, I should take her directions in five or six, which I would preserve as patterns, to imitate when need were; for truly, I find nothing so contrary to my inclination as this kind of Letters. For when ever I intend any such, instead of any condoling or sympathizing with such as are afflicted, I find my self more inclined to divert than bemoan them; and I am so far to seek what ought to be said, and what not, that I can never compleat a Letter of this nature, without writing it several times over; nay when all is done, cannot dismiss it without some blots and scratches; and there∣fore the fair Plotina would extremely oblige me to shew me how to write them. Could you but see my apprehensions of it (replied Plotina) you would certainly do it with great ease, for I can by no means admit these tedious consolatory Let∣ters, as proving always fruitless; whereas, it might be said or some people, they write, as if their Letters should have in them some Magical force against affliction, and that they who read them, ought from thence forward abjure all re∣gret for what they have lost. But I am to wish withal (added she) that people would be per∣swaded once for all, that only time is the com∣forter of such afflictions, and that it is not the proper office of Eloquence. Moreover, what measure of consolation is to be applied to such as are not over afflicted. The safest course a man can take in such cases, is to let his consolatory Letters be very short; for to observe a certain mo¦deration therein, he is only to acquaint the per∣son he writes to, how much he is concerned in his affliction, without digressing into tedious Lamen∣tations, or high Elogies, not ingaging the nume∣rous forces of Moral Philosophy and Eloquence to no purpose. It is very true (says Amilcar) and you are questionless much in the right. For how many Women are comforted for the death of their Husbands, when, indeed, they neither need nor care for it? Nay, how many persons are there of all relations, who should people accommodate themselves to their secret thoughts, were rather to be congratulated than bemoaned, since they are not sorry, that they are heirs to those for whose deaths they are complemented. I therefore re∣solve amiable Plotina (added Amilcar) never to write any Letters of consolation, but such as shall be short; not to disturb Morality and Eloquence on these occasions; to make no more those long ex∣aggerations against the cruelty of death, as some do; as also not to study high Commendations, or spins out long Panegyrick, and in a word, abso∣lutely to conform my self to your directions. I shall not trouble you to tell me, how a man ought to behave himself in congratulating anothers good fortune, 'tis an Art I am absolute Master of, and I can furnish you with ten or a dozen be∣ginnings of Letters of that kind, abating those that start out thus, I congratulate your—I con∣ceive my self so much concerned in your—and the like, which are too low for persons who would be thought Masters of Wit. But I should take it as a transcendent courtesie, if you would shew me how I might acquit my self well of those Let∣ters of Recommendation, whith are given unsealed to those whom one thinks fit to commend; and particularly how those to whom one writes may understand, whether it be his earnest desire they

should do the business proposed, or is indifferent whether they do it, or not; for when I am at Car∣thage, I am in a manner persecuted with such emer∣gencies.

For my part (replied Plotina) when I commend a business which relates to such as for whom I have no great esteem, I write a short dry Letter, yet not wanting as to Civility, nay you shall find in it the word Intreat, but it stands so alone, that it is not fastened to any thing. On the contrary, when I effectually desire a thing might be done, I first of all make appear that what I desire is just, I give a good character of the person whom I recommend; I express what friendship or esteem I have for him, I put the obligation is done in his favour upon my own account: I ingage the person to whom I write in point of honour to do him some good office, and to make all secure, I write by some other hand, whereby I confirm all I had writen be∣fore. For what concerns me (said Clelia) I would gladly learn how to write to a sort of people, with whom onely Civility obliges me to hold a certain correspondence, who yet are such as you would not favour with your friendship, nor take any pleasure to oblige. In the first place (replied Plotina) I should advise to write to them as sel∣dom as might be, for I can by no means away with that sort of people, that write to no other end but to write, who so readily charge themselves without any necessity, with the receiving of hun∣dreds of Letters from persons whom they care not for; and are for the most part pleased when they send or receive without any choice. And in the second, I should wish, when one is obliged upon the account you speak of, a man would not express in his Letters either too great wit, or too much friendship; for certainly a man injures himself, who writes a high and over obliging Letter to a person of ordinary parts; wherefore there must begotten a kind of colder civility, which is soon found when looked for, which is used towards those for whom we have no great love nor esteem, when by some considerations of acquaintance, we are obliged to write to them, and it is in such e∣mergencies as these that we are to make use of those Letters, which are called Letters of Comple∣ment, wherein there is not any thing particular, nothing either good or bad, containing a parcel of words and little sence, not obliging either those who write them, or those to whom they are directed, to any thing, as being dressed in such general terms, that they may be directed to all sorts of persons, without any particular address to any. Judgement, certainly, is requisite in all (replied Clelia) as for instance it might be said there is no∣thing easier then the writing of news, and yet there are some who write it most fantastically. They are such (replied Amilcar) who write news often, though they know not any, who believe all is said to them, write without order or choice, who trouble themselves to write things, that ei∣ther none regards, or are displeasing in themselves, or have lost all the grace and insinuation of No∣velty. For certainly, it is not more necessary that a woman to be a beauty, be also young, then that news be fresh and sudden, to please; there be∣ing nothing more unseasonable then a long relati∣on of an old adventure. Yet it must be confessed (replied Clelia) that there are certain disastrous accidents, which some make it their business to renew the stories of, and spread abroad, as if they were lately happened, which certainly, is ve∣ry troublesom to those who knew them before they were written to them. But in my judgement, when one writes a Letter wherein he would relate what had happened, he is to consider what kind of news the persons to whom he writes are most taken with; for I am confident there are some who are only pleased with those general narrations wherewith Fame it self comes for the most part burthened, and would hear of nothing but Victo∣ries or Defeats, the Sieges of Cities, Conflagrati∣ons, Deluges, Insurrections and the like. There are also those who matter not the general Oc∣currences of the World, so they are but acquain∣ted with what passes in their own Quarter; whence it is but necessary we should sift their humours to whom we write, when we are to send any thing of intelligence.

You speak very much reason, Madam (replied Amilcar) but that which I would particularly learn from the fair Plotina, since she seems to be so much exercised in it, is to know in what Letters a man is permitted to display all his perfections, and af∣ter what manner he is to discover his wit. That certainly, is a thing you know better then I (re∣plied she) but that you may be satisfied that I am able to judge of the excellencies of your Gallant-Letters, if ever you shall write any to me, I de∣clare to you, that it is only in them that I pretend to be skilled, and that for those which are cal∣led Serious-Letters, I meddle not with them. In these out of all doubt (replied Amilcar) a man is permitted a high stile. For instance, if Valerius or Lucretius were to write to Tarquin concer∣ning some affair of great consequence, or if some great Clerks held an Epistolary correspon∣dence, they might pertinently make use of Histo∣ry, Morality, Policy, and in a manner all the as∣sistances of Eloquence. Be it as it will (saies Plo∣tina) I understood it not, but for your Gallant-Letters, I am the greatest Critick in the World. It is properly in these, that the Wit hath all liber∣ty imaginable; here the fancy is not limited by a∣ny severity of judgement, which is so far dispen∣sed with, that the more serious things may be che∣quered with pleasant digressions of extravagance. They admit Satyre if somewhat corrected with in∣genuity; commendations and flatteries have here their several stations; a man may speak of friend∣ship, in terms of love; all novelty is pardonable, even lying, if innocent, is excusable; if one knows no news he may make some; one may pass from one thing to another without disorder; for this kind of Letters, to speak properly being a con∣versation between persons that are absent, there is nothing so much to be avoided as a certain kind of reservedness of deep learning, that smells of Books and Study, and hath no acquaintance with Gallantry, which may by called the Soul of this kind of Letters. As to the stile of them, it must be plain, natural, and noble altogether, which yet hinders not, but that there may be a certain Art, by the means thereof, there is nothing which may not pertinently be brought into letters of this nature, there being not any thing from the thred∣bare Proverb, to the Sybill's Prophecies, which a good wit may not make use of. But there must

be an especial care had in such occurrences, to de∣cline that swelling Eloquence which properly be∣longs to Orations, and here must be applied a∣nother kind, which with less noise proves more effectual, especially among women; for in a word, the Art of telling trivial stories handsomely, is not known to all sorts of people. You may be confident of it (replied Amilcar) and I can fur∣ther assure you, that it is not proper to all to de∣sire to know it. But, amiable Plotina, make your obligation absolute, and tell us pre∣cisely how you would have Love Letters writ∣ten.

Since I never either writ, or received any (an∣swered she) I know not very what I shall say, but being now in good humour to speak I shall not deny you. But I must in the first place tell you, there are a many more excellent Love-Letters than its conceived. I am of your mind (replied Amilcar.) Yet it is not to be admired (answered she) if the Gallant Letters make a great noise, and those of Love very little; the former being writ∣ten to be shown to all the World, the other to be concealed. Those who receive a handsome Let∣ter of Friendship, gain much reputation by shew∣ing it; but for those who receive a well-couch'd Letter of Love, it were a dishonour to commu∣nicate it; so that it is not to be thought very strange, if we meet with so good few ones of the latter sort. To come yet nearer the business, since there are an infinite number of people, who may be said to have a great wit, in respect of those who are guilty of a great love; it is not to be wondred at, if there are fewer excellent Letters of this kind than of any; it being indisputably certain, that to write punctually of things of this nature, a man besides an ardent importunate love, must be indued with a certain tenderness of heart and intellectuals, which is that wherein consists all the Beatitude of Love, either as to Conversa∣tion or Letters. But (replies Clelia) did you not just now maintain, that in such cases too much Wit was to be avoided? I confess it (an∣swered Plotina) but do you not think there is ne∣cessary a great deal of Wit to discover little? In so much, that though it may be said, that though Love Letters require not the fire of Wit, which should sparkle in Gallant Letters, yet must there be some instead of it, and the fire of Love possess the place of that Wit, whereof I speak. I conceive therefore the true Character of a Love-Letter, ought to be neat and passionate; and that if there be any thing of gallantry, spirit, yea even diversion in these Letters, it must be moderated with passion and respect. The expressions of them ought to be forcible and piercing, and among those things which divert the mind, there must be others that shall offer a kind of violence to the heart. It is requisite also, if I mistake not, there should be a little disquiet, for Love cannot by any means admit Letters of Felicity. Not but that there may be a certain degree of joy, yet it must be such as is not certainly serene, nay though there were no cause of complaint, yet ought a man to imagine something to himself whereof he may complain. You speak so admirably well (replied Amilcar) that if you had studied Love all your life, you could not have delivered your self better. If I have known no love my self (re∣plied she smiling) I have those Friends of my own Sex, who have, and have taught me how to speak of it. In a word then, in a Love Letter, Fancy must be predominant over Wit, and the Stile of it must be natural, full of respect and passion; nay, I dare maintain there is nothing more likely to make a Letter of this nature less effectual, than its being over witty. Hence also doth it proceed, there are so few that can judge well of Love Let∣ters, for to be critical in it, a man must imagine himself in the place of those that love; he must suppose what they say comes immediately from their hearts; he must discover a many little cir∣cumstances that are only known to those who write, not to others; and in fine, he must be a∣ble to distinguish very nicely, between that Gal∣lantry which is required in Letters of Friend∣ship, and what is admitted in those of Love. Moreover (added she) I have it from a very vir∣tuous person, that ordinarily women are more exquisite at Love-Letters than men, and for my part I think he was not mistaken. For when a Lover is once resolved to make a full discovery of his passion, there is no need of Art, to say, I am still under the Martyrdom of your Love; but for a woman, in regard she never absolutely acknow∣ledges her love, but doth all things with a greater Mystery, this Love, whereof there can only be had a glympse, causes a greater pleasure than that which is apparent, and without ceremony. But, it seem, says Clelia, there must be a difference be∣tween the Letters of a Servant, and those of a Mistress. No question of it, replied Plotina; for in the Letters of a Servant, affection and respect must be predominant; those of a Mistress should speak modesty, and fear in aspect to tender∣ness.

But excellent Plotina, replied Amilcar, since you are so learned, you are yet to tell me whether length be excusable in Love Letters, for I have a friend conceives they should be short. To speak in general terms of all sorts of Letters, replied Plotina, I think they should not be over-long; but it were very pleasant indeed, if it should be thought ill, that two persons, who love one another in∣finitely, who have not the opportunities of speak∣ing one to another, and meet with many difficul∣ties to convey their thoughts one to another, should not be permitted to write what they can∣not speak; and that Love which is an exaggera∣ting passion, and magnifies and multiplies all things, had not the priviledge sometimes to di∣late it self into long Letters. For, how can a great passion be swathed in a few words? How can a short Letter contain a great jealousie, and transport all the apprehensions of one amorous heart into another in three or four words? As for those who write the gallant sort of Addresses, added she, it is easie for them to abbreviate, and yet lose nothing of Wit, since their reason being absolutely free, they make choice of the things they say, and reject those suggestions which please them not: But for a poor Lover whose reason is disturbed, he takes nothing up by choice, he writes down the dictates of his Fancy; nor in∣deed should he chuse any thing, since that in point of Love, neither can there be too much said, nor is it believed there hath been enough. Thus I maintain, there is no prohibition of long Letters,

onally they be in no other dress than what love adorns them with; and to speak ingeniously, there's nothing deserves so great commendation as a handsome Love Letter: For all considered, notwithstanding what I said before, I believe that when one writes such a one, the mind is so taken up, and so distracted, that it is much more difficult to write well in this, than in any other case. Not but, as I said before, that the heart is that which is principally concerned in it, but that sometimes the heart is so disturbed, that it self is ignorant of what it feels. But I pray, says A∣milcar, who are these Female Friends of yours; who have taught you to speak so learnedly of Love? She hath been entrusted with the secrets of so noble a Passion, replied Clelia, that if you knew all she knows, you would not wonder to hear her speak as she does. It shall be her fault, replied Amilcar, if I do not, for it would be the greatest pleasure in the World to me, to hear her relate an amorous adventure; besides that, added he, you cannot force me hence, though you were ever so desirous, for the Cap∣tain of your Guards went out when I came in, and you know the doors of your Lodgings are ne∣ver opened but when he is here: Nay he told me, he should not return very suddenly, by which means you have as much leisure as you could wish. But what should oblige me, replied Plotina, to re∣late to you the adventure of one of my Friends, when there is no necessity for it? How! replied Amilcar, Do you think it a matter unnecessary, to let me know in what School you have learned to speak so well of Love? Assure your self, if you refuse, I shall be perswaded you have run through three or four several Loves in your Life. If it be so, replies that excellent Virgin, I shall rather sub∣mit to entertain you with the adventures of Cae∣sonia, whereof I had this day promised Clelia the relation; not but that she knows something in ge∣neral of what hath hapned to this admirable wo∣man, but since she will have the particulars there∣of, I am content you should also participate, con∣ditionally you use all the means you can for her deliverance as well as ours. Ah Plotina, replied A∣milcar, if the fair Clelia will have it so, it will be an infinite pleasure to me; for I know not any thing of greater delight, than to understand that a person of a great Wit, and withal serious, can admit Love. I therefore promise you to do all that lies in my power, to oblige Tullia to set all the Captives at Liberty: and to perswade her to it, I will tell her, that Tarquin will be less incensed at that, then if she only delivered Clelia. Here∣upon Plotina, being confident that Amilcar would more readily employ all his interest for Caesonia, if he were informed what had hapned to her, and Clelia having added her entreaties to those of this accomplished Affrican, began her Relation in these words.

THE HISTORY OF CAESONIA.

SInce you lay your commands on me, fair and ge∣nerous Clelia, I shall relate unto you the ad∣ventures of this admirable woman who hath had the happiness of your good opinion; and I am al∣so content Amilcar participate the pleasure of the Relation. But he must give me leave, as learned as he is, to acquaint him with divers things rela∣ting to our City, and particularly concerning its original, which an Affrican cannot in any likely∣hood know, that so he may the less wonder if he find so many tracts of magnificence amongst the Rutuli, and indeed so much gallantry and wit. For to deal truly with you, the Original of Ardea is more noble then that of Rome, and it cannot be objected to us, as it may be to the Romans, that our Fathers were Criminals and Out-laws; and in a word, the Rutuli are reckoned amongst the most ancient people of Italy; Ardea, which is their Metropolis, being built by the fair and famous Da∣nae, the Daughter of Acrisius, and mother of Perseus, whose History is so celebrated, that I think it unnecessary to relate it.

You do very well, interrupted Amilcar smiling, for though an Affrican, and as Ignorant as you conceive me, I am not to learn, that Jupiter fell in love with Danae, that he was put to his shifts for that invention of the precious Golden Shower; that he turned Bull to Ravish Europa, and put on the form of a Swan to surprize the Mother of Castor and Pollux. I know further, that Danaes Father understanding his daughter was neer her time of Lying in (notwithstanding all the care he had tak∣en to cause her to be kept in a Tower, to elude the effect of an Oracle, which threatned he should lose his life by the hands of a Son of that Princess) caused this fair Lady to be shut into a Chest of Ce∣dar, which he gave order should be cast into the Sea; and that the gods providing for her safety, di∣rected the waves to cast it on the Coasts of Italy. I know further, that having been found by a Fish∣erman, who was taken with her extraordinary Beauty, he presented her to the Prince whose Sub∣ject he was; who grew so deeply enamoured of her, that he married her. Nay I have heard it repor∣ted, though that be not so easily credible, that Danae, though inclosed in the chest, and that tos∣sed up and down in the Sea, was safely delivered therein of young Perseus, and that the Fisherman made a present both of Mother and Child to the fore-mentioned Prince.

Ah Amilcar, cryed Plotina very pleasantly, you know too much, and I should be easily perswaded you know all I have to tell you. And yet, me∣thinks you should have missed what some related,

viz. that Danae was not the foundress of Ardea, but a Son of Ulysses and Circe; but the story is not true, as being grounded only on this, that Ulysses being a very eloquent person, and Circe an excel∣lent Herbalist, the people of Ardea speak more politely than those of any other City, and have a greater knowledge of the names and qualities of Plants, than there is elsewhere. But it is out of Controversie, that the fair Danae built our Ci∣ty, for the conslagration, though very great, leaving behind it certain magnificent Temples, there is to be seen the History of Danae, excel∣lently represented in certain Pictures, though done before the Foundation of Rome. She is to be seen also in a sumptuous Palace, drawn by a famous Painter, called Cleophantus, who followed Dema∣ratus of Corinth, Father to the first of the Tar∣quins, when he came into Italy to avoid the per∣secution of Cypsalus, King at that time of the Coun∣try; so that it is agreed on all sides: And to con∣firm it further, there are a hundred particulars to evince the truth; for we have women bear the name of Danae; and that of Persander, which is an ordinary name, seems to be derived from Perseus; and there is to be seen a Cypress Chest, which is said to be the same wherein Danae came to land in Italy, and was miraculously preserved when our City was burnt. Moreover, in memo∣ry of the Golden shower you spoke of, there is a yearly feast celebrated at Ardea, wherein all Lo∣vers are obliged to some liberality towards their Mistress, wherein there must be something of Gold: For there is a certain Superstition spread whereby many are perswaded, that a man cannot be faithfully loved at Ardea, if he find not some means to convey to his Mistress something con∣sisting of that Metal. But if the men employ all their wits to do it, the women on the contra∣ry, unless it be on the Feast-day I spoke of, think themselves obliged in point of honour to avoid the receiving of any thing wherein there is gold, un∣less it be done by some ingenious surprisal; which gives occasion to a many gallant adventures.

But not to trouble you longer with things frivo∣lous, it suffices you know, that there is a great profession of Arts, more magnificence, and more ingenuity at Ardea, then there is in Rome, as fa∣mous as it is: Even Poesie is there no stranger; for that in divers Temples may be found Inscripti∣ons in verse, in praise of divers persons. There is one to be seen in Junos Temple, very excellent, and very ingenious, though the subject of it be on∣ly to celebrate a certain Painter of Aetolia, who for his Art and acquaintance with all Sciences, ob∣tained the freedom of our City. Ardea there∣fore being a place more polite then the name of the Rutuli would make it be thought, wonder not at what I am going to tell you, and charge me not with too much partiality to my own Country.

But having spoken to you of Ardea, I am now to speak of Caesonia. For her Person I shall say no∣thing, for you know she is infinitely pleasing, that she hath the ayr it self of Beauty, that she hath a Majestick graceful aspect, that she is of a proper slature, hath an excellent eye, and her counte∣nance full of freedom and modesty. You know further, she is infinitely ingenious, of a gentle and constant nature, and her conversation hugely in∣viting, and that the earth (affords not a woman that hath a heart more noble and sincere, or incli∣nations more generous. Being a person of the greatest quality in our City, her education was pro∣portionable; Her Father indeed she lost, while she was yet very young, but her Mother (whose name is Ersilia) omitted nothing which she thought might contribute to her perfection, and treated her with such complyance and obligation when she was grown up to her reason, that she seemed ra∣ther to look on her as a Sister then a Daughter, and would rather intreat her advice, then enjoyn her by command. 'Tis true, Caesonia did not abuse this tenderness, but the more indulgent Ersilia was to her, the greater was her respect and duty; so that it might be said the mother was absolute mi∣stress of the daughter, and that the daughter had the same power of the Mother, for there was ne∣ver observed the least contestation between them. Caesonia having thus a great beauty, a great wit, a great goodness, and a great fortune, it is not ve∣ry strange if she had a many Suitors. For my part, though I am two years younger then she, and of an humour less reserved and more free, yet hath she given me the first place among her friends; for I dare presume to affirm thus much of my self that among the most serious Confidents in the World, I will not be outvied by any as to Fideli∣ty and Secrecy. It happened moreover that Caeso∣nias house, and that wherein I lived, joined, and that her mother and mine were allyed; by which means we were in a manner alwaies together, and there was such a reciprocation in our pleasures, that we took not any when we were not together in the same place. We had some other friends of our own sex; but to tell you truly, there was a great distance between those apprehensions of friendship which we had for them, and those we had one for another. Yet was there a strange dif∣ference between Caesonias humour and mine; but withall, such as had the same effect in our hearts, as divers sounds have in Musick, when it is well un∣derstood; for my freedom of disposition diverted Caesonia, and I was no less pleased with her mild∣ness, complaisance and ingenuity. She is even guilty sometimes of a certain languishing melan∣choly, with which I was much taken; in a word, we made such harmony, that there never hapned the least discordant note between us. Not that we could be alwaies of the same opinion, but when we were not, we disputed without bitterness; as soon as we apprehended truth, we submitted there∣to; nay, even when each persisted in her opini∣on, it was without indignation or any discovery of fullenness or obstinacy. Nor did our friend∣ship make a small noise in the City; insomuch, that when people spoke of us, without naming us, we were commonly called, The two friends.

Caesonia in the mean time having no great incli∣nation of her self to marry, and taking no encou∣ragement from my humour, which hath ever been much addicted to liberty, to change her opinion, slighted many propositions were made to her, though very advantagious; so that she had slipped over the eighteenth year of her age, before her heart was sensible of any disposition to fix her choice upon any one of all those that were her servants. It was certainly not trouble to her that she was esteemed by all of quality in our City, be∣yond all the Beauties of Ardea; but she withall

thought it so hard a matter to meet with a man that knew well how to love, and that it was the grea∣test unhappiness to be obliged to one by whom she were absolutely beloved, that she would have been glad of Ersilias consent she might not marry at all. For when she had a mind to aggravate the aversion she had to marry a man by whom she could not think her self beloved, she spoke the pleasan∣test things in the world, though naturally she is ve∣ry serious. But (said to her one day, when there was very great company at her house, and that all were pressing her upon her shiness, and over-re∣servedness in things of that nature) according to the humour I conceive you to be of, it were a hard matter to perswade you, that you might be per∣fectly beloved; for though you be sincerity it self, I have heard you say, in the business of love you distrust all things. You may very well have heard me say so (replied she) and it shall be your fault if you hear it not again; for there are not only a sort of men in love, who tell you they feel more then they do; but there are others who though ab∣solutely insensible, will yet entertain you with their incredible sufferings. There is also a sort of Lyars who are sensible they are such, and because they know not well what Love is, think they are in Love, when the most can be said of them, is that they are simply disposed to be so. By that argument (replied an excellent person, whose name was Per∣sander) it were not sufficient for a man that were in love with you, to render you those services which another might, but he must find out some new way to convince you of his affection. Very right (replied she) for I am not very credulous, and to prevail any thing with my great mind, there must be something extraordinary, especially if the first birth of the affection should be directed to me, that I might no longer doubt of the conquest I had made. But (said another to her, a person of great merit, named Turnus) I would gladly know what that were that should absolutely convince you of the power of your charms. Since I have not so exactly examined what apprehensions I should have of a thing, wherein I am not concerned (replied she) I know not well how to answer you; but for the present, what would assure me of a mans af∣fection, were to see him express it by a neglect of what he were most naturally and most strongly in∣clined to. For, if (for example) I should oblige an ambitious man to renounce his ambition for the love he bore me; if I should force a covetous man to become liberal; if I should cause a cholerick person to banish that Passion out of his soul, meer∣ly because I was displeased with it; if a fickle man should prove constant meerly for my sake; or if an obstinate Lover should quit some other Mistress purposely to serve me, I think I should believe I were possessed of the Empire of their hearts who should do such things upon my account. And to deal sincerely with you, I do not think those who conquer any heart, ought to use their Conquests as ordinary Conquerours do, who to insinuate in∣to their new Subjects, alter not the Laws of those Countries they have subdued. On the contrary, I maintain, that it is lawful for those who conquer any heart, to govern it by such laws as they shall think fit; and that it is the noblest expression of a Mistresses Authority, absolutely to dispose of whatever acknowledges her Supremacy. If there∣fore I should have made a faithful Lover of a fickle, or a fickle of a constant, I should think my self more confirmed in my power, then I should by all the ordinary discoveries which men do make of their Passion.

Caesonia had no sooner said this, but Turnus smiled, and Persander changed colour, as if they were secretly concerned in what that fair Lady spoke. And indeed, you are to know, that Tur∣nus was naturally inconstant, and Persander loved without any return of his love, and had been a long time a Suitor to a Lady of our City, who certainly deserved not the love of a person of his quality; so that having been both smitten by what Caesonia had said, it caused a little agitation in their hearts, for they had both an infinite esteem for this admirable person. But for her part, when she spoke it, she thought not of ei∣ther, and was minded onely to disburthen her self of an opinion, wherein she thought her self singular; and indeed it proved the Text of all that days discourse; all being obliged to dispute whether a woman were more obliged to an in∣constant Lover that should prove constant by lo∣ving only her, or to a faithfull Lover that should prove inconstant to a former Mistress, as being forced to it by the charms he met with in a se∣cond. I shall not trouble you with a repetition of that discourse, because I must repeat another in the sequel of my story, whereby I should be obliged to relate the same twice.

But I must needs more particularly tell you thus much, that Persander and Turnus were of the best of quality in Ardea, that they were both ve∣ry proper as to their persons, and were both in∣finitely discreet and vertous. 'Tis true, they were of very different natures; for Persander is a man of a more pleasant, more free, and more general conversation, and excellently good at those little things, which indeed are the State∣affairs of Love. Turnus was of a serene, mild, and complaisant disposition, and if the love of ease had not disputed the Empire of his heart with that of glory, and his Mistresses, he had made one of the most exquisite Lovers in the World: For he had something of Gallantry, something of Delicacy, and insinuation of Af∣fection, which was infinitely taking, and with∣all, notwithstanding his inclination to ease, cer∣tain Sallies of violence, which fortifi'd people in the perswasion they had of his love. But for Persander his ingenuity and cunning contrivan∣ces were his best Agents; and it may be said of these two Conquerous, one was fitter for the gaining of a battel, the other more excellent at a siege.

Turnus was at this time, instead of one, ingaged in divers Love-designs; for there were in Ardea three excellent persons, by whom it may be pre∣sumed he might have been loved; if he could have been content to love but one, and direct all his affection to her. Persander on the other side, could admit but of one passion, but as I told you before, Love had otherwise prevented him; and certainly she to whom he had then de∣signed his heart, was not worthy to receive it. But indeed, she was not only so far from knowing the value of it, that she refused to accept it On the contrary, she had treated Persander with so

much indignity and neglect, that the Clouds un∣der which he lay began to disperse, when Caesonia without any design, held the discourse I have rela∣ted to you, which was pertinently directed both to him and Turnus, if they could have resolved then to love her. For, if you remember. I told you that Caesonia acknowledged her self equally satisfi∣ed of the affection of an inconstant person, if he be∣came constant, and of that of a constant Lover if he proved inconstant for her sake. That which was most observable in this accident, was, that Persander and Turnus who were friends, applyed to one another what Caesonia had said, though they were satisfied that she had spoke without any reflection on them, though indeed the appli∣cation was not serious on either side.

But departing the house together, and being both equally surprised with the beauty and per∣fections of Caesonia, they fell a praising of her, and spoke a many things in her commendation. From which discourse, Persander took occasion to tell Turnus, that since he was so much taken with Caesonia, he should do well to address his ser∣vices to her, and quit that indifference in love, wherein he had continued all his life. For in fine, said he to him, while you wander from one beau∣ty to another, you will not advance much; and since that all those from whom you receive fa∣vours, please you not so well as absolutely to ingage you to them; and that you are this day more taken with Caesonia then all your former acquaintances, I would advise you to sacrifice all your other Mistresses at her Altar. I promise you (replied he) that if I thought the sacrifice would prove acceptable, I should do it with all my heart; but you know, it is not only requisite that the victims should be such as might please the Gods but they also must be acceptable who offer them. Being assured therefore (continued he) that you are more in Caesonias favour then I am, I should advise you to undertake the adventure; for if she said that she was confident of the affection of an inconstant Lover that should prove constant for her sake, she also said she would be satisfied with the love of a constant one that should prove unconstant, to serve her. If therefore you will take my advice, you will forsake your ancient Mistress and make choice of this; for not to flat∣ter you, it will be more advantageous for you to alter your resolutions then for me. There are, you know well, three persons, all excellently handsom, of whose affections I might presume, could I but love them, and who find me imploy∣ment and diversion sufficient, though all that is between us, be no more then a sence of mirth and gallantry, which may haply grow up to some∣thing, if we please, and may also come as easily to nothing, if we are disposed. But you, with∣out any reciprocation of affection, love a per∣son that seems onely amiable to your self; and you put your friends upon a necessity of wishing that she may never prove favourable to you; for if you conquer the indisposition of your love by marriage, you were the unhappiest of all men in that it were to exchange one whom you thought a worthy Mistress into a troublesom Wife. if therefore you value my advice any thing, you will this day renounce her, and address your love to Caesonia, with a confidence of the approbation of all people. For by this means, you will re∣form an errour which all the Tyranny ascribed to Love could not excuse; Reason would approve your change; and though you should not be lo∣ved, yet were your condition better, than it is now; since it is more supportable to be slighted by a person of great merit than by another that hath not any.

I cannot but acknowledge (replied Persander) that notwithstanding the violence of my Passion, I ever knew that the person for whom I have had for so long time a fruitless love, was guilty of some imperfections, nay that she was dis-ac∣ceptable to all rational men. But if I am too fa∣vourable, the others are unjust, since she wants not such good endowments, and that ..... For her good ones interrupted Turnus, I know not what she may have; but for those that relate to civility; I'll answer for her, she has not any; for she's of an unsetled and perverse disposition; she is ungraceful, both as to behavior and coun∣tenance; she is nothing acquainted with the world; she always takes things in the worst sense, she sometimes commends what is to be discom∣mended, and dispraises that which deserves praise, nothing obliges her, she is moved without occa∣sion, and she understands not the greatness of your mind, and consequently not that of your affection. Fasten therefore on the occasion which Fortune presents you with, make a hearty sacri∣fice of this miserable Victim; for I am of opi∣nion, when the sacrificer is accepted, they look not so directly on what he offers; besides that none can be more liberal then he that bestows all.

You have certainly a strange confidence in my Friendship, replied Persander (blushing through the disorder of his thoughts) to speak to my Mistress as you do. I am so confident of the truth of what I say, that I fear not your displea∣sure. Not but that I know you now look other∣wise on the person you love, then you will do one day; but you are so accustomed to be troub∣led that others are not so much taken with her as your self, that I do you no more injury then you have endured a hundred times before. Nay I am sufficiently satisfied continued he, that I have seen you blush for very shame, upon several oc∣casions, at some things which that creature ei∣ther did or said; and therefore it were very unjust you should bear me any ill will, because I cannot speak well of her, since you may easi∣ly perceive it is only your own concernment that could have obliged me to speak after this rate, you being the only Suitor to this Wench, who certainly is very indiscreet to slight you, in re∣gard there is nothing so certain, as that if she miss you, she will never meet with such ano∣ther. Cease then at length, cruel friend, to persecute me, replied Persander, if you expect not I should also take my turn and fall upon you, and tell you, that if I deserve to be blamed for loving a person defective, as to those per∣fections which Love should aim at, you deserve to be much more, who are indifferent whether you are loved by any one of three the most ac∣complished women the Earth affords, Hereup∣on the two friends parted, not thinking what might be the consequence of what they said one to another.

On the other side Caesonia and I, not knowing any thing of what had passed between Persander and Turnus, fell to discourse upon what had been spoken in the Company; for, our houses adjoy∣ning, we were seldom asunder but at night; nay sometimes it hapned, that I staid at Caesonias, or she at our house. Being therefore at liberty, as to company, we took a Walk into Ersilias Garden, but reflecting on whatever had been said, I represented to Caesonia that she had said one thing which Persander and Turnus might severally apply to themselves, for their stories were known to all the world. I had no sooner said it, but she blushed, as having no thought of them when she spoke as she did, and fearing they might imagine it directed to them, she was much troub∣led in her mind. I should be extreamly afflicted, said she to me, that two persons of their Quali∣ty should suspect me of any design to engage them to love me. Since they are the only two of all the City, replied I laughing, that are not fal∣len into your chains, what great crime were it if you should spread your chains for them? How great a crime it were I know not, replied she, but it would certainly argue a great weakness, and much indiscretion; but that which gives me some ease; added she, is, that Turnus is so well known for his Inconstancy, and Persander for his obstinate fidelity, that I shall not be easily suspected of having any intention to alter their resolutions. But that also which is equally true, is, that they are the two men of all the City whom I most esteem, and for whom certainly I should have the greatest inclination; and conse∣quently added I, they are the two persons of all the City who were the most likely to make you happy, if so be you resolve to marry any one. According to the humour I now am in, said she, I should not be satisfied to have only an inclina∣tion for him I would take to be my Husband, for I conceive my felicity consists rather in the resentments which others have for me, then in what I have for them: and if I had met with any one among those who have endeavoured to gain me, that could have put me into a strong perswasion that he had a great and violent affection for me, I should without doubt have looked on him, so as from him to have derived my happiness, for certainly there is a greater pleasure in being loved, then in loving.

Ah Caesonia cryed I, you are extreamly mistak∣en if you believe what you say, since 'tis only the Love which is in one's own heart that can make one happy, and that to speak sincerely, there is no pleasure in being loved, but by that which one loves. Every one hath his particular humour (re∣plied Caesonia) and that is none of mine; for if I had two Lovers of equal merit, and my inclina∣tion led me to favour him whom I thought the less amorous, I should prefer before him the o∣ther whom I conceived to have greater affection for me, though I loved him the less. Ah Caeso∣nia, replied I, how great a fault would you do in so doing! Ah Plotina, replyed she, how dange∣rous a one should I be guilty of, did I make any other choice? for all considered, it is not true that the end of loving is to be loved again, and that it is the greatest torment to love beyond what one is beloved? I agree with you, replied I, that it is insufferable to be sensible of having more love then one causes; yet I hold there can be no sen∣sible pleasure in loving any further then it relates to that which one loves; and that all the devoirs, all the services, all the addresses of a person whom one loves not, give no great satisfaction in com∣parison of those are rendred by one for whom we have a certain respect.

But Plotina, answered Caesonia, you consider not what you say when you speak thus; for it is so natural to love, to the end one should be loved again, and to imagine a certain pleasure therein, that to speak generally of it, one desires to be loved as well by those whom one loves, as those whom one loves not. There is also a certain satisfaction in receiving acknowledgements of esteem from those we are not in a manner acquain∣ted with; and the reason is, that as often as one receives such expression of affection, one seems to take it as a certain argument of his own merit; besides that, if there be any charms in love, I think they consist in an absolute Empire over the heart of a vertuous man. I can also very easily imagine, that it is as it were a degree of felicity, for a woman to see a person of a great reason and understanding, renounce part of his Reason to serve her; that he raises to himself an hundred sensible pleasures from her most inconsiderable fa∣vours; that he betrays a thousand obliging weak∣nesses, which he himself is not sensible of; that his colour changes when he sees her, that many times he knows not what he says, even when it is his design to speak the best he can; that he sees her in all places; that he seeks none but her; that he resigns himself absolutely to her will, and alto∣gether renounces his own. But on the contrary, when one loves, insteed of commanding, he o∣beys and must expect all the inconveniences of love, and never be acquainted with the enjoy∣ments of it.

Ah Caesonia, replied I, I could not have imagi∣ned a serious person could possibly have said what you have! And I should never have thought, re∣plied she, that a person of a free and gallant hu∣mour could have held what you hold, which cer∣tainly should rather be the Tenet of Melancholy and Distraction. But said I to her, what do you think on when you imagine it is a greater pleasure to be loved then to love? Do you think I cannot name you a hundred several men whom you should esteem strangely troublesom, if they were but once encouraged to follow you every where, and to pretend an infinite love to you? But when I say so, replied she, I do not mean that I would be loved of those people of no worth, who are not to be admitted in the quality of lovers, nor yet of friends; and all that I say amounts to no more then this, that a woman who hath a great esteem for a vertuous man, by whom she is faithfully and ardently loved, shall be more happy then if she her self had a strong love for another vertuous man, who were less amorous then the former. And I hold on the contrary, replied I, that there is no enjoyment in being loved, but in as much as it proceeds from those we love; that all those weaknesses which you say it would be pleasant to observe in a person of a great mind, would not seem such to you, if you were not capable of ha∣ving the like; and to apprehend aright what

Love is, there is no question but the most inconsi∣derable services rendered by a person whom we love, far exceed the greatest we receive from a∣nother, for whom we have not that sympathy. And in a word Caesonia said I to her laughing, the case is not the same with love as at a Ball, where many times those who dance not, have a greater pleasure then those who do; for certainly, who∣ever would find a great satisfaction in being lo∣ved must himself love, and that to the greatest ex∣tent of passion; and for my part, I am so far from imagining any pleasure in marrying an amorous Husband if I loved not him, that I think it no small torment, by reason of the continual reservedness wherein I should conceive my self obliged to live. If therefore you will take my advice, make choice of him whom you your self shall best love, and not him who hath no more to say for himself; then that he hath a greater love for you. I should willingly grant (added I) it were a great unhappi∣ness, and a great madness to love and not be loved again; but as long as I live, I shall persist in this opinion, that there can be no true delight in be∣ing loved, if one also loves not; and certainly, the heart must be extreamly prepossessed for to raise this one pleasure above all others, and ima∣gine it such as whereby all sorts of afflictions were alleviated, and might effectually put us into a con∣dition of indifference for all things else.

But is it not also certain (repli'd she) that as soon as one is strongly possessed with love, there inevitably follows a number of cares and distur∣bances. There do so (repli'd I) but I believe withall there are thousands of pleasures, which cannot be consequent to any thing but by the re∣sidence of that passion in the Soul. For when all is done, all those things which we say are very pleasing when one loves, are not so considerable in themselves, as to make a superstructure of Fe∣licity, were it not that the heart is prepossessed. So that to be absolutely happy, we must, if I may presume to say it, enter with sincere intentions into this correspondence and consonancy of af∣fections, we must retain in our selves, so much love as we cause in others, and expect to find our particular satisfaction, in our own tendernese rather then in that of another: For were it not so, one might take an equal pleasure in being loved, by a hundred several people at a time; whereas, I am confident that a woman who hath three or four Lovers, will find no true pleasure but with him whom she particularly loves.

I do not tell you (repli'd Caesonia) that those whose hearts are designed to love, find no satisfacti∣on in loving; but that which I maintain is, that one who would marry, should find her self in a more firm posture of happiness, by marrying a man who extreamly loves her, then if she married one whom she her self were infinitely in love with. But (repli'd I) you mind not what you say, for it frequently happens that these amorous Hus∣bands grow soon cold in their affection; so that if you are satisfied in being loved, though you loved not your self, it must needs follow, that as that love evaporates and consumes, your plea∣sure also determines. On the contrary, if you love him whom you have married, he is always the same pleasant object he was to you, even though he should give you some slight cause of discontent; Not to flatter you therefore any longer, I think there never was any woman (Cockneys excepted) besides your self, who thought there was any great pleasure in being loved, without loving her self. Be it as it will be (said she) since I press you not to change your opinion, neither shall I change mine for your sake; but it may come to pass that while I shall be content to be lov'd, though I love not, you shall love, and not be lov'd again. For that matter (replied I) I fear not what may happen to me; for one never loves, but what seems worthy to be loved, and I should not look upon the most vertuous man in the world, as such as should oblige me to love him, if he did not first love me.

These were at that time the apprehensions of Caesonia; but not to spend time in the relation of many little accidents consequent thereunto, I shall onely tell you, that from that day, Persan∣der and Turnus took some by occasions to see and know more of Caesonia, and became more studi∣ous Disciples of our Cabal, which certainly was the most ingenious and most gallant of any in the City; and if I may presume to affirm it, that which had the greatest reputation of Vertue. 'Tis true, it stood not with our constitutions to admit indifferently all sorts of people, and that we stood much upon the choice of our friends of either sex, when we were commonly called abroad, The fair Solitaries. Our solitude indeed hath nothing that might affright, for we admitted the visits of all vertuous persons, without any regard had to the rest. Not that we would be charged with a∣ny incivility; but it happened either by artifice or good fortune, that we were not pleasing to those whom we liked not, So that some stood in fear of us, others not knowing what to say to us, and some for the most part not apprehen∣ding what are said to them, we lived without a∣ny disturbance; for to tell you truly, we minded not much what they thought of our Consistory; and when we were informed of what foolish things they said of The fair Solitaries, we only made sport of it, and then took occasion thence to think our selves happy in that we were dissociated from such people.

But for Persander and Turnus we gladly enter∣tained them when they pressed the favour of seeing us more particularly then ordinary; for they were both persons of so much worth, that to do them respect was to receive it. However it was not their design at first to profess any love to Caeso∣nia; but certain it is, that Persander being still slighted by the person whom he lov'd, took this occasion to divert and imploy his thoughts, so to indeavor his recovery. Nor indeed did he dis∣semble it, saying, when we sometimes asked him, whence it came he so much honoured us with his company, that his business was to find out some pleasant friend that should make him forget a too cruel Mistress. As for Turnus, since he pursued only what most pleased him, and that Caesonia wanted not any thing he could have wished; he easily dis-engaged himself from those three Beau∣ties, whereof there was not any whose heart he might not have gained, if he could have serv'd but her alone with perseverance. It hapned also that Persander's Mistress went into the Country, and that a new difference fell out betwixt them at

parting; for she put such a fantastick trick upon him, that he was extreamly troubled at it. It came to pass afterwards, that he saw divers of her Letters, which were such as seemed not fit to be written by the Mistress of Persander, for he himself writes admirable well; he also came to the sight of several Letters of Caesonias, where∣with he was taken even to admiration. Inso¦much, that absence, vexation, and reason clear∣ing up Persander's heart of its former pre-posses∣sion, put him into a condition sensible of the Charms of Caesonia. As for Turnus he was so ac∣customed to the sense of merit and beauty; that it would have been very strange, if he should have had none reserved for one of the most ac∣complish'd persons in the World.

These two friends thought not, in the mean time, that they were become Rivals, for they professed themselves equally friends to Caesonia, who entertained them accordingly. So that not behaving themselves, as Lovers, they soon gain∣ed with us that liberty which friendship affords. They writ Letters to us, and we answered them; we had a hundred appointed walkings together; and we carried our selves towards them, rather as if they were friends of our own sex then the o∣ther: For being both of them circumspect, re∣spectful, and discreet, we stick'd not to say be∣fore them a many things which might be thought somewhat extravagant. But at length, I one day perceived it was not impossible they might have some resentments of love for Caesonia; for being one afternoon all four together in Ersilia's Cham∣ber, we fell a talking of a certain Lover of our Ci∣ty, who as it was reported, had parted very fair∣ly from his Mistress, to go and travel; and that though there happened no difference between them, he was absolutely cured of his Passion, and was returned without any Love. For my part, saies Turnus, I do not think it impossible; for I know those, who without the remedy of absence can overcome two or three Passions, much more, one. And for my part (replied Persan∣der) I do not think a man can be cur'd by absence onely; and I am absolutely perswaded, that to be eased of ones Passion, a man must necessarily en∣tertain another. There may no doubt (conti∣nued he) be a sort of people, who are not so sen∣sible as many others, and into whose souls it might infuse a certain coldness, which signifies rather in∣difference then Love; but afterwards restored to the sight of the person whom they had loved, they would re-assume their love; for I cannot con∣ceive that absence alone is able to destroy love. I hold therefore, that whoever ceases to love, up∣on no other account then absence, must be guil∣ty of infidelity, and have taken another Mistriss. But if there be a necessity a man enter into a new love, before he can be said to give over loving a former Mistress, in case of absence, replyed Turnus, the same conclusion holds against a Lo∣ver who should at once disengage himself from two or three. By no means, repli'd Persander, for it may happen that these Mistresses might do a many things conducing to his cure, which a per∣son that is absent cannot. But if on the contrary replied Turnus, these two or three Mistresses were more favourable then ordinary, what would you say? I should say, replyed Caesonia laughing, you would be thought ungrateful, if you forsook them for another. But Madam, replyed Turnus, I put not the question to you, but to Persander, who will needs maintain that a man cannot cease loving a person that is absent, without entring into a new love; and thinks it not possible a man may quit three fair Mistresses, without finding a∣nother; Nay I conceive, added he, he pretends that a woman ought to think her self more oblig'd to him, if he loved her in the absence of his Mi∣stress, then she should to me, though I should in the presence of three suffer my self to be wrought up∣on by the charms of this fourth. There is no que∣stion of it replyed Persander, and for instance, if making profession of constancy as I do, it should happen that the admirable Caesonia could make me inconstant, and fasten her love upon me, I should do a greater action for her sake, then you should do by forsaking all your Mistresses to serve her; for change being natural to you, you did no more in loving her, then comply with your own incli∣nation, But if I should persevere to love her for a long time, replied he, shall I not have done much more for her then you, who are naturally fasten∣ed to one place, and should not deserve any great reward, though you loved ever so faithfully? It must certainly be a very long time, replied Per∣sander, before you can recover your reputation. I beseech you, replyed Caesonia, make not these fruitless suppositions, and if you have any quarrel, let not me be concerned in it.

But if that which they say be real (reply'd I laughing, not thinking it had been so) you were finely catch'd. I had no sooner said so, but I saw Persander's colour change, and Turnus was not without some disturbance. I assure you re∣plyed Caesonia, I should hardly believe it, though they should endeavour to perswade me to it, You do not then believe Madam such an accident as this impossible, replyed coldly Persander; for if you remember, you said one day when Turnus and I were present, that to give you a remarkable testimony of his affection, a Lover must do some∣thing absolutely disconsonant to his natural in∣clination, and among those you expected that an unconstant man should prove constant for your sake, or that a constant Lover quit his perseve∣rance purposely to serve you. And Madam, ad∣ded Turnus, we were so far perswaded to follow your directions, that I advised Persander to quit his Mistress, to love you, and he afterwards gave me the like counsel to forsake all mine, to apply my self only to you. He was pleased it seems to requite your ill advice with as bad, replyed Cae∣sonia blushing. On the contrary, replyed Per∣sander, I gave him that counsel out of meer friend∣ship, but he was not disposed to follow it. 'Twas because at that time, I was so wedded to your judgement, that I would not do what you refused. Certainly replyed Casonia laughing, you are both very admirable persons, to tell me so truly what passed between you that day. They are much more, replyed I, laughing with her for company, if they dealt so really with you as to acquaint you with their present thoughts; for I am clearly of opi∣nion, though I should not swear it, that in Per∣sander you have made an inconstant Lover of a con∣stant, and in Turnus you have exchanged incon∣stancy into a perseverance. You speak so indis∣creetly

replyed Caesonia, that I think not fit to an∣swer you. But if it be so, replyed Persander, what do you expect Turnus and I should do? Must we hate one another, must we cease to love you, must we fear, or must we hope? And that you may complete your obligation upon us, be pleased to declare which of us two may with more confidence presume to have given you the greater testimony of his affection, he who is become constant, or he who has quitted his constancy? I beseech you, Madam, added Turnus, be pleased to give Persan∣der a punctual answer. Did he speak to me seri∣ously, replied she, I would answer him; but since he proposes nothing but trifles, having not the least relation to truth, I shall not trouble my self to give him any return. But supposing they said not any thing that were real, replied I, why make you such ado to satisfie their curiosity? And if what they say have some ground, tell them sincerely, though by way of jest, what they may think of their several fortunes. In troth Plotina, said she to me, you give me very pleasant advice: Truly, replied I, you have my very thoughts; for Per∣sander and Turnus are as yet Friends; but if they are Rivals, I wish it may be without quarrel, and that you impose on them as an expression of their love to you, to live always in Friendship. If they were my Lovers, replyed she, I should be glad they were such without hating one another; but since they are not, and that I should be sorry they should, I have nothing to say to them. For your being sorry, said I, I cannot so easily believe it: For in fine, continued I jestingly, this adventure hath in it something so particular, that you would be much troubled to repent your having been the occasion of it. Besides, that having so much ge∣nerosity as you have, you should be glad to have put so great an obligation on two the most eminent persons in the world; for all that can be objected to Persander is, that he loves a woman that deserves not his love; and all that Turnus can be charged with, is the inconstancy of his Love.

For this good Office Turnus and Persander gave me many thanks, and began again to press Caesonia to resolve them, but she would not: So that the discourse was concluded in such a manner, as sa∣tisfied Caesonia and me, that there was something of truth in what we suspected; and withal con∣vinced Turnus and Persander, thar they had both followed the advice they had given one another. However they went away together, but burthen∣ed with thoughts and melancholy, as being each of them troubled in their minds, that he had a Rival instead of a Friend. But at last Persander, as being the more discreet, desirous to sift the re∣sentments of his Friend; Tell me truly, said he to him, are you not at this present more taken with Caesonia than with all the world besides, and if it were possible you could reform your incon∣stancy, you would do it only for her sake? Be∣fore I tell you my thoughts, replied Turnus, do you acknowledge that you are this day more plea∣sed with Caesonia than ever you were with your for∣mer Mistress, and that if you could prove incon∣stant, you would do it only for the love of Caeso∣nia? For inconstancy, replied Persander, I cannot be reproached with it, though I forsook the per∣son you mean, and should in consequence love Caesonia, since it is granted there is no obligation to love where one is not loved. And whereas you are pleased to tell me that I am more taken with this excellent person than my former Mistress I am to tell you, that how far soever you may have thought me prepossessed, I have always known, that the one had imperfections, the other none. But that which hath caused this change in my re∣solutions is, that the person in whom I then had only a glimpse of certain imperfections, and in whom I imagined there were some excellent good qualities, seems now to me some other creature; for I find not any thing in her I am pleased with, her Company is troublesome, all that I saw in her formerly is vanished, and I am so much ashamed, nay indeed so much amazed, that I have thought her so excellent and loved her so much, that my thoughts of it far exceed my expressions.

Ah Persander, cryed out Turnus, you are in love with Caesonia: And you, replied the other, who thought it your felicity to divide your self among all the Beauties, never think your self well now, but when neer Caesonia. I acknowledge it, replied Turnus, for whereever I am, I ever wish my self with her; and there is certainly something of en∣chantment, whereby I am so carried away, that her House is in my way, in what quarter soever of Ardea my business lies. It seems then, replied Persander smiling, if we are not yet Rivals, we soon shall be: I am of your mind, replied Turnus, and I am troubled at it beyond expression: For certainly (added he) I must needs be very unhap∣py, that the most perseverant of all men, hath re∣solved to cease to be such, purposely to become my Rival. It is rather I who have cause to com∣plain (replied Persander) in that the most incon∣stant Lover in the World, will needs be other than he was, merely to cross my designs. Ah! Persander (replied Turnus) I am the more unhappy of the two, for certainly Caesonia had a greater in∣clination for you than for me. I know not on what you ground that conjecture, (replied Per∣sander) but it should rather be inferr'd, that a man who could not gain the love of the least amiable person in the World, should not be over confident of gaining that of the most accomplished, and therefore his Rivalship is not to be looked on as very formidable. But Turnus, if I am slighted as inconsiderable, you are (on the contrary) much to be feared; for can a man possibly have a more dangerous Rival, than one who, though guilty of no love, or at best but little, could yet in a man∣ner command all the greatest beauties of Ardea. Howere that may be (replied Turnus) I am confi∣dent Caesonia hath naturally a stronger inclination, and a greater esteem for you than me. I know you are a greater Gallant, more vigilant, and more ingenious than I am, and consequently have rea∣son to fear you may be more fortunate than I. Since you are infinitely more amiable than I can ever possibly be (replied Persander) and that I have a very great opinion of Caesonia's judgment, I am easily perswaded not to expect any love to your prejudice. But to do something more than ordi∣nary in the World, (added he) let us endeavour from this day forward, so to manage our Love, that it destroy not our Friendship; for as yet there is not ought done wherewith we may reproach one the other. You advised me to love Caesonia, and I gave you the same advice, so that we cannot

be charged with any defect of Friendship in the original of our Love: And therefore since I might be thought unreasonable, to press you to quit your pretensions for my sake; it were also unjust in you, to oblige me to stifle my Passion for yours. Not but that if I thought I could do it I would, both out of considerations of Friendship and Rea∣son, though you pressed me not to it; but since it is impossible, and that I cannot conceive you can be so suddenly weary of a thing you are so much taken with, we must regulate those apprehensions we have one of another; while we love the accom∣plished Caesonia.

To observe the Rules of Generosity (replied Turnus) we must promise not to attempt any thing one against another, and have the same love one for another, as if we were not Rivals; but since that cannot be, the contrary course must be taken: And therefore (for my part) you have from me all liberty to say and do any thing, which you think may gain the love of Caesonia, conditionally you give me the same. I am very well content (replied Persander) but this shall not hinder what means I shall use otherways, as being still your friend. And I shall do the like if I can (replied Turnus) but I should be glad one of the Articles of our Treaty were, that in case Caesonia make choice of either of us, and thereby cut off all the pretensions of her other Lovers, the other shall have nothing to object against him, but shall con∣tinue in friendship with him. Be it so (replied Persander) though I can never hope to make any great advantage of this proviso.

In this manner, Madam, did these two Rivals acknowledge to one another the love they had for Caesonia, so that from that day they omitted no∣thing, whereby they thought to gain the favour of this excellent person. But this happening neer the time that they celebrate the Feast of the Gol∣den Shower, to honour the memory of Danae, and that it is then the custom, as I have already told you, that all Lovers bestow on their Mistresses something wherein there must be Gold, Turnus proved the subject of our abuses for a whole Af∣ternoon together at Caesonias house: For all people believing he was in love with three or four of the City at a time; one woman who knew nothing of the change of his humour, said, that day would undo him, he was obliged to make so many mag∣nificent Pre∣sents, if so be he presented all his Mi∣stresses. If you are one of them (replied he) you shall see what will be done: For my part (says Caesonia) I think this custom so ill grounded, that I am almost minded to pretend my self sick on the Feast day, for though there cannot be made so ill a construction of receiving Gold at this as at other times, yet it is against my humour to accept such magnificent Presents. As for those inconsiderable things, whereby they are neither inriched who receive them, nor they impoverished who bestow them: I should permit they passed between friends, especially when they are equally able to return them; but I am a professed Enemy to those women are taken with magnificent Presents. It seems then you are of the opinion (says a person of qua∣lity whose name was Pallas) of those who believe that since Jupiter invented the Golden Shower, there hath remained in that Mettal, a certain Ma∣gical Force, that sostens the rigours of all those Beauties which receive of it, and that the best receipt, and the most advantageous for a slight∣ed Lover, is to oblige his Mistress to take a good quantity of Gold. Since there are no universal Medicines (replied Caesonia) I do not think that, as Soveraign as you take it, absolutely effectual, un∣less it be on some interessed women, with whom merit signifies nothing, Gold all things. For my part, replied I, 'tis a thing I cannot easily appre∣hend, how any women can be so base as to sell their affection, and am as far to seek how there can be men that will buy them: For if I were a Gallant I should imagine something so dishonoura∣ble in this kind of Commerce, that I should never prove a Merchant in it. I should no sooner disco∣ver in the heart of a woman any thing reflecting on her own interest, but I should contemn, avoid, and hate her; and in my opinion an interessed woman is so far abominable, that I take her not to be good for any thing; for I should neither admit her in the quality of a Mistress, nor of a Wife, nor a Friend, nor a Kinswoman, nor yet a Neigh∣bour, so much do I abhor this kind of unworthi∣ness. It seems then (said Pallas) you have no great devotion for the Feast of the Golden Shower? I observe it out of curiosity (replied I) but if it happen any thing is presented to me, I leave it in the Temple, that people may see I go not thither to come thence ever the richer: And for my part, replied Caesonia, I think fitter not to go thither at all.

Persander and Turnus who were present at this discourse, did what they could to oblige her to change her opinion, but she could not be prevailed with to make an obsolute promise to go to the Temple: For in fine, said she to them, I have li∣ved hitherto, and never received Present wherein there was any Gold; and I will not begin now. Not but that I am of opinion (added she) this su∣perstition of Ardea hath some rational ground; but I have such an aversion from that Metal, which makes so many of my Sex commit such hor∣rid enormities, that I will not receive any of it. For my part (added she) I make no comparison between a woman moved by the sense of merit, and haply subject withal to some weakness, and one whose Soul is only open to avarice, and who be∣stows her heart on him that bids most for it. I agree to what you say (replied Persander) but after all, Madam, (added he) Liberality is a Vertue, and more to be practised by a Lover than any o∣ther. Ah Persander (cryed I) is it so easie to re∣concile these two things? for I take it as granted that the most disinteressed woman in the World, is she who expects the greatest liberality from her Lover; but with this provision, that he suspect her not of an imperfection she is not guilty of, and endeavour to express his Liberality, which vertue hath such an easie way to discover it self, that e∣ven those who have nothing to give, find means to shew they are not covetous: For a Lady shews sometimes that she is of a liberal nature, as well in not seeking and avoiding the occasions of re∣ceiving Presents, as in making such her self. To deal truly with you, replied I, all women are not of that disposition; for I know one who hath such an excellent gist of receiving, that it may be said she never hath any thing, and is desirous of all that others have without any exception: For she takes occasion to commend whatever she sees, if

there be the least hopes it may be offered her: She asks those who are not of Ardea, what is most rare in their Country, that she may afterwards beg it, she permits such things to be sent into her house, as she intends not to pay for; and if she betray her self in some little liberality in her life, it is on some occasions, wherein she is infallibly assured for the little she bestows, to receive much: And for my part, I am so far perswaded she can refuse nothing that's proffered her, that if she had a Lover were so fastantick, as instead of Perfumes, Flowers, Fruits, and such accommodations, which may be received without any imputation of Ava∣rice, to send her Arms; I believe she would take them rather than it should be said she refused any thing.

This Jest having put the Company into a laugh∣ter, they fell afresh to persecute Turnus with the number of his Mistresses, and the Feast of the Golden Shower: But he answered so ambiguously, as might convince them they were deceived who thought he had so many Presents to make. To be short, Turnus and Persander not speaking any thing to one another, were both resolved to sur∣prise Caesonia by most magnificent Presents, if she came to the Feast: But they were spared the trou∣ble, for pretending some indisposition she would not go. For my part, I, according to my wont∣ed curiosity, went, and failed not to find there Persander and Turnus: But that you may know what is done in that place, I am to acquaint you in few words with part of the Ceremonies of this ce∣lebrious Feast.

You are then to know, that for the performance of these Ceremonies, there is a Temple design'd, wherein is to be seen represented the History of Danae, and where the greatest part of those of quality of either Sex are present: I shall not trou∣ble you with the Sacrifice which is there offered, for it signifies nothing to my purpose; but I shall tell you, that the Ladies that come thither are dressed to the greatest curiosity and expence, that they are all on one side of the Temple and the men on the other; and to shew that Liberality ought to be the inseparable attendant of Love, there is a Cupid represented on the Altar, who hath in one hand his Bow and Torch, and in the other a horn of Abundance inverted, out of which may be seen falling down, Gold, Pearls, and precious Stones. In the mean time the Ladies who are on one side of the Temple, have each of them in their hands, Myrtle-Crowns, and are, for a certain time, obliged to stand: For the men who would shew their Gallantry, they are on the other side, holding every one what they have to bestow on their Mistresses, in case they come to the Ceremony. Having proceeded thus far, he who offered the Sacrifice makes a large diseourse in the commendation of Liberality: Which done, all the Ladies one after another pass before the Image of Love, which they call Love Liberal, and having made a low reverence, they walk gently before those men who have the gallant and preci∣ous things, which they intend to bestow on their Mistresses; and when any Lady comes over against him who would make a Present to her, he very submissively stays her, and with one knee on the ground, offers her what it was his design to bestow on her. This civility obliges to accept, but if he who makes the Present be such a Lover as she would wish were not such, she only receives his Present, and makes him a low reverence. On the contrary, if he be one whose Service she is pleased with, she puts the little Myrtle Crown she had upon his head; and for the Present she hath accepted; it is at her discretion either to carry it away with her, or bestow it on the Temple: If she chuse the latter, she lays what she had receiv∣ed on a spacious Altar near the door. But that whatever proceeds from Love may return to Love, all that is laid on the Altar is employed to pro∣mote the fortunes of such as love one another; and have not wealth enough to live happily to∣gether without some assistance.

In the mean time, it is an affliction to some Beauties to go to this Feast, and receive nothing, whereas on the contrary there are others, on whom too much is bestowed, for among us, it is in a manner as disgraceful to have too many Lo∣vers, as to have none; it being believed that five or six pretending to a woman, cannot subsist with∣out hope, which it were a shameful thing for any Woman to keep so many in.

But to return to my story, you are to know, that on this Feast-day Turnus came thither, with gold Chains in his hand, whereof the workman∣ship was indeed admirable, and his design was to present them to Caesonia, and to do it so as if he should entreat her to chain him up. For Persander, he held a kind of Crown of Gold, beset with preci∣ous stones, which he intended also to present her with, as it were in acknowledgment of the Su∣preme Power she had over his heart. But they were both much surprised not to find Caesonia there, and indeed the whole Assembly was much amazed to see they bestowed not what they had on any; so that there being no young Lady of quality of all Ardea who was not there, Caesonia excepted, it was easie to judge they designed their Presents to her.

But what was most remarkable was, to see that day Turnus's three, and Persander's former Mi∣stress; for the former were all in expectation of those Chains of Gold, and the latter was more than confident of the Crown. But, in regard they would not carry away their presents, these two Lovers went and laid them at the feet of that God of love I mentioned before: I had forgot to tell you, that when I passed by Turnus, he staid me and would have obliged me to take his chains, and deliver them to Caesonia; telling me very freely, that that fair Lady and I were but one and the same thing, and that consequently he might well trust me with what he had to present to her. Ah Tur∣nus, said I to him, you are in a great error; for since it cannot be understood by all what you say to me, it would be thought (if I received what you offer me) that I were one of your Mistresses. Ha∣ving so said I passed by him, not giving him time to make any answer: But Persander having observed that he had spoke to me, he would also needs stay me, to ask whence it came that Caesonia was not there? To which I answered, that the reason of her not being there was, that she would not re∣ceive any thing wherein there were gold, where∣upon I left him.

From the Temple I went to Caesonia's, to acquaint her with what had passed, and particularly that

Persander and Turnus had made such discoveries of their inclinations to her, as she should acknowledge infallible. For, added I laughing, Persander, the faithful Persander, had that power over himself, as to see his ancient Mistress pass by, not only without offering her the Crown he had in his hands; but without so much as taking any notice of her; and Turnus, the inconstant Turnus, was pleased to see passing by all his Mistresses one after another, without so much as answering their looks: So that all that now remains to be done, is to con∣sider whether you are more obliged to him who is become inconstant for your sake, or to him who ceases to be so, that he might constantly love you.

Caesonia desirous not to take what I said in good earnest, answered me smiling, that haply these two Lovers had done this rather out of Revenge than Love, whereupon she asked me divers other things. Nevertheless I perceived she was not displeased at what I told her, nay indeed it pleased her so well, that she kept me with her all that day: That which was yet more particular in this adventure was, that all those who came to see her, congratulated her for her new conquests, for seeing that Persander and Turnus bestowed not their presents, and that she was the only young Lady of Quality, as I told you before, wanting in the Assembly, it was generally conceived it was to her they intended to present things of that magnificence; and it may be thence presumed this rising love had not by its lustre raised so much noise if she had been in the Temple as it had by her absence. Besides, it was looked on as a thing so pleasant, that she should gain the hearts of a constant and an inconstant Lover, that the talk of it multiplied extremely.

In the mean time, Persander, whom I had told that Caesonia could never be prevailed with to ac∣cept any thing wherein there were Gold, though divers of her Lovers had endeavoured to surprise her, was so far obliged to his imagination, that it prompted him to do a thing which all the rest had attempted in vain, and withal, such as gave him a happy advantage over Turnus. Musing there∣fore how he might surprize Caesonia, he at last thought (it being then the proper season for Flowers) he had found it out; and employing therein a certain woman in whom he might con∣fide, who was infinitely subtle, he debated the business with her, and used her assistance in the ex∣ecution of it. She took a small, but strong Gold Wire, which she neatly drew through one of those great Bulrushes which grow near Lakes, so as it might not be perceived: Which done, fold∣ing the Wyre and the Rush both together, she bent it into a Circle, on which having fastned a∣bundance of excellent Flowers, she made a kind of Crown which seemed very pretty and delightful. But that Caesonia might not suspect there was any Gold, there were certain distances wherein the Rush was visible all about, so that it was almost impossible to discover this innocent Cheat. The Crown being thus finished, Persander bestowed it into a very handsom Basket and sent it into Caeso∣nia, together with a Letter which she received when there was none present but my self. At the first, as it is natural to people to be afraid of being over-reached, she well viewed this Crown of Flow∣ers, but not perceiving any thing that had any resemblance to Gold, she accepted it, and reading the Letter aloud, she found it as full of Gallantry as the Present: But that you may the better judge of it, it was very much, if not altogether to this effect.

Persander to the Admirable Caesonia.

EXpect not from me, Madam, in these days, when the same things proceed from Ambition as from Love, any thing that is rare or precious: That which I take the presumption to send you is so trivial and ordinary, that it dares hardly own the name of a Present: Yet, Madam, be pleased to remember it may be al∣lowed that of an Offering, and that a Goddess might condescend to accept it from a heart so disposed as mine is. For in fine, Madam, to think all the Crowns in the World so far be∣low you as this is, to envy even those Flowers because designed to your service, and to esteem them too too happy though they die to morrow, if they do but please to day: These (Madam) ought to be the sincere apprehensions which men should have when they do you homage. How glad should I be, Madam, if you should not receive it simply out of Civility, as I do it not simply out of Custom; and if but one favoura∣ble glance, or a single agitation of your heart distinguish it from so many others more sumptu∣ous and more magnificent. This favour once obtained, what tradition soever we have re∣ceived from our Fathers, I should study no o∣ther way to deceive you, as Jupiter did Danae; and you would be freed from the perpetual trou∣ble of avoiding it. Grant it me then, Ma∣dam, for your own quiets sake: But assure your self withal, I beseech you, that it is beyond all comparison more necessary for mine.

Caesonia and I having both read this Letter and commended it, she asked me whether it were fit I answered it; for in fine (said she to me smiling, and looking on that flowery Crown) I think there is no Snake hid under these Flowers; or to speak without Figure, Persander hath put no trick upon me. As for Gold, said I to her, it is not likely there should be any amongst these Flow∣ers, but for Love, I am confident Persander's heart is well furnished. If Persander be in Love with me, replied she, I am not obliged to answer him: Ah Caesonia, said I to her, while a Lover dis∣covers himself no otherwise than as a Friend, one is not obliged to guess at what he hath in his heart, if one would not have it so; therefore if you take my advice, you will not guess at what Persander

thinks, but write to him: Whereto Caesonia con∣descending, answered him in these words.

Caesonia to Persander.

THe Crown which you have sent me, I am infinitely more taken with then if it were of Gold and Diamonds; and indeed, it comes in a most fortunate conjuncture of time, for I receive it with joy, whereas certainly I should have refused a more precious if you had proferred it me. But believe not however, that I cannot distinguish your favours from your Flowers, for if these please my sight, those put me into disorder. Nevertheless, I shall not put the trouble it is to me that I deserve them not upon your account, since it were not so just I should quarrel with your flatteries, as my own Imperfections.

When this Letter was finished and that I told Caesonia it was well, she called for the Slave who had brought the Crown of Flowers, and gave it him; which done I told her, it was but just she should for the rest of that day wear the Present, had been made her. But Plotina, said she to me must I crown my self with Flowers, as if I were to be a Victim? No said I to her, but to disguise the business somewhat of a Crown I will make a Gar∣land. Whereupon I went to break asunder that Circle of Bul-rush on which the Flowers were fast∣ned; But I found it a harder matter to do then I thought. But at last, the place where the gold∣wyre met giving way, and the Rush broken in di∣vers places through the force I used, the gold∣wyre appeared, so that breaking forth into a loud laughter, that my Friend had been over-reached, ah Caesonia, said I to her you were mistaken when you said there was no Snake under these Flowers, for I have found one, which is very pleasant, and yet withal very terrible,

While I said this, Turnus enters the Room, so that Caesonia made a sign to me that I should hide the Crown of Flowers, and say nothing of it. But there being abundance of obligation in these kinds of surprizes, and being my self merrily disposed at that time, I obeyed her not. On the contrary, assoon as I perceived Turnus, I began to abuse him, and told him he had a Friend who far out-vyed him, as to wit: For, added I, Caesonia who would not go to the Temple on Danaes Feast-day, to avoid the receiving of Presents, and fears the show∣er of Gold, more then the thunder of Jupiter, hath been deceived by Persander after the gallan∣test manner in the world. Whereupon I shewed both Caesonia and Turnus that ring of gold-wire which was drawn through the Rush whereon the Flowers were fastned, and presently after I per∣ceived they both blushed. There being only we three in the room, and that I was very familiar with Caesonia and Turnus, I asked them why they blushed. For my part, says Caesonia, it may be easily conceived I take it not well that I am surpri∣zed: And for my part added Turnus, it may be as easily guessed I am not pleased to see my Rival more witty and more fortunate then I. A Rival replyed roundly Caesonia! Right Madam, a Ri∣val, replyed he, for though I think Persander hath not openly professed love to you, I have cho∣sen rather to tell you he is my Rival, that you may thence conclude I am his, then live any longer, and you not understand that I love you. And to the end I may nor retract what I say, added he, I tell it you before Plotina, whom I stand much in fear of.

Turnus speaking this smiling, Caesonia seemed to take it as not spoken seriously, and accordingly at the beginning put off the business very handsom∣ly. But Turnus having a confidence more then ordinary, would not be satisfied: No, no, Ma∣dam, said he to her, since I doubt not but you are acquainted with my love, bestow not your wit to no purpose. Though it were so, replyed she laughing, it were no greater matter, for you have loved divers others. I confess it, said he, but I declare to you, I now love none but Caesonia. How said I to him, have you forsaken your three last Mistresses? I have replyed he hastily; nay I have renounced all Female acquaintance, and if there be any love left in me for you, it is because Caesonia loves you, so infallible is it that Caesonia hath the ab∣solute disposal of my heart. Your heart, repli∣ed Caesonia, is so accustomed to change of affection, that if you love me to day, it is to be expected you should give over to morrow. Ah, Madam, replied he, think me not the same inconstant man of whom you have heard related such stories, as haply you have thought somewhat fantastick; for I am so altered from what I have been, that I hardly know my self.

While Turnus spoke thus, I was dressing up the Garland of Flowers, for to put on Caesonias head, but she would not have it, whereat Turnus was very glad: But his joy lasted not long; for Caeso∣nia desirous he should not take any advantage of it, she said some things to him, whence he might in∣fer, that it was not impossible for her to have some inclinations for Persander, though she looked on this surprizal rather as an argument of his Inventi∣on, then any Design he therein had to express his Affection. In fine, said she to Turnus, I look on what Persander hath done, with the same conside∣ration as I hear what you say. Ah Madam, repli∣ed Turnus, though there be an equality in the re∣sentments of Persander and mine, yet I beseech you, do not you treat us equally. I shall treat you both as you deserve, replied she, and, to begin with you, Let us hear no more of your pretended Love, for I should be sorry to be one day numbred among your cast Mistresses. Ah I beseech you Madam, replied he, be pleased to be my new In∣clinations, and I promise you never to have any o∣ther. If you were Persander, replied I, you could say no more. Persander is now proved faithless, replied he, and I am become constant. But if Per∣sander have proved faithless, answered Caesonia, you say it is for my sake: and therefore it will be no advantage to you to reproach him with that in my presence. But Madam, replied he, if it be any advantage to Persander to have proved incon∣stant for your sake, shall I merit nothing to have proved constant upon the same account? That

you stand so much upon your Reformation, as to Constancy, replied she, granting it true, it sig∣nifies no more then that we expect your love for five or six hours longer. Ah Madam, replied he, I shall love you to the last gasp. I should be sorry you were so neer your end, replied she, were it only to satisfie a curiosity I have, to see into whose hands you will commend your heart, when it is out of mine, if so it be true it is there, which to tell you truly, I have no great confidence of. Ah Madam, cryes out Turnus, you are very unjust so cruelly to persecute a man who offers you the greatest Sacrifice that any Lover could. And I am clearly of opinion, replied I laughing, that if you had kept a fair reckoning of all your Mistres∣ses, you might have summed up as many as there need Victims to make up a Hecatomb.

As we were thus engaged, comes in Persander, who thought Caesonia had not yet found out the cheat hē had put upon her. But seeing as he came in the Crown taken asunder, he inferred the plot was discovered. 'Tis true, he was further con∣firmed in it, by what Caesonia said to him: for she no sooner had cast her eye on him, but speak∣ing to him. You are very confident, said she to him blushing, to give me a visit after you have thus abused be. Ah Madam I am indeed very un∣fortunate in it, since you are displeased with it; nor can I believe that secret force, which they say Jupiter infused into Gold, when he found out the precious shower whereby he himself was felicifi∣ed, to be very effectual, since I find you incensed against me for so small a matter. If I had surpri∣zed her as you have, replied Turnus, I should not think it strange she took it ill; It is true added I, no body loves to be abused, but when all's done, I am glad Caesonia hath been, to teach her that she should not boast it could not be done, as she did yesterday. And further, not to dissemble, said Caesonia, I give so little credit to this imagi∣nary power of Gold, that I do not fear I shall over∣love Persander for the Present he hath made me. Ah Madam, replied Turnus, if he had only bestow∣ed on you this little circle of Gold, I should not much fear him, but I am afraid in this competiti∣on of our hearts, you may prefer his before mine. I perceive then, replied Persander, you have spoke many things to Caesonia, too many, by the one half I assure you (replied she) and I am so little satisfied of the truth of any thing he saies, that of all he hath so confidently advanced, I believe no∣thing. How, Madam (replied Turnus somewhat hastily) are you not satisfied that Persander and I love you so much, that we begin already to love one another the less? Ah Turnus (replied Persan∣der) I must confess your Generosity is greater then mine; for I should not have been so free as with my own, to discover the love of my Rival. I am fully satisfied (saies Caesonia) you are both in some want of your sences.

And truly (replied I) this adventure seems to me so pleasant, that I condemn you to her good sport for the rest of this day. I must indeed needs do so (replied Caesonia) or be offended in good earnest with two men, for whom of all the World I have the greatest esteem. Alass Madam, I be∣seech you be not offended, and not to examine things too strictly; be pleased since Turnus hath spoke so much to you, to allow me the same liber∣ty. That you may not deceive your self (repli∣ed Turnus) I have only mentioned your affection to make way for my own. However it be (saies Caesonia) I shall believe nothing but what I think sit, and shall not think but what I ought; for it were little less then madness for me to imagine, that I should in one day make two Lovers quit, the one his fidelity, the other his inconstancy. But though it were not true (replied I) it may be sup∣posed, were it only to raise some pleasant dis∣course. Conditionally it last no longer then this evening (replied Caesonia) and that my two pre∣tended Lovers, will to morrow content themselves to be only my friends, it shall be so. We shall be to morrow what we can be (replied Persander) but in the mean time, give me the liberty to tell you, what I thought not to have told you this day. Say what you please (replied she) so I be not obliged to believe you. For my part (replied Turnus laughing) I defie your incredulity, as to what I shall say. Be it as it will (replied I) only say what you have a mind, and leave the sequel to the Conduct of Fortune. I say then (replied Tur∣nus) that if the fair Caesonia be not the most unjust woman in the World, she will acknowledge her beauty never ceased any affection could more ex∣press its power, then by subduing the heart of an unconstant man. And I say (on the contrary, re∣plied Persander) that there is no beauty so mean, which might not pretend to the Conquest of an in∣constant man, and that the greatest acknowledge∣ment which Caesonia ever received for the force of her Charms, is to have forced me to a change of apprehensions. But (replied Turnus) you con∣sider not what you say: The truth is, Madam (continued he, directing his speech to Caesonia) there is no comparison betwixt these two. For before I began to love you, I led a most happy life; all places were equally delightful to me; I either loved, or thought I loved a many excellent Beauties; I was happy in their esteem and I might haply, have without vanity pretended to their affections, could I but have resolved to fix mine on any one of them. The injoyments of my life knew not the least disturbance; I had no acquain∣tance with jealousie, or my thoughts with disor∣der; I only desired those things which were easily obtained; and in a word, such a serenity was there in the Conduct of my life, that I could not be in any impatience to change my condition. But notwithstanding all this indulgence of Fortune and that natural inconstancy, I have quitted all these undisturbed pleasures, and forsaken three or four Mistresses by whom I was esteemed, to confine my love to one, by whom I shall haply be slighted. But for Persander (added he) I do not much wonder at his change of life; for being first blinded by love, he must needs be perpetu∣ally unfortunate. So that to speak rationally, his change is so much advantagious to himself, that I suppose you are not much obliged to him for it.

To answer what you object against me (repli∣ed Persander) I must also speak something against you which is not very hard to find. For as I have already said, Madam (added he, speaking to Caesonia) change of affection is so natural to an in∣constant man that it is much more to be wondred that Turnus should have known you so long be∣fore

he loved you, then that he loves you now. And for those undisturbed pleasures he speaks so much of, since it is certain there never proceed any such from love, and that what he felt may be called only a passionate enjoyment of himself, if I may so express it, he should be ashamed to quote them. It is not therefore very strange, Madam, that a person accustomed to court divers Beauties at the same time, should at length take you in his turn, since you are alone furnished with greater Charms, then all he hath ever loved. But for my part, Madam, I do a thing much more extra∣ordinary. I confess (added he) my love was blinded, and that I have loved that which was not amiable, and what I ought not to have loved, but as I doubt not but you have heard, errours of this nature are more excusable then any other; for the judgement upon the first admission of love, losing its liberty, it were unjust, to expect a Lover should judge as truly of his Mistress as others do. However, I was never so far blinded, but that I was convinced you were a thousand degrees above what I loved, even when I loved you not. But in fine, I confess my love was greater than it ought to have been, nay, I know I was not loved, and yet I suffered all the afflictions of love: Notwith∣standing all which, I maintain that a Lover who is unfortunate, yet constant, is the hardest to be lured into a new love of any man in the World: For certainly, it is no easie matter for him to cross his own experience, and to jump out of one love into another, when he found no satisfaction in the former. I conclude therefore that loving you, I do something far more extraordinary than what Tnrnus hath done.

The truth is (replied Casonia) I do not conceive either of you hath done any great matter; for Turnus loves me, because he hath haply made a vow to love all; and you love me because you are of a passionate and tender nature, and that not be∣ing able to fasten love where you desired, you will try your fortune elsewhere, and address your self to some person from whose favour you may de∣rive this advantage to make the World believe, that if you had not been loved, it was rather through want of knowledge in her whom you lo∣ved, than merit in your self. I therefore think you both very happy, that I take not what you say spoken seriously: For if it were, you would haply both repent it, and if I were in an humour to satis∣fie you, I should be much troubled to chuse either, and be obliged to entertain his affection. How, Madam, (replied Persander) can you any longer doubt what you have to do? How, Madam, (added Turnus) are you not yet fully satisfied in the business? For my part (replied I) methinks I should not be so much troubled: And what, I pray, would you do (replied Caesonia) I would, replied I, have them both serve me for a long time, not engaging me to any thing so to be assu∣red, that the inconstant Lover were really become constant, and that the constant had absolutely for∣gotten his former error: But during this space, I would observe them very narrowly, and if I found them both equally constant, I would chuse him for whom I had a greater inclination. I should not haply do what you would (replied Caesonia) for were I to make the choice, I should chuse the more amorous of the two. Ah Madam, (cries out Persander) how happy shall I be if you take that course! Ah (excellent Caesonia) how much shall I be satisfied, replied Turnus, if you make that word good! It suits very well indeed, added he, with a man who never loved but once in all his life; to be confident he knows better how to love than a∣ny other. 'Tis too true, replied Persander cold∣ly, it is only a constant Lover who knows how to love well, but an inconstant man is not fit so much as to speak of Constancy. Time shall convince you what I am fit to do, answered Turnus, and Time and Love, replied Persander, shall convince the fair Caesonia, that a man who hath loved con∣stantly what was not worthy to be loved, can e∣ternally adore her with as much Respect as Passion. Whatever comes of it (replied Caesonia rising up) let it suffice that you have spoken contrary to your thoughts, let us continue what we now are I be∣seech you, and be my constant friends if you ex∣pect any friendship from me. It is a great pity (repli∣ed I, looking on Turnus and Persander) you did not fall in love with me rather than Caesonia, for I think this Adventure so particular, that I should have been infinitely pleased to continue the humour. I assure you amiable Plotina, replied Persander, that for what concerns me it shall last as long as I live, though the fair Caesonia contribute nothing thereto.

Turnus could not hear this without saying some∣thing to it, whereupon Caesonia for bad them all fur∣ther discourse, and dismissed them; telling them very seriously, that the next day they should not be permitted to entertain her with such extrava∣gancies. Accordingly, for some time after, nei∣ther Persander nor Turnus made any progress in their Loves, and he from whom Caesonia had received Gold, was no more esteemed than the other.

In the mean time, these two Friends omitted nothing of what they thought might please Cae∣sonia, and assure her of their affection; for Turnus could enjoy himself no where but when he was near her, all his old Mistresses were indifferent to him, all the love he had reserved he bestowed a∣mong those friends of hers whom he loved. Per∣sander also for his part, made it his only business to visit Caesonia, he would see no more her whom he had loved, and he did all he could to insinuate himself into this charming beauty, but to his un∣happiness and haply Caesonias also, Fortune was pleased to favour Turnus with divers occasions to serve his Mistress. For this latter being of a na∣ture very eager and inventive, though otherwise a lover of his ease, he acquitted himself of these services with so much obligation, that it begat in Caesonia a belief that he loved her beyond Persander, for whom she certainly had a greater inclination. Not but that Persander did a many things both to divert and entertain her; and consequently gave her ground to think, that he would have rendred her the same good Offices as Turnus if he had had the opportunities, but it was not the pleasure of fortune so to favour him with them: And Turnus had this advantage over him, that he had obliged Caesonia in divers things of concernment, and in such manner as might induce her to believe that he had a greater affection for her than any man had had. Besides all which, Ersilia having been con∣cerned in some of those good Offices he had done

her daughter, and that a certain Sympathy of humour led her to favour this man, he had Caesonia's Mother of his side. Not but that she had an infi∣nite esteem for Persander, but imagining to her self a more absolute power over Turnus than him, she was the more inclined to bestow her daughter on him, and to speak truly, she would rather have had a Son such a one as Persander, rather than as Turnus, but she wished such a Son-in-Law as Turnus, rather than Persander. As for Caesonia, she was more inclined to the latter, but believing her self better beloved by the other, her reason or rather her error forced her to do some violence to her inclination, out of that opinion that it is a great∣er pleasure to be loved than to love. For my part, being both my Friends, I was much troubled be∣tween them: But my friendship with Caesonia being more ancient than with them, I considered only her interest, so that after a strict examination of the business, I took part with Persander, whom I was so much for, that I told Turnus that if Caesonia asked my advice, I should tell her it were better for her to marry Persander than him. And ac∣cordingly some few days after, being pressed by Ersilia to take some final resolution, she asked me my opinion. I was not ignorant that though she entertained these two Lovers with an equal Civi∣lity, she had a greater affection for Persander, and therefore advised her to prefer him before his Ri∣val. Ah Plotina (said she to me) Turnus certainly loves me better than Persander, though haply I love Persander better than Turnus. But, said I to her, how are you so particularly confident that Turnus loves you better than Persander? For it happens many times, that one is so far from know∣ing precisely their own apprehensions, that I know not how you can have the confidence to judge of those of others. That you should put the value on the services Turnus hath done, as to prejudice Persander, is that I cannot by any means endure, since that if Fortune had favoured him with the same opportunities, he had done the like. I doubt it not (replied Caesonia) but when all is done, the services of Turnus are very consi∣derable. They are so, said I, but since the bu∣siness is to know whether hath the greater love for you, and that you acknowledge Persander would have done the same things that Turnus hath, methinks you should not prefer Turnus before Persander, especially considering your inclination leads you to favour the latter rather than the for∣mer. But you consider not (replied she) that I am not of your belief, that a woman, to be happy must love, and that I believe quite contrary, that her satisfaction consists in being loved. But whence is it that you imagine (said I to her) that Persander loves you less than Turnus? In the first place (said she) I apprehend, that Turnus proving constant for my sake, hath made a greater disco∣very of love than Persander: I find also a greater eagerness in the one than in the other; Turnus hath always a hundred things to entertain me withal, but when Persander hath any opportunity to speak to me, he hath much ado to find any thing to say, though certainly he have a great Wit. Ah Caesonia (said I to her) how sorry am I to hear you speak as you do, and to see that you know not, that that which you look on as an im∣perfection in love, is an infallible effect of an ex∣traordinary passion: For whence proceeds that disturbance of mind in Persander when he speaks to you, but that ore-whelm'd with Passion, he is troubled and is not able to speak? And whence comes it that Turnus entertains you with a hun∣dred extravagancies wherewith you are diverted, but that he is not of such a tenderness of nature, as that Love should put his Reason into any disor∣der? But will you not at least acknowledge (said I to her) that the Letters of Persander are fuller of Passion than those of Turnus? For though you look on their Letters only as Letters of Friendship, yet may they well pass for those of Love. For Letters (replied she) they are things of so ambi∣guous a nature, that nothing can be safely ground∣ed on them: For I know a man, who during the space of a long absence, writ a many Letters to a Kins-woman of mine, which spoke all the tender∣ness imaginable, nor indeed could there be any thing more seemingly obliging, or more insinua∣ting. Being after all this returned, he carried himself towards her, as if he had never writ any thing to her that signified so much as ordinary Courtship. What you say (replied I) is so fan∣tastick, that I think you have invented it to con∣firm your own apprehension: For how can a ver∣tuous man bely himself, since that when he does it the disproportion of his reflections injures only himself, and takes nothing away from the merit of those people on whom he so reflects? But in fine, not to spend words vainly on a thing which cannot fall out often, do you acknowledge that Persander writes as passionately as Turnus, and give me leave immediately to convince you of this Truth, by comparing those Letters you have of theirs. Since I have by chance two in my Pocket at this very present, (replied she) it will not be hard for me to satisfie you: Whereupon I taking her at her word, she gave me a Letter she had re∣ceived from Turnus some two days before, where∣in I found these words.

Turnus to the Fair Cae∣sonia.

IF you thought not on me the last night, Ma∣dam, I am unhappy; for I never had so many thoughts of you, nor indeed did I ever think on you with so much tenderness as then. To acquaint you with them were hard for me to do; but in a word, they always amounted to this, that you were the most adorable Person in the World, and that I should be the happiest of men, if you were so favourable as to give me leave to disburthen my heart to you. Will you ever, Madam, oppose the felicity of a man who adores you, and will not pay his adoration to any thing else? Resolve me, Madam (I be∣seech you) for after the loss of Hope, I should take the loss of Life but as a Courtesie.

Now (says Caesonia to me) do you think this Let∣ter so indifferent? When I have seen that of Per∣sander (replied I) I shall give you my opinion of Turnus's; whereupon opening it I therein read these words.

Persander to the Attractive Caesonia.

TO have infinite Love for you Madam, not to see you, to want the opportunities of both hearing from you and sending to you, make up altogether too great a punishment, and it is impossible I should be able long to endure it. Your own cruel Prohibitions hindered me from Writing to you Yesterday; my cross Fortune, and I know not what ridiculous Prudence kept me from coming where you were, but you were perpetually present to my thoughts, and to speak truly, I was not in any of those places where I was. I contribute so much to my own unhap∣piness, as to think you did not the like, and that the Unfortunate Persander came not once into your mind, unless by some accident or through Civility, you were obliged to speak of him, or that you had not any thing to say of him in that excellent good Company wherein you were. Be pleased to let me know so much, Divine Caeso∣nia, I beseech you, for though I wish you great∣er satisfaction and enjoyment in all things than I do my self, I should entertain even death it self kindly, if you cannot have any true pleasure without me, as I cannot nor will without you.

Now, said I to her in my turn, Do you not think this Letter as passionate as the other? But if I should think so, replied she, I should infer no∣thing thence; for it is not to be doubted but Tur∣nus loves me more eagerly than Persander. And I on the contrary, replied I, am confident Persan∣der loves you as much as man can love: Nay, I question not but that you love Persander somewhat better than Turnus, and therefore you would com∣mit a great error if you preferred Turnus before Persander. For is it not true, that there cannot be a greater Wit than his, that he hath a mind excellently endued with all gallantry and perfecti∣on; that you esteem him above all those of your acquaintance, and in a word, that there is not a more vertuous person in the world? I confess it, says she, but being of opinion, that if I should marry him, I should love him more than he me; and on the contrary, that Turnus will love me more than I shall him, and more than Persander doth, I am resolved no longer to disobey the com∣mand my Mother hath laid on me, to prefer Tur∣nus before Persander. But Ersilia said I to her, makes this choice out of policy as you do out of humour; and therefore I now foretel, that you will be both deceived in it. But, replyed she blushing, were not Turnus worthy to be chosen without any dispute, of all the vertuous persons of Ardea, if Persander were laid aside? He were, replied I, but with all his wit, all his merit, all his good parts, nay and all his goodness, I would not marry an inconstant man newly become a Prose∣lyte; for not to dissemble, the conquest you have made of him, you are indebted for to his Incon∣constancy.

This I seconded with an hundred other things, but what ere was said to Caesonia was said in vain; for she thought the Inclination she had for Persan∣der, would make her unhappy if she married him, and that he loved her not sufficiently; and Turnus had so dazled her with the greatness of his love, by a thousand little flatteries and many real servi∣ces, which Fortune favoured him with the oppor∣tunities to render her, that she was absolutely perswaded she was more loved by him than Persan∣der, whom yet she could object nothing against, and who on the contrary had a thousand ways ob∣liged her: So that Ersilia who doubtless was more desirous she should marry Turnus than Persander, having pressed her to resolve on something, and told her she should do well to conform her self to the intention she had to bestow her on Turnus; she inconsiderately consents, and perswaded she bestowed her self on the more amorous, she her self delivered this sad news to Persander: For he coming one day to see her, and finding her more cold to him than ordinary, he asked her the rea∣son of it, which she told him without much cere∣mony. I beseech you now (said she to him, after she had acquainted him with the command Ersilia had laid on her) trouble not your self to make fruitless complaints to me, and consider you may yet be accounted among my Friends if you please. Ah Madam, replied he, if you cannot entertain my Love, I shall little value your friendship: But Madam, have you quite forgotten that you said, you would look on love above all things, and that you would bestow your self rather on the more amorous, than the more amiable. It is for that reason, replied she, that I do your merit some in∣justice. No, no, Madam, disguise not the truth, acknowledge that your mind is changed, and that instead of disposing your self to him who loves you most, you bestow your self on him you love best. Yet Madam, added he, to give you an ex∣traordinary expression of love, I declare to you, that if I thought that Turnus could but love you all his life as he doth now, I should never charge you with my misfortune; though I am confident that I love you a thousand times more than he does. But Madam, since I am intimately acquaint∣ed with him, expect what I now foretel you, that as soon as you shall have made him happy, you will begin to be miserable your self. Not but that there is in Turnus a sufficiency of vertue and good∣ness, but take in also all the Generosity of his Soul, I dare affirm Love will soon be dislodged out of his heart, when he shall once have no more to hope. Nay, I dare tell you Madam, that for Turnus's constancy you are partly obliged to me; since it is certain that if I had not been his Rival, he had loved you less, and would have changed his resolution ere this time: For not to flattter

you, it is only emulation hath increased his love, and his Ambition hath been as great to out-do his friend, as to overcome his Mistress: But when you shall have put him into a condition, wherein he shall not have any thing either to hope or fear, you will find that of a Lover whom you thought constant, you have made an inconstant Husband. I know Turnus hath done you those services which I could not: But Madam, have I omitted any thing which I could have done? Or can you reproach me with any want of duty? I cannot, replied she, but I am so fully perswaded that Turnus loves me better than you do; that I shall never change my mind unless he force me to it: And therefore trouble not your self, nor say any thing to me to his prejudice. For his merit, Madam, I shall ac∣knowledge whatever you conceive may be thought to his advantage; but for his affection, give me leave to tell you, that you are not well acquainted with it: For in a word, Turnus is but an incon∣stant man somewhat disguised, yet I do not accuse him of having purposely deceived you. On the contrary, I assure you he is deceived himself, and believes he shall always love you as he doth now: But time will shew you if you alter not your reso∣lution, that his mind is still the same; and you shall find on the contrary, that the unfortunate Persander will have a constancy for you, which all the World shall reproach him with, and that he shall condemn himself for; for I perceive, that how unjust soever you may be to me, I shall love you eternally.

After this, Persander said a thousand other ob∣liging things to Caesonia, but she had already con∣sented to what her Mother had proposed; and know that Ersilia had acquainted Turnus with it. So that not any ways relenting, she only set her self to entreat Persander, not to bear any ill will to his friend for the choice she had made. But, Madam, you shall then promise that if Turnus's love die and mine out-live it, notwithstanding your injustice, you will give me leave to reproach you with it. If that happen, replied she, I should so well deserve it from you, that I make no great difficulty to give you leave.

Hereupon Persander made his last assault on Cae∣sonias mind, but was as before repulsed; for she considered what Persander said to her, rather as an effect of the greatness of his Wit than of his Love; and Turnus by a thousand little flatteries, such as cannot be expressed, had so strangely per∣swaded her that he infinitely loved her, that she had not the least doubt of it; so that though she had an infinite esteem for Persander, yet she con∣tinued firm to her design. Persander (in the mean time) may be said to be much more misera∣ble, than Turnus was happy, though at the be∣ginning he thought his happiness excessive: For my part, I was so angry with Caesonia, that I could do nothing but chide her for her injustice, and that not so privately but that Turnus knew of it. Nay one day, I would needs perswade him to re∣sign Caesonia to his Friend, but being incensed by my opposition, I saw his Passion increased by what I said to him, insomuch that my business was to keep these two friends falling out; and indeed I managed things so fortunately, that though Per∣sander was tempted to break the promise he had made to Turnus in the beginning of their love, yet I prevailed with him to endure a misfortune which could not be remedied, without using any violence.

But that which was most remarkable was, that three days after Turnus was married he went to visit Persander, who was fallen sick through grief, and spoke to him the most obligingly he could, to wish him to a continuance of Friendship: Adding particularly, that he should think the possession of Caesonia too dear, if it cost him the loss of his affection. Ah Turnus (cries out Persander) were I in your place I should not say so: For I assure you, I should easily part with all your friendship for Caesonias affection. To this Turnus, in stead of some bitter answer, continued his mildness, and put Persander into such a trouble, that he knew not what return to make him; for he intreated him to come and see him as he was wont, he assu∣red him he should not be jealous, that he knew his Wife infinitely esteemed him, and he promi∣sed him his friendship. But the more he spoke, the more was Persander's vexation increased: Ne∣vertheless, he answered him very discreetly, nei∣ther accepting nor refusing his offers, as not know∣ing whether he should do, such a disturbance had love caused in him: Which done, he dismissed him without any incivility, or any particular ex∣pression of Friendship.

In the mean time, Caesonia, though she seemed to be satisfied, yet was somewhat troubled in her mind at Persander's indisposition, which proved so dangerous that it was feared he might die of it: But at length he overcame it, though not that Passion which had seized his soul. On the contrary, it became so violent, that not being able to live without the sight of Caesonia; he re∣solved withall to endure that of his Rival, and to accept the proffer Turnus had made to him to continue friends. He therefore went to visit him, which visit Turnus took with much kindness; he brought him into Caesonias Chamber, before she had any notice of his coming, and intreated her to receive him as his friend; which done, having conducted Persander into the Garden, he began to tell him he had a design to Travel. Persander at first, conceived Turnus had some extraordina∣ry occasion that obliged him thereto, not being able to apprehend that one whom Caesonia had cho∣sen for the most amorous, could be perswaded to leave her, to go and Travel without any neces∣sity, within a month after he had married her. He therefore asked him if he had any business of importance that obliged him to that resolution: None at all (replied Turnus) but to tell you the truth, it is long since I have had an inclination to travel, and now there is nothing to engage my stay at Ardea; and that I fear not you should take away Caesonia from me in my absence, I am resol∣ved to satisfie my Curiosity.

Persander hearing Turnus speak in this manner, was so astonished that he could not tell what en∣swer to make him, nor indeed had he returned him any, had it not been that he had pressed him to accompany him in his Travels. So that being obliged to speak, he told him, he had business required his stay at Ardea; whereupon he took his leave of him.

On the other side, Turnus whose head was full of this humour of Travelling, spoke of nothing

else, and that with so much impatience, as to his departure, as if he had had a Mistress in every one of those places whither he pretended to go, and had never loved any thing at Ardea. Persan∣der said nothing at all to him of it, and onely as∣ked what caused him to take such a sudden reso∣lution. To which Turnus answered, that two friends of his, having acquainted him with their intentions to travel, they had stirred up in him those he sometime had, so that he had resolved to go with them.

Not long after, Persander came to see me, to see what I should say of Turnus his design of Tra∣velling; and if I knew not what Caesonia thought of it: For me thinks (said he) that having made choice of Turnus for the more amorous, she should take his departure somewhat unkindly. Caeso∣nia (said I to him) hath more wit then to make her complaint to me; but I can read in her eyes, that she takes it most hainously: And for my part, if it were my own case, I should think it very hard measure that Turnus should marry me, only to forsake me, being not obliged thereto by any rational ground. But what saies Ersilia, repli'd Persander? Ersilia (repli'd I) repines secretly at it; but for Caesonia, that which confirms me that she is absolutely inraged at it, s•• that I have under∣stood by a Maid that waits on her, that unless it was the first day that Turnus acquainted her with his design, that she endeavoured to oppose it, she hath not spoke one word since to divert him from it. Ah Plotina (cries out Persander) the amo∣rous Turnus is no longer such, and the unfortu∣nate Persander, notwithstanding his misfortunes is more amorous then he. For in fine (conti∣nued he, shewing me a Letter he had received from a Kinsman) you may see by what is written to me, that it were for my advantage to leave Ar∣dea, and that I am promised a very considerable em∣ployment elsewhere. But notwithstanding my being slighted by Caesonia, I cannot be induced to quit the place where she resides, and deprive my self of all sight of her. I assure you (repli'd I) you are almost as much to be blamed as Turnus; for I do not think that Caesonia deserves you should so much as think of her. Besides (said I to him) all your love to her will be to no purpose, for she is vertuous; and though it should happen she lost all love for Turnus, and should repent she had pre∣ferred him before you, your happiness will be never the greater. Ah Plotina (replied he) you know not how ingenuous Love is in finding out Pleasures; for it is to me a very sensible one, the very thought that Turnus is now to leave Caesonia. Nay, it is no small delight to me to imagine the Tears she sheds the day of his departure, will be ra∣ther the tears of indignation then Sorrow; And though I expect not ever to be happy, yet there is a certain kind of Hope which stands Centinel about my heart and keeps in my love, But what (replied I) if you have not lost your discretion, can you hope? I have no hope to be loved of Cae∣sonia (replied he) but I hope that Caesonia will love Turnus no longer, and will haply regret the un∣fortunate Persander.

We said one to another a many things of this kind, whence I apprehended that Persander had still an infinite love for Caesonia, and that she mis∣took her self much that she had not made choice of him. To be short, all were so surprized at Turnus's departure, that a many things were re∣ported of him, which were not true; but at last, notwithstanding all Ersilia could say to him, he took his leave. So that she then saw she was deceived, when she imagined to her self the absolute disposal of Turnus; for this humour of Travelling having taken him in the head, as soon as the Passion he had for Caesonia was satisfied, all the Charms of that excellent person were not strong enough to divert him. 'Tis true, his flat∣teries to her at parting were extraordinary, but they proceeded not from any great regret he had to leave her, though he was to be absent almost a whole year. Caesonia however at first, bore this departure with constancy enough, and out of a consideration of glory, betrayed not any the least dis-satisfaction at this voyage. Nay she had not the confidence to speak to me of it; and so dis∣creetly avoided all discourse thereof, that I could not take it ill that she was so reserved. Besides that, for my part, I sought not the occasions to reproach her that she had not believed me, be∣cause I could take no pleasure in afflicting her to no purpose.

In the mean time, the whole City came to vi∣sit her, and comfort her for the absence of Tur∣nus, and among the rest came Perfander: for I had forgot to tel you, that Turnus at his depar∣ture had been to take his leave of his friend; that he had spoke very obligingly to him; that he had intreated him to continue his friendship to his Wife, and had desired Caesonia to admit the visits of Persander as those of any other, lest he should imagine he had forbidden him out of jea∣lousie. Accordingly Caesonia disposed her self to receive the visits of Persander, conditionally they were not too frequent, and that he should say nothing to her, she might be offended at; re∣solving, in case he presumed to entertain her with the affection he had for her, not to see him any more; for Turnus had so far injoyned her to see him, that he could take no other re∣solution. Upon these terms, Persander, who had still an extream affection for her, visited her sometimes, and behaved himself with so much respect to her, and such acknowledgement of her Vertue, that he betrayed not his Passion in his discourse; but if Caesonia had examined his looks, they would have acquainted her with the most violent love in the World, 'Tis true a certain secret melancholy took up her spirits so much, that she would not seek what she was not desi∣rous to find.

Hence it also proceeded, that Caesonia during Turnus's absence, avoided as much as might be, coming to great Feasts, and carryed her self as a Woman of great Vertue, and love to her Hus∣band, and tender of his reputation should have done, especially, being young and handsom, ha∣ving a Husband absent, and divers Lovers in the places where she resides.

But whiles Caesonia lived after this rate, and was extreamly troubled in her mind at Turnus's absence, when two months were passed ere she had received any tidings of him, he sent a man express to Ardea, with divers orders. Caesonia was much amazed to understand that her Hus∣band who she thought had taken shipping long

before, was still at Rhegium, which place he spoke not of leaving for some time; whereat being much surprized, she thought fit cunningly to sift out what staid Turnus there, and put her off with such an unlikely account of it, as much increased her Curiosity. But that which was most myste∣rious to her, was, that she came to understand that the man had brought a Letter from Turnus to Persander, that he had spoken with him divers times, and that he could not return to his Master, till he were dispatched by Persander. So that be∣ing infinitely desirous to know what might be in the Wind, she was in an extraordinary disquiet, for she would not have any private discourse with Persander, though she had for him the greatest esteem in the World. Nor could she easily con∣descend to give me any order to find it out, as conceiving that if she had made that request to me, I should fall a chiding of her. But at last she applyed her self to me, and having made me promise I would not quarrel with her, she told me what she had so much mind to know. But (added she) I would not have Persander imagine that you ask him any thing for my satisfaction; for I would not give him any pretence or occasi∣on of discourse concerning Turnus. I promised Caesonia to obey her directions, and kept my word in not charging her with any thing. 'Tis true, I did not forbear it so much in performance of my promise, as out of compassion, observing in her eyes, that she said to her self all that I could have said to her.

As soon as she had left me, I sent to Persander to come to me; which when he had done, with∣out any mention of Caesonia, I asked him what business he had with Turnus. He at first was loath to tell me the truth, but being well acquainted with his humour, ah Persander (said I to him) if you satisfie not my desire, as to what I would now know, I shall never permit you to speak of Caeso∣nia. You know that I am the onely person with whom you can rationally discourse of her, and that I am your only comfort in this case. Per∣sander not able to deny me any longer, shewed me a Letter he had received from Turnus, where∣in putting him in mind of their ancient Friend∣ship, he intreated of him an extraordinary cour∣tesie in doing that for him which he should under∣stand by the Bearer of the Letter. Whereupon Persander told me, that Turnus desirous that his family should not know the vast expences he pre∣tended to be at in this voyage, intreated him to write to a Kinsman of his at Rhegium, to furnish him with such things as he stood in need of: That further, he desired to have sent him, divers ra∣rities which are made at Ardea, such as are only fit to be presented to Women, pretending a de∣sign he had to pass through divers Courts, where he might make his advantage of them. And in a word (added Persander) without diving any further into his intentions, I do for Turnus all he desires of me, though he hath ruined my Felicity without establishing his own; and within these two daies, I dismiss him he hath sent to me, with all those things he desires.

This done, Persander spoke many thinks ve∣ry honourable and obligingly of Caesonia, yet with∣out any desire made to me to tell her of it, as knowing it would have been to no purpose, though I am confident his love to her was guided by in∣nocence it self.

Having thus understood Turnus's business with Persander, I thought not to have acquainted Cae∣sonia with it, lest it should afflict her. But I must confess, reflecting on her obstinacy in opposing me, I was not very sorry, I could convince her, I was in the right. Besides that, it being fit she knew what expences Turnus was at, that in case he should send for wherewithall to continue his extravagancies, she might take some course to re∣medy it, I resolved to tell her the truth. But when I had acquainted her with all Passages, she suspected something beyond what I had, which was, that Turnus had no other reason to send for all those things, then his being fallen in love at Rhegium. To be short, she immediately sent for the man who was come from Turnus to Ardea, and pretending that she knew what she was be∣fore desirous he should have told her, she mana∣ged the business with so much discretion, that the man who had a great respect to Caesonia, and thought his Master was much to blame, confess∣ed at last (thinking she might remedy it) that he was indeed fallen in love at Rhegium, that his expences there were excessive, and that if she took not some course to get him back to Ardea, he would continue there some time. To tell you what effect this new inconstancy of Turnus had both on Caesonia and my self were not easie for me. But for Caesonia, when she had dismissed the man, she fixes her eyes swelled with tears on me, and remembring what I had sometime said to her. Ah Plotina (cried she) you had great reason to tell me that Turnus was but an inconstant man disguiz'd, and that I had done better to have preferred Per∣sander before Turnus, then Turnus before Persan∣der. But alas (added she) it is now no time to complain, it was the cruelty of my Fortune, when I thought to have chosen him who loved me most to have taken him who loved me least, to his pre∣judice who loved me more, and haply better. The word haply is not well placed where you put it (said I to her) for it is not to be doubted but Persander will love you while he lives. Ah Ploti∣na (said she tome with a high indignation) if there were any means to repent, I would repent me of the injustice I have done Persander: But alas I must not for my own sake admit any thought of repentance, and I must live so with Turnus, as if he were constant, and so with Persander, as if I were indifferent to him. Divers other things came from Caesonia wherewith I was extreamly moved.

Notwithstanding all this, she wrote to her Hus∣band with all the respect and mildness in the World, and having discovered her affliction to her Mother, it was resolved she should pretend to be sick, that divers of Turnus's friends should be intreated to write to him, to indeavour to bring him home again, and that she her self would also invite him with the greatest insinuation she could use. To be short, some days after, she was so much Mistress of her own thoughts, that she writ to him a Letter infinitely passionate: But he being at that time much taken with his loves at Rhegium; and understanding from some friends at Ardea, that Caesonia was not very sick, he re∣turned not to Ardea, but remained two months

onger at Rhegium that is to say, as long as his Passion lasted. He then went to Syracuse, whence he was to go into Greece, but he was no sooner come to Syracuse, but he fell in love with a Prin∣cess of that place, which is one of the greatest Beauties in the World.

Besidos all this, Turnus having with him two friends who were of Ardea, and were very com∣plyant with his humour, much of what he did came to be known by that means, for one of these two was Brother to one of Turnus's former Mistresses, when he first fell in love with Caesonia. She being acquainted by her brothers Letters with all the new loves of Turnus, was very glad to find that the charms of Caesonia had been no stronger then hers to confine Turnus's affections, and malici∣ously divulged what her Brother had written to her concerning the Loves of this unfaithful Hus∣band. By this means the business came to be so generally known, that there was none but might without any breach of civility speak to Caesonia of it, either as to blame Turnus, or pity her. She in the mean time had observed so much reserved∣ness in her carriage, that Persander had never met with any occasion to speak to her without wit∣nesses. But one day Ersilia having employed him with some business of consequence, and Persander being come to give her an account of it he found her not at home, but met with Caesonia, with whom he was obliged to stay, expecting the re∣turn of Ersilia but he found her in so melancholy a posture, that she hardly knew how to entertain him. Persander on the other side having so favou∣rable an opportunity to speak to her, had not the power to tell her what he was desirous she should know; but at last the love he had in his soul making him more confident: It is long since Madam, said he to her, that I vainly seek what I have this day found; yet I beseech you Madam, added he, imagine not it is my purpose to say any thing to you whereat you may be offen∣ded, and therefore forbid me not to speak, for I shall only bemoan you, and but once accuse me in my life; all I have to say is, to conjure you to be∣lieve that as Turnus hath not been able to quit his inconstancy, Persander shall never be other∣wise then constant, and shall love you while he lives. Ah Persander, said Caesonia to him, tri∣umph not over my misfortunes, for it is enough to have an inconstant husband, without having a Friend defective as to respect. I beseech you there∣fore say not any thing to me which I shall not be satisfied to hear. No, no, Madam, said he to her, fear not any thing from the unfortunate Per∣sander, he desires nothing of you, he hopes for nothing from you, and the sum of all he would have, amounts to no more then the favour of one single audience from you, that I may have the sa∣tisfaction of your own confession, that you were mistaken when you had bestowed your self on the most amorous; for Madam you need no further experience then that of this day, to make the com∣parison. To be short, added he, this Lover that was so eager, so constant in appearance, for sakes you as soon as he was possessed of you, and falls in Love with divers others as soon as he is out of your sight; But the unfortunate Persander, though treated with insupportable injustice, loves you still, without hope of ever being loved by you, and shall love you while he lives. Turnus hath left you without any cause, and I, whom af∣fairs of consequence call hence, remain only to see you, though I am confident you bestow not a thought on me, that you would have me quit all love to you, and that I can pretend to no other advantage then that of pitying you, and doing you those services you can expect from a gene∣rous Friend. But I beseech you, deny me not this favour, trust me with the burthen of an affliction you cannot conceal from me. Speak not any thing of favour to me, nothing of obligation, nothing that may discover that you so much as think I love you; but tell me only as a discreet and faithful friend, that you are dis-satisfied with Turnus, that you are sensible of his Injustice and his Incon∣stancy, and are at last convinced that you have made an ill choice. I therefore expect no other reward of the respectful passion I have for you, then to see you dis satisfied with my Rival; and to give you an infallible expression of the great∣ness and purity of my inclinations, I protest to you, that, if I could change his heart, and make him constant to you, I would do it, so to make you happy, though I doubt not but I should be much more miserable then I am, if you were sa∣tisfied with Turnus.

I beseech you, Persander, said she to him, con∣tent your self that I tell you in general terms, that I have done you an injustice, and expect not I should trust one with the knowledge of my affli∣ctions, who is Rival to him that causes them. Be∣sides, imagine not that the inconstancy of Tur∣nus shall ever make me do any thing against Inno∣cence; for I am vertuous for my own sake, not for his: and therefore flatter not your self with a groundless hope, if you are not disposed to af∣front me: You might indeed sometime have ho∣ped without doing me any injury; but now the case is altered, and indeed I take it not well, that when you speak to me, you bemoan me. Do that secretly, if you have so much generosity, as to pity my misfortunes, and increase them not by giving me so much cause to quarrel at your constancy, as I have to complain of Turnus's in∣constancy.

After this Persander said a many other things which neerly concerned Caesonia, but she continu'd firm in her resolution, not to permit him to en∣tertain her with his passion, how innocent soever it might be. She would also have needs forbid∣den him to visit her; but he made it so much ap∣pear to her that it would find all the Town dis∣course, that at last she consented he should see her sometimes, conditionally he would never speak to her of his affection. She would further make him promise her, not to speak at all of Turnus; and in fine, she said not any thing to him, which though a jealous husband should over hear, he could be displeased with. But Persander being a very discreet person, had a greater esteem for Cae∣sonia then before, and his Love, instead of dimi∣nishing any thing by the loss of Hope, was much augmented; in a word, he was screwed into a higher love to Caesonia, then any man could have been.

Caesonia on the other side, understanding from time to time. that Turnus continued not eight days in any place ere he had found out a new Mi∣stress,

was extremely exasperated against him. But that which encreased her misery, was, to see Persanders constancy to her, though she did nothing for him. For though he said nothing to her concerning his Love, and did none of those heroick actions, which are the ordinary marks of a great passion, he did a many others, which Caesonia and I took notice of, and which satisfied as, that he was infinitely passionate in his Love, though he said nothing of it. He was even blinded into a compliance to Ersilia, by whom he was very much loved; he never came to Cae∣sonias when there was any company there: If any one commended her in his presence, there was such a visible satisfaction in his eyes, as if he were concerned in her reputation; if any one endeavoured to excuse Turnus, he could not but discover his indignation. If Caesonia chanced to be sick, he could not be at rest any where; he loved what she was taken with, even to things insensible; he conformed all his apprehensions to her; he saw her as often as he could; he loved me for her sake, as much as if I had been her Sister; and when he and I were alone, she was the constant subject of our discourse; he look∣ed not on any women with any delight, but Cae∣sonia; and in a word, Caesonia was the sole object of all his pleasures, and all his affection. Notwith∣standing all this, he mastered this violent passion, through the aw he stood in of the person who caused it; and indeed, so far did she conceive her self obliged thereby, that insensibly, contrary to Caesonias first intentions, she trusted him with the knowledge of her discontents. But I must needs give her this testimony, that she never either did, or said any thing that Persander could take any ad∣vantage of: so that it may be said he was her Lo∣ver, and that she was only his Friend: Those good thoughts which she had for him, were so innocent, that it was the reason she made not that provision against a many little inconsiderable cir∣cumstances, which how innocent soever they might be, yet proved the occasions of all ill re∣ports: For it was talked abroad, that Caesonia cheared her self up for the inconstancy of Tur∣nus, by the constancy of Persander: and that which raised many strange reports, was, that he whom Turnus had sent to Ardea, to bring with him what he had sent to Persander for, having told it some body at his departure, who soon after divulged it, it was known that Persander had sent Turnus such things, as should detain him some time out of his Country. And as Calumny sucks Poyson out of the best actions, so it was reported about Ardea, that what was done, was with the privity of his Wife, and that Persander had not done him that good office, but to keep him at a distance from Caesonia. Be∣sides, her Beauty and her Vertue raising her to the enmity of her own Sex, the business was so strangely glossed upon, that I thought my self obliged to acquaint her with what was said of her, for I knew her innocence, and that it was easie for her to remedy this evil, and put envie and calumny to silence, by taking away those pretences they make use of. That which gave the greatest colour to these unhappy reports, was, that the Friends of Persander pressing him to marry, he so roughly rejected all Propositi∣ons of that nature, that it was easily perceived there was some secret considerations that obliged him to be so backward. There was also another thing that made a great noise; for you are to know, that Persander, who besides a great Wit, hath other excellent good parts, and particular∣ly Poetry; and it being impossible but that a Lo∣ver who is indued with that quality, must write something, though Persander durst not shew any Verses directed to Caesonia, as purposely made for her, yet could he not avoid the writing of some. But to the end, in case they might be gotten some way from him, she might not receive any injury for whom they were made, he called her by a name which had no resemblance to hers; for instead of Caesonia, he called her Dorinica. He shewed me divers Copies, and (if I am not mistaken) presented her sometimes with them, yet not acknowledging they were made for her, but only to have her judgement of them, for cer∣tainly Caesonia is very good at such things. It unfortunately hapned one day, that Persander having made a Paper of Verses, and left them on the Table in his Closet, thinking he had locked the Door, there came one of his acquaintance to see him, who finding the Doors of his Lodgings open, enters without speaking to any body into Persander's Chamber, and thence into his Closet, where he had often seen him. But not finding him, spying the Verses on the Table, which he thought very amorous, he read them twice o∣ver, and got them by heart, without any other reflection thereon at that time, than that he was taken with them; which done, understanding that Persander was not within, he went his ways, not saying any thing to any body. From thence he went to give a visit to a Lady he was in love with, who had an ill opinion of the Cabal of the Fair Solitaries in general, by reason of a parti∣cular dis-affection she had to Caesonia, who was one of them. He repeated to her the Verses he had learned, which she had no sooner heard, but she said, that certainly they were made for Caesonia. She also got them by heart, and being one that talks much, one that goes fast, and whose Fan∣cy far out-runs her Judgement, without consi∣dering what might be the consequences of it, she dispersed divers Copies of them. But that you may the better know what the business came to, I must repeat them to you: They were these,

For Dorinica.

I In her Presence fain would dye, That her Fair hand might close my Eye; And when my soul in sighs expires, This is my Martyr she might say, I would by some sublimer way. But behold! Be silent my Desires, We Dorinica must obey.

You may easily judge, that these Verses con∣tain nothing that could with reason prejudice Caesonia, yet made they no small noise abroad; nay, such as whence were drawn very unhappy consequences. It hapned also that the last Verse falling in very pertinently, as simple as it is, in regard there is something amorous in the very cadence, it became a certain frolick to quote it upon divers occasions, so that it was a general humour to say, how pertinently or impertinent∣ly, it mattered not.

We Dorinica must obey.

Though there were no other reason for it, than that it was become an expression a-la-mode. But at last, the business growing very common, I spoke to Caesonia of it, with all the sincerity of a faithful Friend. I had no sooner acquainted her with what was said of her, but she blushed, and was extremely troubled. However she was not much to seek what to do. I must need con∣fess (said she to me) that Persander hath so car∣ryed himself towards me, since I fell into misfor∣tune, and hath so much obliged me, that I can∣not but have for him the tendrest friendship in the World; nay, I must acknowledge that un∣less it be when I am with you, my disturbances admit no remission, but by acquainting him therewith. But it seems I must be deprived of that satisfaction, and I shall do it in such a man∣ner as shall silence all the Calumny that persecutes me. This Caesonia spoke with so much trouble in her countenance, that I easily perceived she took some strange resolution: So that I thought to have told her it was enough, if she were more circumspect in some little Occurrence, and that it were not discreetly done absolutely to break off with Persander. No, no, Plotina (said she to me) say nothing to me, for I shall do what I have resolved; but only pity the unhappy desti∣ny I have to struggle with. And that you may the better know how to pity me, I must acquaint you, my dear Plotina, with the true state of my Soul, that fully understanding my frailty, you may accordingly commend me for the power I have to conceal it. Know then that I have ever had a violent inclination for Persander, and only an ordinary esteem for Turnus, and that if I had not believed the latter loved me incomparably beyond the other, and that it was greater plea∣sure to be loved than to love, I had never marry∣ed him. But that which makes up my present punishment, is that Turnus's inconstancy hath raised in me a detestation of him, and the con∣stancy of Persander hath raised in me a love of him. The Gods know (added she, blushing) whether I have not equally resisted both the hatred I have for Turnus, and the affection I have for Persander, and notwithstanding these two Passions, made a stronge resolution to live con∣tentedly with him whom I hate, and by all means possible to conceal my affections from him whom I love. But all considered, I cannot but so far resent the injury Turnus hath done me in ceasing to love me, as soon as he was assured of me, and am so sensible of the obligation Persander hath put upon me, by continuing his affection, when he can hope to receive no visible expression of mine, that I easily foresee that through these two op∣posite apprehensions, I shall lead the most wret∣ched life in the World, especially since I must wrastle with them as long as I live.

I should never have done, if I should acquaint you with all Caesonia said to me, and what answers I made her: But as we were thus ingaged. Per∣sander comes into the house; and one of Caesonias women being come into her Closet (where we were, to give her notice of it) she gave order he should be brought in. He was no sooner en∣tred, but she seeing there was none but we three, and fixing her eyes full of sadness and melancholy upon him, I beseech you Persander (said she to him) do me the favour to think never the worse of me, when you shall understand a certain request I have to make to you.

Ah Madam (said he to her) though you de∣sired my death, I should not take it ill at your hands, and therefore you may assure your self you cannot make any request to me that shall oblige me to hate you. But, Madam, (added he) What strange request is it you have to make to me? I am first to intreat you (replied she) to be confident that I have for you the greatest e∣steem imaginable, and acknowledge my self in∣finitely obliged to you. But that done, I a•• to intreat you, to tell me whether it be true or no that you have for the unfortunate Caesonia, a most tender and a most disinterested Friendship. For Friendship, Madam, (said he to her) I know not whether I have any; but for affection, I dare as∣sure you, never had any man so much as I have for you, and that if I were to lose my life to make good this truth, I should do it chearfully. No Persander (replied she) you shall not need to do anything of that nature, and without losing your life, it shall suffice only that you hence for∣ward lose all sight of me. Ah, Madam, how cruel is that word only, and how little does it oblige me? For I think it more insupportable to be ever deprived of your sight than my life. But, Madam, do you speak to me in good earnest? I do Persander (said she to him) and Plotina shall tell you the reason of it. Whereupon I told Per∣sander what scandalous reports were scattered up and down, whereof he had not heard any thing before; for being of a nature very sensible as to reputation, his friends durst not tell him any thing. I had no sooner acquainted him therewith, but Persander casting himself on his knees at Cae∣sonias feet; Alas, Madam, (said he to her) can you lay this misfortune to my charge; to mine, I say, who love you without acquainting you so much, and have that power over my self, as to conceal the most eager, and most violent Pas∣sion that ever was? However, divine Caesonia (continued this afflicted Lover) I shall willingly not be innocent, and to make me guilty, there shall need no more than that my love hath caused you the least disquiet. But, Madam, all criminals are not banished, there are more kinds of punish∣ment than one. No, no Persander (replied Cae∣sonia)

forcing him to rise up, I wish not your banishment as a punishment, but as a remedy for the evil I suffer; for certainly it is not just, that I believe at the same time unfortunate and inno∣cent should be thought guilty, when I am not. If therefore it be true that you love me, resolve to chuse one of these two things. Ah, Madam, (cries he) how difficult do I think the choice you put me to, though I know not yet what you would say to me: However it be (said Caesonia) there is no other expedient left. But once more, Madam, (replied he) what choice is it you put me to? That you would either quit Ardea (replied she) and never come into it, or at least not of a long time, or that you would marry, and never see me after, but when you cannot possibly avoid it. Ah, Madam, (cries he) into what a strange ex∣tremity have you reduced me? Ah Persander (replied she) what an unhappy conjuncture am I in for your sake? Reputation I value above all things, and though I have done nothing whereby mine should be prejudiced, yet am I in a fair likelihood to lose it; if therefore you love me, and own any true Generosity, assist me to pre∣serve that, which once lost you cannot restore. I give you two days to take your choice of these two things I have proposed to you; and if you do it not, I shall be more dissatisfied with you than with Turnus.

Hereupon Persander made a thousand fruitless expostulations, and propositions, and proposed a many several expedients; for, he was content not to see Caesonia any more at her house, condi∣tionally he might see her sometimes at my Cham∣ber; nay, he at last came so low, as that he would not speak to her any where, provided he might write to her; but there being in things of this na∣ture a certain mystery & obligation, Caesonia would not by any means ingage her self. She told him he must obey, that he loved her not, if he pre∣ferred not her Reputation before all things; and that she would absolutely hate him, if he resolved not either to marry, or absent himself for ever.

To tell you all they said one to another, and what I said to both, were to presume too much upon your patience. But I shall tell you, that since there have been Lovers, there were not any that passed two such long and cruel days, as those Persander spent in making this dreadful choice. For when he thought on this perpetual, or at best very long absence, he was no longer Master of his own thoughts, nor indeed of his words: Never to see Caesonia, seemed to him a thing so cruel, that he thought death it self more support∣able. On the other side, when he thought of marrying, he had such a horrid aversion there∣to, that he could hardly admit any Treaty of it: he thought he could not in honour marry one he should not love; and love inspired him with apprehensions so opposite to those of Marriage, that he could not take any resolution that way. Not but that it was some ease for him to think that he might at least remain by that means in Ardea, that he might see Caesonia in the Temples whether she would or not, and flattered himself with a hope that she might change her mind. But for this eternal absence, that which troubled him most in it, was, that he believed Caesonia would forget him: So that how great soever his aversion to marriage might be, yet he thought it spoke something more amorous, not to leave Caesonia, than eternally to forsake her: Never∣theless he could not resolve in the time Caesonia appointed him, but spent eight days in bemoan∣ing himself, and doing nothing but writing Let∣tert to me, to entreat me to get an arrest of that cruel Judgement: Caesonia avoiding all Inter∣views in that time. But at last Caesonia understand∣ing there was divers reports abroad, which gave people occasion to think there was some secret correspondence between her and Persander, sent him word, that it was her absolute Will he should take his choice: So that this unfortunate Lover looking on this Removal as absolutely insup∣portable, and thinking it would be conceived extravagant, was content to Marry, conditio∣nally Caesonia made choice of a Wife for him; for there were three or four Ladies whereof his Friends proposed to him the choice. But if Per∣sander was much troubled to chuse, Caesonia was no less to advise him: yet at last finding that she who had the greatest Fortune, had the least Beau∣ty, she gave me order to name her to Persander, who was very much pleased with an imagination, that Caesonia pitching on a Wife for him that was not over handsome, might do it out of some considerations of kindness to him. But Caesonia's design took not, for the Friends of that Lady having heard the reports of the loves of Persan∣der and Caesonia changed their minds, and answered him, that they thought not their Daughter handsome enough to cure Persander of so violent a Passion. This unhappy Lover therefore was forced to address himself to another, who cer∣tainly was as indifferent to him as the former, but was questionless much the handsomer; and to be short, the Marriage was talked of as a thing abso∣lutely concluded.

No sooner were all parties agreed, but Caesonia was infinitely troubled at it, and was so much incensed against Persander, that she could not be more exasperated against Turnus, than she was a∣gainst him. Nevertheless she durst not at first discover her apprehensions of it, but I soon ob∣serving she was fallen into a new discontent, tor∣mented at last into a confession, that she was ex∣tremely vexed that Persander had chosen rather to marry, than to depart. For in fine, said she, if he loved me so much as he would make me be∣lieve, he could never have consented to marry, especially with so great a Beauty, as he is now to have: but certainly the reason of that is, that I am destined to the experience of all kinds of Incon∣stancy: Turnus as soon as he became my Husband, ceased to be my Lover, and Persander, who pre∣tends so much obstinacy in love, will certainly be∣come a Lover of his Wife, as soon as he shall have marryed one. But, said I to her, what con∣cerns it you, whether he loves her, or loves her not, since you will never see him more, and are absolutely resolved never to receive a gallant Let∣ter from Persander? I know I am much to blame, said she to me, and I am so disordered to see my own weakness, and the humourousness of my ap∣prehensions, that I blush at it; for certainly I shall never see Persander, I shall never receive either Verse or Prose from him, that shall mention his

Love; and Turnus, how inconstant soever he may be, shall, if ever he return, find me faithful to him. But when all is done, I cannot but be troubled that Persander marries, and marries one he can love. But said I to her, you have put the choice upon him: I confess it, replied she, but I expected not he should have made the choice he hath. It is not yet too late, replied I, for I am confident Persander hath so much aversion from marrying, that if you but let him know your dis∣like of it, he will give over all thoughts thereof. No, no Plotina, replied she, it is now too late, for I wished Persander might not marry, and since he thinks it sit to do so, there is no remedy; and if you acquaint him with the strangeness of my re∣sentments, I should never endure the sight of you. This Caesonia spoke with so much earnestness, that I durst not disobey her; so that Persander think∣ing he did a thing at least acceptable to Caesonia, married. But the day before his Wedding, I saw him so pensive, and found Caesonia so melancholy, that it may be said, never any Marriage caused so much heaviness. In the mean time, Persander be∣ing a person of much honour, he had for his wife all possible Civility, and somewhat the more, in regard he considered it as a means to stifle the ru∣mours which had been so prejudicial to Caesonia. So that gaining hereby the reputation of a good husband in Ardea, he soon got that of an ill Lover with Caesonia. Thus having two Infidelities to deal with at the same time, she fell into a hatred of all men in general. She would never meet with Persander in any place where he might take any occasion to speak to her; and she so carefully a∣voided him, that though he was very desirous to acquaint her with what he suffered for her sake, he could never have the opportunity. And in∣deed it is certain, there never was a man more unhappy then he was at that time, for though his wife were excellently handsom, yet was she an in∣supportable burthen to him, and his imagination was so full of Caesonia, that he could not think of any thing else. But at last it chanced that a Cha∣riot of Caesonias hapning to break two miles from Ardea, Persander passing by casually in another, found her in that perplexity. Being very glad of so favourable an opportunity, he comes out, and entreats her to make use of his; nay, offers not to come in himself, and to take a horse from one of his servants that followed the Charriot. Cae∣sonia at first would by no means be entreated, but I being with her, told her it was no time to stand upon punctilio's, that it was better to accept the proffer Persander made, then to lie in the fields all night, that the affectation of not receiving such an office, would questionless be ill intrepreted, and that it were not fit he got on horse-back, whereupon she took my advice.

Now Caesonia and Persander having not spoken one to another since that days conversation where∣of I told you before, they were both in no small disturbance. But at last Persander whispering broke forth first: Well Madam, said he to her, you would needs be obeyed, and might it please the Gods you knew what I suffer in obeying you and how dearly I purchase your reputation. You have made so good a choice replied she blushing, that I think you are rewarded for the services you have done me, by the very doing of them, and consequently, I am not so much as to give you thanks; for when all's done, it is a greater plea∣sure to be husband to a handsome wife whom a man loves, then to be banished. Caesonia spoke this with a certain accent, which satisfied Persan∣der that there was some resentment of displeasure and jealousie in the heart of this excellent Beauty, whereat being both much surprized, and much troubled, he entreated her to express her thoughts more cleerly, but she would not hear of it; and all he could get from her was, that she forbade him ever to see her. Persander who loved her now better then he had ever, having left Caesonia at home brought me also to my chamber; and be∣ing very importunate to know the true thoughts of my Friend, I told him something of what I knew; for I thought the condition those two Lo∣vers were in, so strange that I could not but speak of it: I shall not repeat to you all he said to me, but shall only tell you, he seemed to be so afflicted that Caesonia should imagine he loved his wife, and that he had not made such a choice as satisfied her of the greatness of his affection, that it much pitied me. But at last taking a reso∣lution to cure Caesonia of this jealousie, though he knew he was not to expect any thing from her, he took the pretence his affairs furnished him with, to go to travel. By this means he left Ardea soon after his marriage, as Turnus had, though for diffe∣rent reasons. But at his departure from Ardea, he writ a letter to Caesonia, so passionate, and so full of respect and tenderness, that I think Love never dictated such another; and indeed it was received by Caesonia with a very sensible sorrow, though checquered with a certain joy to see Persander more constant then she had thought him. But present∣ly after she condemned her self for it, and was so far from being satisfied, that she would often say to me, that she thought her self so highly blama∣ble, how vertuous soever she might be, that she durst not examine her true apprehensions.

In the mean time Turnus after a years travel, re∣turns who being a man vertuous, though very in∣constant, he complemented Caesonia with the grea∣test kindness in the world: but his kindness was without eagerness, without transport, and with∣out Love, and that which was most strange of all, was that assoon as he was returned, he fell in love with Persander's wife; and having met with one of those pick-thanks who are always the messen∣gers of ill news, that gave him some particulars of what had been said of Caesonia, he became jea∣lous of his own wife at the same time when he fell in love with his Friends. Thus was the unfortunate Caesonia ore-whelmed with all kinds of disgraces; for she had a husband that was both jealous and in love at the same time; she was her self guil∣ty of both love and jealousie; the presence of her Husband was burdensome to her, the absence of Persander she was not able to bear, though she would not have him recalled; and for Persander, he only was absolutely miserable, as being void of all hope of ever being otherwise.

In the mean time Persander's wife being a ver∣tuous woman, gave Turnus but very cold enter∣tainment, but love being commonly exasperated by opposition, his passion grew so violent, that conceiving it might make much for him, he told her that Persander was still in love with Casonia.

But she answered him, that since Caesonia was true to him after all his Inconstancies, she would be the like to Persander, though he should not have changed his passion when he married her.

On the other side, some body having written to Persander that Turnus was fallen in love with his wife (who was called Danae) and that not very privately, he thought it the less dangerous if he pretended to be in love with his, nay conceived he should not much offend Caesonia thereby; where∣upon he returns to Ardea. He was no sooner ar∣rived, but Turnus came to see him, with all the eagerness of a Lover who would be well thought of by a man whose Wife he is in love with: Not but that he considered the Visits he then gave Persander opened Persander the way to his House; but being above all things confident of his Wifes Vertue, he chose rather to give Persander occasi∣on to see Caesonia, then miss his opportunities of seeing Danae: So that the beginning of this Soci∣ety had in it something infinitely pleasant: But at length the apprehensions of these four persons were so disordered, that there never was heard any thing of the like nature: For not only Persan∣der and Turnus broke all to pieces, but it withal made a division of the whole City; and there are in this adventure an hundred remarkable particles, which were too long to relate. Twice they took up Arms upon the account of these two Factions, whereof the Loves of Persander and Turnus were the cause or the pretence: Divers Duels were sought, very fatal to some; it was an ordinary question in all companies, whether one were Per∣sander or Turnus, for these two Lovers had deri∣ved their names to all of their party. They had also their different colours, and things came at last to that hight, that people were in a general ex∣pectation of an Insurrection in Ardea; for there wanted not those who would gladly have fastned on such an occasion to compass their own ends and possess themselves of Authority. On the con∣trary, all discreet and well affected persons, vain∣ly troubled themselves to find out some expedients to give check to so great a disorder. But at last, when all the world could not imagine any remedy for so great a mischief, I found out a way adven∣turous 'tis true, but withal necessary; which was to propose to Persander and Turnus to make a publick and legitimate exchange. For there ha∣ving hapned among us within some times divers examples of reputation, I found that both Religi∣on and the Laws, authorized by Custome, per∣mitting that Persander might forsake Danae, and marry Caesonia, and Turnus quit Caesonia, and mar∣ry Danae; I found I say, that neither of both ha∣ving any children, and their Fortunes being e∣qual, there needed no more, to reconcile these two Families, and restore and establist Peace in Ardea, by taking away all pretences from the factious, who aimed only at the publick disturbance, then that these two women should shift houses.

But though Persander and Turnus easily saw their own happiness by the expedient I proposed to them, yet a fantastick reflection of hatred hindred them at first to consent to one another's happi∣ness; insomuch that Turnus to hinder Persander from marrying Caesonia, would chuse rather not to marry Danae, and Persander to hinder Turnus from the possession of Danae, would never med∣dle with Caesonia. But at last Love growing pre∣dominant, their eyes were opened to see Reason in what I proposed, and joyntly entreated my meditation in a business which they thought not very difficult to bring to effect, for it had the ver∣dict of the Laws; what had lately hapned, con∣firmed the Law by Custome; their Friends should in all likelyhood easily consent thereto, and the two women should not probably hinder it. It was not impossible, but that Danae being convinced that her husband never had any affection for her, but an infinite love for Caesonia, would think it an advantage to lose a Husband that loved her not, to gain another who died for love of her. As for Caesonia, it might be thought she should be glad to exchange an inconstant man for one who had ever faithfully loved her, and whom she dearly af∣fected, though she had with much care concea∣led it.

But these two women made all the difficulty that was; for Caesonia held that love expired when marriage was admitted, and for that rea∣son she would sit down with the loss of one Lover by marrying Turnus, and would not expose her self to the loss of another by marrying Persander, that consequently she chose rather to be misera∣ble all her life in the manner she now was, then to fall into some way of misfortune, more insup∣portable then the other. But Danae was much more hard to be prevailed with: I beseech you, (said she to me, when I pressed her to follow my advice) force me not to acquaint you with all my thoughts, since they are much different from yours. I confess (added she) I have a Husband that hath a violent passion for Caesonia, but since he is a discreet and moderate person I am confi∣dent he will never slight me the more for it, and that I shall never have any other cause to complain of him: Nor can I charge him with having decei¦ved me, for I have married him before he ever told me that he loved me: But for Turnus, as inviting as he is, he would make me absolutely miserable; for when he married Caesonia, he in∣finitely loved her; I am not so great a Beauty as she, and therefore since he hath been inconstant to that divine person, he must needs prove so to me: by which means I should be the Victim of Persander and Caesonia, and he be much more mi∣serable then I am already. But you consider not (said I to her) that if you further not this design, you will incur the hatred of Persander, for it is impossible a Lover should not hate whatever hin∣ders him from possessing his Mistress.

For Caesonia I used no other argument to her then the constancy of Persander, to bring her to reason: yet these two Women had much ado to be brought to this exchange, particularly out of the considerations of Modesty; and if their Friends had not forced them, and made it appear how far it concerned their Country, the business had ne∣ver been done. But at last, this private being become a publick Interest, and the chief Pillars of Religion and Civil Magistracy interposing there∣in, the exchange was made in the Temple of Con∣cord, but without much ceremony, because Cae∣sonia and Danae would have it so. I shall not trouble you with what passed between these four persons at this meeting, nor acquaint you with the joy of Persander and Turnus, or the satisfacti∣on

of Caesonia to see her self rid of an inconstant Husband, and in the power of a faithful Lover: But I shall tell you that Danae, who certainly was not a little taken with Turnus, was not mistaken in her conjectures; and that this lovely, but in∣constant person, soon after his marriage, began a-new his Love sallyes, which continued till death put a period to them; for he was killed, ex∣pressing a great and high Courage, when Tarquin made his approaches to Ardea. But that which was most observable, was that it hath been disco∣vered since his death, that he was fallen in love a∣gain with Caesonia, meerly through his humour of Inconstancy; for he had confessed as much to one of his Friends. As for Persander, he hath conti∣nued the most constant Lover in the world; and indeed, he was loth Caesonia should be exposed to the inconveniences of a long siege, though she was desirous not to forsake him; and it was upon that account, as you know, that we went along with you out of Ardea, when we were taken by some of Tarquin's Troops, notwithstanding all the Va∣lour of Aronces, Herminius, and Celeres. I would also particularly tell Amilcar, that Persander, af∣ter the death of Turnus, took Danae into his care, and sent her out of the City with us. I have further understood this very morning by one of her Guards, that Persander is as importu∣nate for the deliverance of Danae, as of the other Captives, and that he is not only constantly faith∣ful in his love, but withal constantly Generous and Just.

Plotina had no sooner given over speaking, but Amilcar began to thank her that she had killed Turnus in her Relation; for in fine, said he, I have a very good friend called Zenocrates, who pretends something as well as I, to the pleasure and reputation which infallibly attend those who are ingeniously and fortunately inconstant; and yet he would be forced to confess, that Turnus was a thousand times more inconstant than we. Now you know (added he with that seriousness which he sometimes affects when he is minded to act a Vice) when a man would do any thing, he is very proud to be perfect, and the best at it: I am therefore much obliged to you for Turnus's death, who had far out-run Zenocrates and me in Inconstancy. Not but that he hath received much injustice; for when all is done they should not have summ'd up amongst his inconstancies, the changes of his Love to Caesonia and Danae when he had married them; for as you know, it is not much the mode that Husbands should be in love with their Wives. I assure you, replied Plotina, Persander is still with his, will be as long as he lives, and there is no other difference between what he hath been and what he now is, but that he is not so great a Gallant in publick as he was wont; but for the resentments of his Soul, they are as full of tenderness, passion, and respect, as they were when he was but Rival to Turnus. And for my part, I know nothing so unjust as the pro∣cedure of those people who spend five or six years in sighing and groaning, and doing whatever lies in their power to gain a woman they love, and having married her, slight her the next day.

As Plotina was speaking thus, a great noise was heard in the Court, insomuch that Clelia being frighted with it, as being in a condition of always fearing some new misfortune, Plotina went into a little with-drawing Room, which had a little grate that looked into the Court whence the noise was heard. Opening it hastily to see what the matter was, she saw people bring in his body, who had promised to deliver Clelia: Whereupon returning into the Chamber, Ah Madam, cryed she, you are not yet come to the period of your misfortunes, for he who should have terminated them is dead. At these words Clelia and Amilcar were extremely surprised, and could not well ap∣prehend what she should say: But having expressed her self more clearly, and Amilcar not knowing how to believe her, he went into the place where she had seen what she spoke of, and saw the body of this pretended Deliverer of Clelia, which they had newly brought in, and an infinite number of people hearkning to those that brought it, who related to such as knew it not, how the misfortune happened: So that Amilcar returning into Clelias Chamber with much sadness in his countenance, she doubted not but what Plotina had said was true, and was extremely troubled at it: Yet could see not for the present comprehend all the malice of her fortune, and little suspected as well as Amil∣car, that Aronces had killed this man, whose death happened in so unfortunate a conjuncture.

In the mean time Amilcar conceiving it necessary he saw Tullia, to perswade her to take this occasion to deliver Clelia before Tarquin should dispose the Guard into another hand, was extremely troubled that he could not get out, for that he who com∣manded in the absence of the Captain of the Guard who was dead, was so employed about knowing how it had happened, that there was no possibility of speaking to him. It was therefore to no pur∣pose that Amilcar should call to the Guard which was in Clelias out-chamber to get out, he was for∣ced to stay above four hours ere he could get the door open: But at last he got out, having put Cle∣lia and Plotina into the best hopes he could, though he conceived not much himself.

As soon as he got out, he went to Tullias, who discovered an extraordinary trouble at this acci∣dent. But Madam, said Amilcar to her; I humbly conceive, that before the King send any new Orders for the guarding of the Captives, it were fit you set them at liberty. Ah Amilcar, said she to him, it is a thing now absolutely impossible; for the Lieutenant to him that is dead, who is now in full power and pretends to his place, is so faithful to Tarquin, that there is no likelihood of corrupting him; and I am but too much given to believe by reason of this accident, that good Fortune begins to shake hands with me, for it hath happened very strangely. To be short (added she) I cannot so much as know who hath killed this man, whose life contributed so much to my quiet; and all that I can say of it is, that the fire began at Brutus's Aunts, that it is said there were some secret ene∣mies of Tarquin's seen in the same street disguised; that they endeavoured to secure them, and that this man was killed by some one whose name can∣not be learned: and it hath hapned that the stupid Brutus drew his Sword against the King's Officers: But he hath withal so little sense, that he hath been here, as if he had done nothing amiss, and were confident his stupidity should free him from the

punishment he deserves. So that considering by what an adventure my design is crossed, and satis∣fied there must be some plot which I cannot disco∣ver, I must needs (if Tarquin change not his mind) take some extraordinary resolution: For if I were to set Rome on fire, to avoid being slighted by a daughter of Clelius's, I will rather begin with the Palace where she is imprisoned, than suffer my self to be made the slave of a slave, though I should pe∣rish my self in the fire I had kindled. The cruel Tullia spoke this with so much expression of Fury in her looks, that Amilcar was in some doubt that she who had made no conscience to pass through her Fathers body to get into the Throne, might easily be drawn into some extravagant resolution. He therefore told her it were not amiss to stay till the end of the Treaty or of the Siege, before she resolved on any thing, and that in the mean time, he would do her what service he could with Tarquin.

Upon this Spurius Lucretius (who was then Go∣vernour of Rome) came to acquaint her, that cer∣tainly there must be some secret conspiracy in the City, inregard he had been advertised of some nightmeetings in divers places, and that it was requisite some end were put to the Siege of Ar∣dea, lest the absence of Tarquin might occasion some rising. 'Tis true Lucretius spoke not this aloud; insomuch that Amilcar seeing he whisper∣ed, departed, and came to Racilias. But he was much surprized to see the house half burnt, and not to find there neither Aronces, Brutus, Her∣minius, Racilia, nor Hermilia. Not knowing what to think, he went to Sivelias, where he lear∣ned the truth, and where Brutus came soon after, with whom he conferred about what was most fit to be done, for considering how things stood, it seemed necessary they knew what passed in the Camp, and yet it was withall requisite Amilcar remained with Tullia. Whereupon Brutus offer'd to go to Tarquin, for though nothing were com∣municated to him, yet was he fitter to observe what was done, then any other, as being not mi∣strusted by any. Besides that having been made Tribune of the Celeres (which was a kind of Horse∣guard first raised by Romulus) he had then some pretence to go to the King about something that related to his imployment, which should signi∣fie no more then to confirm Tarquin in the opini∣on of his incapacity: and to speak truly, Tarquin had not bestowed it on him, had it not been to disappoint another of more ability to discharge it; there being at that time no employment gotten by election, but all being at the sole disposal of the Tyrant.

Brutus therefore took a resolution to go to the Camp, to discover what passed there, that so he might acquaint those who were employed about the deliverance of Rome, the liberty of Clelia, and safety of Aronces. But in his way thither he took that house of Valerius's where Aronces was, to whom he delivered Clelias letter, which he had received from Amilcar, and withal acquainted him, that he was not charged with any thing had pass'd, as also neither Herminius, Artemidorus, Zenocra∣tes, nor Celeres. He told them however, it was not fit they returned to Rome before this Tumult were appeased, and that it were known what Tarquin said of it.

Herminius in the mean time whose purpose it was to get into Ardea, was detained by Aronces till the very last day of the Cessation. But Tar∣quin having some suspicion of Valerius, Brutus told them he thought it not safe for them to stay in that place, so that he advised them to go along with him as soon as it were night, assuring them he would bring them to a certain house of Colla∣tia where they should be more secure. But (re∣plied Herminius) you consider not that Collatine is Lord of Collatia: Pardon me (replied he) but I know Collatine is in the Camp, and that he sees Lucretia but very seldom; besides the house to which I would bring you to, stands alone far from any other; the Master of it is one that hath nei∣ther Wife nor Children, one that hath a depen∣dance on me, and may be trusted. This said, Bru∣tus was no further opposed; and Valerius who was present, being of the same mind, they went away that evening together, and Brutus con∣ducted his friends to that mans house where he himself had lodged, when he saw Lueretia in the Garden, which was the last time that ever he spoke to her. For from that time he had not so much as the sight of her, so carefully had she avoided all interviewes with him, and indeavoured to live a retired and solitary life. The Moon shining ve∣ry bright, as this illustrious Troop came near Collatia, Brutus discovered the house where Lu∣cretia lived; whereupon not being able to keep from sighing, Aronces who was next him, over∣heard it, and asked him the reason of it. Alas (said he to him) can I possible see the house where the attractive Lucretia lives, and not sigh. Ah my dear Brutus (said Aronces to him) though your grief be just, yet is it not so well grounded as mine; for as to Lucretia, you fear neither her death nor the exorbitance of a Tyrant. 'Tis true, the pu∣nishment of my love consists not in fear (replied he) but I feel something worse then the most hor∣rid fear, since I am certain never to have any so∣ciety with the Divine Lucretia, and having at the same time a love for her, and a hatred for Tar∣quin, my soul struggles with two violent Passions, without any hope to satisfie them; for though I am continually plotting against this cruel Tyrant, yet my reason tells me, I shall never destroy him; so that I rather contrive my own destruction, and am busied to deceive my self, then to do any ad∣vantagious service to my Country: Aronces an∣swered Brutus as might be expected from an un∣fortunate Lover, that is, as a man who thought himself the most miserable of all Lovers; for as we think not the misfortunes past, less then those we suffer; but in as much as the sence of them is past; so does not any man believe the mis-fortunes o another less then his own, but because he is not sensible of them.

But at length Brutus having disposed his friends into the mans house who was so faithful to him, took his way to the Camp, where he arrived just upon the departure of Sextus, who was gone no body knew whither. As soon he came, he went to see Tarquin, the Prince of Pometia and Titus, who having already heard of the burning of Ra∣cilias house, the death of the Captain of the Guard, and the tumult which followed in Rome, asked him what news he brought; but he much wondred that they knew not what he had done in the ad∣venture,

and it seems Tullia, and those who had sent Tarquin the account of it, gave so little heed to what Brutus had done, that they had quite for∣got to acquaint this Prince that he was any way concerned in the disorder. He was also very glad to see that Aronces, Herminius, Artemidorus, Zenocrates, and Celeres, were not at all accused.

But the Prince of Pometia, who had an infinite affection for Hermilia, was more inquisitive into the accident of the fire, so to be satisfied what was become of her. 'Tis true, Brutus answered so impertinently to what was asked him, that this Prince was not much more satisfied than before; nor indeed had Brutus any other business there, than to hear what was said. He therefore under∣stood that the Treaty of Ardea was still in the same Posture, and that there was no great hope of any alteration; Tarquin being willing to de∣liver up all the Captives but Clelia, but would by no means hear of dismissing her. But Horatius who was grown very powerful in Ardea, obliged the people of that City to demand the liberty of Clelia, as well as Caesonia, Plotina, Danae, and their friends. The Envoy of the King of Clusium made a great stir that there was no news of Aron∣ces, and employed all the interest he could to hin∣der Clelia from coming into the hands of those of Ardea. But he might have spared both his fear and his pains, for Tarquin's passion was ob∣stacle enough.

Things being in this posture, Tullia and Lucre∣tius sent severally to Tarquin, and those who were sent by them, came into his Tent while Brutu: was there, which the Tyrant took no notice of. Brutus by this means hearing what was said to Tarquin, as being not bidden by any one to with∣draw, he understood that the Messenger from Tullia told him, that she had at last discovered that Herminius lay concealed in Rome; that it was he whom the Captain of the Guard would have secu∣red; that Aronces with three other friends had relieved Herminius, that they had left Rome; and therefore it lay upon him to find them out. On the other side, Lucretius particularly acquainted Tarquin, that he had discovered that Tullia en∣deavoured to get the Captives into her own pow∣er, though he knew not the reason of it; and that he had understood that some persons had lain con∣cealed at Valerius's Country house, who were gone thence towards Collatia. But within two hours after Lucretius himself arrives, to acquaint Tar∣quin that since he had sent to him, he had been credibly informed that those who had lain hid at Valeria's, were for certain at Collatia, or at least had been there: So that Tarquin being exaspera∣ted at so many unlucky reports, gave out divers unjust and violent orders. And Clelia being that which at that time found his mind most employ∣ment, he resolved to have her brought to the Camp, that so she might not be at the disposal of Tullia, saying aloud to one of those Creatures who promoted his Passions, that she should absolutely either satisfie his Love or his Revenge. For Her∣minius, his purpose was to promise extraordinary rewards to those that should bring him either dead or alive: He resolved to make the same promises to those that should bring Aronces to him; and for Artemidorus, Zenocrates, and Celeres, he was extremely incensed at what they had done.

Brutus understanding so many things of so great consequence together, none having the least fear or suspicion of him, thought fit his Friends at Col∣latia had notice thereof: But not knowing well how to trust any other with what he knew, he re∣solved to go himself to the place where he had left them, to bid them depart thence: Yet could he not go till the next morning, lest his departure might be suspected. But as he was ready to de∣part, the Prince of Pometia and Titus, who were going to Rome to see Hormilia and Collatina, asked him whether he would follow them, supposing he was also bound for Rome: Besides that they were much taken with Brutus's affected simplicity, es∣pecially ever since he had accompanied them in their journey to Delphi, when Tarquin frighted by a prodigie, had sent these two Princes to the Oracle at Delphi to know the meaning of it, though till that time they always sent upon such occasions into Tuscany. Now Brutus had behaved himself so ingeniously in this voyage, that without disco∣vering his understanding, he had diverted them very much: But he had carried himself more cun∣ningly than they thought, for he had brought an offering to Delphi, though they perceived it not, which was in some measure a representation of his understanding; for he had caused a kind of Gol∣den Scepter to be inclosed in one of those staves which men carry rather out of grave Custom or as a badge of Authority, than for necessity; to in∣timate to Posterity at least, that his understand∣ing lay concealed under a gross stupidity, as that precious offering was inclosed within a piece of Wood of little value. Nay Brutus had better understood, than those Princes, the answer of the Oracle which they consulted: For they ha∣ving demanded who should Reign after Tarquin, the Oracle answered, He who should first kiss his Mother. The Prince of Pometia and Titus (as witty as they were) had understood it according to the literal sense, and had put it to the chance between themselves, whether of them should first salute the cruel Tullia, hoping thereby to exclude Prince Sextus their Brother, though the first born of the Family. But Brutus not acquainting them with their error, found out another meaning of the words of the Oracle; for imagining, that the Earth is the common Mother of all men, he pre∣tended to fall down, and kissing the ground, he thanked the Gods that had put him in some hopes he should one day put a period to the Reign of so cruel a Tyrant. This hope yet was but very weak when the Prince of Pometia and Titus, asked him to go along with them to Rome, as being in no small fear of Tarquin's cruelty, towards those per∣sons for whom of all the world he had the greatest esteem.

But that he might omit nothing that lay in his power for their preservation, he excused himself to those who would have carried him to Rome, not but that it was his intention to go thither, as soon as he had been at Collatia, for he thought it necessary that Amilcar should employ his interest with Tullia for the welfare of that admirable per∣son, without whom Aronces could not be happy. To make therefore the best advantage of his time, he departed, purposing to go attended only by one slave: But Fortune was pleased to dispose o∣therwise of him, for Tarquin who was impatient

to have in his power those who he was informed lay hid at Valerius's, and who were or had been at Collatia, intreated Collatine and his Father-in-Law Lucretius, to go thither immediately, and if they were there to cause them to be secured, if not, to be pursued. Now it happened so fortunately that they overtook Brutus in a cross Road, where one way led to Rome the other to Collatia. Brutus no question was not a little troubled at their arrival; for he easily imagined that Collatine and Lucretius went not without some reason to Collatia.

But though he could give them no good account of his taking that way with them, yet he bore them company, they never asking why he did it; for taking no great heed to him, they fell a dis∣coursing as freely as if he had not been there, and permitted him to follow them without so much as speaking to him. He in the mean time desirous to dive into their design, hearkned very atten∣tively to what they said. Lucretius was engaged to Tarquin out of considerations of Ambition, and Collatine of Kindred, for they were both vertuous, and detested the cruelty of that Prince: So that falling into discourse about their present employ∣ment, I know not, says Lucretius to Collatine, whe∣ther we should be glad to find what we are going to look for; for though I was heretofore the cause of Herminius's banishment, I would not have him now fall into the hands of Tarquin. But was it not you (replied Collatine) that informed the King that some people lay concealed at Valerius's? 'Tis true (replied Lucretius) but if I had not done it, I must have concealed my self; for the cruel Tul∣lia knowing that I had understood so much, I was no longer Master of it: I am now satisfied, but too late, that Lucretias Mother had much rea∣son when she would have disswaded me from inga∣ging my self too far into the Interests of Tar∣quin; for to measure things according to his na∣ture, there is nothing so certain, as that he is a professed enemy to all that are any way ambiti∣ous, or have any love of Glory; and indeed it was the constant saying of my wife, that Tar∣quin would be the only ambitious man in the State, that those who lived under him must not be his Subjects but his Slaves; that he would ever be an enemy to all persons of honour, and that I should one day be ore whelm'd with the ruines of his house, if I dis-intangled not my self out of his concernments. I assure you (replied Collatine) that Lucrecia continues in the resentments of her Mother, for though she leads a very retired life, and seems to be nothing concerned in those things that are done in the World, she hath Tarquin in the greatest detestation that may be. She never meets with any occasion to say something which might disengage me from the interests of Tarquin, but she doth it with such earnestness, as I find her not subject to in any thing else. She remembers all the exorbitances of Tarquin, and all the cruelties of Tullia: She hath not forgotten even those little expressions of Generosity, in words which fell from all those whom they have either banished or put to death, and from the constancy of so many illustrious but unfortunate persons; she draws those infallible consequences, which convince her that Tarquin will be ruin'd; so that she is perpetually telling me it were better to live quietly at Collatia, than to be so much about the King. It is long since (replied coldly Lucretius, reflecting on the Letter he had some time found) my daughter hath had a horrid aversion for Tarquin, though she could not well tell the reason of it, for people of her age are not ordinarily much concerned in State af∣fairs.

Brutus hearing what Lucretius said, was much troubled at it, and felt in his heart a certain re∣dintegration of Love which filled it with joy, out of an imagination he had, that he was some∣what concern'd in the hatred which Lucretia had for Tarquin, and that when she would oblige Col∣latine to disengage himself from his interest, and endeavoured to perswade him that the Tyrant would be destroyed, she called to mind the design which he told her he should have as long as he lived to ruine him. So that entertaining himself with this reflection; Alas, infinitely amiable Lucretia, said he, is it possible that I am not banished out of your memory, and that the love of the unfortu∣nate Brutus, contributes somewhat to the hatred you have for Tarquin? Can I yet be happy enough to deserve the reflection of your thoughts in the midst of your solitude? But why should I doubt it, resumed he, doth not the innocency of our affection assure me, that Lucretia remembers it without any disturbance of mind, and that it is the object of her most pleasant imaginations?

As Brutus entertained himself in this manner, he heard Collatine say to Lucretius, but is not that Sextus who crosses the Road, and who followed only by one Slave, seems to avoid meeting with us? 'Tis he without doubt (answered Lucretius) but since he will not be seen, let us not see him; for he is young, insolent, and fantastick; and certainly it were not civility to pretend to see him since he endeavours so much to avoid it. But whence should he come now, added Lucretius? Princes of his humour (replied Collatine) do things so obscurely, that it must never be asked whence they come.

While Lucretius and Collatine were thus engaged in discourse, and kept on their way not pretend∣ing to see Sextus, who crossed the fields purposely to avoid them; Brutus felt somewhat in his heart which cannot admit expression; for looking on Sextus as a Lover of Lucretia, he was tempted to put his feigned stupidity in practise, and to fol∣low and lay hold on him as a Rival, whom he a∣bominably hated, and indeed he might easily have quitted Lucretius and Collatine, who would not have hindred him, and have pursued Sextus who had but one slave about him no more than he. But thinking withal, that when he should have killed Sextus, Rome were not delivered, and that he must quit the design of delivering it, the love of his Country stifled in him that violent eruption of jealousie which had stirred him, when he saw Prince Sextus, who riding very fast, soon got out of their sight, whose meeting he so much a∣voided.

But they had scarce rid on half an hour, ere Collatine spies one of the Slaves that belonged to his wife coming towards them, running as fast as he could possible, thereby discovering there was something extraordinary that obliged him to make such hast: So that Collatine coming up to him, What's the reason, (said he to him) that thou makest such hast? Hath Lucretia sent thee about

some business that requires it? Right my Lord, (replied the Slave) and I am commanded from her, to tell you and Spurius Lucretius, that it concerns her very much to see you both as soon as may be possible. She further desires you if it may be, to bring some of her intimate friends with you: But knowest thou not (replied Collatine) what hath obliged Lucretia to send thee? No my Lord (re∣plied he) and I have no more to say to you than what you have heard.

Lucretius and Collatine not able to imagine what should oblige Lucretia to send for them, began to put on somewhat faster than before, not saying any thing to Brutus, who having a greater Curio∣sity to know what the matter was than they, fol∣lowed them, they not offering to forbid him: For besides that, he was never mistrusted by any; he had also endeavoured as much as his stupidity permitted him, to hold a fair correspondence with Collatine, out of a hope that it might one day pro∣cure him the happiness to see Lucretia. They therefore rid all three faster than they had done before, and that without speaking to one another, every one imagining to himself what might be the occasion of this message. But for Brutus, his mind was in a greater disturbance than either of the two; for it coming into his thoughts that he was to see his dear Lucretia, whom he had not seen since he had had with her the most passionate, and most ravishing discourse that ever was, he had a certain trouble in his mind, which yet had some∣thing in it that was pleasant.

But at length they came to Collatia, where they were no sooner arrived, but they met Valerius, who having had notice that he was suspected, was going to a certain friends house; so that Lucre∣tia having desired her Father and Husband to bring some of their friends with them, they staid him; for though Valerius was not ingaged in the concernments of Tarquin, yet was he no enemy either to Lucretius or Collatine. Taking him therefore along with them, they passed by the house where Aronces, Herminius, Artemidorus and Celeres were. But Brutus did not so much as look that way; and for Lucretius and Collatine, they almost forgot they were sent to Collatia from Tarquin, so much were there minds taken up with the message they had received. Having therefore alighted, they were going into the house, and were hardly gotten to the stone walk which you come into, when you have passed through the Court, but they spie Lucretia, who was on the other side in an Entry at the bottom of the Stairs, but they perceived her to be ruf∣fled, pale and melancholy, and they saw in her looks, grief, indignation, and disorder. 'Tis true, she blushed extremely, when intending to lift up her eyes, and to speak, she met those of Brutus. That sight put her into such distur∣bance, that she step'd back, turned her head aside, and was not able to bring forth that she was a∣bout to say. But at length having lifted up her eyes to Heaven, she turned her self towards her Father and her Husband, who seeing in what trouble his Wife was, was very earnest with her to know the cause. Ah Collatine (said she to him) lifting up her eyes a second time to Heaven (as it were to beg its protection) if the misfortune which hath happened to me could be expressed, it were not so great as it is; but all that modesty permits me to tell you, is, that the infamous Sex∣tus came into my Chamber, that he is both, the most criminal, and the most insolent of men; and I am the most unfortunate person of my Sex, though the most innocent. This known (continued she, with tears in her eyes) ask me no more, but be so ge∣nerous, as to promise I shall be revenged, that you will exterminate even the whole Family of the Tarquins, that you will die rather than suffer them to live; and in a word, that none here∣after may know the violence I have received, but shall withal, know the revenge that followed it. As she delivered these words, Lucretia cer∣tainly not out of any design, met again the looks of Brutus; 'tis true, she presently turned aside, but not till he could have received certain moti∣ons which seemed to demand his particular re∣venge on Prince Sextus. Whereupon her Hus∣band coming near her, began to chear up, and promised to revenge her, while a faithful wo∣man-slave, that belonged to this afflicted Beauty, gave Lucretius a short account of Sextus's Crime, and this terrible accident, which all the World hath been acquainted with; upon which, Lucre∣tius, as well as Collatine and Valerius, promised Lucretia to revenge her. For Brutus he promised no otherwise than by his looks, and certain threatning gestures, which he could not abstain from; for though he was desirous to speak, yet could he not possibly do it on this first apprehensi∣on, such a storm had grief, rage, indignation, love, and jealousie raised in him.

But these four Illustrious Romans having pro∣mised Lucretia to revenge her, Valerius, who loved her extremely for her virtue, besides the re∣lation of an ancient friend of his illustrious daughters, desired her not to afflict her self so much, and that she should live for the pleasure sake of seeing her self revenged. No, no Vale∣rius (replied this generous person) it shall never be said that Lucretia hath taught the Romans by her Example, that a Woman can out-live her Re∣putation. With these words, the vertuous Lu∣cretia appearing more fair and resolute than be∣fore, drew a Ponyard, which she had hid about her, and lifting up her hand and arm, and looking up towards Heaven, as it were, to offer her self a sacrifice to those Gods whom she invoked, she thrust it into her breast, and fell down with her bosom all bloody, at the feet of the unfortunate Brutus, who had the fatal advantage to have the last of her looks, and to hear the last of her sighs. For while Lucretia, Collatine and Valerius were making horrid out-cries to express their asto∣nishment and their sorrow, this unhappy Lover cast himself on the ground, snatches the Pony∣ard out of Lucretias breast, and seeing her resign∣ing up her last breath, in a manner as if she yet knew him, and begging his revenge, his mind was seised by a certain heroick fury, which when he saw that this admirable Woman was dead, raised him up, with the Ponyard all bloody in his hand, and enabled him to speak with such Eloquence as the Gods seemed to have inspired into him. Insomuch, that all those who in an instant were come from all parts of the Town, to see so sad a spectacle, were strangely surprised to hear Brutus, who still held up the bloody Po∣nyard:

For he spoke the noblest things in the World, to ingage Lucretia, Collatine, Valerius, and all that heard him, to revenge the injury done to Lucretia, and expel out of Rome the Family of the Tarquins. So that prevailing with all those who heard him, both by reason of the admiration they had of him, and by the sight of so fair and so sad an object, as also those great things he said unto them, he derived the fury of his own spirit into those who heard him.

This done, he delivered the Ponyard into the hands of Collatine, and thence into those of Lu∣cretius and Valerius, and afterwards into those of all that were present, and made them all swear by the chast blood of Lucrecia, to revenge her death, to follow and be guided by him: Where∣upon, not to spend time in fruitless tears, he sent for Aronces, Herminius, Artemidorus, Zenocrates and Celeres, and having given them the same Oath with the same Ceremony, he commanded Lucre∣tia's Chariot to be made ready, and assisted by A∣ronces, his dear friend Herminius, and divers o∣thers, he puts into it the fair Corps of that ver∣tuous person, laid on rich Cushions, and causing the Chariot to be covered with a Mourning Cloth, he himself gets on Horse-back, commands all the people to follow him, and riding up and down the City of Collatia with this Ponyard in his hand, he presently took his way towards Rome. But he was followed thither by all the the people of Collatia, that were able to follow him; for as the vertue of Lucretia, while she lived, raised her into the adoration of all; so be∣ing dead, did it ingage them to revenge her death; and for more security, Valerius set Guards at the Gates of Collatia, to hinder any thing to be carried to Tarquin. Brutus therefore comes to the Gates of Rome with a considerable number of armed people about him, every one having what he could get, before any notice of his coming was brought. For his part, he rid behind the Chariot of Lucretia, so that having that sad ob∣ject still in his sight, and the Ponyard wherewith Lucretia had killed her self in his hand, he thought what cannot well be imagined, and what it was impossible he could have expressed himself, love, grief, jealousie and rage, had put his reason into so much disorder. He hath indeed since said, to express the greatness of his disturbance, that in this emergency he minded not the Liberty of Rome, but in order to revenge the death of the innocent Lucretia, and made use of the Interest of his Country, which was so dear to him, only to satisfie his Passion. Nor did he then think of revenging the death of his Father and Brother, and so much was his mind taken up with this sad accident, that Lucretia was the only cause of this great and dangerous attempt. Nor was this de∣sign so inconsiderate as it seemed to be: For brutus, Aronces, Valerius, Herminius, Zenocrates, Artemidorus and Celeres knew that there was in Rome so great an inclination to a Revolt, and were so well informed of the great number of those who were secret Enemies to Tarquin, that they entertained some hopes the people might be drawn into an insurrection. Aronces hoping the deliverance of Rome might procure Clelias liberty, was as zealous to break its chains, as if he had been a Roman, and was as earnest in the revenge of Lucretia, as if he had been her Brother. Her∣minius for his part, had been always so exaspe∣rated against the violences of Tarquin, was so sensible of this adventure of his friend, and so moved at the affliction of Brutus, that he was as forward to revenge Lucretia, as if Valeria had re∣ceived the same injury. For Artemidorus, Ze∣nocrates and Celeres, they being all vertuous and gallant souls, were easily drawn in to ingage in this noble attempt; and for Valerius it was so long since he wished the destruction of Tarquin, and the Liberty of Rome, that he was easily con∣cerned in the revenge of Lucretia. But that which was most strange, was that Lucretius and Collatine, who were sent from the Camp to ex∣ercise the Orders of the Tyrant at Collatia, and who had permitted Brutus to follow them with∣out saying any thing to him, acknowledged him for their Leader, and came along with those, whom had not this sad accident happened, they should have secured, and conducted into the Pri∣sons of Tarquin; such a change of resolutions did this strange adventure work in them, and so much respect had the great worth of Bru∣tus, discovering it self so unexpectedly inspired into them.

On the other side, Aronces, Herminius, and his friends, who had quitted Rome disguised, were now resolved to appear there openly. 'Tis true, they were attended by a strange multitude of peo∣ple from Collatia, who by reason of their discon∣tents were fit instruments to raise a Commotion in Rome. Besides, Aronces, Herminius, and Vale∣rius having conferred together, had thought fit their friends had notice to be ready, for their force could not march very fast, by reason of the Chariot which carried the Corps of Lucretia. They therefore sent Celeres before, who re∣ceiving instructions from these three excellent persons, made haste to give Amilcar notice to get together all their friends in the most spaci∣ous place of Rome, and that they should come thi∣ther armed. He was also to advertise the Salii and the Vestals, with whom they held intelli∣gence, that there might be nothing wanting, which might contribute to the enterprise. Lu∣cretius for his part, being then Governour of Rome, sent Orders to those who were under him, to be ready for some expedition, bidding him whom he sent not to mention, what had happen∣ed to Lucretia. To be short, the Chariot that brought the Corps of that admirable per∣son came to Rome, before any thing was su∣spected.

Being come to the Gates, Brutus who doubted not but the sight of so sad a spectacle would move to pity, and exasperate the hearts of the people, and consequently ingage them to a rising, went himself and took off the great mourning Cloath that covered that excellent body; but as he drew it off, he turned his head aside to hide his trouble from Collatine. Whereupon, the Cha∣riot entred uncovered into the City followed by Brutus, who held the bloody Ponyard in his hand, and by the Father and Husband of Lucre∣tia with their eyes full of tears, and by the mul∣titude of the people that came from Collatia, be∣wailing the death of Lucretia. Curiosity and a∣mazement

soon seised the minds of all those who were spectators of so strange a spectacle, and the same beauty of Lucretia which made her subject to receive the violence, contributed also to her revenge: For being but newly dead, she appear∣ed so admirably handsome, that the people of Rome who had heard so much of her Beauty, and hardly ever seen her by reason of the solitary life she led, was extremely moved at the sight of so many Charms; hut seeing her dead, was desirous to know the cause of her death and the rather from that multitude of people who followed the Chariot, and wept as they went.

This obliged almost all those who saw Lucre∣tia's body, to follow it, and so augmented the number of those that accompanied it, insomuch that he who conducted the Chariot, being hin∣dred by the crowd of people, was forced to go more softly. Brutus, thought fit the people had time to come together, to soften and be moved of it self before the design absolutely broke forth, and that it were not amiss to expect till they were come to that place where they were to find their friends met together. He therefore said not a word, and riding close to Lucretia's Chariot, he only shewed the people by some gesture of his hand and eyes that object. But being come to that spacious place, which is between the Capitol and the Palatine Hill, where they were resolved to rest, Brutus caused the Chariot to be staid be∣fore the Gate of the Temple of Jupiter Stator, which Romulus had built in accomplishment of a v••w, which he had made in the time of the war with the Sabins.

This done, Brutus alighted, and got up on a place two steps high, whence, as being at that time Tribune of the Celeres, he had the priviledge to speak in publick on divers occasions. At first sight, in regard he was accustomed to make known the Orders of Tarquin, with much sim∣plicity to those that were under his charge, there was no body troubled himself much to hearken to what he said, all thronging to get near Lucretias Chariot, and to understand the circumstances of her death. But Amilcar coming in, followed by a great number of Valerius, Herminius and Colla∣tine's friends, and those who had before heard Brutus speak at Collatia, making it their business to impose silence on the rest of the multitude; at length, the illustrious, and too too unfortunate Lover, with a fierceness in his countenance that challenged respect, lifted up his eyes to Heaven, and shewing to the people the Ponyard he had in his hand.

BEhold Generous Romans (said he to them with a certain accent of Authority) this is the very Ponyard which the fair Lu∣cretia thrust into her own heart, though as far from any crime as innocence it self. I shew it you, O ye Romans, to obtain your permis∣sion to use it against the most cruel enemy you have. 'Tis for that, that the illustrious Fa∣ther of the vertuous Lucretia, and her un∣fortunate Husband are come with tears in their eyes to demand justice of you: But that you see so many gallant men with their arms in their hands, is not so much to revenge the death of this generous Roman Lady, as to deli∣ver you out of Slavery. This is the day, gene∣rous Romans, that you must shake off the the Yoke of the outragious Tarquin, and the cruel Tullia. The blood of Lucretia hath made Heaven propitious to you, and the in∣jury she hath received from the eldest Son of your Tyrant, ingageth all the Gods so far to revenge her death, that though you should not concern your selves in it, I am confident the same Gods who have inspired into me the at∣tempt of turning him out of the Throne which he hath usurped, will take vengeance of his presumption, and will also punish you for your baseness, if you joyn not with so many gallant men, who are resolved to die this day, and be sacrificed near the body of the chast Lucretia, rather than continue their subjection to the most abominable Tyrant in the World.

Brutus pronounced these words with such a noble confidence, that the people of Rome astoni∣shed to hear him speak after this manner, was re∣ally perswaded the Gods had done a miracle on him, that the great understanding he then ex∣pressed was inspired into him; that they ought to look on him as a Messenger from Heaven; that they should hearken to him with respect, and follow his directions; so easie a matter it is, to dispose of the minds of the people, when one knows how to make use of those things whereby they are surprised. So that after a great noise of acclamations, every one crying silence, the whole multitude became so strangely quiet, that Brutus drawing a happy Presage from the attention they gave him, continued in these words.

I Have already told you, generous Romans, continued he, that this was the day de∣signed for your Liberty, and I tell it you once∣more. This certainly is the day that you shall recover your own just Authority, since that it is of you that Lucretius and Collatine demand justice for the violence the chast Lucretia hath received from the insolent Sextus. But alas, who can say he ever saw a crime equal to this of his? For suppose this injury of Sextus had been done to one of your Slaves, it were capital according to our Laws. But, generous Ro∣mans, you are not to learn that Lucretia was of a very noble blood, descended of a Family very considerable in Rome, even before the first of the Tarquins had so much as thought of leaving Greece to come into Italy. You know further, that she was admired for ver∣tue; that she was Daughter to the Governour

of Rome, and wife to a near Kinsman of Tarquin. But it seems neither the conside∣ration of blood, nor that of Hospitality, nor the obligations of humane or divine Laws, nor any respect of the Penatial Gods, wit∣nesses of the presumptuous fury of Sextus, had the power to divert him from committing a crime so abhominable, that it can hardly be expressed, and such as the vertuous Lucretia, though she contributed nothing thereto, could indure to out-live, and hath chosen rather to die than to be in a condition to be guilty, though but of the memory of it. But if the innocent Lucretia hath perished through the crime of Sextus, it is but just that Sextus be destroyed to satisfie the death of the innocent Lucretia. It is therefore of you, generous Romans, that Lucretius demands justice for the death of his only daughter: And it is of you that Collatine demands the same justice for the outrage he hath received from a Prince that should have been his Protector. For to whom can these illustrious, but unfortunate persons address themselves to be revenged of their Enemy? To the cruel Tullia, Mother to this unjust Prince? To her, I say, who made no conscience to poyson her former Hus∣band, though the most vertuous Prince in the World, who contrived her Sisters death, a woman infinitely vertuous; who saw her Fa∣ther massacred, though the greatest and wisest of all our Kings, and caused her Chariot to pass over the body of that unfortunate Prince, to get into the Throne she is now possessed of with so much injustice: You know, Romans, that I tell you nothing but what is true, and that I add nothing thereto. How then can we hope for any protection from the wickedest woman in the world, to revenge the most ver∣tuous? Nor is there any probability of obtain∣ing any justice of the Husband of such a Wife, a worthy Father of the Executioner of the innocent Lucretia. For besides that, he hath contributed to all the crimes of Tullia, that he poisoned his former Wife, put to death a Brother and a Father-in-law, what hath he not done to your selves? and what hath he not done to all Romans in general, and to eve∣ry one in particular? He hath thrust Slaves into the Senate, he hath impoverished the rich, oppressed the poor, banished or put to death all of quality, who have not dissembled their ver∣tue to save their lives; he hath undertaken a War only to keep you under, he hath imputed false crimes to hook in the fortunes of those ••e did accuse; and hath even built Temples, though a despiser of the Gods, as much as of men, only to amuse and imploy the com∣mon people, that so he might the more Ty∣ranically exercise the Authority he hath ac∣quired through thousands of crimes. By this means is it come pass, that the same Romans, (who according to sacred Presages, were looked on as Conquerours of the World) are turned wretched Mechanicks, and are fitter to han∣dle a Rule and Chisel, than a Sword or a Buckler. Nevertheless, as wicked and abo∣minable as he is, if he were but your lawful King, Lucretius and Collatine would submit to his injustice, without troubling you with their revenge, and would content themselves to seek it only of the Gods. For my own part, I should also apply my self to them for that of my Father and Brothers death, who, as you know, increased the number of his innocent Victims. But generous Romans, you know that Tarquin is not your lawful King, nor ever can be. This unjust Prince is crept into the Throne, contrary to the Fundamental Laws of our State; he was chosen neither by the Senate, nor by the people; he laughed at the Augures, and their Presages, which are observed upon these occasions, and slighted all Ceremonies of Religion, which he hath always made a stalking-horse to the Interests of his Ambition. You should therefore be so far from acknowledging him to be your King, that you should think your selves obliged by the fidelity you owe your last lawful King to revenge his death. Revenge it then, Romans, by reveng∣ing that of Lucrecia, and to give you ano∣ther motive to induce you thereto, know that the Daughter of the vertuous Clelius, your fellow-Citizen, whose life the Tyrant, after he had banished him, hath so often endea∣voured to take away, is one of his Captives, and that haply she will be exposed to all the misfortunes of Lucretia, if we do not sud∣denly deliver her. But what do I say? Your business is not only to revenge your late King, your Fellow-Citizens dead or hanished, nor to deliver the Daughter of vertuous Clelius, and Neece of the Grand Vestal, but it lies upon you to revenge your selves, and to keep your Wives, your Daughters and Sisters from falling into the same inconveniences. Consi∣der, O ye Romans, what kind of Successor Tarquin will leave you, if you take not a ge∣nerous resolution to root out the whole Fami∣ly; consider what presumption Sextus will arise to, if this crime escape unpunished; how great the insolence will be of a new Tyrant, born and brought up in Tyranny; and whom we shall encourage to be more cruel through our own shameful cowardize. Let us then take this generous resolution, which the whole World shall one day celebrate with infinite praises; all we have to do, to be free, is to will it, we need no more than shut our Gates a∣gainst a Tyrant, to become Masters of Rome,

and to drive away a mischievous Woman, to banish hence all Vices. When we have once put in execution so noble a design, I am con∣fident Tarquin's own Soldiers will prove his most implacable Enemies. They are all your Brethren, your Children, or your Friends, they are subject to the same tyranny as you are; you are all ingaged in the same interests, they acknowledge the same Laws, they adore the same Gods; and certainly, we shall no sooner have shown them so great an Example of Vertue, but they will chearfully imitate us. The most difficult part of the attempt is past, in that we have taken the boldness to speak so freely, and break that infamous silence, which made us the Complices of Tarquin by con∣niving at so many outrages, so many villanies, so many crimes. But since we have this day begun to bemoan our selves, I doubt not but our lamentations will stir up the vertue of all Romans, and that what was privately resolved, will be publickly put in execution. Tell me, I beseech you, Generous Romans, is there any one among you, who hath not secretly repined at the injustice of Tarquin, and hath not made vows and imprecations against him? And have I not reason to believe that all Romans will be of our side? Nay, I dare presume to tell you, that you are no longer in a condition to deliberate what you have to do; for since you have heard my Remonstrances, it concerns your well-fare, that you carry the business on to the utmost extremity: Tarquin, as you well know, being so little accustomed to make any difference between the innocent and the guilty, that he would rather sacrifice all the Romans to his vengeance, than suffer one particular Roman to escape his revenge. Be therefore no longer in suspence, since you are already Traytors to him; and that you may defie his injustice, resign your selves to the conduct of the Gods. I therefore conjure you in the name of Romulus, our illustrious Founder, not to suffer Sextus to come into the number of his Successors; I conjure you further in the name of Numa, the most religious of all our Kings; and I conjure you once more, in the name of Servius Tullus, the wisest and most vertuous Prince that ever was. But I particularly de∣mand your revenge for the admirable Lucre∣tia, and the liberty of Clelia, in the name of the vertuous Tanaquil, whose memory will never be lost among us. Consider therefore once more, that since we have no lawful King, you have the disposal of the Supreme Power. Consider, I say, that you will be guilty of all the crimes your Tyrants shall hereafter com∣mit, if you lay not hold of this opportunity, that Fortune sorces upon you. The day I now speak to you on, is a fortunate day, it is nei∣ther that of the Calends, nor that of the Nones, nor yet that of the Ides, all which are fatal to great Enterprises; all Presages favour us; and in a word, as I have told you already, we have no more to do to be free, than to desire it. Let us therefore couragiously take up arms for the Liberty of our Country; but let it be with that Heroick Confidence, which is always precedent to all great and fortunate emergencies. I have already told you, that this attempt is easie, and I tell it you once more; but supposing it were not, and that we must struggle with a Civil War within our Walls, such as might arm Citizens against Citizens; that we must see the same Forces that now besiege Ardea before Rome, and that the Temple of Janus were to be eternal∣ly open, should this oblige us to quit the de∣sign of destroying so unjust a Tyrant? Were it not more noble to see our Country ingaged in a perpetual War, than forced to a perpetual Slavery? Romulus, who is now in the number of the Immortal, waged a War against the Sabines as soon as he had laid the Foundati∣ons of Rome, but upon much slighter grounds than we have to war against Tarquin, since that he continued it to justifie the carrying a∣way the Sabine Virgins; and we have to deal with the Ravisher of Lucretia. Numa the Second of our Kings, but the first for Piety, allowed by his Laws, that there might be just Wars, though he met not with any occasion to raise any during all his Reign. Tullus Hostilius did not only carry on that so famous War of Alba; but was also engaged against the Fidenates and the Veientes. Ancus Martius had to do with the Inhabitants of La∣tium, with the Sabines, the Veientes, and the Volsci. The former of the Tarquins of whose vertues the latter have not any, had he not War with divers Nations, especially the Thu∣scans? And Servius Tullus, a person of much Vertue and Moderation, did he make any difficulty to War against the Thuscans, though out of no other considerations than those of Glory? Judge then, Romans, from hence what these great Princes would have done, if the publick Liberty had been in any danger, •••• that it had been to revenge so horrida crime as that of Sextus's. Have not we been en∣gaged in a War for Tarquin? And are we not still engaged in one against our Neigh∣bours to make him the more powerful? Why then may we not as well be engaged against him? It cannot be said we want any thing to raise it; for if we are for our selves, there is nothing against us, Rome having within its own Walls, Soldiers, Captains, Armies, and wherewithal to subsist, without the assistance of any thing but its own strength, and its own

vertue. Let us then resolve to undergo the miseries of an eternal War, rather than sign a Peace with our Tyrants; for even the cer∣tainty of death should not fright us from do∣ing our duty, since a glorious death is to be preferred before an ignominious life. Besides, imagine not there is any among us, that ex∣pects or pretends to be your King; for we ab∣solutely declare to you, that our design aims only at the destruction of the Tyrant, and that we act upon no other Principles than those of the Publick Good, Justice and Glory. Let us then couragiously take up arms; for, as I have already told you, it were henceforth more dan∣gerous to continue in Peace, than to begin a War. Let us revenge the innocent Lucre∣tia: Let us maintain the priviledges of the Vestals, which Tarquin hath violated by de∣taining the Captives of Ardea: Let us re∣cal Vertue into Rome, and to execute the first act of Authority: Let us expel Tullia out of our City: Let us shut the Gates of Rome a∣gainst our Tyrants: Let us make good our Walls, if they assault us: And in a word, let us ra∣ther die like true Romans, than live any longer like infamous Slaves. And now, O ye just Gods (added Brutus, looking up to Heaven) who are the disposers of this World, and the Protectors of Rome, infuse a true desire of glory into the hearts of the people that hears me, and suffer not your Altars to be any lon∣ger prophaned by the unworthy Offerings of our Tyrants. And you, illustrious Founder of our City, whom Vertue hath ranked amongst the Immortal, suffer not your work to be de∣stroyed; and let not Rome, which must one day be Mistress of the World, be any longer subject to the humours of the most cruel of Mankind, and suffer not vertue to be at such a distance from the Throne, as not to be se∣cured against Vice, even in the houses of pri∣vate persons. Divine Egeria, who inspired wise Numa with such holy Laws, infuse into all those that hear me, an ardent desire to de∣stroy him, who hath so slightly observed them. Diana, Goddess of Chastity, to whom our late King hath built a sumptuous Temple, suffer not the chast Lucretia to be unrevenged. Ye sacred Guardians of our Houses, for whom we pretend to have a particular adoration, for∣sake us not, but resign up our enemies to our just vengeance. And finally, thou great Ju∣piter, Master of all the Gods, to whom the abominable Tarquin hath built a Temple, out of sacrilegious motives, curb this insupporta∣ble Tyrant, whose Pride is such as only Thun∣der can pull down. Revenge so many unfor∣tunate men unjustly oppressed; hinder Rome from being destroyed, inflict the severest pu∣nishment on me that may be, if the love of my Country be not the only resentment of my heart; and as far as it is possible, infuse into all Romans the same resentments of treated for their Tyr∣ants, as the heart of Brutus is at this time seised with, that Rome may be delivered, and all Ro∣mans put into a condition of happiness. Let us proceed (generous Romans) this is the last day of your Slavery; if you follow me, Victory ex∣pects us, and I see her already stretching out her Arms to us. Speak, that I may know whether your apprehensions are the same with mine, or at least satisfie me by certain signs, what you would, or would not have. For if it be true, that I and my friends are the only true Romans, and such as only deserve so glo∣rious a name; and that nevertheless we must quit all hope of delivering our Country: This Ponyard (added he, lifting up his arm) that hath pierced the heart of Lucretia, and which I preserve to pierce that of the Tyrant, if op∣portunity befriend me, shall presently run through my own, and ease me of life, which I cannot any longer preserve with pleasure or re∣putation.

At these words the friends of Brutus, Aronces, Valerius, Herminius, Lucretius and Collatine, be∣ginning to cry out all together, Liherty, Liberty, all that infinite multitude made the same cry, and expressed it self by a thousand tumultuous voices, that it was absolutely resolved to shake off the the yoke of Tyranny. But Brutus, whom the love of Lucretia made then more active than that of his Conntry, caused the Body of this admi∣rable Woman to be laid at the entrance into the Temple, placing some of the Inhabitants of Col∣latine to guard it; which done, conferring with Aronces, Lucretius, Collatine, Valerius, Herminius, Artemidorus, Zenocrates, Amilcar, Celeres, Mutius, and divers others, who offered their services to him, it was resolved, that the first thing was to be done, was to secure the Gates. But the Li∣berty of Clelia being the main business of A∣ronces in this deliverance of Rome, he was of opinion, that while Brutus went to seise himself of the Gates of the City, it were fit another party of such as took up Arms for them, should be sent to take in Tarquin's Palace, so to secure Tullia, and to hinder the illustrious daughter of Clelia from being exposed (during this Tumult) either to the insolencies of his Guards, or the cruelty of the abominable Tullia. This Propo∣sal of Aronces seeming not unnecessary, a Party was assigned him for that purpose; nay, they permitted Artemidorus, Zenocrates, and Celeres to follow him: and Brutus getting into the head of all those who had already taken up Arms, went to possess himself of the Gates.

The first Gate he came to, was that which they called the Carmental gate, which was between the Tarpeion Rock of the Tiber: Next he went

to that which is near Janus's Temple, and the Viminal Hill: then to Romulus's gate, towards the Palatine Hill: and lastly, to that which is called Pendana, or otherwise Romulida: But as he went he made a strange alteration in this great Ci∣ty. In a short hours time all the Temples were opened, all Shops shut up, the whole People were in Arms, all the Women went to their Devotions, and there was nothing to be heard through all the streets of Rome, but Imprecations against Tarquin and Tullia, Complaints for the deplorable death of Lucretia, and the Praises of Brutus. The Salii began to sing in their Temples, to demand the li∣berty of Rome, and doubled their care for the pre∣servation of that miraculous Buckler, which was confounded amongst eleven others like it, lest it should be stollen. The Vestals came all about their sacred Fire to beg the same thing of the Goddess Vesta; the great High Priest sacrificed for the same purpose: So that these examples of Piety authori∣zing the Insurrection, had no small influence over the minds of the People.

In the mean time, the creatures of Tarquin, those whom like so many slaves to him he had thrust in∣to the Senate, or the executioners of his Cruelties, were at a strange loss; for the rising proved so sudden and so general, that they had only time to slee to Tullia, who was now in such a condition as she was never in before. Now as it happens that in all popular insurrections there is ever a third party that minds only Plunder; and endeavours to enrich it self by anothers loss: Herminius who much feared the disorder, desired Valerius's leave to place a Guard at his house, lest the excellent Valeria should be exposed to any affronts; as also to dispose another at Sivelias, where Racilia, Her∣milia, and Collatina then were, with the Prince of Pometia and Prince Titus, who yet knew not any thing of the Tumult, in regard this House was in a street somewhat distant from the place where it began. But it happened that Mutius, Herminius's Rival (who had been one of the first that joyned with Brutus) was come, out of the same appre∣hension, to Valerius's door, with the same design as Herminius: So that these two Rivals asking one the other what brought them thither, they very roundly satisfied one another. But Herminius be∣ing at the same time both generous and discreet, though naturally of a fiery nature, broke not forth into any violence upon this accident; but speak∣ing to Mutius, I beseech you, said he to him, let our difference remain undecided, till we have de∣livered Rome; and if you will take my advice, let us endeavour to deserve Valeria by the destruction of Tarquin, for our valour this day is only due to our Country. I am content (replied Mutius) but I think not fit to depart hence, if you allow me not to leave here as many of my people, as you do of yours; which being accordingly done, Mutius returned to Brutus, and Herminius went to his vertuous Mothers to place also a Guard there. But before he came, the noise of what had hapned to Lucretia, and the rising of the City was gotten thither, so that the Prince of Pometia, who was then entertaining his dear Hermilia, and Titus who was talking with Collatina, were ex∣tremely disordered; for being both very vertu∣ous, Sextus's crime caused in them a certain hor∣rour. The Tumult in the mean time still en∣creased, and they were not ignorant that Ra∣cilia and Sivelia loved not Tarquin, and that they could not in honour forsake their Mother, how wicked soever she might be; wherefore there was a necessity they should part with Hermilia and Collatina, but after the most cruel manner in the World, since they had not the liberty to speak any thing to them in particular: 'Tis true, their eyes bid them a sad and sensible adieu. But the Prince of Pometia was somewhat happier than Titus, for he had the time to tell his dear Her∣milia in few words, that he was extremely af∣flicted to leave her. Alas, Madam, said he to her with a low voice, if what is reported of Sextus be true, I fear the Gods will henceforth forsake all the Tarquins, and that I must take my last leave of you; for I look on his crimes as so horrid, that I think it but just to be punished for it, for no other reason, than that I am his Brother. If this unhappiness befall me, added he, pity my sad destiny: But though my Father lose his King∣dom for it, I shall have some comfort, if I lose not your affection.

Having said this, he was forced to accompa∣ny the Prince his Brother, and they were hardly come to the stair-foot, but Herminius, who had a great esteem for them, meets them, followed by those whom he intended to place as a Guard at Sivelias, till the Tumult were over. This meeting surprised them very much; for the Prince of Pometia and Titus seeing Herminius fol∣lowed by people in Arms, easily apprehended from his being in Rome in that posture, that the danger was greater than they had thought it. Herminius on the other side, who infinitely e∣steemed them, and was indeed much obliged to them, in that divers times they had opposed the King their Father in his behalf, who knew that it was for his sake they affected not Mutius, and met them thus in his Mothers house, was ex∣tremely troubled what to do; for it was unque∣stionably fit they should be secured, had he only considered the design he was upon: but thinking with himself, that Honour, Generosity, and the very consideration of Hospitality permitted him not to do it, he chose the more noble side, and speaking to them: How sorry am I for your sake, my Lords (saith he) that you are Brothers to Sextus, and are obliged to be entangled in his ruine; and how sorrow am I for my own, that I am forced to be of a party contrary to yours: Yet to assure you that I have a respect for Vertue where-ever I find it, and will do you all the favour lies in my power, and haply somewhat more than I ought; I offer you a Guard to the Gate of the City which is now nearest; nor indeed can you take any other resolution. You are without Arms; you have none with you but slaves, the whole City is risen, there is nothing can oppose us, and deliberate a minute longer, I shall not haply be in a capacity to protect you. The Prince of Pome∣tia and Titus hearing Herminius speak in this man∣ner, were much surprised at it, for they knew his reality, and doubted not the certainty of what he said: Notwithstanding they stuck a lit∣tle

at the resolution they were to take: but hearing a great noise in the street opposite to that through which they were to pass, and seeing there was no choice to be stood upon, they ac∣cepted Herminius's proffer, but with intention to go out of the City, and to get into the Palace, where Tullia was, by a secret door that Herminius knew not of, in regard it was built in his ab∣sence from Rome. To be short, having ac∣knowledged Herminius's generosity, and regretted their own misfortune, they were brought to a Gate of the City which Brutus had not as yet possessed himself of, conducted thither by Her∣minius himself, who having upon his return pla∣ced a Guard at Sivelias, drew up to Brutus, who presently came to that Gate, at which the Prince of Pometia and Titus went out.

It hapned in the mean time, that this gene∣rous action of Herminius was so far from being prejudicial to the common cause, that it advanta∣ged it; for these two Princes being gallant and withal vertuous persons, their presence might haply have cooled the zeal of those who took up Arms against Tarquin. He did not there∣fore conceal from Brutus what he had done, as∣soon as he was come up to him. But as it is im∣possible to preserve any Order amongst a multi∣tude of people that takes up Arms on a sudden, Rome was in a most deplorable condition; for though the whole City were up, yet every quar∣ter not satisfied it was so, busied it self in mak∣ing Barricadoes against the others. Those of the Capitol fortified themselves apart, lest some one of the Tarquins should possess himself of the Asyle that was on that Hill. Those of the Pa∣latine hill did the like; and those of the Aven∣tine cut down almost all the old Lawrels, where∣with their Hill was in a manner covered, to block up the ways. They also guarded both ends of the Sublician Bridge by which Ancus Martius had joyned the Hill of Janiculum to Rome. Those also of the Quirinal Hill fortified themselves, as did also all the quarters of that famous City. There was also a Guard at the Circus, lest it might have been made a certain Fort: Those of the Sacred street barricado'd themselves: Those of the great street of Apollo did the like: that called Eros did the like: the street of the three Ways which was very populous divided it self, and was the only part of Rome where the Inhabi∣tants disagreed. But for those that lived in the Cyprian street, never was there such fury heard of as they expressed against their Tyrants, for it having hapned that it was in that street the cruel Tullia caused her Chariot to pass over the corps of her Father, they conceived themselves obliged above all the rest, to signalize their ani∣mosity against her: And indeed these were they who contrary to Brutus's intention, plundred certain Houses that belonged to some Creatures of Tarquin, and kill'd some that fled from them, though they made no opposition.

Brutus having thus possessed himself of the Gates; and desirous to know what success Aron∣ces had in his enterprise, he was for some time in no small disquiet, for he was informed that all those places I have named were barricado'd: So that not being able at first to infer any thing thence but that the City was divided, he had some reason to fear, that his Design would not prove effectual, that Lucretia should not be re∣venged, and Rome not delivered from her Ty∣rants; yet did not his great Heart fail him, but without any further debate he went from quar∣ter to quarter, from Hill to Hill, from one place to another, and was extreamly satisfied to find that all the Romans were of the same party. So that having acquainted them all that they were guided by the same Genius, such an infinite number of people followed him, that the multi∣tude proved a hindrance to him.

Having therefore given Orders every where, he went to see what posture Aronces was in, who had it seems met with a greater resistance then he had expected. For all Tarquin's creatures being tumultuously gotten about Tullia she had a many hands with her, such as being by their own In∣terests obliged to defend themselves, did it very obstinately. 'Tis true Aronces behaved himself extraordinarily in this adventure. As for the cruel Tullia, when they told her of the first be∣ginning of the Commotion, she laughed at it, and thought it would come to nothing; and when they acquainted her with her Son's crime, and Lucretias death, this detestable woman said, that if Sextus had caused Collatine to be poisoned out of the way, before he had made any love to his wife, she had never killed her self. But when she understood for earnest that the whole City was risen; and that they were coming to seize her in her Palace, she was hurried into the greatest fury and rage possible. She would needs go up into a Fort which looked into the spaci∣ous place before the Palace, but the people who were already gotten together there in Arms had no sooner seen her, but they gave her all the a∣busive language she deserved; So that not seeing any safety in exposing her self to the violence of an incensed multitude, she thought it her best course to make good the Palace, and to send to Tarquin, hoping he might come time enough to hinder this Tumult from proving his destructi∣on. But at the same time as she was sending to Tarquin she commanded a ponyard to be brought, poyson to be prepared, and that the Palace might be set on fire, if she were forced to fly at the Sally-port which was in the Moat; which done, being desirous to have the sole disposal of Clelia, she sent for her Keeper, to entreat him to translate her into that part of the Palace where she was, that so (said she to him) she may be more secure during the Tumult. But this man being sufficiently acquainted with the intentions of Tullia, answered her, that he durst not remove that Captive out of the palace where she was; that he had sent to Tarquin assoon as the rising broke forth, and expected his Orders concerning her; whereupon he withdrew, and putting him∣self in the head of his Companions, would not return any more to Tullia, though she sent for him divers times.

On the other side, the Prince of Pometia and

Titus, compassing the Walls of the City to reach the Sally-port, whereat they hoped to get into the Palace, walked with an incredible disturbance; for being discreet and vertuous, they detested their Brother's crime, and easily fore-saw how dangerous the consequences of that Insurection might be. But when they reflected on the con∣cernment they had in this unjust action, they were almost perswaded to return into Rome, and put themselves at the head of those who endeavoured to revenge Lucretia; for Titus was in love with the Sister in Law of the Illustrious deceased, and the Prince of Pometia with Hermilia, who was an intimate friend of Lucretias. 'Tis true, he would have been much more afflicted if he had known her to be Brutus's sister, and that Brutus was the the Leader of that exasperated multitude which had taken up Arms.

Things being in this posture, Aronces, follow∣ed by Artemidorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, Celeres, and those whom Brutus had commanded to obey him, was gone to set upon the Palace where Tullia was, hoping either to take it, or force her from Rome, but principally to deliver Clelia. And in∣deed this Illustrious (but unhappy Prince) did prodigious things in this business; and having broke open the outer-gate, he was the first with his Sword in his hand to assault those who made it good, and indeed did it with extraordinary re∣solution; for the Prince of Pometia and Prince Titus (who were at last got into the Palace at the afore said Port were in person in this outer Court, both giving Orders, and fighting themselves. What was most observable in this engagement, was, that the cruel Tullia, who saw all from her chamber window, and the admirable Clelia, who with Plo∣tina was gotten to that little grate, whence she had seen the Body of him who should have delivered her, when Amilcar was with her, were both Spe∣ctators of it: So that when the valiant Aronces, seconded by his Illustrious Friends, had at length caused those to retreat who made good the gate he had broke open, he spies the cruel Tullia at the Window before him, and the admirable Clelia at another on his left hand, so that having before him at the same time, the only object of his love, and one of the greatest objects of his hatred, it much augmented his Valour; especially finding the Prince of Pometia and Titus at the head of theirs, it seemed to him a matter of great Reputation. The fight that happened in this outer Court, was long and resolute on both sides; for it being for∣tifi'd with a certain Rayl two steps from the ground, and that there was an ascent of certain stairs to come into it, it was a great advantage to Aronces's enemies. However Aronces forced them so far twenty times, and was himself as often for∣ced back to the Gate.

But while this Combate lasted, Clelia suffered something beyond all imagination, for she saw e∣very minute her dear Aronces in a possibility to be dispatch'd; She had divers reasons why she should fear she might prove the cause of his death: For observing that Aronces in the very heat of that tu∣multuous Engagement, turned his head divers times towards the window where she was, she was so much afraid it might prejudice him, that she would have been glad to have been thence. But all considered, her curiosity to see what should happen to her dear Protector being the stronger, she staid to behold that furious Combat, which certainly had somthing of more violence then is ordinarily observed in any engagements of War. For the Romans who followed Aronces were so enraged and so impatient to become Masters of the Tyrants Palace, where there was excellent good Plunder, that of what humour soever they were, none wanted motives to fight, The Co∣vetous considered the riches of the Booty; the Generous the destruction of Tarquin; Aronces's friends, the liberty of Clelia, the Vertuous gene∣rally on the chastisement of Tullia, and revenge of Lucretia.

There wanted not also on the other side divers causes of an extraordinary Valour: For as to the Prince of Pometia, and Prince Titus, though they had a horrour for the Crimes of their Father, Mother, and Brother, yet a Throne lying at stake, all they could pretend to was in hazard; and for those who accompanied them, they were so far perswaded that if they were taken, the peo∣ple would tear them to peices, that they made an incredible opposition; insomuch that there was not any thing of this nature heard of before, there being so many people kill'd in this Encounter, that the place where they fought was covered over with dead Bodies.

But that which had in likelihood proved the ruine of Aronces, was, that while he fought and forced the Valiant Princes, he had before him, up to a certain Lodge, Tullia sent out others by a gate that was on the right hand, who shut Aron∣ces in, and immediately thereupon Barricadoed the Gate which he had broke open, by which means he was shut into the outer Court of the Pa∣lace, and could not be relieved from without. There was indeed some opposition made against those who executed the Orders of Tullia, but at last they were effected, Aronces being at that same time particularly engaged with the Prince of Pometia. For Zenocrates, he dealt with Prince Titus; and for Amilcar and Celeres, they endeavoured to get within the Rayl, to make way for some of their men, and declined forcing the Lodge, which was so obstinately maintained.

But when Aronces understood by the cries of those that fought behind him, that the Orders he had given for the guarding of the Gate which he had forced, had not been observed, he gave him∣self in a manner for lost, for he could not fight in two places, having not so great a Force as that he could any way divide it. Upon this the grea∣ter part of his men were more troubled how to force a passage out of the Court, then desirous to take in the Lodge. But this being not the design of Aronces, who would have chosen rather to die then to retreat, and quit his resolution of delive∣ring Clelia; No, no (said he to those who min∣ded only the forcing of the Gate) it is not there that we must fight; for Persons truly Valiant ne∣ver go out at the same places by which they came

in: Follow me therefore Romans, for that way that you would go, there is nothing to be expect∣ed but slavery, and the way I bring you into, leads you into Liberty.

Aronces pronounced these words as if he had been really assured of Victory; so that all drawing up to him, he made a fresh attempt; but did it with so much courage, and was so well seconded by all his friends, and particularly Zenocrates, that the Prince of Pometia, and Prince Titus were found to give ground. Aronces forced them to quit the Lodge, and all they could do, was to sacrifice part of ther people for a safe Re∣treat into the Palace, with much ado to keep out their enemies from coming along with them.

Those in the mean time who sallyed out by the Orders of Tullia, to possess themselves of the outer-gate, no sooner perceived that the Princes their Masters had quitted the Lodge which they maintained, but they also forsook the gate they were to keep, and entred into the Palace the same way they came out; by which means Aron∣ces and his Friends became absolute Masters of the Court. But being further desirous to force the Palace-gate, the cruel Tullia commanded to be cast on them a certain artificial Fire which Tar∣quin had made use of some time on the Tiber, in the time of the Sabine war: For there being some of that composition still left, Tullia caused it be employed to the great discommodity of the Com∣batants, in regard the fire fastned so on any thing it touched, that it could not be gotten off, nor put out, but with much difficulty. Be∣sides, she caused to be thrown out at the win∣dows whatever was proper to crush down her enemies; nay she pulled down a certain row of Pillars, which stood on a Model on the top of her Palace, to overwhelm those who should en∣deavour to become Masters of it. Thus though Aronces had no more enemies with swords in their hands, yet was he in greater danger then before; for from all the windows in the Palace they shot arrows, cast this artificial fire, or threw something to press down those that it light upon.

In the mean time the valiant Aronces, not mo∣ved at the greatness of the danger, and thinking himself over-happy that his dear Clelia saw what danger he was in for her Liberty, notwithstan∣ding that tempest with Darts, Stones, and Fires, made use of the same Engine, which he had be∣fore employed to break open the outer gate: for Lucretius being Governor of Rome, had fur∣nished him with it, when he first set upon the Pa∣lace.

Things being in this Posture, Brutus who was become Master of Rome without any resistance, comes to the place, having given order for all things else-where. But he comes thither follow∣ed by Valerius, Herminius, Lucretius, Collatine, Mutius, and an infinite multitude of armed peo∣ple: So that Tullia and the Princes her Sons see∣ing that the Inner-gate of the Palace would be forced, and that it was impossible for them to hold out till the arrival of Tarquin, took a very strange resolution; for the Gate being broken open, and falling, Aronces spies in a great Entry a many combustible things heap'd together, which Tullia had caused to be brought thither on a sud∣den, and which she had set on fire when she went away: so that instead of finding armed People to make good that Gate, Aronces and his Friends saw only a great eruption of flames which de∣nyed them entrance after a very strange manner. This Illustrious Prince therefore being forced to retreat, turned his eyes towards the window whence he had observed Clelia, and where he then saw her; but he now sees her in such a po∣sture as pierced his heart; for he perceived her clinging to the Grate, to avoid going with cer∣tain men who would have forced her thence, and looking towards him to demand his assistance: Soon after he lost sight both of her and Plotina, nor could he any more see the cruel Tullia; so that imagining in all likelyhood that this unjust Princess had translated Clelia somewhere else, and that she was in her power, he felt something it is impossible to express. Coming therefore up to Brutus and Herminius, he told them what a con∣fusion he was in. He had no sooner acquainted them with it, but Brutus having told them there was a secret door to the Palace, he doubted not but that Tullia and her people had resolved on an escape. In a word, though there were divers things thrown out at the Windows, it was not with such violence as before; so that it might easily be perceived the Palace was in a manner forsaken. Had there been no other concern∣ments then those of Rome and Brutus, it had been but necessary to let those escape who en∣deavoured it, and render their Gods thanks that they were gone, not taking the trouble to pursue them. But the Liberty of Clelia being at the stake, though Brutus's soul was fully tak∣en up with the grief and revenge he took, and was to take of the death of Lucretia, and the Li∣berty of his Country, yet he told Aronces he should have what force he pleased for to overtake Tullia, before she should joyn with Tarquin, who in all appearance would soon leave the Camp to come to Rome. But that nothing might be done but upon sure grounds, whilst they endeavoured by the help of Ladders to get in at the Windows, which were now forsaken: Herminius sent im∣mediately to the Walls to discover what people were flying in the fields, while, that no time should be lost, they sent orders to those who kept the Horses whereon they came from Collatina to Rome, to bring them where they were.

In the mean time those whom Herminius had sent upon the Walls, returning said the Fields were full of people running away, some with Arms, others without; some loaden with lug∣gage, others not quite cloathed: some on horse∣back, others afoot; and that amongst the rest, there were a many women. But that Aronces might no longer doubt whether Clelia were with∣in the Palace, it hapned that those whom Tullia had left to hold the Assailatts in some play for

a while, fearing they might be surprized if they stayed too long, soon followed her: so that it being now easie to get in at some Windows, whence they had taken away the grates, they found the Palace absolutely dis-inhabited, there being left only the Prince of Numidia, who was still very sick, and some few other wretches, who having been hurt in the first Combate in the Court, were got in with the Princes, when the Lodge had been forced, and had staid (though much against their Wills) in that forsaken Palace. Whilst therefore Lucre∣tius did what he could to quench the fire, A∣ronces having gotten into the Palace, went to Clelias Chamber, where he found her not. But what was most horrid of all, was, that he un∣derstood by some of the wounded, that Tul∣lia had caused that Illustrious Roman to be ta∣ken away, against his Will, in whose custody she was, who yet would needs follow her. He understood further, that this cruel wo∣man went thence, having Clelia in one hand, and a ponyard in the other: and that she said as she went out, that if she were pursued, and likely to be overtaken, she would first kill Clelia with it, and afterward her self. No sooner had she heard these cruel expressions, but he is filled with fury, and he was no less di∣sturbed at the fear of Clelias death, then Bru∣tus was at that of Lucretia. In the mean time he was at a loss what to do in such an unhap∣py conjuncture, in as much as he was forced to stay for Horses ere he could pursue Tullia, though he was much in doubt whether he should do it or not; for if he followed her too weak, it would come to nothing: if he went with great force, he feared the cruel Tulla might really do what she had threatned. Yet was he infinite∣ly desirous to follow her, and was in an ex∣traordinary discomposure, that he could not do it assoon as he wished.

On the other side Amilcar sought all the Pa∣lace over for the other Captives, but he could not learn any thing either of Caesonia or Danae, or any of the rest of their friends, only Plo∣tina he understood had voluntarily followed Cle∣lia.

But at last the fire being quenched, and those who were gone for the Horses having brought them, Brutus and Aronces consulted with all their Friends, and having well considered the state of affairs, and understood from the wounded Sol∣diers that remained in the Palace, that Tullia had sent for Tarquin, and that when she went thence, she thought him far on his way to Rome; it was resolved, that Lucretius and Valerius should remain at Rome, to take all necessary orders there, and to shut the Gates against the Tyrant, if he should offer to enter in; for it might be easily imagined, that in an occasion of such importance as this was, Tarquin would not bring with him too great Force, in re∣gard it would take up too much time; be∣sides, that it was likely enough he might think it no hard matter to appease this Tu∣mult. It was also conceived that Sextus would be retired into some place, that so he might not incense the people by his presence: So that Brutus resigning himself to the justice of hea∣ven, to his own great heart and conduct, undertook to put the Camp into the same dis∣order as he had done Rome. To that end, he told them, he would take such a way, as that in all likelyhood he should not meet Tar∣quin, and, that Clelia might not be neglect∣ed, a Force should be assigned Aronces, where∣with to follow Tullia, and do what he thought conducing to the safety of that admirable per∣son. The Design of Brutus seemed at first somewhat too high, but he so far satisfied his friends, that it were vain to make a rising in Rome, if Tarquin continued Master of the Ar∣my; and in fine, he spoke to them with so much authority, that, they could not but com∣ply with him. However it was not thought sit he should go without any Guard; wherefore having found that they could presently send out two hundred Horse, Brutus took fifty of them, and assigned the rest to Aronces. But the dif∣ficulty was to get out of Rome; for the Ro∣mans who then looked on Brutus as their Tute∣lary Deity, opposed it with so much earnestness, that it was like to cause a general disorder throughout the City; and there were above two hours spent ere they could be perswaded, that it was for their Interest that Brutus went out of Rome.

Aronces on the other side, had as much ado to get out as he, and they were both en∣compassed by such a multitude of people, that though they were the deliverers of Rome, they were not Masters of themselves: So that it was almost night ere Brutus and Aronces could get out of the City, which was no small affliction to this disconsolate Lo∣ver, whose business was to seek out his Mi∣stress

But when these two unfortunate Lovers were gotten out of Rome, their friends were divided, Herminius and Mutius stood for Bru∣tus, conceiving themselves more obliged to him, as being Romans, and Artemidorus, A∣milcar, Zenocrates and Celeres, were of A∣ronces side. But though they were divided as to Interests, yet did they joyntly wish the prosperity of their several designs. For A∣ronces, he took the way that he was told Tul∣lia had taken, who he understood had taken up two Chariots at a house she had within two miles of Rome, for she went from the Pa∣lace on horseback. But for Brutus, he wheel∣ed about another way into the Camp with out meeting Tarquin, and he was so fortu∣nate, as to reach it just at the break of day. Nay, it happened so critically, that by the same time that Tarquin had got to Rome, Bru∣tus came to the Camp, where he no sooner ar∣rived, but he understood that Sextus was gone out of the way, as soon as the report of the insurrection at Rome was brought thi∣ther.

In the mean time, how sensible soever Bru∣tus might be of the death of Lucretia, the de∣sign he had to revenge it, was the reason that he spoke of nothing but joy, triumph, and li∣berty. In a word, this illustrious Roman go∣ing from Tent to Tent assembled all the Of∣ficers; but while he gets them together, he speaks to all the Soldiers he meets, he tells them all that Rome is free, that Tullia had left it, that all the adherents of Tyranny were sent out of the City; he assures them that Tarquin should find the Gates shut against him, and entertains them with peace, reward, glory, and rest. He represents to them the fruitless inconveniences they had suffered during the time of the Siege of Ardea, he calls them the true deliverers of their Country, if they have but the courage to declare themselves, he in∣treats them, he importunes them, nay some∣times he threatens them; he takes Herminius to witness of all he says, whose integrity he knew was well known; to their interests he adds those of the Gods, and he speaks to them after so confident and heroick a manner, that the prodigious change which they found in him, produced the same effect in the Camp as it had done in Rome and Collatia, and raised in them admiration and respect for him: So that the name of Brutus, and the word Liberty pas∣sing from mouth to mouth, the whole Camp fell into disorder, and both Officers and Sol∣diers unanimously submitting to Brutus, ac∣knowledge him for their chief, and the deli∣verer of their Country. Whereupon sending hastily to acquaint those of Ardea, that he re∣stored them to that peace which Tarquin would take away from them, provided they would joyn with Rome against Tarquin, he raises the Siege and begins his march towards Rome, bestow∣ing the pillage of the Tyrants Tents up∣on the Soldiers, so to engage them by that act of hostility to persist in their revolt.

But while Brutus seconded by his friends manages the affairs of the Camp with so much success for the Liberty of his Country, and the revenge of Lucretia. Tarquin arrives at Rome, confident that his presence would establish his Authority there: But he was much mistaken, when he saw the gates shut against him, and that some told him from the Walls, that the people of Rome banished him for ever with all his Family, and declared him unworthy the name of a King, which he had with so much injustice usurped. Tarquin having not with him at this time above four hundred horse, was forced to retreat; but could not do it without horrid threats to those who had de∣nied him entrance; for he knew nothing of what was happened in the Camp, and thought he had no more to do to chastise Rome, than to raise the Siege of Ardea. But when in his return he understood by the King of Clusium's Envoy whom he met, as also by some of his own creatures, that his Army was coming a∣gainst him under the command of Brutus, whom all obeyed and acknowledged for one of the greatest men in the World, and by this means found himself without any assistances, between a City risen against him and a revolt∣ed Army; he had certainly need to summon up all his Courage, to support so great and so sudden a Revolution. Upon the first rela∣tion of this strange accident, he made a halt; then he asked whether they knew where Tullia was, and what was become of the Captives; for those who came from the Camp told him they were gone from Rome. But being told that the Captives were in Tullia's disposal, and that she had taken the way to Tarquinia, he al∣so took the same and that with much dili∣gence, commanding secretly two of his crea∣tures whom he had employed in thousands of Crimes, that if his enemies should pursue him, and set on him with a party stronger than his own, they should keep close to his person, and if they saw him in any likelihood to be taken, kill him: For though I have a heart great enough to hinder me from falling into the hands of my enemies, said he to them with his eyes full of fury, yet I fear my arm will prove too weak to dispatch my self, or shall miss the first attempt I shall make on my self, if I am forced to it. Hereupon he began to march, and this unjust Prince who saw himself overwhelm'd with all kinds of mis∣fortunes in an instant, and that through the crimes of his Son, or Wives, or his own, was so abominable, as not to have the least re∣morse; but employed his Wits to be reveng∣ed of those whom Heaven used as instru∣ments to punish him for usurping a Kingdom, and ruling with so much cruelty and in∣justice.

Brutus in the mean time, though crowned with the glory of freeing two Cities at the same time, and being the deliverer of his Country, and the revenger of his dear Lucre∣tia, was the most unfortunate man in the world, when it came into his mind that Lucre∣tia was dead and Sextus alive. And indeed, though Brutus was of a nature gallant, mild, and the most obliging in the world, yet af∣ter the death of Lucretia he seemed to have changed his humour and temperament, and all his life after affected a certain austere ver∣tue, wherein there seemed to be something of roughness; nay, sometimes something of cruel∣ty, to those who were not informed of the se∣cret of his heart, and could not guess at the true cause of his melancholy; and that insati∣able Ambition which though Rome were deli∣vered, he had to root out the race of the Tar∣quins. Yet had he withal an admirable com∣mand of himself in this great occurrence, wherein it concerned him to confirm his Victo∣ry by his Presence. For when he had disposed his Troops about the Gates of Rome, he made his entrance, which was with extraordinary acclamations, and without any further delay, having returned the Gods thanks in Janus's Temple, which he caused to be shut the more to assure the people, he called a Council of all the persons of Quality in Hostilius's Court,

as being the most convenient place of any for great Assembly. They were no sooner got together, but the people by an unanimous consent, having no lawful King, conferred all Authority on Brutus with this Title of Consul, only for one year. Which done, this new Consul ordained the Senate to consist of three hundred, which he chose with so little contestation that all the Citizens were satis∣fied.

But while Brutus, Collatine, Valerius, Lucre∣tius, Herminius and Mutius were busied about the regulation of their City, so to perpetuate the liberty they had acquired, Aronces, the un∣fortunate Aronces met with a contrary destiny: For having parted from Brutus and been in∣formed which way Tullia took, when she left the house where she had taken up the two Cha∣riots; he followed it till he came to a place, where he understood that the multitude of people that followed Tullia was divided. In this place was he at a great loss, not know∣ing what resolution to take: He imagined indeed that his business being only to find out Clelia, it was more likely she was rather in that party where there were Chariots, than where there were only Horses, and he was not much mistaken; for he conceived that Tullia seeing her self far enough from Rome, had sent the Princes her Sons to the Camp, and kept on her way. And indeed it happened so, that this cruel Princess seeing her self in that extremity, would not take Clelia with her to the Camp, but thought better to carry her to Tarquinia: But she being in one Chariot, and having disposed the Captives into another, he who had the conduct of the latter being faithful to Tarquin, whose misfortune he had not yet understood, and making it his business to deliver Clelia out of the power of that cru∣el Princess; carried his business so handsome∣ly, that he caused him who conducted the Cha∣riot of the Captives to go somewhat slow∣ly, so to be at a distance from that of Tullia, who having her mind persecuted with the memory of her Crimes, and the representati∣on of the miseries would fall upon her, thought not on Clelia, as not suspecting any could be guilty of so great a presumption as to offer to take her away from her. She thought indeed at first to have taken her into her own Chariot, but the very sight of her being troublesome to her, she disposed her in∣to the other, which going more slowly staid somewhat behind. This man therefore in or∣der to his secret design, having caused the Axle-tree of the Chariot of the Captives to be broken, when it was taken up at the house by which Tullia had passed, told him who conducted it that he must overtake Tullia, and therefore must put on a little faster. But he had scarce gone a hundred paces ere the Axle-tree flew asunder, so that there was no going any further. Upon this accident he said they must needs leave the Chariot there, and that every one of his Companions should take one of the Captives behind him: So that these unfortunate Beauties not knowing what to do, and seeing that it was to no purpose to make any resistance, submitted, thinking they were all to follow Tullia. He who was the Author of the design, took Clelia into his charge; one of his Companions took Ploti∣na behind him, another Casonia, another Da∣nae; and so some or other the rest of the Cap∣tives.

Now while these Captives were together, they had resolved to endeavour each to per∣swade him who carried her to bring them to Rome or Ardea, and the more to engage them to promise great rewards. Accordingly, Clelia was no sooner on horseback, but she began to intreat him who carried her to do an act of vertue, and carry her to Rome; pro∣mising him extraordinary rewards if he did it. She prevailed so far, that the fellow, who as I told you had his secret design in it, seem∣ed to condescend; and making a little halt, he took the first way he came to on the right hand. But Clelia not desirous to be alone with him, intreated him to perswade his Com∣panions, who had the charge of her friends to follow them; or at least that Plotina might ac∣company them: He answered, that if the bu∣siness were communicated to so many, she would be discovered; but at length calling to him who carried Plotina, pretending he had broken something about his Bridle, he made him stay a little behind the rest: So that turn∣ing out of the way, and taking advantage of a little hill, they put on a good pace. But coming to a certain passage which Plotina knew, as being of the Country, she perceived the fellow instead of carrying them to Rome, drove towards Ardea: So that acquainting Cle∣lia with it, that afflicted Beauty told him that he was out of his way, and that his design was to ruine them. By no means (replied he) for I deliver you out of the hands of a Princess who hates you, to put you into the power of a Prince who loves you.

At these words was Clelia extremely dis∣quieted, for she chose much rather to be ex∣posed to the cruelty of Tullia than the passion of Tarquin. And not knowing that that Prince was gone from before Ardea, and that he had neither Kingdom nor Army, Clelia was in an incredible disturbance: Insomuch that without any further deliberation she casts her self of the horse, the fellow not being able to hinder her, and calls Plotina to her assistance, who could not do as much, as being held fast by him who carried her. Not that Clelia had a∣ny hopes to save her self, but hoped only by making a little stay there, that the Gods whom she invoked would send her some re∣lief.

In the mean time, Tullia having observed that the Chariot of the Captives followed not, caused her own to be staid, to know whence the disorder happen'd: But at last understand∣ing that it was broke, she commanded 〈◊〉〈◊〉

to be brought into hers, not out of any mo∣tive of goodness, but out of a consideration of the most cruel jealousie in the World: So that some that were about her putting them∣selves in order to satisfie her, they called him who was charged with the conduct of that Beauty. But not finding him and acquainting Tullia with as much, she commanded twelve of her people to pursue them, and to bring Clelia back or never to see her again. These proving successful in their search, were come almost to the place where Clelia cast her self to the ground, and where she yet was obsti∣nately refusing to get up again: So that he who was to have brought her to Tarquinia, see∣ing these twelve Horse approaching whom he presently knew, he saw it was not his best course to return any more to Tullia, but to seek protection from Tarquin. He therefore attempted once more to perswade Clelia, re∣ally thinking he did her a good Office: But Madam (said he to her) you consider not that Tullia would not have you in her power, but to put you to death. It matters not (an∣swered the generous Clelia) I would ra∣ther suffer death, than the love of your unjust Prince.

She had no sooner said this, but she per∣ceives a great body of Horse towards Ar∣dea, and imagining they were some of Tar∣quin's Troops, she began to run cross a Meadow, be∣fore those whom Tullia had sent to take her, though she doubted not much but that she sought her own death. She had not gone twenty paces, but turning about to see whether she was followed, she perceives twenty horse drawn off from the Body she had seen, making towards her as fast as they could ride: So that conceiving they would easily overtake her, she stood still, seeing indeed she could do no otherwise; for those twelve horse discovering that they whom they saw, were not of Tarquin's Forces ran away; and he who would have carried Clelia to the Tyrant perceiving it also, got up on Horseback, and pro∣vided for himself, and his companion to disbur∣then himself of Plotina, set her down and follow∣ed him.

Hereupon these two Beauties being met again, and resolving to die together, were much surpri∣sed to see Horatius riding before those twenty Horse, which were drawn off from their Body: But though Clelia loved him not, nay might indeed charge him with all the misfortunes of her life, as having hindred her to marry Aronces near Capua, and knew that he did hate that illustrious Prince, and was by him reciprocally hated; yet in regard he was a vertuous man, and had a respect for her, besides an infinite love, it was some joy to her to see that she was not any longer subject to the vio∣lences of Tarquin. Horatius on the other side, being come in the head of these twenty Horse, out of no other consideration than that of Humanity, to relieve women whose condition he saw was such as needed relief, was no less amazed to find the admirable Clelia. He presently alights, and coming towards her with infinite respect; Well, Madam, (said he to her) shall I obtain pardon for having carried you away from Capua, by bring∣ing you to Rome; now that it is deli∣vered from that cruel Tyrant, who hath so often sought the life of the Generous Cle∣lius.

I know not (replied she) whether the crime you speak of is of such a nature as may be abso∣lutey pardoned; but I am certain you will put an extraordinary obligation on me if you bring me to Rome, since Tarquin hath no more to do there. But Horatius (added she) may I trust you? You may Madam (replied he) and if I bring you not immediateiy to Rome, account me the most infamous of Mankind: For in a word, (I profess to you) considering the obligations which it hath pleased my destiny my Rivals should cast on me, I will never prejudice him by any other ways than those of my addresses, my services, and my own Vertue. But Madam, (added he) we must lose no time, for there have happened so great changes in one day, that methinks all should change again in one day: Therefore give me leave to set you on a Horse which you shall guide your self, that so you may not suspect I have any design to force you any where, and may the more willingly per∣mit me to be your Conductor.

Notwithstanding all this, Clelia would needs be assured by a new Engagement, that Horatius would bring her to Rome; which done, this il∣lustrious Roman chusing out a Horse among those that followed him, caused one of his people to attend and conduct Clelia, and another to take Plo∣tina behind him; and so without any further stay he took his way to Rome, followed by the whole Body which had overtaken him.

But Clelia being extremely desirous to know the State of affairs, whereof she had not heard any thing, since she had seen her dear Aronces exposed to so great danger (for her sake) in the Palace Court, intreated Horatius to acquaint her with what he knew. He therefore told her, that Brutus had wrought a revolt in the Camp; that he had sent word to Ardea that Rome would have peace with her, adding that for his own parti∣cular, to come as soon as he could to her, he had got together two hundred Horse, with intention to cast himself into Rome, having not been cer∣tainly informed that. Tullia had carried her with her. Horatius had scarce told her thus much, but he understood from some of his men who went before, that there was seen in the Plain into which they were entring, a very des∣perate Fight between two parties very unequal in number, for there might very well be on one side, three or four hundred Horse, and there seemed not to be on the other much above an hundred. This intelligence put Horatius into some disorder, for he must needs think it could be no other than Tarquin, who he knew had taken with him from the Camp three or four hun∣dred Horse, and conceived he must have met with some of those who had revolted from him: So that his heart being divided between Love and

Honour, he knew not whether he should go and relieve those who stood in need of his assi∣stance, or make it his business to conduct Clelia safely to Rome, But to make a mean between both, and to know at least more certainly what the matter was, he sent some of his men to make discovery, and lay close behind a little hill.

Clelia, who little imagined that the Illustrious Aronces was engaged in a dangerous fight against Tarquin, and thought he had been in Rome, or with Brutus, was very importunate with Horati∣us, not to trouble himself about any thing, but to bring her into some place of safety. And in∣deed, her insinuations were so prevalent, that he seeing those whom he had sent out, returned not so soon as he expected, he could no longer endure that Clelia should be in any fear of falling into the hands of Tarquin. So that he turned out of the way he would have gone, leaving on∣ly two of his men, to bid those whom he had sent, when they were returned, to follow him the way he should lead them, which was the nearest to go to Rome. But these two waited to no purpose, for those who had been sent out to discover the Parties that were engaged, had been forced to fight themselves, Tarquin, who had soon perceived them, having ordered thirty of his men to engage them, out of a fear of being surprised by some fresh supplies; and according∣ly, they had been either taken Prisoners, or cut to pieces: Besides, that Tarquin having been in∣formed by those who had been taken, that Ho∣ratius was not far from him with two hundred Horse, and easily inferring that if he joyned with Aronces, he were utterly lost, since that valiant Prince found him so much work with so small a handful of men, he commanded his people to make one final attempt to overcome him; for till then, in regard he was Son to a King, who was his Ally, from whom he expected Protecti∣on, he had given Order that he should not be killed. But considering the importunity of his present condition, he was obliged not to debate the business any longer: So that Aronces was in an extreme danger; for he had about an hundred Horse left, and had almost four hundred to deal with.

Besides all this, the Prince of Pometia and Prince Titus had joyned their Father, and being obliged to fight for their Father how wicked soever he might be, they engaged Aronces with an incredible Courage, though they had an infi∣nite esteem for him. 'Tis true, the Valour this Prince expressed that day was so prodigious, that there never was seen any thing like it; for he was several times surrounded by his enemies, yet could they neither take him Prisoner, nor hurt him. He killed (in a manner at Tarquin's Elbow) that valiant Hellius, with whom he had some time fought near Ardea: and if Tarquin had not used a subtle shift, he might have been overcome by him, so signal was his Valour, and so worthily was it seconded by that of Artemidorus, Amilcar, Ze∣nocrates and Celeres.

To this may be added, that the Romans whom he had with him, were in so much fear of falling into the power of Tarquin, that they behaved themselves so much the more gallantly. But at last Tarquin having caused some of his people to make out-cries, as if Rome were returned to its Duty to him, and that his Army had changed their resolutions; those who were with Aronces taking Alarm at this false report, though he did all that lay in his power to hinder them from believing it, ran away; so that he was left alone with his four Friends, amidst so great a number of Enemies; yet would he not yield, till that there was no other remedy, after he had re∣ceived a wound in his right Arm; but at last he was forced to submit to the multitude by which he was surrounded, and become the Prisoner of a King, who had lost both his Kingdom and his Army.

But that this adventure might prove yet more insupportable to him, it hapned that Tarquin, whom it concerned to treat him, had indeed an extraordinary care of him, out of some conside∣rations of Policy only, though he hated him most horridly, both as a Lover of Clelia, and that he found him in Arms against him; so that after he had put a Guard upon him, and those Friends of his who met with the same Fortune, except Amilcar, who made a shift to escape after he had been taken, it hapned that Tarquin causing Aronces to be dressed at the first House he met in his way, one of Horatius's men, who had been taken by some of Tarquin's, standing near him when he was dressed, knew him, and made ac∣quaintance with him. Aronces who could not want a curiosity for such a Rival, asked him by what adventure he came thither, and where his Master was? To which this man, being of the hu∣mour of those, who when they relate things, love to circumstantiate, answered, That Horatius re∣covering at length of his wounds, found himself in a condition to cast himself into Rome; then told him how he had found Clelia, highly ex∣pressing the satisfaction that Beauty had in meet∣ing him so seasonably, assuring him that he was to carry her to Rome, and that they would be there very suddenly. The first apprehensions of Aronces, were extremely confused and entangled; for after a long fear that Clelia might perish through the cruelty of the implacable Tullia, he arrived to a slender comfort, when he understood that she was not in her power. He was not also dissatisfied that she went to Rome, as also that she was quite out of the reach of Tarquin's vio∣lence, and Sextus's; but when after all he con∣sidered, that she was fallen into the hands of a Rival, a person of so great worth as Horatius, one who had such an advantage over him, as to render him so considerable a service; and withal saw himself wounded, and Prisoner to a Prince, who he knew loved Clelia, and who would not fail to return him to the King his Father, and to engage him into his Interests, he thought himself the most unfortunate man in the world, for he fore-saw what in reason should be the con∣sequence of so cross an accident. Accordingly

when he was on Horse-back, and forced to fol∣low a Prince, whom Fortune had forsaken, and who went for refuge to Ceres, intending to send thence to Treat with Porsennas, he entertained himself after the saddest manner that could be. For when he called to mind with what eagerness he wished Romes Liberty, and Tarquin's Ruine, and considered that the Misfortune of that Prince was the only cause that he was his Prisoner, he acknowledged in himself, that men were guilty of great rashness, when they presumed to desire any thing precisely of the Gods; since that many times what they desire, proves more prejudicial to them than what they fear: So that not daring in a manner to wish any thing, for fear of making any wishes against himself, he was extremely af∣flicted, especially when he considered that Clelia was in a place where he had two very conside∣rable Rivals; that himself in all likehood should be turned over a Prisoner to the King his Fa∣ther, and saw not any thing from whence he might derive the least comfort; but the hopes he had in the Friendships of the Illustrious Bru∣tus, and the generous Herminius.

The End of the Second Part of CLELIA.