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 Third Part. (Book 3)

BOOK I.

ARonces was doubtless a very mi∣serable man, in being a Prisoner unto a Prince whom fortune had forsaken, and one that was his Rival too; but the thought of Horatius's carrying Clelia unto Rome, made him more mi∣serable than either; not but that he was very glad of her being out of the tyran∣ny of Tarquin, and power of terrible Tullia; yet nothing did so much sting his soul, as to think that Horatius should be him that restores liberty unto Clelia: Indeed, could he have seen into the soul of that fair one, his own soul had been better satisfied; for though she had good reason to be glad of going to Rome, yet it went much against the hair, to see that Horatius should be her Conductor thither; she ap∣prehended both Aronces and her self to be in a very had condition, though Horatius was infinitely ob∣liged unto Aronces: And when she bethought her self how she was going to see, at the same time both Aronces, Horatius, and the Prince of Numidia, she apprehended a million of miseries: for after she had seen her dear Aronces fight so valiantly in the Court of Tullia's Palace, she could not imagine he could be out of Rome: sometimes her fear was that he was wounded, and sometimes that he was dead, so as these thorns in her thoughts would not suffer her to enjoy those sweets which her own liberty, and the liberty of her Country, might have procured unto her.

As for Horatius, his joys to see Tarquin ruin'd, Rome deliver'd, and his Mistress in his own pos∣session, did so much take up his whole heart, as for a while he never bethought himself, how his Ri∣val was the party loved, and not he. At last, turning his eyes upon Clelia's fair face, who at that time was in a deep study, and such a study as spoke much sadness, he imagined that Aronces was the sub∣ject of her study; so as calling to memory all those testimonies of tenderness which that fair one had expressed towards his Rival upon several occasi∣ons, and all those bitter expressions towards himself, the tide turned, and what was joy but a minute before, was now sadness: Indeed, when he came to bethink himself, that in carrying Clelia to Rome, he carried her unto a place where he ex∣pected to find Aronces, unto whom he owed his life, his heart was most sensibly afflicted; he was then within a little of altering his design, and fall∣ing into the same thoughts which he harboured when he carried away Clelia in the great Earth∣quake, and defended her against the Prince of Nu∣midia, upon the Lake of Thrasimenes: But when he remembred how that violence got him the aver∣sion of Clelia; how since then, he was more mi∣serable than before; and how Aronces won the heart of this fair one, only by the grandeur of his virtue, he kept himself firm to the resolution which he had taken, of overcoming Aronces, by no other way, but by endeavouring to excel him (if it were possi∣ble) in virtue. Thus did both Clelia and Horatius think upon Aronces, though by motives very diffe∣rent: and Aronces entertained thoughts of Horatius and Clelia, which were as unresemblant as the two passions from whence they sprung; though certain it is, they sprung from one and the same cause: for if Aronces had not been in love with Clelia, he had never hated Horatius: Horatius on his side, had most tenderly loved Aronces, if Aronces had not loved Clelia; and Clelia had been good friends with Horatius, had she not been so sensible of Aronces his love. But, which was most admirable, the Prince of Numidia was less hated by his Rivals, than they were by one another, because they thought he had the least share in the affection of Clelia.

As for Tarquin, his heart was swelled with as much Cruelty and Revenge, as ambition could in∣fuse, and with all that a slighted love and pale jea∣lousie could prompt him unto: but in the midst of all, he retained the arrogance and grandeur of his courage; and it may be said, that in falling from a Throne, he yet kept footing upon it; for in the midst of all disasters, he still thought upon such remedies as might conduce to the cure of them; and he found it some sweetness, to have in his power the only beloved Lover of Clelia: He hoped also, that this would help him to remount the Throne; so as this unfortunate Prince, whose crimes might well make him fear his future con∣dition would be worse than the present, did not for all that despair, but went to Tarquinia with such an undaunted resolution and boldness, as Aron∣ces could not chuse but admire at. But whilst this proud Tyrant, and this illustrious Prisoner went to Tarquinia, Horatius with his men con∣ducted Clelia and Plotina to Rome, as I told you before.

In their way thither, they espied a very hand∣some woman by the side of a little wood, who per∣ceiving so many horsemen, desired to conceal her self, having none with her but an old shepherd for her guide, whose condition they knew by the Sheephook which he had in his hand. This object begetting a curiosity in Clelia, and her own mis∣fortunes teaching her to pity the condition of o∣thers, she looked very attentively upon this woman, who desired to slink away out of sight, at the see∣ing such a number of men: but when she had well viewed this woman, and shewed her unto Plotina, they both thought her to be Cesonia. Clelia then crying out, and calling upon Horatius: Oh good sir, (said she to him,) I beseech you let yonder woman be carried with me to Rome; certainly she cannot discern me amongst so many. But to oblige you unto the satisfaction of my desire, know that she is one of the Prisoners of Ardes, her name is Cesonia; and my love unto her is such, as you would do a most high favour if you could bring her to me. Clelia had no sooner said so, but Hora∣tius commanding some of his chief men to eye her, he set spurs to his horse, and being followed by four men of quality, who heard not what Clelia said, they went towards the place where this wo∣man and this old shepheard were. The Wood not being very thick, they were quickly found out, for both being on foot, they were quickly overtaken: Horatius was no sooner come within hearing of this woman, but he said, I beseech you fair Cesonia, do not fly from Clelia who hath sent me to you, nor shun a man who knows your merit, though not you, and who is ambitious to serve you.

Upon these words, Cesonia turning about, she stopt, and knew her dear Persander, who was one of those which accompanied Horatius. As she was beyond expression joyed, so Persander on his side, who came out of Ardes only to hear what was be∣come of her, he was so surprized at the sight of her in that place, as he had much ado to speak: for Ho∣race had so many things in his mind, as he never told it was Cesonia: and Plotina had not time enough to tell him; so hasty he was in following Horatius, so as Persander had much ado to recover himself out of his astonishment. Whilst Horatius was advancing towards Cesonia, and she not know∣ing whether or no she should believe a man whom she knew not, the old man who was her guide, turning about, and knowing Horatius, he stept near∣er that valiant Roman, and looking fiercely upon him, shaked his sheephook at him: Oh villain (said he) is not Clelia this second time in thy power, and does not that suffice thee?

This language causing Horatius to look atten∣tively upon him, that spoke thus angerly unto him, he knew him to be Clelius the Father of Clelia; He no sooner knew him, but he alighted from his horse, and advanced to him in a very humble man∣ner: Oh generous Clelius, (said he unto him) I think my self most happy in that I am in a condition to repair my crime, and in being able to restore un∣to you that most excellent woman, whom I ravished from you in the heat of a most violent passion: For now know, that though I still have, and ever shall have the same affection unto your most admi∣rable Daughter, yet I do not entertain all the same thoughts; the truth is, in lieu of carrying her a∣way, my only thoughts are of carrying her to Rome; and my only aims are to get her out of Tarquin and Tullia's power, as you may understand from her own mouth, she being within two hun∣dred paces of this place. Moreover, you cannot question the good intention of my heart; for I am in the head of two hundred horse, and consequent∣ly able to dispose of Clelia's liberty: but so far am I from any thoughts of carrying her away, as I do offer to put her in your power, and guard you both unto Rome, without asking any other recompence, but only to forget what's past, and not to deny me the seeing of her whom I adore.

Clelius hearing Horatius speak so submissively, and looking then upon him, as upon the Son of that woman whom once he dearly loved, his anger was a little appeased, so as Cesonia taking heart, and be∣ing much joyed to see her dear Husband, also to find that her guide was Father to her friend, though she could not well conceive, why he should be in that equipage wherein she found him; yet she spoke unto them all, and advised them to go pre∣sently unto Clelia, since she was so near. After this, Horatius used many generous and kind ex∣pressions; Persander, he took Cesonia behind him▪ and one of Horatius his men lent Clelius his 〈◊〉〈◊〉: This done, they all went to the place where Cl•••••••• stayed in expectation of her dear Cesonia, wh••••, she no sooner saw with Persander, but she gallo••ed to meet them with Plotina; but all this while Clelia never thought to meet with more consolation than she could hope for; yet Horatius, desiring to make use of such a favorable occasion, he advanced to∣wards her, and shewing Clelius unto her, The Gods having some pity upon me (said he unto her) and doubtless being desirous I should obtain some rank in your esteem, though not in your affection, have given me the happy opportunity, Madam, of re∣storing unto you the generous Clelius.

Upon these words, Clelia looking upon him whom Horatius shewed unto her, she cryed out for joy, and would have cast her self upon the ground at her Fathers feet; but Clelius would not permit her, saying, That they could not make too much haste to Rome, since Tarquin was not in it; For my part (said Plotina with a pleasant air) I am per∣fectly of your opinion, for I am so full of fears, a•• you would do me the greatest pleasure in the world, if you would speedily carry me unto any place where I might be in safety; for though I cannot tell from whence Clelias came, nor why he is disguised in the habit of a shepherd, nor how Cesonia escaped; yet I had rather be going spee∣dily thither, than stay a minute to know all these things: But yet (added this pleasant Lady) we may do two things at once, for we may be going and talk too as we go; for it is but singling such as should hear, from those which should not. The counsel of Plotina seeming good, after Clelius had expressed unto his Daughter his joys of finding her again, and that Clelia, Plotina, and Cesonia had caressed each other as much as they could in that place, Clelius placed himself betwixt the two first of them; as for Horatius, he got himself on the other hand of Clelia, and Persander on the other hand of Cesonia; the way being large, they might easily walk a front, and might unheard talk to each other, for all the rest kept at a handsome distance; so as disposing of themselves in this order, Clelia asked her Father from whence he came; for

truly (said she) I never knew any thing of you since I was a Prisoner unto the Tyrant, unless that the Prince of Numidia told me that you were in a place which he could not name: for being very dangerously wounded in endeavouring to deliver me, he grew so much distracted, that Amilcar, whose name doubtless you know, and to whom I am infinitely obliged, could not understand where you were, though he imagin'd you could not be far from Rome. Truth is, reply'd Clelius, I being at the end of my exile, and not being able to endure that you should be the slave of him that was the Tyrant of my Country, and my mortal enemy, I resolved for Rome, where I understood by some intimate friends, there was a disposition to revolt. But do what I could, it was impossible to hinder Sulpitia from following me; so as we came from Capua together, mean while, fortune brought us to meet with the Prince of Numidia, by coming to Ameriola, who knowing us, treated us most generously; but that not being the place of finding you, let it suffice you to know that he is worthy of your esteem, and of my friendship; that it was I who sent him to Rome with Letters for a friend of mine, who was to facilitate the enterprise which failed; for not knowing then where Aron∣ces was, and knowing that Horatius was in Ardes, I thought they took care for your liberty. Mean ••••••e, I understanding from Ameriola, that the Prince of Numidia's enterprise had failed; that the report was, Aronces was at Rome, and that there was great Tumult, I disguised my self as now you see me, to get into Rome, not then know∣ing the truth of things. So as having sent back my horses, I began to foot it; when I espied this fair one (said he unto Clelia, and pointed at Ce∣sonia) who not knowing which way she went, came unto me, and asked where she was, and de∣sired me to direct her either unto Rome or Ardes: The memory of your misfortunes making me com∣passionate of hers, I asked her by what adventure she came to be alone, and so out of her way; unto which she answering very handsomely, she acquainted me in few words with the flight of Tar∣quin, and all passages in Rome since his departure. I not yet telling her that I was your Father, be∣cause that could not advantage her, but might pre∣judice me, she is still ignorant of it.

All my care was of conducting her speedily unto Rome, when we espied the Cavalry which is your guard: For my part, said Cesonia unto Clelia, I have no great matters to relate unto you, for all I have to tell you, is, That he who conducted me, understanding from a friend of his, how angry Tullia was at your flight, and having no mind to see her again, though he was no cause of it, he re∣solved to quit the incensed Queen, and carrying me under a Tree, he left me there: I, not knowing what to do, and utterly disliking to be under the power of the most wicked woman in the whole world; I took a way opposite to that from whence I came, and walking I knew not whither, I came at last unto this little wood, where I was most glad to find the generous Clelius, whose age and Physiognomy invited me to ask his protection, and that he would conduct me either unto Rome or Ardes; for in that dismay I knew not well where I would be. After this, Clelius enquired of Cle∣lia, concerning Aronces, who told him in short all she knew; but though he spoke very low unto her, yet Horatius heard, and knew by Clelia's countenance that she spoke with a feeling tender∣ness of his Rival, so as it damped him with un∣expressable sadness: Yet hope did a little un∣derprop his heart, and the state of things made him think, that happily some adventure might fall which might be advantageous unto him; for when he remembred the lamentable condition wherein he was, when his Rival found him wounded in a Wood, and how he was beholding unto him for his life, he thought himself much less miserable, than at that time, so as his mind was very free to entertain Clelius all the way with discourse of all that was memorable at the siege of Ardes, not omitting how Persander had there signalized himself upon several occasions. But in conclusion, Clelius being the first of the Company that dis∣covered Rome, he was possessed with a most ex∣tream joy at the sight of it, after so long an exile from it: he never thought how he was in a habit unfit to appear therein: Clelia indeed did put him in mind of it, but he made answer, That as long as he had a heart becoming a true Senator of Rome, he cared not for the habit: yet they met with an expedient for this; for as they came into Rome, stood a house which belonged unto one that was an ancient acquaintance or friend unto Clelius, where they stayed, and where he was furnished with a habit sutable to his quality: after which, they went unto the Gates of the Town; but a very strict Guard being kept, they were stopped until such time as Brutus, who then was sole Master of Rome, was informed who they were that asked entrance: he no sooner heard of them, but he sent Herminius to receive Clelius, Horatius, and Persander, not knowing that Clelia was with them, giving order afterwards, to quarter the Ca∣valry which Horatius brought. So as when Her∣minius went to receive them, and conduct them unto Brutus, he was most pleasingly surprised to see Clelia, Cesonia, and Plotina; for he thought that Clelia was with the cruel Tullia, and could not imagine what was become of the other Cap∣tives: for he knew very well, That when Tullia for sook her Palace, Clelia was only mentioned un∣to Aronces, and where the rest were, was not known. Thus Herminius now wanting nothing but to see the return of Aronces, he received all these illustrious persons with abundance of joy, and did all manner of imaginable honours unto Clelius in particular; he beseeched him to take a lodging in the house of the virtuous Sivelia his Mother, who would take all possible care of Clelia, until Sulpitia came, and until his own house was made ready. The way in going to Brutus, being to pass by this house, Clelius presently espied the virtuous Si∣velia, who was his ancient friend, and leaving Cle∣lia, Cesonia, and Plotina with her, who received them with that generous civility whereof she ever made profession, Clelius, Horatius, Persander, and some principal men of Ardes, were conducted unto Brutus by Herminius: This enterview pas∣sed tumultuously enough, for Lucretius, Valeri∣us, Colatin, Mutius, and many others, were then with Brutus, advising upon several necessary affairs concerning the establishment of Romes liberty; Brutus yet did highly appland the valor of Horace at the siege of Ardes; and the sight of Clelius gave

much satisfaction unto so many illustrious Romans, for he was known to be always a most irreconcile∣able enemy of Tyranny and the Tyrant; Brutus also, did him all imaginable honours: Clelius a∣gain returned a million of applauses. But as he styled him the Liberator of his Countrey: No, no, generous Clelius (said he unto him) ne∣ver bestow any such glorious titles upon me: for a right Roman ought not to assume any above the rest of the Romans; let us therefore only ren∣der thanks unto the Gods for our deliverance from servitude in which we were, and to take away all likelihood of ever being under the power of one single person, I do declare that I will not be Con∣sul alone, but will put into the hands of the Se∣nate and People, all that Authority which they gave me, unless they will appoint one to be my Partner: For indeed (said he most generously) I dare not trust my own virtue in such a business. Brutus had no sooner done speaking, but all that heard him were opposite to his design: yet he standing firm to his principle, told them plainly, that he would propound it the next morning in the publick Assembly: however, he being ever a man most regular in all points of civility, he went towards the evening unto Sivelia, to see Clelia there, unto whom he seemed much trou∣bled for Aronces, and told her in short, how he went out of Rome with a design of delivering her. Alas (said she with a sad sigh, and looked upon Plotina) certainly it was that unfortunate Prince which was in Combate with those Troops which we saw when Horatius brought us away. She had no sooner said so, but Artemidorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, and Celeres, came to Sivelia's house, who confirm'd Clelia in her thought, and told all the Company that Aronces was Tarquins Pri∣soner; also how they all made a retreat after they had seen their illustrious but unfortunate friend taken. Yet they did not fear that he would be ill used, because as the case stood with Tar∣quin, it was no policy for him to shew any odi∣um against the Son of such a great King, who only was able to relieve him in his misfortune; but still they conceived that he would not set him at liber∣ty, so as all the company apprehended this adven∣ture with abundance of sorrow. Brutus resented it as the friend of Aronces; and foreseeing the sad consequences as a true Roman; and especially out of compassion upon an unfortunate Lover, who is more sensible than any other of any thing that disturbs the love of his friends. As for Cle∣lius, he having almost always loved Aronces as his own son, ever since he saved his life in his Cradle, and keeping him from perishing after his shipwrack, he was exceedingly troubled: Sivelia out of tenderness and generosity, did pity him: Herminius was ready to run desperate: Horatius, out of grandeur of soul, and to merit the esteem of Clelia, he commended him, and said, That a Prince so virtuous as he was, deserved a far better destiny, than to be the Prisoner of the most vitious man upon earth: Cesonia and Plotina could not keep their eyes from gushing out into tears: as for Artemidorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, and Celeres, they pitied Aronces, pitied Clelia, pitied Brutus, pitied Herminius, they pitied Rome, they pitied them∣selves: As for Clelia, she was sensible more than thought can reach unto; yet she durst not shew all her sorrow, though the example of her friends might well have authorized hers; nor would she too much smother her sadness, lest she should in∣fuse some false hopes into Horatius: but she kept such an even and just temper in her affliction, that she could not be accused, either of excessive prudence, or of too much carelesness. That which made her the more mistress of her spirit, was, because she believ'd the life of Aronces was in no danger; for she knew not that he was wounded, but she conceived the cruel consequences of his imprison∣ment; the least of which was, that she should be separated from Aronces for a long time, and be exposed unto the passion of Horatius, who having made his peace with Clelius, would become more confident; so as this sage Lady, in restraining the violence of her sorrow, did deserve much com∣mendations. Mean while, as one subject of com∣passion doth easily renew the remembrance of an∣other, so Clelius asked Brutus concerning the Prince of Numidia, and understood that in visiting the Palace of Tarquin after Tullia was gone out, they found him upon his bed, who never caring for the disorder and noise which he heard, looked calmly upon those that run from Chamber to Cham∣ber with naked swords, not knowing whether there were any men so desperate as to defend him. Clelius understood further, how since that, the care which was taken of that Prince, had something restored him unto the freedom of his spirit, Alas, alas, (added Brutus, and sighed) I cannot tell whether or no it be a good office to restore a miserable man unto his wits, since cer∣tainly it makes all men in the world the more mi∣serable. Brutus expressed this in such a sad man∣ner, as made all those pity him who knew the distemper of his soul, and were not ignorant that the death of Lucretia did more grieve him, than the liberty of Rome rejoyced him; for notwith∣standing all his zeal to his Country, could he but revive Lucretia, he would do it with abundance of joy, though at the rate of erecting that Throne which he had pulled down. Doubtless he would have dyed a hundred deaths, rather than live in the servitude wherein he did: but he would have lived a slave all the days of his life, rather than never to see Lucretia but in her Tomb. This sad adven∣ture had so much changed him, that he was scarcely knowable; such of his friends as were not admitted unto the secrets of his soul, did believe that this alteration proceeded from the weight of his cares which hung heavy upon him; but those of his Cabinet counsel, who knew the grandeur of his soul, they thought it to be love only which loadned him; his conversation was only upon such things as were necessary for the publick good, unless he spoke of his sorrows and passion unto such as knew of them. He was not only always more serious, but also more haughty; and he could not flatter any but the people of whom he stood in need to revenge Lucretia, and to main∣tain the liberty of Rome; So as after so much good language as he thought fit to comfort Cle∣lia, he retired himself to think upon other matters, but especially to give that great example of mode∣ration, of which he had made such profession un∣to his Friends: Mean while, Clelius went to see the Grand Vestal his Sister, and received visits from all his Friends: Clelia was visited by all

the Ladies of quality in Rome; amongst the rest, by Racilia, by Hermilia, by Colatina, by a Lady of quality called Flavia, and another named Salonina. Hermilia, and the sister of Colatine, being compounded of such a secret Melancholy, as would not suffer them to rejoyce in the Liberty of their Country, so much as others; they kept always together. Valeria also went to visit Clelia, who gave such a reception unto all these Ladies, with so much obliging Civility, though with a little tincture of melancholy, as she won their Loves, the very first day.

Mean while, Brutus according to his design, harangued the Senate and people, as he said he would; And with so much Eloquence, and Au∣thority, as it may well be said, that their suffra∣ges were not free, because he left none at liberty to be of any opinion contrary to his: He did so urgently aggravate the danger of making but one Consul, as the Image of Tyranny working upon the spirits of those to whom he spoke, they all obeyed his will, and consented that the Soveraign power which he had, should be divided. But when it came to the vote, who should be his Copartner; the dispute was greater than was imagined: For, as all new establishments meet with many difficulties; So such a murmur did arise, as made it evident, there would be Contrariety of opinions in this Choice: The multitude did not aim at chusing one that was the most able, the most wise, and the most valiant; but only such a one as was the most ir∣reconcileable enemy of Tarquin. For, had they aimed at the most able, they would have looked upon Valerius, whose Prudence was admirable, whose honesty was known to all the world, and who had generously seconded Brutus in delivering Rome: They would then have thought upon Clelius, whose experience was great, and virtue high: They would have chosen Lucretius, they would have thought upon the wise Herminius, though he was a little too young to be Consul, though his high soul and heart rendred him worthy of any thing: they might have pitcht upon many other illustrious Romans. But, as I said before, thinking only upon such a one, whom they thought most obliged to hate Tarquin; they all concurred in their Votes, and no name could be heard but Collatines, whom the multitude thought more engaged to ruin Tar∣quin than any other, by reason of Lucretia's death, and wrongs received from him: such popular de∣liberations are commonly tumultuous, inconside∣rate, and derogatory to right reason, so as they never considered that Collatine himself was of the Race of Tarquins. Brutus, who heartily wished Valerius to be chosen, and hoped he would; he was much surprised to see Collatine the man: for he could not endure him, but hated him as much, as if he were his Rival; also he looked upon him as a party cause of Lucretia's death, by infusing Love into the heart of Sextus, when he inconsi∣derately carried him to see that fair and unfortunate Lady: He looked upon him as a person whom she ever hated, though out of Nuptial conscience, lived well with him: and he looked upon him as a man, who bore the name of Tyrant; but to speak ingenuously, he did not look upon him through all these Considerations, but because he ever looked upon him as his Rival; so as it grieved his Soul to have him for his partner in Authority: Yet since it concerned the safety of Rome, that no division should appear betwixt them, in that new establish∣ment; and since also it concerned the glory of Lucre∣tia, that he should give no ground of guessing why he hated Collatine; therefore he constrained himself in this Rencontre: he thought again, that if he should oppose what the multitude propounded, it would breed a great Combustion; For, now there was not one single Roman, who hoped not for some little share of the Royal Authority: So as Brutus, whose piercing eye saw things as they were, and foresaw the consequences of this affair; he dissem∣bled his thoughts, and told Valerius in secret, how angry he was that he was not Consul. But in conclusion, the mind of the multitude must be satisfied, and Brutus seemed not to take it ill; complying therefore with the Times, he himself was the first that saluted Collatine as Consul, unto whom from that time, the people began to ren∣der all honours which that dignity required: Bru∣tus offered him the first place, but he would not accept it, nor indeed the people consent unto it: so as it was resolved, that there should be but one Consul before whom the twelve Lictors should walk, and before whom the Hatchet and bundle of Rods should be carried, lest it should incense the people, who do not love those emblems of Authority should be doubled, which may punish them when they deserve: Not that the Authority of the prime Consul was greater than the other's; for Brutus would not permit it, for fear of such consequences as might ensue: But as for these bare emblems of honour, they belonged unto Bru∣tus only.

Howsoever, after that Collatine was chosen, Brutus would have his Colleague confirm all those who the day before were tumultuously made Sena∣tors, Censors, Pretors, Aediles, Questors, or Tribunes: after which, Brutus caused a publick Oration to be made, never to suffer any to raign in Rome, nor that any should ever be brought to consent unto it, either by menaces or promises. They did establish as a Law, that the Consulship, should last but one year; that for the future, none should be Consuls under forty three years of age; none Praetors under forty, none Aediles under thirty seven, none Tribune under thirty, and no Questor under twenty seven. Brutus would also have it, That the Consuls should be of the most il∣lustrious Races; and that the three hundred Sena∣tors should be Noble-men.

After which, the Senate being regularly assem∣bled, they voted to regulate the Power and autho∣rity of those who had the conduct of things sacred; for it being the custom, that the Kings should offer some sacrifices in person, to shew that they had an absolute authority in these Dominions, and that they had no dependency of any but the Gods, Brutus would not have the Consuls do as the Kings used to do: But he made a Royal Sacrificer for that Ceremony only, and that they should sub∣mit unto him that was the chief in matters of Reli∣gion. After which, the means of making war against Tarquin, was taken into consideration: They provided for the Guard of the Town; they consulted how to keep their Neighbours from joyning with the Tyrant; they swore a solemn league betwixt Ardes and Rome; they resolved to keep the Cavalry which Horatius had brought, and

to send Deputies unto Ardes, to thank that Town for the resistance which they made against the Ty∣rant. And Brutus omitted nothing that might conduce to the publick good, to the ruine of Tar∣quin, and to the revenge of Lucretia, after which every one returned to his house. Mean time, Cle∣lius with Amilcar, went to see the Prince of Nu∣midia, who knew him at first, and asked for Clelia. This Prince being much joyed to hear that Clelia was escaped, he beseeched Clelius to give him no occasion of hatred, protesting unto him, that he should die with some contentment, if he could be but assured of his indifferency. Clelius, who was generous, and saw him in that pitiful condition, by endeavouring to deliver his daughter; he assured him, that she should be full of acknowledgment to him, provided he would be reasonable. Ah ge∣nerous Clelius (cryed he out) I will be any thing that will keep me from being hated by Clelia, and from being unjust unto Aronces; but yet I would adore your divine daughter for ever. Yet sir, my demand that she would not hate me, is because I would die more contentedly, for I know that I can∣not live long. Oh Sir, (replyed Amilcar, after his usual way of freedom) If you do not dye of your wounds, as I hope you will not, and wish you may not, you will die either of love or grief: time will undoubtedly cure those two kinds of maladies; Death will not triumph over Lovers, and unfortunate persons, without the help of a Feaver, or some disastrous accident: But to advance your cure (added he) I will answer, for the esteem of your Mistress, and for your Rival; I will also an∣swer for their friendship, if you could but sur∣mount your love. Oh Amilcar (cryed he out) were my heart like unto yours, I should quickly surmount it, but to my misery we do not resemble. Afterwards, this Prince, who was naturally of a violent temper, began to fret and grieve inward∣ly, so as Clelius seeing him in a condition not to be long conversed withal, he left him, and went to take order for the repair of his house, which Brutus caused to be restored unto him, to the end he might receive Sulpitia, who was to arrive the next day. As for Amilcar, unto whom Clelius was much ob∣liged, he went unto Sivelia's to see Clelia; for having had no discourse in particular with her, he accounted it as if he had not yet seen her; yet he could not have any private discourse with her at that time, because Plotina, Valeria and Herminius were there: But being all persons of strong reason, discourse was almost as free, as if they had all been intimate and particular friends: Herminius having spoken much of Clelia unto Valeria, she did not so much constrain her self, but both discoursed of their sorrows as freely as if they had been ancient friends: After a while of discourse, Valeria might easily be found a person of no common rank: her Physio∣gnomy was so full of spirit, she spoke so well, and to the purpose; her tone was so charming, and her dis∣course so genuine and free, that of all those illustrious Romans which came to see Clelia, there was none pleased her more than Valeria; so as having a strong inclination to love her, she received all the civili∣ties which the charming mistress of Herminius did her, with extraordinary kindness.

I beseech you (said Clelia, in answer to some ap∣plauds which Valeria gave her) do not judge of me by what you see now, but trust unto what Her∣minius and Amilcar shall tell you of me, for they are my ancient friends and know me. I am not to day in my right humor, and my face is so much al∣tered, that did I care for it I should grieve ex∣treamly, not but that I have a thousand subjects of joy: For I see my Father again, I see him in Rome, I see the power of Tarquin demolished, and I see my Country delivered: But for all that, the clouds of displeasure will not dissipate, and the miserable condition of the most virtuous Prince upon earth, makes me that I cannot gust any joys without ingra∣titude: You see with what freedom I talk unto you, and you easily perceive that I reckon our acquain∣tance from the first day I was acquainted with Her∣minius. You honour me abundantly, (replyed Valeria and blusht) but believe it, Madam, I will not dye ungrateful, but in my humour do requite you in a most extraordinary manner: For to discover my heart unto you, I confess that I have ever believed, a person of any solidity ought not to contract amity so lightly, as to close with them at the first sight, for appearances are very fallacious: there are many who do please the first hour, yet when they are better known, will displease for ever after: And I assure you, that since the fair and unfortu∣nate Lucretia betook her self to a course of soli∣tude, I never entertained any friend whom I could name particular; not but that Hermilia, whom every one knows to be the sister of illustrious Bru∣tus, is a person whom I love and esteem; and that another named Flavia, has a great share in my heart. But Madam, it is not after such a manner as I loved that most excellent Lady, whose death would cer∣tainly have caused mine, if her solitude had not ac∣customed me to living without seeing her: yet Madam, I must tell you, that I do find such in∣clination in my heart toward you, as I never found for any, but for virtuous Lucretia. Ma∣dam, reply'd Clelia, I am infinitely obliged to you, for ranking me with her who cannot be parallel'd by any without injustice; but to re∣taliate confidence for confidence, I must acquaint you that I do more for you, than you for me; For I must confess unto you, that except Plotina and Cesonia, unto whom averse fortune has devoted me; I have no friends whom I love so well, as to trust them with any of my se∣crecies: True indeed, friends I have; Hermi∣nius and Amilcar are so, and will be as long as I live; but as for feminine friends, I have found so few a number of such as are capable of solid friendship, as I content my self only with their society. But towards you, added Cle∣lia, I do find a strong disposition to love you, and it shall stick of you, if I be not at this very day perfectly your friend. Whilst these two fair ones were talking thus, Cesonia, Plotina, Amilcar and Herminius, were talking of the late Revolutions: But Amilcar not affecting over-se∣rious discourse, and hearing Clelia name him, he interrupted those two illustrious Romans, and asked them, what they talked of; We talk of a business so important (replied Valeria) as will mar all my felicity, and of a thing which neither Clelia nor I ever did before: for, though we have not known one another yet half a day; yet we in∣tend to begin a league of friendship which must last as long as we live. Both of you, replied Hermi∣nius, are able to move love eternally, and the

more you know, the more you'l esteem and love each other. For my particular, said Plotina, I see nothing extraordinary that you have done: what wonder is it, that two so fair as you, both flowing in wit, and knowing each other long by reports of friends whom you dare trust, should contract friendship so soon? For, this I am sure of, that if you contract amitie with one whom afterwards you find not answerable to your fancy, it is an easie matter to break off: Though perhaps I am one (said Amilcar) who makes and breaks these kind of affections which they call friendships, though they deserve not that title; yet I am clearly of Valeria's opinion, and maintain that it is very frivolous to make these imaginary friendships so much talked of in the World.

For my part, said Herminius, I must confess, that I do not well understand what friendships you mean. I have heard of a great Friendship, and tender friendship, and a solid, ardent, and in∣violable friendship: but as for an imaginary friend∣ship, it is new to me; and I believe it is forged in your imagination: I cannot tell, replied he, whether or no I did forge it in my fancy; but I think that I did not erre in calling it so; But, I be∣lieve (added he and smiled) you are not well ac∣quainted with all kinds of friendships, because you do not apply your self to know that by which Cle∣lia taught you all secrets at Capua, by giving you that ingenious paper, which hath made such a noise in the world: Also, I believe you are ignorant, how there are friendships by occasion, friendships by fashion, friendships by humour, friendships by judgment, friendships by wit, friendships by In∣terest, friendships of Complement, friendships of Love; and of many other kinds, not reckoning that friendship of imagination so unknown to you, and which so many use: For my particular, (re∣plied Cesonia) you would do me a favour, if you would tell me how it ariseth in the hearts of those that have it; It ariseth (replied he) between per∣sons whose spirits are near alike, as Plotina and I should, if we had no judgment. Five or six foo∣lish Proverbs uttered with a good grace, and taken into an imagination, is sufficient to beget one of these whimsy friendships; all the pleasure whereof, that can be hoped for, is the age of an afternoon: I speak this by experience, for I re∣member how I got my self eight or ten friends in a quarter of an hour, by making a handsom descri∣ption of a woman that had a mind to be very fine, and yet knew not how to dress her self; but in∣deed, they were all nothing beholding to me if they had considered it. For, I vented this Raile∣rie before two of their near kindred: Truth is, it was rather an error of memory than discretion; but I am sure, if I had not been in a very merry mood that day, or had spoke nothing but good sense and judgment, these eight or ten fond wo∣men had never been my friends. Thus Fancy and Imagination is a thing that begets these fading friendships, which are like mushroms, grow up in an instant, and die as soon. You have paraphras'd so learnedly upon this kind of friendship (said Herminius) as I believe it would be very accepta∣ble to all the Company, if you would explain all those kinds which you have named. For my part, (said Plotina) I profess he shall lose mine, of what nature soever it be, if he do describe them all, one after another. I beseech you all (said Amilcar, then seeing Clelia and Plotina about to make the same request) command me nothing, for I would have the fair Plotina know, that her menace does affright me, and forces me to satisfie her Fancy.

Begin then presently, replied she; yet (added she) I will dispense with you, for omitting those friendships by occasion; for I have made many of that kind in my life. Some friends only at the Temple; others, friends only of my friends, and others at Balls. For, there we agreed very well to laugh and jeer at those that danced ill: there we took out one another to dance, and talked very ob∣ligingly together; and yet we never saw one ano∣ther, unless at some Feast, or by accident: But, I hapned to be so well informed of any thing that related to them, that I knew them as well as them∣selves: but I have said enough of this kind, and I had better let Amilcar speak concerning friendship in fashion. As to that (said Herminius) I can speak as well as Amilcar: For, in my travels, I knew a woman, who indeed had many excellent qualities; who yet cloister'd up her self as it were, and would not permit the world to croud her with Court∣ships, but would be known only unto those whom she esteemed; but upon a suddain, having taken a fancy to three or four persons of the highest rank where she lived, and to come and see her, and ex∣toll her; presently it became the mode to love her, to talk of her in all places, to applaud her, and write unto her. Some would say, they knew her, though they never saw her in their lives; because they thought it a disgrace to say, they ne∣ver saw her: so as she might well say, that their friendship unto her, was a friendship of fashion. I beseech you (said Amilcar then) give me leave to tell you, what friendship of humor is: I know a man (said Cesonia) who does love so fantastically, as I believe, I may well interrupt you from speak∣ing: He is a man of wit, and understanding enough, and yet one, who never loves any but Fools and ignorant persons: Because, as I think, he had ra∣ther be admired by brutes, and adored by dolts, than to have friends as able as himself: Yet some days, the same whimsy which makes him love these kind of men, makes him abhor them, and ingenuously confess, that he knows not why he loved them. You may be sure (said Amilcar) that I dare not add any thing unto what the fair Cesonia hath said: but I hope, I may speak of the friendships by judgment: I beseech you, (said Clelia then) be not too hasty, but give me leave to speak of that friendship, of which only, I am able to discourse with delight and experience, if I may without vanity say it. For, I call it Friendship by Judgment, when one takes time to know the person whom one would love: when one is cho∣sen that is virtuous, good, and wise: when one en∣quires who are his friends, when one observes of what temper and humor he is, and when one is as∣sured that Love will be reciprocal: for without all these qualifications, it is not any Friendship of Judgment: when I see a woman that pleaseth me; when I hear her name many persons as her particu∣lar friends; that afterwards she has received ma∣ny kind offices from them; if after all this I hear her rail and backbite them, would it be an argu∣ment

of judgment to love such a person, how ami∣able soever she may be otherwise? But, if on the contrary, I find a woman of an ingenious spirit, who zealously defends her absent, or unfortunate, or dead friends: It were an argument of a sound judgment, to Court the affection of such a gene∣rous person. Now, (said Amilcar) I hope for a room to speak, since the discourse is to be, friend∣ship that comes by wit and ingenuity: For, having a good wit my self, it belongs to me to talk of that which I have so often caused. Not, but that Herminius (added he, and smiled) has as good a wit as I, and better: but that he thinks it a kind of crime to shew it: Therefore, since I am a wit by open profession, I know better than any how little we are obliged unto those, who care not for seeing us, but only to hear some pieces of wit flash from us, or to tell us some impertinences them∣selves. These are a sort of men, who are ready to break their buttons with laughing, or are ravished with admiration as often as they see you: they have always about them some Copies of Letters, or verses a la mode, new songs, biting Satyrs against their best friends, and many other conceits which often themselves understand not a line of: They will shew you wit in one hand, and folly in another. They will ordinarily mistake wit for nonsense, and repeat some good lines, as things of no conceit: And again, will out with some pitiful stuffe in such a passionate tone, as if they were repeating some sapphick Verses. I remember a woman, who to shew the bravery of her wit, had always in her Pocket or memory, all the good and the bad Verses that were made in the Neighbour-hood where she lived: she told me one day, she would shew me some lines which were much cryed up for good, but for her part, she found no great matter in them. But (said she) I have some others that are most admirable: But I not trusting much to the judgment of this Lady, had a mind to see those Verses which she discommended, ra∣ther than those she reported to be so rare: so as after a few entreaties, she was perswaded to re∣peat both: But truly those which she said she was ashamed to remember, were a most admira∣ble composure, the measure and numbers were so natural and genuine, as spoke both passion and wit, and such as touched the heart, and moved to tenderness, more than to please and divert. When she had done these good lines; you see, said she, that these are not worth so much pains as to remember; but there are others of an excellent strain, the expressions are admirable, and the con∣ceit delicate.

Oh Madam (said I) you are a most incompa∣rable wit, I beseech you make good your promise: I will, answered she, upon condition that in re∣compence you will shew me some Verses of your own. Then she began to spit out a number of big fustian words which made a mighty sound, but sig∣nified nothing. A Gallimafry of Gibbrish, which wrought highly upon the fancy of this Lady that repeated them. Well (said she, with an Air sutable to her capacity) are not these strong lines? Do you think I do not know what is wit? Come, Let me hear some of your lines: Ah, Madam, (answered I) mine will sound very ill after such as you have repeated; but being much pressed by her importunity, I made two or three Verses of a Song upon a sudden, stuft with nothing but non∣sense in it, which passed her approbation better than if they had been witty; but in conclusion, I waited upon her to her house, with a resolution ne∣ver to come at it again: But the truth is, this hu∣mour of hers is rife every where; but my greatest wonder is, that people should be so inquisitive and desirous of things which they understand not, nor are pleased with, but only to shew unto others of as mean capacities as themselves; yet they will of∣ten venture at Verse themselves, and vent lame cripled Copies which have neither reason nor rime in them; a whole sheet sometimes of nonsense, one Verse a foot too short, another two feet too long, and all but so much labour and Paper spent: These kind of people will out of a fond vanity, be con∣tracting friendship with wits, and hang upon them as their dear friends, and lovers: yet the world is full of such simplicians, and many women will be extreamly ambitious in obliging a good wit to come and see them, as if they had some real business of high concernment with them; and if he do come, but prove not of an humour to flatter the Lady, she will study revenge, she will scandal him, she will hate all he loves. I could say much more upon this subject, but there are other friendships which must be discoursed upon. As I remember (said Plotina,) there was a friendship of interest mentioned: As for that (said Amilcar) all the world knows it; for there is an interest (of plea∣sure at the least) in all the friendships that are. For eight days together, I visited one of my friends every day, but did not receive the least sign of any friendship: the ninth day understanding accidentally, That a man who had power to do her much harm, did love me very well: Then her cheek was smiles, and nothing but love and fayour flowed from her; she endeavoured all she could to captivate my heart if possible: so as what all are wit and endeavour was not able to do, this interest did it in a moment; for ever since I found her so sweet, so kind and affable, as I believe, if I had put her to the tryal, I should have found her but too kind.

Thus matter of interest, can make friends, I beseech you, (said Plotina) give me leave to speak of walking friendship; for I know many women in the world, who are good for nothing but to walk with their friends in Gardens, and gadding abroad only to shew their dress, or their fine Coach: their discourse is only of Clothes, Wed∣dings, and Burials; and talk of any thing else, they are most impertinently tedious. I know one, whom I have never seen all winter long, but as soon as summer appeared, she would come and carry me to walk; and but for that, she would ne∣ver have seen me; but I will speak no more of them, because I would hear Amilcar discourse upon friendship of Love: As to that (replyed Herminius) there is not any well accomplished man in the world, but is able to speak something of it: And I suppose Amilcar intends to speak of those, who having a passion in their souls, do endeavour to make friendship with all those women of their Mistresses acquaintance, whether they like them or no. You have hit so right upon my meaning, said Amilcar, that I desire to stand silent, and you to speak: Amilcar, replyed Herminius, the company will be losers by that; and besides, you are more expe∣rienc'd

in such kinds of friendships than I am. In∣deed (said Amilcar) should I reckon up all the simple friendships which Love has mov'd me to make, you would then say, I were a man of large experience in such matters: for should I number up the million of Mothers, Aunts, Cousins, Friends, Neighbours, Fathers, Brothers, Sisters, and such like, to whom I have been complaisant, only be∣cause I was in love, I should never come to an end: Truth is, the knowledge I have gotten by these kind of friendships, has been much merry diversion unto me; for I have by them made many an odd discovery: whensoever I saw a man of ingenuity give a visit unto any simple woman, I presently en∣quired whether she had not some fine kinswoman, some fair Neighbour, or some gallant friend: And when I saw any witty woman frequent the society of any foolish fellow, I never questioned but she courted him for some other kind of conver∣sation; so as in a short time I grew so cunning, as I knew all secrets without ever being told them: for I concluded this as a necessary consequence, that when any woman seems to love such a one whom it is impossible she should ever love, ei∣ther in justice, or for any profitable interest; this seeming Love serves her only as an umbrage, un∣der which she may see one whom she really loves, though she do not shew it. Appearances are so deceitful, (replyed Clelia) as it is often very un∣just to make conclusions by circumstances so doubt∣ful: For who, that sees the apparent stupidity of illustrious Brutus, would think him a man of the highest soul, and that he should be Romes deliverer? It is most certain (said Herminius) that it is very dangerous to judge of things by conjectures, be they never so seeming: As for example (said he, and whispered with Amilcar) who would ever imagine that Brutus, who is all glory, and who has done the highest action that ever was, should not esteem himself very happy? and yet I am perswaded he is more mi∣serable than ever he was. After this, two Ladies came unto Clelia's house, and Valeria going away, Herminius went also within a quarter of an hour after, and went unto Brutus whom he found alone, and as melancholy as he thought to find him. But though Herminius knew Brutus had good cause for his sadness, yet he resolved to divert him from it as much as he could, and to oppose the love of his Country against the effects of that love which still he retained to the unfortunate Lucretia. For Sir, said he unto him, your sorrows are no other than such as a thousand Lovers have as well as you: but then, Sir, you have such a con∣solation, as no other Lover ever had besides your self, since never another Lover found the liberty of his Country by the death of his Mistress. Oh Herminius, (cryed he) That which you propound as a consolation, makes me infinitely more sad: For is it not the height of cruelty, that the same which hath saved Rome, and which I have so much wished, should make me eternally miserable? Yes, yes, Herminius, added he, should I live a thou∣sand ages, I should take delight in nothing but Revenge, and should daily renew my grief for the death of incomparable Lucretia. But, Sir, answered Herminius, you know, that revenge is counted the highest of all delights, and therefore having carved out your revenge upon Tarquin, in the most noble way that ever was, you have great rea∣son and just cause to comfort your self. Revenge is sweet, I confess, replyed Brutus, but it gives me no calm delight, nor ever will. Common in∣juries indeed, which may be repayed by revenge, may find a satisfaction and quietness of mind to the wronged party: But alas, mine is none of those, for all my revenge can never restore me Lucretia. I have driven Tarquin out of Rome, I forced proud Tullia to fly away: Infamous Sex∣tus dares not shew his head, the virtue of his Bro∣thers cannot secure him from the fury of the peo∣ple: All Romans do enjoy their liberty, and re∣verence me as receiving it from my hand; but for all that, Lucretia is dead, and I am more grieved at her being in her Tomb, than I am joyed at the Tyrants being out of his Throne: And as an ad∣dition to my misery, Collatine shares in the sove∣raign Authority with me: yes, my dear Hermi∣nius, he is so insupportable to me, that without ex∣tream violence upon my self, I cannot endure him: for first, he is of Tarquines name, which is a horror to me; He was my Rival, he married Lucretia, his shallow merits made her miserable; he, and his indiscretion, was the cause of that horrid accident which happened, and consequently the cause of her death. I hate him, because he does not lament her death enough; for the Consulship which the silly people has conferred upon him, has al∣most made him forget the loss of that rare wo∣man. You are so ingenious to torment your self, replyed Herminius, that the more one strives to comfort you, the more one afflicts you, and therefore 'tis better never to talk of your grief, but of your revenge. No, no, replyed Brutus, all's in vain; for where so ere I am, what so ere I say, or do, I have still Lucretia in my mind, and to my great torment do always see her striking a Po∣niard into her breast, and look upon me as if she bad me revenge her death. No, Herminius, her Ghost never leaves me, nor never will; and there∣fore, never fear renewing my griefs, since I my self renew it every minute; she is infinitely dear and precious unto me, and I were a most persidious villain, if I could be any wayes com∣forted.

After this, Herminius, to turn the discourse handsomely, began to speak of Aronces and his misfortunes, and the advantage which Tarquin might have by keeping that Prince in his custody: For, said he, he will thereby oblige Porsenna to arm in his behalf: Common policy also invites that King to assist Tarquin; and when that league is made, honour will not suffer Aronces to be a∣gainst his Father; so as if that happen, as most probably it will, I shall look upon him as one of the most miserable Princes upon earth: For he will be constrained to fight for his Rivals, in fight∣ing for Tarquin and Sextus: He will be forced to take the unjust side, he will strike at his dearest friends, and which is hardest of all, against the Fa∣ther of his Mistress. 'Tis true replyed Brutus, but this will be his consolation, that he will be against Horatius, and the Prince of Numidia. However it be, said Herminius, that grert Prince will be ex∣posed to abundance of misery; and therefore for the interest of Rome, for the interest of Clelia, for the interest of Aronces, for the revenge of Lucre∣tia; it is good to hinder Porsenna from arming

on Tarquins side, since there is none but he whom we need to fear. Indeed (said Brutus) all the neighbouring Estates have not power enough to protect him: nor is it so easie a matter to per∣swade little Republicks to assist a King tumbled down from his Throne, as it is to inspire that design into a great and Potent King, who by the consequence of the thing, has indirectly interest in the re-establishment of Tarquin. Not that he can ever have any Right to Protect a Tyrant: but, you know, Policy does change the names of things according to the several interests of those that act in them: so, it may be, that Tarquin who is disclaimed at Rome as a Tyrant, will be looked upon at Clusium, as a legitimate and un∣fortunate King, driven out of his Kingdom by his Rebellious subjects. So as to prevent that, I conceive it expedient to negotiate with Porsenna; but the difficulty will be to know, how: Sir, re∣plyed Herminius, I conceive it good to consult with the Prince Artemidorus and Zenocrates about it: you know that the Princess of the Leontines, is sister unto the first of them; that she is with the Queen Galerita, the Mother of Aronces; and that she has a great reputation and interest in that Court, so as it were a good expedient, if you could oblige Artemidorus and Zenocrates to go unknown unto Clusium, and ac∣quaint that Princess with the true interest and con∣dition of Aronces, to the end she may do him such service as he desires. But, replyed Brutus, Aronces is in the hands of Tarquin, who certainly will never part with him, unless Porsenna promise to assist him. But, replied Herminius, if Por∣senna will not assist him, he will be so far from being able to keep Aronces, that he will not know how to keep himself. There is some reason in what you say, answered Brutus, but you never consider that Porsenna, who would not have Aron∣ces to marry Clelia, will not treat with Rome, now Clelius is returned, but upon condition, that match shall never be; yet you know that Aronces will not consent unto that treaty. I know it very well (replied Herminius) but I know withal that how∣ever it be, it is very requisite to have one in the King of Clusium's Court, though only to know how things pass there. I grant it (answerd Bru∣tus) and accordingly Herminius took upon him to propound the business unto Artemidorus and Ze∣nocrates.

Mean time, Sulpitia arrived the next morning, who was so highly joyed to see Clelia there, that it pleased her more than to see her self in Rome and Tarquin out on't; or to see Sivelia, Racilia, Her∣milia, Collatina, Valeria, Cesonia, Plotina, Fla∣via, Salonina, and all the rest of the illustrious Ro∣mans, who came in Troops to visit her. On the other side, Clelia, whom Sivelia then restored unto Sulpitia, had a double joy in being again so near her virtuous Mother. For, besides her af∣fectionate tenderness towards her, she looked upon her as one who loved Aronces, and did not love Horatius. She had also the satisfaction to see, that though Clelius had enjoyned her to forget what was past, and to receive that illustrious Roman very well; yet she gave him but a very faint enter∣tainment: but she enquired very affectionately of the Numidian Prince, and of Aronces as a man whom she most esteemed. Clelia received also that day a most sensible joy; For, Aronces having sub∣orned his Guard, procured one to go unto Rome with one letter unto Herminius, and another unto Clelia.

The messenger addressing himself unto Hermi∣nius, according to his directions, he presented the two Letters unto him: And Herminius after he had read his own, went immediately to carry both unto Clelia, who, without making any secret of the matter, shewed them unto Sulpitia: The letter unto Herminius was thus writ.

Aronces unto Herminius.

FOr Gods sake, dear Herminius, pity my misfortune, and bid all our illustrious friends pity me also. But above all, oblige my Divine Clelia not to change her thoughts of a miserable man, who, whether in Fet∣ters or on a Throne, will still be the same to her; For, as it is not in the power of virtue it self to make no happy, unless fortune consent, so it is not in the power of Fortune to make me forsake Virtue, in forsaking Clelia. Negotiate therefore for me, as I would for you, if you were in my stead; And speak unto that most admirable person whom I adore, as you would have •••• speak unto Valeria, if your misfortune were equd unto mine. Tell Brutus that Tarquin hopes to be able for a war, and that I will do all I can to hinder the King my Father from embracing his In∣terests.

After Clelia had read this letter, she opened her own, and found these words.

The unfortunate Aronces to the most Divine Clelia.

THough, Madam, my Rival had the advan∣tage of carrying you back unto Rome; yet I am Tarquins Prisoner for endeavouring to set you at liberty: when you consider of the good office which Horace has done you, consider also that the unfortunate Aronces would gladly die to do you ser∣vice: But above all, never forget your promise, un∣less you would have me die desperate.

The reading of this Letter did exceedingly more Sulpitia, and her admirable daughter; who con∣cluded with Herminius, that Clelius should see it. Mean time, they informed themselves from the messenger of Aronces and his wounds, who told them, that in all likelihood, they were not dangerous: They also understood by him, that Aronces was guarded very strictly: They learned further, that the enterview of Tarquin and Tullia was with much bitterness, and yet their bad fortunes had united them: He told them also that they had sent unto Ceres, which was close by them, to engage that Prince unto their side:

And that the report went, Tarquin intended to go unto Veies that great and potent City, whose neigh∣bourhood might much incumber Rome, if it should declare for him. After they had satisfied their curiosities, as far as the messenger was able to inform them; Herminius carried him unto Bru∣tus, that he also might know the state of things; and, to the end, he should not repent quitting the Tyrant, he gave him a round sum of money, and promised imployment, if any wars were.

After which, Artemidorus, Zenocrates, Amil∣car, and Celeres coming in, Herminius, who ac∣cording to his resolution, had spoken unto the two first, told Brutus, that they both of them offered to go unto Clusium, with a design not to be known unto any, but the Princess of the Leontines. So, as it was resolved, that they should depart within few daies. As for Celeres, his affection unto Aronces, moved him unto a design of going unto Tarquinia, to hear news, and also the more easily to re∣ceive such orders as he would give, either for the Court of the King his Father, or for Cle∣lia.

As for Amilcar; he resolved to see out the de∣stinie of Rome, since it might be advantagious un∣to his Master, to Aronces, to Clelia, to Brutus, and to Herminius: and since it was pleasing unto Plotina, unto whom he was as officious as unto any whom he called Mistress. Mean time, Hermilia and Collatina, who suffered both under the same kind of affliction; they grew to love each other most tenderly through this equality of misfortune: For, if one grieved for the absence of the Prince of Pometia, the other did the like for the absence of Ti∣tus. So as often mixing their Tears and Complaints together; they therefore confined themselves to their Chambers, it not being permitted at that time, to appear sad in Rome: For indeed, if any was seen without joy and mirth in his eyes, he was presently censured for one of Tarquins friends; And according to the natural injustice and inso∣lence of a people newly set at liberty, they would have a Law which should inflict most terrible tor∣tures upon such as looked melancholy at such a time when Rome was enfranchiz'd: So as now, it was not permitted any to grieve for the death of any kindred or friend, unless they would run the danger of being taken for some of Tarquins Creatures, and be thrown down headlong from the Tarpeian Rock. Brutus did as much as he could to restrain the fury of the people: But, lest they should cool in their hatred of the Tyrant, out of policie he suffered their murmur. As for Collatine, though he had more cause to hate Sex∣tus, than any other; yet in his heart, he did not wish the establishment of a Common-wealth. For, being of a Family whence two Kings issued, perhaps he had some squint hopes of being chosen.

Upon divers occasions, he was observed to act very faintly, especially in regulating matters of Re∣ligion: Brutus would have a King of the sacri∣ficers created, being unwilling the Consuls should attribute this honour unto themselves, lest it should too much smell of Royalty, and rub up the memo∣ries of such as were well affected to that kind of Government. This business being a matter of great importance, and which Brutus thought fit to communicate unto the people as well as the Se∣nate, it was taken into consideration: And (as a thing very observable) the same people who so universally had cryed up Collatine for a Con∣sul, having observed him opposite to the opinion of Brutus, they were bitterly incensed against him, and cryed him down as loud as they had cryed him up.

The multitude made a mighty murmur against him, some said they were much to blame in thinking upon any for a Consul, that bore the name of Tarquin, since that only was cause suf∣ficient to banish him Rome: others added, That he appeared more a Tarquin in heart than name, since he was contrary to the opinion of Brutus, who was the true deliverer of Rome: some said, he held intelligence with Tarquin: others, that his aim was to make himself King, and all gene∣rally concluded, that there was a necessity not only of a dismission from his authority, but of his packing out of Rome. At the first, he behaved himself as Consul, and commanded silence: but thinking to appease the multitude, he incensed them: Afterwards, seeing his power not obeyed, he begun to Cajole the people; but the more sub∣mi••s he was, the more insolent were they: some argued him culpable, because he would keep the Authority against the intentions of those who conferred it upon him. Brutus seeing so great a Tumult, and being unwilling to oppose Colla∣tin directly, though the publick good required that Valerius should be in his place, and though his secret hatred against him wished it, yet he went another way to compass his end. For after he had excused Collatin in those accusa∣tions wherein he was charged, he said it was a thing impossible his heart should adhere to the interest of Tarquin, who had so much wronged him.

But for all that (said he most subtilly) were I so unfortunate as ever to be suspected by the people, I profess I would not keep the authori∣ty one quarter of an hour after, and I do now at this instant offer it up, if it be thought that the publick good requires it. Brutus had no sooner said so, but the people applauded him to the Skies, after which he seemed more animated against Collatin: so as Lucretius who had more resolution than his Son in law, who also knew that he was not fit for that place; who hated Tar∣quin more than Collatin did; who had the heart of a true Roman; who knew that Lucretia left no children, and who dearly loved Brutus; he turned towards his Son in Law, and spake thus unto him; Why, Collatin, will you not lay hold of a noble occa∣sion, of doing a great action, in voluntary surren∣dring the Consulship, since it is not pleasing unto the people? Make it appear Collatin, by this free dismission, that you quit an authority which you have no mind to keep, since you do so easily part from it: if you would be rul'd by me, I would advise you to put your self in a capacity of being recalled unto Rome, by banishing your self freely to day. For my part, I protest unto you, that though you married my Daughter, yet I think my self more obliged to take Romes part than yours; so as seeing the people incensed against you, and ill perswaded of your good intentions concerning the liberty of your Country, I think my self obliged both in honour and reason to ad∣vise you as I do: Then (added he in a low voyce)

It is in vain to keep that Authority which will be taken from you. Collatin now found himself at a pitiful non-plus: but, in conclusion, seeing all the people against him, knowing Brutus no friend, and finding Lucretius also his opposite, he surrendred that power which was given him into the hands of Valerius, who by the contrivance of Brutus and Herminius, was chosen with one voyce; Lu∣cretius, who pretended to it, not being offended at it, so cunningly was the business carried. Mean time, to shew Collatin how pleasing the generous counsel he had given Collatin, was unto the people; they permitted Collatin to transport all his estate out of Rome, with Collatina, whom he would not carry with him, because he knew more than the people did, to wit, the league 'twixt Titus and her. So as thinking that if he carryed her where he was, that Prince perhaps would come and see her, and this would render him suspected at Rome, to which he hoped ere long to be recal∣led: he left her with Racilia, for Collatina's Mo∣ther was dead long before. Thus this fair La∣dy, who hoped that the misfortune of her Bro∣ther would be advantageous to her, she found her self more miserable, though being with Hermilia, was a great consolation to her. Mean time, ac∣cording to the course of all the world, which will have some sigh whilest others sing, whilst Col∣latina mourned with Hermilia, all true Romans rejoyced to see the illustrious Brutus, and sage Valerius, masters of the soveraign Authority, for both of them were able, both couragious, both professed enemies of the Tyrant, both reverenced by all Romans, and both friends. So as it was the general hopes of all to see the liberty of Rome solidly established, since two men of such noted virtue sat at the helm of affairs: Indeed this great City, reposing themselves upon the pru∣dence of these two great Men, as men in a ship upon a skilful Pilot, all was calm, every one was quiet, and for a few days, not a word of any false news flew about, no politick disputes troubled the tranquillity of the Town; not but that it was well known there was a Cabal of young men, and of high quality, who wished well to the dominion of Tarquin, because they shared in the debaucheries of Prince Sextus: but yet they durst not speak out their thoughts: And Rome was all peace, when the guards at the Gates came to tell the Con∣suls in open Senate, that there were some Envoyes from Tarquin, who demanded entrance. At first, the opinions of Brutus, of Valerius, of the il∣lustrious father of Clelia, Lucretius, and of many others, was, not to hearken unto them, or per∣mit them entrance; but their opinions altered, when they heard that they whom Tarquin sent, were two of those Priests called Fecialians, of which there was twenty in Rome, whose office was to declare War and Peace, to be spectators of Combates, and executed the Function of He∣ralds, and sometimes of Envoyes, or Mediators. These men were held in such great veneration at Rome as the superstition had perswaded the people, that if they did not give respect unto the propo∣sitions they brought, they should pull down ven∣geance upon themselves: so although Brutus and Valerius did believe that such men as had quitted Rome to follow the Tyrant, and came from him, would never find protection from the Gods; yet knowing how the multitude stood affected, they thought it prudence to give them their satisfacti∣on in observing their old customs. Brutus also added, that it was expedient to manifest unto all their Neighbour States, that they had all right reason to maintain that liberty which they had recovered by force, and that they should hearken unto these Envoyes from Tarquin, whose pro∣positions would be so apparently unjust, that they would incense the people more when they heard them.

The opinions of Brutus and Valerius being fol∣lowed, they sent a man of Authority to receive these Envoys, and bring them to the Senate, and not suffer them to speak unto any as they passed through the Town: mean time, these Envoyes, or Heralds fearing the violence of the people, they attired themselves in such a Garb as might best set out their qualities, and beget respect. So as according to the custom on such occasions, they wore Crowns of Laurel upon their heads, two darts in their hands; the one, half burned, to use them as their propositions were answered; for they used divers ceremonies when they declared War. Mean time they perceived by this encounter, how powerful Religion is in the minds of the peo∣ple: for notwithstanding the inveterate hatred which the Romans had against Tarquin, these En∣voyes passed through Rome without the least vio∣lence offered unto them; yet many were heard to murmur, which made it apparent, they were not welcome; but having several designs in hand, they were not out of hopes of well serving him that sent them. They were men of able parts, they were instructed by Tarquin and Tullia, they were Romans; they had many kindred in the Town, and they had divers Letters from Tar∣quin, to many young men of Quality: they had also some from Sextus, for his old friends, so as the main matter of their negotiation, was only to speak unto the Senate, as an umbrage to plot something in Rome, which might advantage the Tyrant. Yet they kept their design very close and were conducted to the Senate, unto whom, in few words, they delivered the cause of their coming. At first, the Consuls, and Sena∣tors expected that the Heralds would ask no less than the Soveraign Power for Tarquin, and that they would recal him: But in lieu of that, they only said, that Tarquin to shew, he had more mo∣deration than those who drove him from Rome, demanded only a restitution of all that was his own proper estate, and that it might be transported un∣to the place where he was. This feigned modera∣tion surprised the Senate, and puzled them more than if the Envoyes had demanded the Crown for the Tyrant, who sent them. However this being a business which could not be determined in their presence, they withdrew; and to further their close design, they desired leave, to go amongst those that were of their own Function, who stayed in Rome: which was granted, and they conducted thither. Yet Brutus and Valerius, commanded to observe them narrowly, and not to stir from them.

But after they were retired, and the matter put to the vote, the opinions of the Senators were strangely divided, and which way soever they con∣sidered the thing, they found it a peevish business:

should they deny Tarquin, what was his own, though he had never raigned in Rome, were such a piece of Injustice, as would give him a just pre∣tence for a War: should they consent to his de∣mand, they should enable him to make it. So as the thing being very Controversial, and the Senate so newly established, as those of which it was com∣posed were hardly acquainted with each other; it was impossible for Brutus and Valerius as able as they were, to determine the business that day, nor the next; no, nor the next following that: Mean time, they durst not take upon themselves the absolute Authority, lest the people should say, they ex∣pelled the Tyrant, only to become Tyrants them∣selves. So as they were forced to submit the mat∣ter unto Time, and stay till those that were of a contrary opinion, did yield unto theirs; or else so united all those that were of their judgment, as they might be able to oppose them that contradicted them: But whilst the Senate was debating the busi∣ness, without coming to any result, Tarquins Envoys did unperceivedly and cunningly transact their busi∣ness: For, seeing they had no answer the first day, they desired leave to send unto those that imployed them, which in Common Justice could not be denied.

True it is, they were always accompanied by one that observed them, but yet they made a shift to blind his eyes; for they being two, whilst the one of them was talking unto any one whom they thought fit to employ, the other entertained their spie with discourse: Now, such as were well af∣fected either unto Sextus, or the Princes his Bro∣thers, they sought out for such occasions as might bring them to the speech with those men that were of their interests: of which number were the two young Aquilians, and two others of the illustri∣ons Family of the Vitellians, who got to speech with one of these Envoys, and received Letters of him from Tarquin: The Envoy also gave him a sealed Pacquet for the two Sons of Brutus, not telling them from whom they came: After which, it being agreed amongst themselves, that they should meet when it was dark in a Garden which belonged to the house, they parted. These four young Romans failed not to meet accordingly, and one of Tarquins Envoys began to perswade them unto a Restitution of Tarquin to the Throne, and to make a Confederacy in the Town, to let him in by night with such Troops as still remained with him; promising unto them Mountains of Re∣compences, if they could do him so great a ser∣vice: Alas, (said the Envoy) what good can you expect from this Alteration of Government? You see, even now, that though the two Consuls be as able men as are in the whole world; yet they cannot get a result upon a business, which would be resolved in an hour, if the Authority were in one single person: Tell therefore, all the young Gallantry, your friends, that all their Glory and advantage consists in the re∣establishment of Tar∣quin, though he should be a Tyrant: For, the Court of a Prince has Grandeur and magnifi∣cence in it: Tell them that all pleasures and de∣lights are for ever banished from Rome, if Tar∣quin be: Make them understand that Kings, be they as rigorous as they are, yet sometimes they pardon and recompence: But the Laws are in∣exorable, and punish severely without mercy: they are always more favourable to the poor, than to the rich; to the common people, than to men of Rank. Represent unto them, what a heart∣burning it will be, when they shall see them∣selves subjected to a multitude, to Cringe and Court those whom naturally they ought to com∣mand.

Tell them, that Kings being elective at Rome, it were a gross baseness in the Nobility to sit still, and lose their hopes to a Crown: In short, tell them, whatsoever you shall think best to prompt them on unto so great a design. These young Romans unto whom this discourse was addressed, and who of themselves were apt to embrace what was desired of them, they promised Tarquin's Envoy as much as could be required: and this discourse being in the night only by Moon∣shine, and in a Garden, they had as good an op∣portunity as could be, to argue upon the enter∣terprise: For, the Envoy had gained the slave, who had the charge of shutting the doors of the house: He that was appointed to keep an eye over their Actions, fell asleep: And all Rome was in a profound calm, whilst a business was consulting which might captivate them all.

Mean while, Tarquins Envoy asking the young Romans, what they had done with the Pacquet, which he gave them for the two Sons of Brutus, they told him that as yet they had not met with them; but in the morning they would go unto them, and in the evening at the same place, they would give them an account of all things; After which they went away. In their way home, he who had the Pacquet directed to the two Sons of Brutus, asked the rest what they thought of that Pacquet: For my part, (said one of the three, whose name was Aquilius) I am much mistaken, if it be not let∣ters from two fair Ladies, who were brought up under Tullia: the one of which is a Slave of a No∣ble extraction called Teraminta: And I am sure, that Titus and Tiberius (so were the two Sons of Brutus called) are deeply in love with them. This induceth me to think, that Tullia has a design, by this means to draw Titus and Tiberius unto their Party. But (replied one of those who had not yet spoken) I wonder these Loves should make no greater a noise in the World, and that I should never hear a word of it. The reason is (answered he) because the War of Ardes imployed every one so much, that they had no leisure to talk of amo∣rous discourses as in idle times of peace. But (said the other) though Titus and Tiberius should be in love with Ocrisia, and the young Teraminta, do you think they would ever desert the interest of Brutus? Yes, yes, answer'd he, for Love is stronger than Nature: And I know, there is no great tenderness in the hearts of these young men towards their Father: For, Brutus affecting a strange kind of lumpish stupidity, the young men have been extreamly ashamed of being his Sons: 'Tis true, they were so (said one of them.) But now, since Brutus is known to be one of the most glorious persons in the world, and performed such high Actions, doubtless Titus and Tiberius are changed in their opinions of a Father. I grant (answered Aquilius) that now they esteem him whom within a few days before they sleighted: But for all that, if they be really in Love, they cannot love a Father, who in expelling a Prince which loved them, exiled also their Mistresses: besides,

they being brought up in great Liberty and Free∣dom, they will much insist upon obedience to the commands of a Father: Well, well, (said Aquili∣us) to morrow will tell us more: And indeed, as soon as it was day, Aquilius, who had the Packet, went unto Titus and Tiberius: And the other three went every one severally to their particular friends, whom they thought most apt to adhere unto their opinions: Mean time, Aquilius was no sooner alone with Titus and Tiberius, but he gave them the Packet which was directed unto them: They had no sooner opened it, but they found two letters, the Characters of which they knew: For, that directed unto Titus, was from the fair Ocrisia whom he loved: and the other to Tiberius, was from the young slave Teraminta, whom he affected with a most violent passion. So as these two Lovers being infinitely impatient to see these Letters, they opened them, and read them in private, though they knew the secrets of each other, and though their friend was also acquainted with their Loves. But after they had read them to themselves, they read them aloud to Aquilius, who found that from Ocrisia to be thus indited.

Ocrisia unto Titus.

YOur destiny, Generous Titus, is in your own dispose, and it is only long of your self if you be not happy: you have told me ten thousand times, that you would do any thing in the world, to win my love: which if you will make good, and if you will reign in my heart, do what you can to make Tar∣quin reign in Rome: For, if you do not, you shall be for ever banished from any heart of mine.

After the young Aquilius had heard this Letter, Tiberius read his, which was in these terms,

Teraminta unto Tiberius.

IF the unfortunate Teraminta be not out of your memory, as she is out of Rome, you will still remem∣ber how heavy the chains are which she wears. It is in your power to set me at Liberty: For, it is promised unto me, if you will take the Kings side. You know that in the condition wherein I am, I have nothing to dispose of but my affection. And that I do most faithfully pro∣mise unto you; if you will but do as I desire, and as you ought: Brutus was not so much obliged to deliver Rome, as you are to deliver me, since I do give you the means: Either unslave me, or resolve never to be mine.

Well (said Aquilius unto these two Lovers) what answer you to these two Letters, and what do you resolve upon? For my part, (said Titus) I cannot tell what to do: For I do love Ocrisia as well as is possible for any to love, but withal, I love my honour also: and indeed, what can I do for Tarquin, against my Father, and all Rome? If you will but imploy your Courage, (replied Aquilius) you will shortly find it no such difficulty as you think, to put Rome again under the Power of a Prince, who is so near a-kin to you, as it is but just to put that Crown again upon his head, which Brutus pulled off.

Oh ye good Gods (cried out Tiberius) into what a confused Labyrinth am I brought? For truly, I must ingenuously confess, that I am as enemy unto all Republiques: I had much rather obey a Tyrant, than be a slave unto the rude people, and to see my Fortune depend upon the humour of the giddy multitude. I know my Fa∣ther has done a most high Action, and it were against Nature and Reason so much as to question, whether I being his Son, ought, or ought not to take his part. But then, ought I not to deliver a Mistress when it is in my power? and must I deny her any thing unto whom I have promised all things? But, Aquilius (said he) suppose I should over∣come my repugnancy unto the Law of Nature, and follow such motions as Love inspires me withal, all would be in vain: For, my Father is Master of Rome: Tarquin is hated, and the same cruelty which made him reign so long, will doubtless de∣bar him from ever reigning again in Rome: be∣cause all Romans knowing how revengeful he is, will never trust him: Therefore though the in∣terest of a Father should not restrain me, the im∣possibility of the enterprise ought: For, it is a most gross folly to attempt a thing against all rea∣son, when there is no manner of possibility to effect it. For my part, (said Titus then) I shall hard∣ly think any thing impossible. For the people are so giddy and mutable, as one may expect, or one may fear any thing from them: How strangely violent they were in chusing Collatine a Consul, and with the same violence and breath, expell'd him Rome? There∣fore if a confederacy were on foot, I should not despair of its success, and would be one amongst them, provided they would save the life of my Father; for I must confess, I cannot lose Ocrisia and live. Perhaps (replied Tiberius) I love Teraminta more than you Ocrisia; but being not so great a hater of this new Government as you are, and seeing no possibility to alter it, I am not so hasty as you. However (said Aquilius) I promised the Envoys of Tarquin to bring you unto them: and indeed, they had earnestly entreated Aquilius to contrive it so, that they might speak with them, if it might be with safety. Aquilius did not fear his friends would reveala thing which would ruine him if it were known; and therefore he told them, that for his part, he was resolved to do all he could for Tarquin, although he did not love him; and that he would break off all friendship with them, if they would not go to morrow in the evening, into the Garden where they had already spoken with the Envoyes of that Prince. Thus the Sons of Brutus not well know∣ing what they would, or would not do, and not knowing whether Love should yield unto Nature and Honour, or whether Nature and Honour should surmount Love, they promised Aquilius to go whither he would.

But whilst Brutus and Valerius were striving to unite the opinions of the Senate; whilst the Envoys of Tarquin were sowing seeds of confederacy; whilst the young Aquilians and their friends were plotting a confederacy against the deliverers of Rome; and whilst all the people of Rome expected with much impatience the resolution of the Senate; Horatius casting all his cares of the publick good, upon the wisdom of those who then had the Au∣thority, he thought upon nothing but how to make

advantage of the absence and misfortune of his Rival: Herminius and Mutius, upon nothing but to please the charming Valeria; Artemidorus and Zenocrates, upon nothing but their own and their friends business: The Prince of Numidia, nothing but complain he could not dye, since he was not beloved: Hermilia and Collatina, in discoursing of their common misfortunes; Clelia, in grieving for the miseries of Aronces: and Amilcar, in divert∣ing himself in all things, and in diverting Plotina in all manner of things that might afford her any delight. Mean while, Sulpitia being of the prime Quality, and a little disaccustomed at Carthage, and Capua, from the extream severity of Rome, converse and discourse at her house was very free: Also at every alteration of Government, the peo∣ple are for a while excused from the exact deport∣ments of their Country. So as almost all Men and Women of any excellency of parts and ingenu∣ity, did Rendevouz every day at the house of Sul∣pitia. Clelia, doubtless did wish her self free to lament her misfortunes: but since she could not have her will, and being as wise as fair, she dissem∣bled part of her grief, except when Horatius looked upon her; for then out of an obliging tenderness to Aronces, she found some sweetness in afflicting Horatius by shewing her melancholy, which she knew he would interpret as she desired he should; but though she was very serious and sad, yet was she both civil and sociable.

The same day that the Sons of Brutus received the two Letters, Clelia having observed in seeing Mutius and Herminius together, that they look'd very coldly upon each other; she asked Valeria what the matter was betwixt those two brave men: Valeria, she blusht at the question, so as Clelia never staying for an answer, told her in a low voice, that she would never ask her any thing again, for I am much mistaken, if I do not see the cause of their Quarrel in your eyes: Truly, re∣plied Valeria, you need not seek for any other cause, than the injustice of Mutius, who thinks it a shame to change a resolution which he had fixed upon. I am so apt to judge favourable of Hermi∣nius (replied Clelia) that I doubt not but Mu∣tius is in the wrong, and his Rival in the right: but for all that, it is not impossible that two Rivals should hate one another, yet not be unjust. Whilst these two Ladies were talking thus, Herminius and Mutius, who were no good friends since Tar∣quin was expelled Rome, they looked very roughly upon each other, and conversed not together unless when some other broke the Ice; for though they had agreed to defer their difference until the liberty of their Country was established, yet they could not constrain themselves, and one might easily per∣ceive they sought for an occasion of being con∣trary in opinions. Yet Mutius was much perplex∣ed; for Amilcar and Plotina, talking with them and Cesonia, began unawares to speak of Aronces and Horatius, and to say afterwards in general, that it was the most unjust thing in the world, for two Rivals to hate each other upon no other ground, but loving the same person: For truly (said Plotina very pleasantly) He who hates his Rival because he loves his Mistress, must also ex∣pect to be hated himself by the same reason. What you do say, replyed Herminius then, is very witty: but yet I am perswaded, that there are not so many Rivals unjust as you imagine. For my part (said Cesonia) I never knew any that loved. Doubtless, replyed Mutius, there are some who esteem, but there can he none who do not hate: I never knew any, no more Cesonia, (said Amilcar) that loved their Rivals.

The reason why all Rivals jar so (replyed Her∣minius) is because it is a thing impossible that two men should pretend unto one and the same thing, but they must look upon each other as men that would make each other miserable, so as com∣monly one of the two is always unjust. For my part, said Plotina, I must maintain that it is rather en∣vie than love, that causeth hatred in the hearts of two Rivals: Oh, I beseech you (said Hermi∣nius) do not attribute so vile a quality unto all Lovers; Well, well, said she, and laughed; I am not so much in the wrong as you think: For the same thought that so often makes two ambitious men hate each other; that two fair ones should not esteem; that two brave men should so easily quar∣rel; that two good wits should lash each other; does make two Rivals not to endure one another. For my part, said Herminius, I cannot consent un∣to that, because I cannot believe that Love can be∣get envie: But most true it is, that two Rivals can hardly be without the one, giving some cause of complaint against the other: so as it being not na∣tural to endure a Rival, one does easily look upon the other as an enemy That (said Amilcar) may very well be, but it is very odd, that though the love which causeth this hatred do cease, yet it often happens that the hatred does not cease: and though two Rivals do agree to cease loving their mistress, yet they will be always enemies: And yet (replied Cesonia) I have seen two Rivals very well recounciled: That never hap∣pens, replied Mutius coldly, unless they: come to scorn the person whom they loved. Indeed, said Herminius then, scorn sometimes reunites what love divided: But when the person loved is such a one as must be for ever so, then doubtless it is hard for hatred to cease betwixt Rivals. Mu∣tius would have answered, and answered sharply, when Clelius returned from the Senate, and put a period to this discourse. Mean time, Amilcar fearing lest Mutius and Herminius should quar∣rel at their going out, he went with Mutius as most apt for it, because most unfortunate: And being witty, stout, and pleasing withal; he be∣gan to speak freely unto him of his love to Valeria, and to tell him, that he was much to blame for agreeing no better with Herminius, were it for nothing but for his own interest. For, (said he) any woman of wisdom and virtue, cannot endure any quarrels should arise about her: but on the contrary, she loves a Lover that out of his respect to her, will put up petty injuries in her presence: You, Amilcar, replyed Mutius, have a reputa∣tion of loving so slightly, as you are able to be a confident sometimes unto your Rival: But I who love unto such a height, that love often turns fury, I cannot do so; yet I must confess you speak reason, and I am resolved to endure the sight of Herminius for a while: After this, Amilcar some∣times humouring, and sometimes crossing his opinions, he became almost his confident, although he was the most particular friend of Herminius. On the other side, Clelia and Valeria, who were talk∣ing

together whilst the discourse was general, they entertained themselves with a thousand obliging ex∣pressions; and Confidence being a most infallible sign of solid amity, they desired each other to re∣late their Adventures. Yours are so illustrious and extraordinary (said Valeria unto Clelia) as it is but a reasonable curiosity to desire the knowledge of them: But mine are so poor, as there is nothing in them that will divert you: for I cannot think it will be any pleasure unto you, to know that I was so unjust, as to hate you before I knew you: How? replied Clelia, did you ever hate me? Yes, Madam, replied she, I did; And though upon no other reason, but because I should too much blaze my injustice, I would not relate my adventures unto you. This Circumstance, replied Clelia, is enough to swell my curiosity, and invites me to conjure you unto it: but, by the way, added she; who obliged you to cease hating me? Aronces, re∣plied Valeria. You speak such Riddles, replied Clelia, as I beseech you to unfold them. I beseech you, Madam (said Valeria) do not enjoyn me to tell my own story, but let Herminius do it, for he knows my life as well as his own; and so it was re∣solved, but not executed accordingly: for so it hap∣pened, that Amilcar after he parted from Mutius, he went unto Herminius, whom he obliged to tell all his adventures. So as when Clelia told Hermi∣nius the next morning, what was resolved betwixt Valeria and her, he put it off himself, and be∣seeched that Amilcar might relate her life: With all my heart, said he, I am most obedient (said this pleasant African) but upon condition that Plotina and Cesonia be present at the Relation, for I would not deprive those two excellent Ladies of a delight so great: Amilcar said this in such a fro∣lique air, as Herminius consented unto it, upon condition Valeria would consent also: so as Amil∣car taking it upon him, and the hour being appoin∣ted when Cesonia and Plotina should meet at Clelias Chamber, they all met accordingly, and Amilcar addressing himself unto Clelia, he began thus:

The History of Herminius, and of Valeria.

WEre I to speak of Herminius only unto you, Madam, I should tell you his Adven∣tures, without mentioning the advantages of spirit: But since Cesonia and Plotina have but lately known him; and since Herminius is none of those who shew all their Riches at the first sight; give me leave to tell them in few words, that this illustrious man, who sometimes speaks very little, yet can speak most elegantly when he will; and that he can speak with as much power and authority when any occasion requires it, as he can pleasantly and amo∣rously at other times; His soul is Noble, Great, Tender and Generous; he is full of sincerity and goodness, he is naturally liberal and just, and to lap up all in this, Herminius has all the virtues with∣out one vice. Some will sometimes upbraid him with wilfulness, and a little Choler; but for my particular, I never saw any obstinacy proceed from him, which might not in reason be termed Con∣stancy and Resolution. So as it may be said, his obstinacy is a virtue, because he never is so, but when he is in the right: As for his Choler, the truth is, did he not a little bridle himself, it would appear sometimes a little too much. But as for his wit, it is unlimited; there is nothing which Her∣minius cannot do most admirably well: he writes both in Verse and Prose, both equally, incompa∣rably: he is for works of Learning and height: he is also for Railery and Gallantry: in all which he observes a smooth, genuine, and facetious deco∣rum: He is also for matters of Love, and expresses himself in such passionate Characters, as one may plainly perceive, he is sensible of that passion whereof he treats: and which is most admirable, he never treads the steps of another, but on the con∣trary, has a way by himself, and wanders not a jot from the matter, as most do, who are given to filch from others: and having both wit and judg∣ment of his own, all his Fancies and inventions are equally gallant and judicious. He is capable of any thing: I have heard him in one day make speeches, Letters of business, of Love and Gallantry, Songs, Heroick Verses, and Verses of Love; and all with such ease, that when the Fancy takes him, he does them extempore; he will write them in the tumult of a great company: He does them as if he never thought upon them: And if I may commend my self in commending him, I will tell you, without a lie, how one day he and I answered one another, so long in Verse amongst a company of Ladies a•• Capua, as all that heard us were amazed, and thought it impossible to be done without inchantment. One shall meet with men sometimes of a high eleva∣tion of wit, Learning and Fancy; but they can∣not hold it out: For after some facetious piece, they will fall off unto pitiful low and common con∣ceits: their style is rough, and disgusts such palates as are any thing critical, or delicate. But Hermi∣nius is a man singular in Learning, Wit, Judgment, and Politeness: He is none of those who have knowledge and wit at will; yet want a smooth and pleasing humour: For, as wise, knowing, and serious as he seems, when occasion serves, he will be all mirth and diversion: Yet he is not much affected with all sorts of pleasures; for he delights not in hunting, Musick, Painting, Feasts, and such like: but in Complacency he will be one at them all; and will do all he can to make men think he loves them as well as any. He will sometimes be so much taken up with a trifle, as if he were ig∣norant in any high things, sometimes he will apply himself to men of mean capacities, as if he were able to reach no higher; he could comply with all sorts; and never left any merry company: yet this man, who is able to inspire mirth into any company when he pleaseth, can live in soli∣tude with as much content as any man living upon Earth.

'Tis true, indeed, he loves his study so well, as if he affected the company of dead men better than living: And if the generous Sivelia did not sometimes divert him, he would bury himself is his study: I am confident, that should he lose Va∣leria and Sivelia, he would absolutely renounce all commerce with the World: And yet this earnest in∣clination he has to his studie, cannot make him neglect any matter of business: As insensible as he seems, he has a heart most sensible of Glory, of Amity, and of Love: but he has these two last qualities in a very particular manner: For, where he is only a Friend, he will seem as if he were a Lover: and where he is a Lover, one would

think he were only a friend. Yet this proceeds not from the weakness of his affection but from the ge∣nerosity of his Soul, which makes him too little inte∣rested in his passion; As for example, had he a Mistress whom a King would marry, he would sa∣crifice his love, his joy and his life, to see her upon the Throne: For loving the vertue more than the Mistress, and thinking an interest of pleasure in Love no better than a mercenary interest in Friendship, he thinks only of doing what generosity requires: But whether he act the part of a Lover, or a Friend, he is always equally Liberal and Generous: and certainly, there is nothing but impossibilities which he would not do for such as he loves: he takes a part in all their misfortunes: he is an ene∣my to their enemies: he will maintain their glo∣ries, before his own: more sensible of any affronts to them than to himself: And generosity is so na∣tural unto him, that it shines in all his actions: he will help his poor friends when he can, and when they would: he is in general, the most officious man living: he will often neglect his own busi∣ness, to do anothers: and does shew his liberality in a thousand trifles, which many Gallants more able than he would never think upon. I have known some of his friends that are extreme∣ly afraid, and careful to commend any thing he has, lest he should give it unto them; He knows how to give a thing handsomely, as well as any man living: and if Fortune had done for him as she has for many others, there should not be any well qualified man of his acquaintance, miserable: Moreover, Herminius is a general Scholar, and a most Rare Poet: Hesiod, Homer, and Sappho are all his own, all the sages of Greece are his famili∣ars: 'Tis true, he never affected those nice specula∣tions which Thales the Milesian had upon the Stars, so much as he did that part of Philosophy which re∣gulated Manners: Herminius is a man that is able to do any thing that he takes in hand; and he ne∣ver did any thing ill favouredly: He would some∣times undertake to speak upon a matter in publick, without any preparation for it: He has a most strange and vast memory: after once reading of a large Copy of verses, he would repeat them, and not miss a syllable: also he would do the like in Prose.

Those who think that memory, wit and judg∣ment cannot lodge together, are mistaken: for he had both: Though he was owner of all the vertues, yet he cared not for shewing them; and will often strive to conceal them from such men with whom he is not familiar. And yet he affects glory: but he finds so few in the world, that are able to judge aright, that he cares not for the applauds of the multitude. Moreover, Herminius is so thankful and acknowledging, even for the least good offices that he repays them all with usury: and which is most rare; this man who is able for all things, who can make a History of the World as easily as a song, and who knows no limits unto his parts; yet is he modest beyond all thought.

This excellent quality also he has, that he can keep a secret the best of any man alive: and which I highly esteem him for, he is absolutely incapable of any envy and slander: and is not severe unto any but himself. He sutes with my humor principally in this, that he can use good fortune better than he can endure bad, because he is much more sensible of forrows than of joys. As to the Ladies, he holds them in a high degree of respect: I could say much more of this illustrious Roman; but I had better make him known unto you by his story, than by a description which will come short of his worth. As for Valeria, though Cesonia and Plotina do not know her so well as Herminius, yet I will not make any long description of her: As for you Madam, I observe you love her so well already, that I doubt not, but you do perfectly know her. But for my part, I must confess ingeniously unto you, that I never in all my life saw a more amiable person than Valeria, She is indeed but of a middle stature, yet so well made, as she need not envie any that are taller than her self: Her eys, are not such as seem for bigness, as if they would look three or four ways at once: but hers are full of life and love, and able to con∣quer the hearts of such as they shine upon; Her complexion is a little pale: yet such a paleness as being mixt with a languishing and modest air does exceedingly well become her; And this Valeria: who has a million of charms more than I need men∣tion, since you know them, has also a Soul so noble; a heart so tender, a wit so accurate, a spirit so gal∣lant, and every way so rarely qualifi'd, that she is worthy to be the Mistress of Herminius.

Moreover Madam, never wonder, that this story which I am to relate, should be as full of Gallantry, as if she had been at Capua or Car∣thage: For, those amongst whom she has passed her time, are naturally so full of wit, as had they been born in desarts they would have invented Gal∣lantry.

Also Publius Valerius, the Father of Valeria, allowed such honest freedom in his house unto all men of merit, as it must not be thought strange if the Roman severity be not exactly found in the things which I am to relate unto you.

I never need to tell you, that Herminius is of a Race illustrious; That his Father died an Exile: That the vertuous and generous Sivelia his mother is a most admirable woman: But let me tell you, that at her return to Rome, her principal care was that Herminius should be acquainted with men of best quality there: So as the house of Valerius be∣ing the common Rendezvous of all the wits and men of Rank; she entreated Valerius to admit Herminius amongst them. Valerius was the friend of Herminius his Father, and did highly esteem the vertue of his generous Mother; and there∣fore, he was very glad to see him oft at his house, and commanded Domitia his wife, and Valeria, to bid him kindly welcome: Herminius made such use of this liberty, as he got the esteem of all these illustrious Persons; he being of a sweet, civil, complaisant, liberal, and ingenious temper, he made the greatest divertisement of this gallant Cabal, of which was Collatina, a Lady call'd Flavia, who had wit and beauty in perfection; and another Lady call'd Salonina, who was very fair, and had many amiable qualities, though she harboured some unjust opinions. Howsoever, Herminius was officious, and always ready to do any thing they would have him, and was extremely civil and liberal to all the Ladies; he did not find in himself any other thoughts of Valeria, than such as esteem and admiration use to beget in the hearts of such men who value merit. Valeria on her

side, she held Herminius in a rank of esteem and amity; not thinking he would ever be in love with her, since he was not at that time: so as there was betwixt them all the familiarity that vertue could permit. Things being upon these terms, and the great feast of the Salians approaching, which is highly celebrated at Rome, and whose Ceremonies are so magnificent, that all the world desires to see them, either out of curiosity or custome Valeria, Gollatina, Flavia, and Salonina, would go see this feast: Herminius promis'd to provide them win∣dows in the sacred street, through which the Sali∣ans were wont to pass, the first day of Mars, which is the day of that Ceremony, which though I am no Roman, I do know as well as you, though I cannot relate, because I never saw it.

Then said Plotina, and smiled, I am more know∣ing than you in matters belonging to the Salian Ceremony, for I was once at Rome upon that day. I beseech you Madam, reply'd Amilcar, let me hear the relation of it, and instruct an ignorant African, who had need have some leisure to think upon what he is to say. But if whilst I speak, you think upon what you are to say, reply'd Plo∣tina, you will not mind what I say. Let not that hinder you from satisfying the curiosity of Amilcar (said Clelia) for he can sometimes think one thing and speak another: However, answer'd he, I require a relation of the Salian Ceremony from Plotina, otherwise, I will tell no more of Hermini∣us. Your denial will cost us very dear (said Ce∣sonia then unto her friend) and therefore I beseech you satisfie the curiosity of Amilcar quickly, that he may satisfie ours. Since it must be so, said Plo∣tina, I must tell you that the Salians are twelve in number; that they must be of the Patrician Race; and that upon the first day of Mars, they Cele∣brate a feast unto all the Gods that govern Arms; so as all that is to be seen in this Ceremony, has some emblem of War in it: The Salians wear that day Coats of Arms embroidered with divers co∣lours, with great Belts of gilded Leather studded, Murrians of polished Gold; they have also Swords hanging by their sides, Javelins in their right hand, and Bucklers on their left arms, like unto those which fell from heaven miraculously in the time of Numa.

The Salians being thus habited, they dance and skip through the Town to the sound of Instruments, and sing songs to the honour of Mars, whose feast they celebrate. But that in dancing they may em∣bleme War; in some places they draw their Swords, and strike upon the Bucklers according to the ca∣dency of tune, and keep time without any confu∣sed noise or clashing: Those that dance and strike thus, do make an Idea of a Combate in their dance: sometimes they are all in order and figure; other while they seem to fight with one another: some assault, others retreat, and all in figure and time, according to the tune: But the rarest thing amongst these twelve Salians was, There were also twelve fair Salian Women, drest after the Salian mode, except without Swords and Buck∣lers: Before them marched soft Musick, sutable to the sweetness of their Sex. These also danced through the streets as the Salians did, seeming by their actions to incite the men to dance well, sing well, and fight well: Those who would give a rea∣son why they bring women into this Ceremony, can find no other but this, That all Heroick Acti∣ons whatsoever, are principally inspired into men, only by a desire of pleasing women. I shall not mention all the streets through which the Salians passed, nor their sacrifices, because I will let Herminius bring his friends into the sa∣cred street to see them. After this, Amilcar than∣ked Plotina for her relation, and returned to his own in this manner.

Herminius having promised to provide windows for all the Company, he failed not of his word: the young Hermilia joyn'd with this good Compa∣ny. As for the men, besides Collatin and Mutius, there was one called Volesus, who certainly was a man of merit; and one Spurius Largius, who flowed in wit: the Prince of Pometia, and Prince Titus, were there also.

Herminius, delighting handsomely to surprise those whom he desired to please, he carried all the Company to the sacred street, but told them not of any other entertainment, but seeing the Salians pass: yet he had so ordered things, that these La∣dies entred into a Chamber most richly furnished, and the floor strewed with all delicate variety of flowers the spring could afford, the smell of which far surpassed that of Roses or Violets. The Ladies having never seen the like before, thought them∣selves in a Garden, and stooped to gather flowers for Nosegays: but Herminius saved them the la∣bour, for he presented unto them baskets full of Posies, of all sorts of flowers, tied up with Ribbons of various colours, so as the Ladies not thinking themselves able to commend Herminius enough foe his Gallantry, they thanked him a thousand times; after which, they found very rich Carpets laid in the windows for them to lean upon; Herminius thought it not enough, for all things to be handsome in the Chamber, but he had provided most rare Musick in a Closet adjoyning: and to compleat the entertainment, he gave them a most sumptuous banquet.

Now, that you may the better understand the sequel of this story, be pleased to know, that Volesus, who, as I told you already, was a man of merit, was in love with Salonina, who indeed was rarely handsome and fair, though she had some un∣just opinions, and who was then one of the best friends of Valeria, who was not then in any great amity with Lucretia. So as Volesus being a Lover, and Lovers naturally are jealous, he imagined that Herminius was also in love, for making such treat∣ments of Gallantry, but yet he was deceived, for Herminius did such things very oft, because they were Gallantries in themselves, not because ••e loved the persons whom he treated; yet Volesus measuring the minds of others by his own, he began to dispute with Herminius, hoping thereby to discover who the Lady was, to whom this Gallan∣try was intended, and wished with all his heart he might not have him for his Rival; so as seeing every one thank Herminius, for my part (said he and smiled) I will not thank him; for I am sure that I am beholding unto some Lady in the com∣pany for this feast, and that nothing but Love could inspire Herminius with a design of so much Gallantry: Truly (said the Prince of Pometia) if one should judge by appearances, there is some reason to be of Volesus his opinion. For my par∣ticular (said Titus) I have long thought Herminius

to be in Love with some Lady in this company, for he visits them every day, he cannot endure to be any where else, and grumbles if any desire him to go and see some others: on the contrary, he is pleasant and merry when he is in the company of the Ladies that are here: he can invent a hundred diversions, write elegant Letters, make songs, and as now you see, very gallant Feasts. Very good, said Herminius, and smiled, you will perswade me that I am in love with every one in the company: for indeed I have the same inclination to all the company in general, which they say a Lover has to a Mistress in particular. But perhaps (replyed Spurius) you do not love all the company in general, but only be∣cause you do love some one in particular.

Since Herminius is my very good friend, said Valeria, I hope to make him in love with me. Since he is but indifferent to me (said Salonina) I am out of that hope: for my part (said Hermilia) I know Herminius does not love me: And I am sure (said Flavia) that I shall never win his heart; no, nor Collatina. Well, well, said Herminius, I love you all in general, and never yet asked my self, whom in all the company I loved best. Since so, replied Valeria, and innocently smiled, I beseech you observe your self a while, and if you find that any one of these Ladies has captivated you, to tell me in secret as one of your best friends. But suppose (said Volesus) he should love you, most he tell you of it? I beseech you (said Hermi∣nius) do not question her upon that Article: for what know I, but I may love her more than I think? No, no, Herminius, replied Valeria, you answer I know, that you do not love me: but in case you be deceived, (answered Collatina) must Herminius tell me whom he loves? Ah Collatina, replied Valeria, should I be so unhappy as that Herminius should love me more than I would have him, I would not have him tell you; but since I can keep a secret better than any of my friends, I had rather Herminius should tell me, than you, or any else: So had I, replied Herminius, and I do solemnly promise, that as soon as ever I am in love, I will tell you, and discover the bottom of my heart unto you. But before I en∣gage my self to hear you, answered Valeria, I will make my conditions with you. You need but name them, replied Herminius, and you shall be obeyed. I would then (answered she) that in case I be your Confident, not be a meer hearer, that must sit idle and do nothing to serve you, not so much as to give you counsel: but on the other side, I think nothing more horrible, than to be such a confident as will busie her self in a thou∣sand things wherein she has no interest. But in case you be my Mistress, replied he, what should I do then? I would have you promise me, answered she, that you will never tell me any thing that shall anger me, and that if you do, never to see me again: I will engage my self, replied he, never to tell you any thing which ought to displease you, but not precisely that it shall not dis∣please you, for all Ladies have their Capricious minutes, wherein they will be angry without any cause.

As Valeria was going to answer, they heard a farr off, the musick which went before the Sa∣lians: And there being one place better for sight than any other, Herminius carried Valeria thither; which favour she received only as a simple testimo∣ny of his friendship: Afterwards every one beheld the Salians pass with great attention and delight, except Herminius, who fell into such a deep study, that all the Company observed him; and Collatina asked him what he thought upon. Truly (answered he) I am striving to know whom I love, for now I begin to think that I am in love with some body: Oh Herminius, (said the Prince of Pometia) if you be once in love, you will quickly know with whom it is: If so, replied Herminius, my Mistress should know it as soon as my self, for I was resolved to tell her as soon as I knew; nor is it reasonable to put a Mistress to so much pains, as to guess at that love which she her self caused. For my part, (said Salonina, and smiled) I should be gladder to guess at a thing of that nature, than to know it any other way: for when one guesses at it, one is not obliged to answer. Why do you busie your self, said Valeria, in such impertinent discourse, in lieu of looking at the Ceremony, since we all came hither to see it? For my part, said Salonina, and laughed, I have seen the Ce∣remony two or three times before, and I care not for seeing it again; and the truth is, these kind of shews are good for nothing but a pretence for the meeting of such good company as here is; but the worst is, one shall not every year find an Herminius, and an Herminius in love. As for love, replied Valeria, the thing is yet doubtful: No, no, said Spurius, I will engage my self to be in love, if he be not; and if before a moneth be at an end, he be not much more miserable than he is now. For my part (said Herminius) I know not well what you say: but if it be so, one cannot be in love unless they be miserable, then I am not in Love; for I do find in my self a secret joy and sa∣tisfaction, without knowing any cause for it. Ah Herminius, replied the Prince of Pometia, most certainly you begin to be in love; for almost all be∣ginnings of Love are pleasing: And most assuredly, when any man of soul is either merry or sad without a cause, he is in Love.

After this, the ceremony being ended, all the company did stay a while in the Chamber, and then parted. But in parting, Herminius promised Va∣leria to tell her very shortly, whether or no he was in love, and with whom it was: And indeed, ever since this time, he became his own spie, and observed all the secret motions of his heart: So as in a short time he found that he loved Valeria much more than he did all the Ladies in the com∣pany: For, when he went to Domitia's house, and found not Valeria with her, he was vexed, though all the rest of the Ladies were there: And on the contrary, when he found her alone, he never missed any of the rest. So he found that he pre∣ferred Valeria before all the rest, but yet knew not whether this which he found in himself was Love: but on the contrary, would for a few days have perswaded himself that it was only Amity: For, because he had heard from all Lovers, that Love was a terrible Torment, and because he him∣self in his verses of Gallantry, expressed so many Fires and Fetters and Torments, and Sighs, and Tears, he could not believe he was in Love, be∣cause he was so far from being miserable, that he thought himself happy.

He thought also, that he desired nothing: and that tenderness which he found in himself towards Valeria, was only tenderness of Friendship, which being proportionable to her merit, must needs be greater than an ordinary Amity. So as though he did not believe himself in Love, yet he loved Valeria: And which was strange, he shunned putting the company in memory of the conditions which he had made with that charming person: because he thought himself not Gallant enough to tell her that he was only upon terms of Friendship with her: Indeed the opportunity did not offer it self very soon; For, Valeria being very sick for fifteen days, all the company were very sad, and Herminius more than any, for he could not find any rest any where: he went many times in a day to ask how she did: he visited those that looked unto her to be the better inform∣ed, and he met none but he told them how ill Valeria was; But at last, this fair one mending upon it, her intimate friends had the liberty to go and see her: so as their company diverting her, she recovered her health, her beauty, and her good humour very fast. Salonina, Flavia, Hermi∣lia, Spurius and Volesus going one day to her house with Herminius, they fell into talk of the Salian Feast, and to remember him of his engagement to tell Valeria whom he loved. And talking merrily, they told Valeria that it was her part to press Her∣minius unto the performance of his promise. But the most strange passage in this encounter was, that Herminius, as I told you before, would not tell Valeria what he thought, because he thought it not handsome to tell a fair Lady that he did not love her: And Valeria on the other side, who observed how much he was troubled at her sickness, and received every day a thousand Testimonies of esteem and tenderness from him, she did not desire him to keep his word, lest he should say, that he was in love with her: For, esteeming him very much, she was loth to change her way of behavi∣our unto so good a friend. So as the one not offer∣ing to speak, and the other not willing to hear, Flavia, Salonina, Hermilia, Spurius and Volesus, began to chide them, and to say, that certainly they knew each others minds without speaking: and they were so pressing upon them, that Vale∣ria to justifie her self, commanded Herminius to keep his word: He not daring to disobey, rose up, and carried Valeria to the other end of the Chamber, towards a Balcony which looked into a Garden.

But when he was there, and that fair one ask∣ing him whom he loved, he found himself at a strange perplex. For he felt such a Qualm rise upon his heart, that he could not answer; and he was the worse, because at that very instant, he began to think himself in love: The fair eyes of Va∣leria meeting his at that instant, he was so charmed, that he changed colour: Valeria fearing the truth she durst not press Herminius any further; who seeing she asked him no more, he ask'd her, how it came to pass, that her curiosity ceased? It comes to pass (said she) from a Maxim of equity: For, as I have no mind to tell that which I would not have known: so, I would not have you press me to tell me that which I see you have no mind to tell: And therefore to testifie unto you that I am discreet, I say no more: Yet offer, if it please you, to tell all the company, that you have told me, you are not in Love. Oh Madam (said he) I would not have you say so: Then I will say, that you are in Love, (replied Valeria and laughed) and after I have as∣sured them that it is not with me, I will leave them to guess, whether it be Salonina, Flavia, Collatina, or Hermilia that you love.

No, no, Madam, replied he, Never say that I am, or I am not, until you know certainly what I am But how should I know that, (replied she) unless you tell me? You may know it Madam, (answered he) if you will but know the thoughts of my heart. Do you think, replied Valeria, that I am so much in love, as to discern whether you be or be not in Love? For, that is a thing which I know not how to give or to take. Though all you say, Madam, be true, answered Herminius, yet you may know whether or no I be in love: for if you know that the thoughts of my heart be of any other nature than Friendship, you may easily conclude that I am in love: know therefore (ad∣ded he, and would not give her time to answer) that upon a strict examination of my heart, I have discovered that there is one in this company, whom I do esteem and love above all the world, and who is so necessary unto my joy, as I have none if I be not with her. Well, well, (replied Valeria, and smiled) I will not keep you any longer with me, lest I weary you: And therefore without putting you to any further trouble in telling me your thoughts, I assure you that you are only my Friend.

Oh Madam, replied he, I beseech you, do not judge so hastily of my affection, and never fear I can be weary of being with you: And therefore give me leave to tell you, That my tenderness to the person of whom I speak, is so great, that all her miseries are mine. I look upon her with de∣light; I admire her with abundance of joy; all she says pleases me; her beauty charms me; her good∣ness ravisheth me: and her wit strikes me with such a respective astonishment, as is above common ad∣miration. But after all this, I am not jealous, I desire nothing; and all my thoughts are so pure and free from any interest, as I cannot think any ones affection like unto mine. I have already told you, replied Valeria cunningly, That all your thoughts of me proceed only from Friendship, and I am very glad of it: for as they talk of Love, one is never very happy by it.

Since Madam you say, replied Herminius, that my thoughts of you are only Friendship, I hope there is no hurt if I tell you, that you are the rare person whom I prefer before all the world, and whose company I love so well, that I cannot en∣dure to be any where else: Also, I beseech you give me leave to hope, I shall find affection for affection from you: For the same vertue, which they say allows Ladies to be ungrateful unto their Lovers, requires they should be reciprocally kind to their friends. But Madam, (added he, and would not give her leisure to speak) I had almost forgot to tell you, That you are not only the person whom I love best of all the World, but also to speak sincerely, you are the only person whom I love. For, when I examine my self well, the affection which I bear unto others, is no∣thing in comparison of that I bear unto you. And when I said that I would desire nothing, truly I

know not what may happen hereafter: For, at this very Instant, there comes upon my heart such a violent desire of being loved by you, that if you leave me hopeless, I perceive I shall be the most miserable man in the whole World. You deceive your self, in speaking as you do, replied Valeria, for Friendship never makes any miserable. But Madam, replyed he, perhaps you do not know what thoughts my Soul has of you. What ere they be (said she, and would have gone away) I will go and tell the company that you are only upon terms of Friendship. With all my heart, answered he: For, if perchance I should be in love with you, as there is great likelihood I shall, it is best that none but you in all the World do know it. Nay, replied Valeria, if that misfortune ever hap∣pen, I wish I may never know it: After this, Va∣leria left Herminius, and blushed, not well know∣ing what she should say unto the company: Come Valeria, (said Salonina, as soon as she came) is Herminius a friend or a Lover? Is it you, or Fla∣via, or I, that is adored? does he love all the com∣pany in general, or any one person in particular? I must ingenuously confess (answered Valeria) that Herminius is not in love, and therefore we are all of us equally obliged unto him for his assiduous visits unto us; Oh, Madam, replied Herminius, I did not think you would have said so: If I be mi∣staken, answered she, I cry you mercy, my memo∣ry is so bad that I may be excused; and if I did not say aright, yet I am sure I said as things ought to be.

After this, all the company fell upon Hermi∣nius and Valeria, and contested amongst themselves; some affirmed that he was in love, and others, that he was not; and all in general did divert themselves very pleasantly upon this matter all the rest of the day.

Mean while, great alterations grew in the minds of Valeria and Herminius: for Valeria made more doubt of Herminius his affection, than she did be∣fore he spake unto her: And Herminius on the con∣trary, did not doubt at all that he was in love, since the time Valeria told him his thoughts were only effects of friendship. When he came at home, he accused himself for speaking too faintly and cold∣ly of his affection; he repented himself of his too much prudence; and he upbraided himself a thousand times with blockishness, in being so long before he knew that the thoughts of his soul were effects of love.

As for Valeria, though she was as vertuous a per∣son as ever lived, and though at that time she could not imagine she could ere endure any should love her, yet she could not chuse but chide her self for harbouring some little belief that Herminius did love her, and could not chuse but think upon Her∣minius whether she would or no.

Things then being upon these terms, you must know that Volesus who loved Salonina unknown to any, and that Salonina did not hate him, they were full of joy: for Spurius falling deep in love with Salonina, Volesus had the satisfaction to see his Ri∣val, most horribly ill treated by that fair one his Mistress: that Spurius was a man of many admi∣rable qualities, and none ill, except that he was the most revengeful of any man living. Valeria and Salonina were then most particular friends; for Lucretia was not of their society: So as Valeria saw all the bitter affronts which Salonina put upon Spurius; yet it is not to be imagined; there was the same confidence between Valeria and Salonina, as there was since between Valeria and Lucretia: for they communicated such secrets only, as may be said, they made great mysteries of small trifles. But for all that, they loved, or at least thought so; and in ther familiarity, Valeria would sometimes tell Salonina, that she treated Spurius too sharp∣ly: for truly (said that wise Lady) I conceive it fit to be severe with judgment: and when a man of good parts is in love with a well qualified woman, she ought to carry it so, as to let him know that his passion is displeasing unto her, without scorning or sleighting the man: for it is very dangerous to procure the hatred of those who love you, and certainly it is much better to be hated by one, who never loved you, than by a slighted and contemned lover. For my part (replied Salonina) I think nothing more glori∣ous for a woman, than that she can sleight a very brave man, only because he is in love with her. Valeria replied upon Salonina, and Salonina answer∣ed her, but they did not alter one anothers opinions: So as Spurius was treated by Saloni∣na, worse than ever any poor lover was; and yet she made many advantages unto her self by it: for thereby the love of Volesus augmented, and she got such a Reputation of severity in the world, as gave her precedency before all other Ladies of her age.

But whilst Salonina was favourable unto Vole∣sus in despising Spurius, Valeria received from Herminius a thousand ingenious and innocent testi∣monies of his love: for not a day passed, but he gave some fresh delight by some pleasing surprize or other. He was assiduous, exact, officious, and full of respects towards her, and so very reser∣ved in giving his testimonies of Love, that Vale∣ria did often doubt of what nature his affection to her was. And yet she came insensibly to be out of all doubt, nay to fear that the same man whom she thought did not love her enough, would come to love her too much. Yet Valeria carried her self with that prudence, as she kept off Herminius a long time from telling her openly that he was in love with her. But I have often heard from Fla∣via, who was a particular friend unto Herminius, that she easily perceived he loved Valeria, and that Valeria was not sorry for it: for though she did not any thing to augment the love of Herminius, yet she did not all she might to extin∣guish his flames.

Mean while Spurius who had a great heart, and was naturally proud, he grew so sensible of Saloni∣na's scorn, as he resolved to drive her out of his heart; and accordingly he ceased from coming to see her, and went seldomer to Valeria and his other friends, lest he should meet her. But Salonina be∣ing gone into the Countrey, he visited all the com∣pany which she frequented; and to his misfortune, finding an inevitable charm in the sweet eyes of Valeria, he fell in love with her. And in lieu of opposing this growing passion, he himself blew the bellows that made it burn. For being of a proud temper, he fancied it a great plea∣sure to himself, if he could win the favour of a Lady whose merit was far above hers who had slighted him: so as he flattered his passion with

hope, and the more because Valeria who in her heart would not be sharp to Herminius, and yet would not let it appear she had any extraordinary tenderness towards him; she was willing to en∣tertain the courtship of Spurius, to the end that her kindness to Herminius might be attributed to sweetness of humour to all in general, and not any particular thoughts of any one. Spurius then seeing that his addresses were not repulsed, he became down-right in love with Valeria, to whom yet he durst not speak openly of it. So as when Salonina returned from the Countrey, she found that this Lover whom she had so badly used, and whom she thought still fettered in her chains, that he had broken them, and assumed those of Valeria, who as I told you, was the chief of her friends. Though she never loved Spurius, though she loved another, though she loved Valeria as much as she could love; yet she was vexed to the soul that she lost this Lover; and her heart burned with anger against Valeria, for captivating a heart which she would not accept. Yet Salonina concealed her thoughts: But as there is a jealousie of Pride, as well as a jealousie of Love, hers of Valeria was so great, that hide it as well as she could, it was quickly perceived, that as often as she came unto her, there was a certain Air of constraint in her face, and that sweet and affable smile which she used to have in her cheeks did not at all appear: Yet she saw her often; but she hardly knew what to say unto Valeria when they were alone together. She was always disposed to find some fault or other; for whereas all young and fair Ladies that love one another, use a hundred pretty questions about their beauties, or about their dresses, yet Salonina almost never saw Valeria, especially if Spurius was pre∣sent, but still something was amiss about her: And yet she spit her malice as if it had been a simple ef∣fect of friendship: For she would still be asking her whether or no she was sick, and whether she slept the last night, meaning thereby, that she looked very ill. She would pick a thousand quarrels with her Dress, and nothing about her but was out of order. When she talked with any envious per∣sons, of which there are a number in the world, and with whom one may speak freely in disparage∣ment of all fair ones: she suffered them very glad∣ly to speak all the ill against Valeria, that the ma∣lignity of their envy could invent: and she her self would come out with many petty faults, which made it evident she would have been glad if they had been greater. For she said, though untruly, That Valeria had not the lustre and charms of a great beauty; and that her beauty had been very mean, if her wit had not helped it to a Repu∣tation. Fortune (said she) is all in all; and it is as requisite to get a reputation of wit or beauty, as it is to get riches: For, (said she unto her envi∣ous Cabal) Valeria speaks no better, nor no more, than others can: and yet she has the reputation of a superlative wit, above all others: she is so fortu∣nate, that her vertue costs her less than many of her friends: For, she passes for vertue it self, and yet she is not so holy, but Spurius and Herminius do pay her a thousand services which others perhaps would scruple to receive.

Salonina would yet commend her, and say, that Valeria was her very good friend: and when she spoke any ill of her, it was with a zealous wish that she had all those faults which her jealousie made her believe she had. Mean time, Valeria could not imagine she should take it ill, that she should allow of the visits of Spurius as she did: for seeing her treat that Lover so harshly, she could not suspect she had any interest in him. Yet it was not long be∣fore she perceived the coldness of Salonina: So as Valeria being all sweetness, she asked her from whence this alteration in her humour proceeded. What have I done, what have I said, what have I thought (said this sweet Lady unto her, when they were alone together) that you do not smile upon me as you were wont to do? Believe (answered she very faintly) the alteration is in you, not in me: and you not seeing things as you were wont to see them, you accuse me of that change which is in your own mind.

No, no, Salonina (replied Valeria) I am the very same that I was, and if my company do not please you, it is because there is something in your own mind which makes me so wearisom unto you: But Salonina take heed (added she and smiled) for I assure you, I do not weary people long, without extremely wearying my self: And, therefore to preserve the amity that is betwixt us, if you have any thing to accuse me of, do it sincerely, that if I do clear my self, you may repent of your cold∣ness, and if I do not justifie my self, that I may beg your pardon. Salonina seeing her self thus pressed by Valeria, she was vexed to the heart: and ex∣pounded all the goodness of this sweet Lady, unto a hidden interest which related unto Spurius. So as dissembling her real thoughts which she was ashamed to discover, she answered that she had nothing to accuse her of: but expressed feigned Caresses and protestations of Friendship; yet she did it in such a manner, as did not perswade Va∣leria that they were real: But it troubled this Charming Lady very much, that all the World should ask her what the matter was betwixt Salo∣nina and her. Salonina on her side was put to't to pump for an answer unto those that asked her the same question: especially Volesus, whom she wish∣ed very well: for she was so free as to tell him, that she stomached Valeria because she entertained Spurius, and was angry that Spurius did not now love her, because he now loved Valeria: So, as she told Volesus such opposed causes of complaints against Valeria, as she thought good, enjoyning him, not to speak of it. But though she might easi∣ly deceive Volesus, who loved her very well, yet it was impossible for her to deceive Flavia, who as I told you, was the friend of Herminius, and upon good terms with Salonina: For this Lady had a most particular faculty in discovering the most close interests of all the female Cabal.

And indeed, she reason'd the matter upon just grounds: For (said she) when I see any young and fair ones quarrel and jar without any apparent cause, I certainly conclude, that it is either out of envy, or interest of Love, or jealousy. So without farther scrutiny into the profundity of right reasons, I look after such santastical motives as Love, Jealou∣sie, and envy, may inspire, according to the qua∣lity of their fortune: and it happens very seldom, but I hit right upon such things as I am inquisitive of, when once I am a little acquainted with the Intrigues of a Cabal Flavia being so cunning in such things, she had a light suspicion of the Truth.

So as walking one day with all the company in the Gardens of Numa, which were very fine and plea∣sant, she saw Salonina look very attentively upon Valeria, who then stood betwixt Herminius and Spurius, and she looked upon her with a kind of sourness and disdain, which she did not perceive in her self. So as Flavia, who had a subtle and pene∣trating wit, and would not be denied any thing; she took her aside, and carrying her from the rest of the company: I do not ask you as others do, said she unto her, what the matter is betwixt Valeria and you, for I know that she has cured Spurius of that Love which he bore unto you, and that you are not pleased with it. I think, replyed Salonina and blushed, that after I have treated Spurius so sharp∣ly as I have done, I shall not much care who shews him any favour: I confess it, answered Flavia, and that's it which makes me wonder: for, I am not such a novist in things of the world, but that I know you wish Volesus well: that you never loved Spurius; That you loved Valeria before Spurius loved her; and that you never loved her since you thought he did. Moreover, Never tell me as you do others, that you ever loved Valeria; for you never see her but for formality and fashion sake: And did you but see your self, when any one commends her, or when out of policy, you commend her your self; you would plainly see that your eyes betray your heart, and that it is an easie matter to know, you have a secret hatred and grudge against Valeria, which you would not discover. You are very plain, replied Salonina; and shall be plainer yet, replied she; especially, when it is to reunite my friends, and make peace and quietness in the society wherein I am. Therefore, if you do not confess the truth unto me, and tell me the thoughts of your Soul, I will take the part of Valeria against you: I will condemn you every where: and may be I shall tell Volesus what I think. Perhaps, replied she, you will condemn me more when you know my true thoughts: not that they are such (added Salonina craftily) as you imagine. For indeed, since I must discover the bottom of my heart unto you, and that it is in vain to dissemble, and say, that I hate Vo∣lesus, I will confess unto you, I am very well plea∣sed, and allow him to love me: and you may well think, I have no interest in Spurius, whom I have so sharply treated, as Valeria thinks I have been too severe: Nor, is it any interest I have in Spu∣rius, which makes me take it ill from Valeria that she looks favourably upon him. But to tell you trully, she knowing what aversion I have to him, methinks she should not endure him, nor in honour receive him so kindly whom I have so much scor∣ned, nor so oft admit him into the Cabal, that I can hardly ever see her but see him also. Truly, replied Flavia and smiled, I did not think you so good a friend as you are: but that I may the better know your mind; Pray answer me directly to eve∣ry Question I shall ask you. I will replyed she. Then tell me (said Flavia) why have you such ex∣treme aversion to Spurius, who is a man of a most t••••e wit? I cannot tell, answered Salonina, the right rhymology of the word aversion: but I am sure that my exceptions against Spurius proceed not from any particular cause, nor can I tell why I cannot endure him. Since so, said Flavia, why should Spurius be more offensive to you now he addresses himself unto Valeria, than when he made his addresses unto you? Because, replied she, if Valeria did not favour him, I should not see him so oft, and should not be vexed to see that he does not displease her, as he did me. But further, said Flavia, whether had you rather that Spurius should be always troubling you with testimonies of his affection; or that you should be rid of him, and see him love Valeria? Truly, replied she, and blusht, I had much rather he should love me than Valeria: for then I should have the satisfaction of treating him ill: I should not have the vexation to see him so happy as he is; and I should have the advantage to see Volesus more diligent, more exact, and more amorous: For, certainly nothing more sharpens a Lover, than to have a gallant Ri∣val; and it is the greatest favour that comforts the heart of a Lover, to treat his Rivals ill: Doubtless, replied Flavia, there is much wit in what you say; but without any more questions, which if you do not answer sincerely, I must tell you, that all this perplexity in your heart, is no∣thing else but a vain jealousie which makes you not endure Valeria should rob you of a Lover; and that you think your beautie receives an injury, because Spurius looks now upon you with eyes of indifferency. Well, well, said Salonina then, I do confess it: Valeria does vex me in receiving Spurius so kindly; and if the fancy take me, I will recall him by some sweetness towards him, since it was that way she gained him.

Valeria, replied Flavia, is not more sweet towards Spurius than towards Herminius, and all men of Rank that see her: But suppose she were a little complaisant towards him, what does that import you, that he displeaseth you, since you will not love him, and since you love Vo∣lesus? Since all my reasons cannot give any sa∣tisfaction (replied she in a fume) believe if you think good that I am unjust and fantastical: but since there are some fantastical humours which some∣times are delightful, I will give my self the di∣version of taking Spurius from Valeria, as she has from me; for if I be not much mistaken, it will not cost me above half a dozen kind looks. Salonina spake this with such a forced smile, as made Flavia judge, she might do as she said. So as since Fla∣via was much the Friend of Herminius, she thought after some consideration, that it was a good office to take a Rival from him; for she plainly per∣ceived that he loved Valeria: So as falling into Railery with Salonina, she told her, that she liked her humor very well, of reducing Spurius, though it were only to treat him ill; and that it would be a great glory unto her beauty, and the more innocent, because she did no harm unto her friend: Also the more extraordinary, because she would be fickle without being unfaithful. I see crafty Flavia (said Salonina) that you mock me for my fantastical humour: but if you keep secret, I will make you more sport than you imagine. Flavia, whose end was only to divert her self, did promise her all she desired, but did not per∣form all she promised: On the contrary, Hermi∣nius coming to see her the next morning, she made him her confident in all she had said unto Salonina, and was very merry with him at it, who think∣ing it fit Valeria should be acquainted with it, he went with Flavia to visit her, and to tell her what had passed betwixt Flavia and Salonina, to

the end she might advise what was best to be done in the matter.

But upon good consideration, this wise Lady thought it not expedient to alter any thing in her behaviour; for since she permitted the addresses of Spurius, only to receive the services of Hermini∣us, without being thought she esteemed him above another, she conceived she might well continue as she did before, and all the alteration that was, was that she did not esteem Salonina so much, nor would ever love her; yet she would not quite break off with her: However, since that time, there was a greater league of amity betwixt Fla∣via and Valeria than before; and Herminius grew a little more bold with Valeria, than he used; yet he durst not tell her down-right, that he was in love with her: he knew very well that she knew he was; and he saw it did not dis∣please her: but she carried the matter so handsome∣ly, that Herminius hating the word Amity, and not daring to use the word Love, he made use of the word tenderness to express his thoughts of her.

But at last, finding a fit opportunity which for∣tune unexpectedly presented unto him, whilst Sa∣lonina, Flavia, Hermilia, and some other Ladies were in one walk, and he with Valeria in another, he engaged to speak freely: And Valeria having heard Herminius say, That he had so many disgusts against life, as made him almost desire to be rid of it, or at least, not to look upon death as any great evil; and seeing him in a deep study, she smi∣lingly ask'd him, if his desire of death was upon him. No, Madam, said he unto her, nor I assure you ever was, since I was in love with you. In love? replied Valeria and blusht. Yes, Madam, in Love, answered he.

But Herminius, replied she, you mean Amity: and you are in such a deep study, that you take one word for another: so as were I not disposed to interpret all that you say favourably, I should quar∣rel with you. Do then, Madam, replied he: for I assure you, I meant the word, Love; and there is no other in all our language, that can ex∣press those thoughts I have towards you. And since, Madam, (added he, and would not give her time to speak) I am fully perswaded that I tell you nothing that is new, but that all my actions have long told you, that I am most desperately in love with you; I cannot well tell whether you knew it before me; for I must confess, that the purity of my affection made me take it for amity: But to tell you truly, its fervency and ardour, makes me know what it is: Moreover, Madam, (continued he in a most humble posture) I have one favour to beg, which I beseech you not to deny me. If it be to forget your boldness, replied she, I will do it, provided you repent, and promise never to commit the like. No, Madam, replied he, But my humble suit is, That you will not too much follow the custome of the time: for I have not a heart like other Lovers: I know it is the fashion for all Ladies to be angry the first time they are told that they are loved: and that though they are resolved to entertain those that speak to them of love, yet they must fret and fume, and forbid any loving them, and put their Lovers to the necessity of blazing their passion; so as when they would en∣tertain and hide it, they cannot. I beseech you therefore, Madam, to think seriously with your self, whether you would have me to love you, or have me to die, for there is no medium betwixt these two extremes: And I do declare unto you, Madam, That if you do forbid me to love you, you do command me to die. Also let me tell you in all possible sincerity, that the boldness which I assume in loving you, has no ingredient in it which can displease you: for though I have a most tender passion towards you, yet I protest unto you, I do not desire any thing from you in my advantage, but only that you will give me leave to adore you. Moreover, you are not ignorant, that those who have the dispose of you, have much esteem of me: And should I attempt it, perhaps I might oblige the generous Valerius unto a consent of rendring me happy. But Madam, I will not derive my happi∣ness from the Authority of a Father: And I do de∣clare, that I shall never be content, unless you give me your heart freely and spontaneously: Think therefore, Madam, what answer you will return me, and consider I conjure you, that you cannot for∣bid me loving you, but you must command me to die. To prevent me from forbidding you to love me replied she, you must never tell me that you do love me: but now, since you have already told me, I can do nothing for you without doing some∣thing against my self. Do not murmure if I take my own part rather than yours, and so I most se∣riously entreat you to regulate your thoughts and your words; had I not a very great esteem for you I should speak in a worse dialect to you; but va∣luing you at a very high rate of esteem, I would have you continue, if it be possible, within the limits of friendship, and that you will not force me to lose you; I promise you to do all I can for you; and to attribute all your services unto your tenderness of friendship, so long as your tongue does not oppose the advantageous opinion which I would have of you. Oh Madam (cried out Herminius) I beseech you do not forbid me to use the sweetest and most pleasing word in the world, to those that have that passion in their hearts that it expresseth. For the word Love hath such a secret charm in it, as joyeth the heart of that lover that pronounceth it, and moves the heart of that person who heareth it, if she have any tenderness of soul; The word Af∣fection, is a word ambiguous, and suits with Amity as well as Love: The word Tenderness, as obliging as it is, may be applied to them both: But the word Love needs no interpretation; it alone expresseth all that can be imagined sweet, most obliging, and most agreeable. Deprive me not therefore of a consolation which will not cost you any thing: And to put my self in possession of this sweet word, be pleased to know, That I have towards you the most tender, and most respect∣ful love, that ever any had: and what treat∣ment soever I have from you, I shall retain this pure and holy Love, till death. To shew you my sincerity (replied Valeria) I will ingenu∣ously confess, that if I could handsomely enter∣tain any affection of this Nature, you are the only man I know upon earth, whom I would most desire should love me: For, you are tran∣scendent in vertue, and of such a spirit, as most I love. But Herminius, it is not permitted unto any woman of vertue, either to love, or per∣mit being loved: Upon this, all the rest of the

company met them; so as they parted without re∣solving upon any thing.

However, Herminius thought himself very happy, in daring to tell Valeria positively that he was in love: For, though she had not per∣mitted him to love her, yet he flattered himself with some hope, her mind would bend: And yet he found more difficulty than he expected: For Valeria, who certainly was as virtuous a Lady as ever lived, did more strictly forbid him, than he thought she would, though she did it with much sweetness. But at last, Herminius was so full of ob∣liging Courtship, that the heart of Valeria melted: For he prevented all her desires when he could guess at them: He contributed a thousand wayes to her delights: he rendred good offices to all that she loved: he had no pleasure in any place where she was not: he was the most respective man upon Earth: he writ to her a thousand plea∣sing letters which could not any way offend her: and he behaved himself so, that none spoke of him before Valeria, but they spoke highly in his com∣mendations, so generally was he esteemed.

Thus Valeria, melting by little and little, she allow'd Herminius to love her: but in allowing him, she expresly charged him to give no publick testi∣monies of his passion, and would not of a long time permit him to use the word Love in his Let∣ters: but Herminius found out an expedient for that: For, he Covenanted with Valeria, that the Word Amity, should betwixt them signifie Love, both in speaking and writing to her. And ac∣cordingly, the thing being thus agreed upon, Herminius writ letters unto Valeria, which passed only for letters of friendship, though yet they were letters of Love. Herminius therefore, obey∣ed Valeria so well, that Spurius seemed to be much more in love with her than he: but hoping to hide his own Gallantry under the umbrage of Spurius, he went along with him in all he did; thus these two Rivals appeared to be very good friends. Spu∣rius for his particular, was so perswaded, that Herminius was naturally Gallant, as he did not think him to have the least hidden design upon Va∣leria: So as he was well satisfied on that side, and thought upon nothing but how to please that fair one. Herminius went on with the more confi∣dence, because 〈…〉〈…〉 who was very glad of that universal civility to 〈…〉〈…〉 the particular esteem she had of him, she did not treat him ill, though she did not allow him to speak openly of his passi∣on: Also Spurius seeing how vexed Salonina was at his loving Valeria, he loved her both out of inclination, and out of revenge. Mean while, Salonina to execute her design of drawing Spurius from Valeria, who without intention drew him from her, she told Volesus that the world talked very loud of their affection, and to stop their mouths, she would seem as if she had a will to recal Spurius. But Madam (said Volesus unto her) had you rather the world should say, you permit Spurius to love you, than me? Yes, answered she, for in such things, truths only dis∣please: and indeed, she was in the Right. For, because Valeria and she did not love Spurius, they shewed him many favours, which they did not Herminius and Volesus.

So as this became one of the most pleasant Passa∣ges that ere was heard of: For, Salonina did all she could to recal Spurius; Valeria, who quickly found out the design of Salonina, and took delight in re∣turning one trick for another, she did all she could to retain him: So as Spurius, though loved by neither, yet was he most highly courted by two of the fairest Ladies in all Rome. He being in this con∣dition, joying to be revenged of Salonina whom he loved not, and hoping to be loved by Valeria whom he did love, his spirit was swelled with such extra∣ordinary jollitie, as he thought of nothing but di∣verting all the company, as well as Herminius, and to vex Salonina. Not but that he always spoke unto her with much civility: but he affected to come out with a hundred trivial expressions which might drive her into despair. It hapned one day that Her∣minius had made a Song which the Salians used in that ceremony which I mentioned before: Spurius not thinking that this Song was made upon Valeria, he told it unto all the Cabal, that it was the rarest song he ever heard: Salonina did ask it of him, but he answered, that it belonged unto him who made it, to give it. Herminius hearing what Spurius said, told her that the verses were not worth the giving, nor did deserve the glory to be sung by so sweet a mouth as Salonina's. For my part, (said Valeria then) without enquiring whose they are, I ask them of Herminius as of one most ready, when he is pleas'd, to oblige me. Should I lay that command upon one whom I know (said Salonina, and blusht for anger) I am sure I should find him lazy enough. I have heard you heretofore, so much commend Laziness, (replied Spurius coldly, seeing it was addressed unto him) as I think, that those who would please you, may do well to be Lazie in o∣beying you: But as for Valeria, added he, she is not of that humour, since she likes those best that obey her soonest. Salonina being stung to the heart to see the difference which Spurius put betwixt Va∣leria and her; she entreated Herminius to repeat three or four lines of that song: Herminius being all civility, did so; and repeated those lines which afterwards you shall hear: But to the end you may understand them better, you must know, that Her∣minius did sometimes call his Mistress, Clarice, when he mentioned her in verses. And complaining one day, that she would shew him no favour, but barely to let him love her; he had said in an angry Love-fit (which seldom lasts above a quarter of an hour, and does but more augment the passion which caused it) That if she did not grow a little kinder unto him, he would leave her. The lines were these, which Amilcar sung,

Clarice, I will leave thee now, Though none so fair as thee I know: A little Love is charming sweet, But too much Love is torment great: What's this I say? I cannot find An alteration in my mind.

Well (said Amilcar unto Plotina, after he had sung) have I revived the attention of the compa∣ny by this Air, which sutes so well to the witty words of Herminius? Yes, replied Plotina; but the interruption should be too long, and we lose the sequel of the story; we will not commend your verses, nor your song, though they deserve it: So Amilcar obeying Plotina, he assumed his discourse in these Terms.

Herminius having repeated these lines which I sung, Valeria told him, that she should see ere long, whether he had any design to please her: after which, she went away: As for Salonina, her mind was miserably incensed: For she found it not so easie a matter as she believed, to bring into her Fetters the Revengeful Spurius, who went out with Herminius presently after Valeria was gone. In go∣ing together, Spurius obliged Herminius to pass that evening away with him at his house; whither they were no sooner come, but I desired Hermini∣us to promise him a thing which he would ask, adding that it should be of such a nature as it would not any way be prejudicial unto him. If so, said Herminius, why do you not freely tell me, what your desire is? You know (answered Spu∣rius) that sometimes one shall have odd scruples and Fancies, of which no reason can be given: I will not therefore tell you what I desire, until you promise me satisfaction: Herminius at last consenting, Spurius earnestly desired, to let him send those Verses unto Valeria which she asked of him: and (said he) since you have the ho∣nour of making them, let me have the honour of sending them before you. Did I think you in love with Valeria (added he) I would not make this request unto you: but since you are not, and I am, methinks you should not deny me. Herminius at the first, looked shie upon the matter, and was in half a mind to break pro∣mise; but after he had studied a while upon it, he told Spurius that he was willing he should send the verses that same night, and promised that he himself would not send to Valeria until the next morning: So as Spurius after a thousand thanks unto Herminius, he writ to Valeria in his pre∣sence, asking him pardon, if in writing unto that fair one, he mentioned something against him: after this, he shewed the Letter to Herminius, who found in it these words.

Spurius unto Valeria.

Madam,

I Humbly send you the verses you desired, and I send them unknown unto Herminius; I beseech you, in comparing my diligence with his laziness, make such conclusions as may be advantageous to me: and it's to be presumed, that he who satisfies your curiosity with most celerity, loves you with most ardor. Therefore if you be just, you are as much be∣holding to me for sending you these verses, though you did not honour me with your commands, as unto him who made them, since he did not send them unto you the first. And yet I consent you should esteem him more than me, upon condition only you will be∣lieve I love you better than he.

After Herminius had read this Letter, he had much ado to let Spurius send it; but at last he consented, and stayed until the slave who carried it, returned, purposely to see what answer Valeria sent, which upon the slaves return, he found to be this,

Valeria to Spurius.

YOu are, Sir, without doubt, most officious and ••••∣ligent, and in recompence of your care to please me, I promise you to quarrel with your lazie friend, and to chide him as much as I thank you.

Spurius upon reading of this Letter was ex∣treamly joyed: but as for Herminius, he seemed as if he were angry: After which he went home, still promising Spurius that he would not send his Verses until the next morning. And indeed, be kept his word, and to be perfectly punctual, he sent not to Valeria, till noon, and then he sent them with this Letter.

Herminius unto Valeria.

I Doubt not, Madam, but you who are the most punctual, the most regular, and the most perfect person that ere I knew in points of friendship, will not think you have any great cause of complaint •••• accusation of laziness against me. For I can safely swear and truly, fairest Valeria, that since there were any persons in the world which knew you, as much to say as, which honour you, admire you, and love you, there was never any over whom you had more soveraign power, than over me: but by a cross and cruel adven∣ture so it chances, that I have not sent you these Verses so soon as I desired. When next I have the honour to see you, I hope to make my innocence better appear; and then certainly I shall make you confess, that ap∣pearances are fallacious, and that if one will be ex∣actly just, one must never judge any thing upon un∣certain conjectures, especially when Herminius is ac∣cused of negligence in obeying you.

Herminius having writ this Letter, and inclosed the Verses, as if he knew not that Spurius had sent them to Valeria, and then dispatched them to that charming Lady, who was yet a little vexed at his supposed laziness; so as after she had read his Let∣ter, which she looked upon as a bare excuse, she resolved to punish her lazy Lover by a dry answer, and writ not above two 〈…〉〈…〉.

It was this.

Valeria unto Herminius.

I Received those Verses yesterday, which you sent me not till to day, so as to return you laziness for laziness, I will not thank you till to morrow: Adieu.

Herminius having received this short Letter, he smiled at the anger of Valeria in lieu of troubling himself, and hoped to appease her very shortly: and indeed, as soon as the hour of visits came, he went unto Domitia's house, the Mother of Va∣leria, but he found that Spurius was as diligent as he, and his hopes of receiving thanks from Valeria, had infused high joyes into his spirit. Herminius to augment it, shewed him the short Let∣ter which he had received from Valeria, before they came to the house, for they met in the street: after which they went together unto that charming

Lady, with whom Flavia and Salonina already were. These two Rivals no sooner appeared, but Valeria gave Spurius a thousand obliging thanks for the care he had to please her: after which she taunted Herminius with a thousand ingenious re∣proaches for his laziness. But Madam, (said the last of these) I writ a long Letter, beseeching you not to condemn me before you heard me. I confess it, (said she) but it was one of those voluminous Letters that contain much and signifie nothing: for when one hath a good excuse, they need not write abundance of ambiguous stuff as you did.

But the truth is, after you had slept very soundly all night, without any memory of my request which I made unto you, and after you had spent all the morning, never so much as thinking I was in the world; at last it came into your memory, that I desired those Verses which you sent me, who never imagined that Spurius would have been more diligent than you. Whilst Valeria spake thus, Herminius seemed as if he were in the wrong, and that he had nothing to say in his Justification: so as Valeria continued on her chiding: But Salonina seeing all this advantageous unto Spurius, she took the part of Herminius, affirming boldly, though she knew not why, that certainly he was em∣ployed in some business of extraordinary concern∣ment. Flavia, who knew nothing of this ad∣venture, she wondered that Herminius, who was the most punctual and careful man in the world, should let Spurius be before him. Well, well, said Valeria, were Herminius of a lazie nature, I should not wonder at this: but he is of a quick and compliant disposition, so as no woman in the world can ask any thing of him, but he is ready to obey her, though he have no esteem or amity for that woman. Spurius then seeing that Valeria was so angry with Herminius, he thought himself much obliged unto him, for suffering him to send those Verses first: so as out of gratitude, he of∣fered to excuse him. Valeria seeing Spurius more careful to justifie Herminius than he himself, she blushed for anger, and told him with a discon∣tented smile, that till now she had thought her self worth the pains of an excuse, where one can∣not justifie himself to her••, Madam▪ said Hermi∣nius mildly unto her, if you will not please to justi∣fie me, it is none of my fault; for if you please to read my Letter aright, you will find I am not very culpable; or if I be a little, it is not against you. For my part, said Valeria, the more you talk, the less I understand you. But I beseech you (said Flavia then) shew us the Letter which Herminius writ unto you, that we may see if we can find any thing in it more than you, to justifie him. The better to justifie me, replied Herminius, you must read the Letter which Spurius writ unto Valeria, before you read mine. Very well, (re∣plied Valeria) I think you are out of your wits; for what use can you make of the Letter I re∣ceived from Spurius, to argue your justification? For Spurius saies, he sent me those Verses which you did not know he sent: It is by the very same words you speak, answered Herminius in a low voice, that I can justifie my self: For take but the pains to joyn the first Letters of every line in my Letter together, and you shall see I know that Spurius sent you the Verses which you required of me; and though I did permit him to send them, it was only with an intention innocently to deceive you. Valeria hearing this, she took his Letter, and called out. the first Letter of every line; afterwards putting them together, she found these Words, I know it charming Valeria. Oh Herminius (cryed she out) I must confess you are not so much to blame as I imagined: yet you are not altogether innocent, for I do not love to be deluded, and I am resolved upon revenge.

Salonina, who had a liquorish curiositie to see what Valeria had found in the Letter, which justi∣fied Herminius, she desired it of Valeria, who gave it unto her, but she understood it not; Spu∣rius took it after her, and found not the mystery; Flavia the like, and none could discover this sub∣tilty of Herminius: For they could not imagine that he made use of the same invention which the Sybil did, who sold her Books so dear unto Tar∣quin, which were all in Acrostick Verse. So as at first, none but Valeria knew of Herminius his justi∣fication and artifice; but every one was strangely surprized to see he had made his peace in their pre∣sence, and not know how: Spurius, Salonina, and Flavia, entreated Valeria to tell them by what en∣chantment she saw that which they could not see. Valeria fearing lest Salonina and Spurius should unite and imagine the truth of the kind∣ness that was betwixt her and Herminius, she explained the Riddle to them: at first Spurius be∣gan to complain: but Herminius told him he had no reason, since he had kept the promise which he had made him, in letting him send those Verses to. Valeria first; adding withal, that it were to much injustice unto himself, to be out of Valeria's favour for his sake: after this, Spurius was contented. But as for Valeria, though her anger was now only a gloss, yet she protested unto Herminius, that she would be revenged upon him for this trick which he had put upon her: for as ingenious and as inno∣cent as it is (said she) it is a deceit, and one does not love to be deceived; prepare your self there∣fore to pay dear for the pleasure you have taken in jugling thus with me: I will prepare my self (re∣plied Herminius) for any thing you shall please.

Mean time, Spurius not dreaming that Hermini∣us was his Rival, but thought as all the company did, that all his Courtship was Amity, and pro∣ceeded from his Humour, not Love, he made no reckoning of Valeria's against him, but com∣mended the invention of Herminius. However, Va∣leria still resolved to be revenged upon Herminius, and the better to deceive him, she would take a little longer time for it: during which, Salonina and she stood upon the same terms, which was, That they did not love one another, though visits were fre∣quent betwixt them; and both of them behaved themselves towards Spurius, as before; the one striving to recal him, and the other to keep him, though neither of them loved him; and though nei∣ther Volesus or Herminius were jealous: for Salo∣nina and Valeria told them such things as kept them from it. As for Spurius, it was hard to say, whether he had more pleasure in his hopes of being loved by Valeria, or in seeing himself revenged of Salonina: But at length, she having some light suspicion that Herminius was a little far in Valeria's favour, she had an itching desire to see some of those Letters which he writ unto her; so as to be better satisfied whether they were any Love-Letters

or no: she desired her one day to shew one of them, and asked her before all the comapny, and in pre∣sence of Herminius and Spurius, hoping that Va∣leria would not shew any, so as thereby she might make Spurius jealous. I beseech you, said she unto Valeria, let me obtain one favour from you: If I can, or may grant it (answered Valeria coldly) I will not deny you. I will not desire any thing un∣just, or impossible, replied she: Be pleased to know, that ever since I saw the Acrostick letter, I have had a great desire to see some more of Herminius his letters unto you; for I am extreamly in love with letters of wit, especially his. Madam (said Herminius) your curiosity is mistaken: For, my letters unto Valeria, are not letters of wit. Such as they are, replied Salonina, I should be much ob∣liged if she would please to shew me one of them: Valeria, who knew her fetch, and knew withal, that by reason of the Artifice which Herminius used in writing, she could never discover their intelli∣gence, she gave him one of the letters from that il∣lustrious Roman; which she read aloud, none ap∣prehending it to be a letter of Love though it was, and that most tender. But since they knew not that the word Amity stood for the word Love betwixt them, they were all deceived: for Salo∣nina knew very well, that when a man writes unto a woman, whom he dares not tell plainly that he loves her, and yet would have her under∣stand his meaning, he useth to write certain words, which are applicative either unto Love or Amity: As affection, tenderness and such others. So as finding the word Amity so frequent in this Let∣ter, Salonina repented of her Curiosity, and Spurius was confirmed in his opinion, that Her∣minius was not in love with Valeria: This letter being in my opinion very ingenious, I will re∣peat it unto you two ways: and methinks it to be the best metamorphosed, that ever I heard: The letter of Amity runs thus,

Herminius unto Valeria.

DId you know madam, how unexpressably I am joy'd, to find that my thoughts of you are effects of a most sincere Amity, you would say that I have such thoughts in my heart, as are transcendently extra∣ordinary. For upon a strict examination of my self, I find my self so highly happy in loving you as I do, as I would not for a World, love you after any other manner. Indeed Madam, when I consider of all those thoughts which my Amity does inspire me withal, I am so charmed, to know that they are worthy of you, as I infinitely rejoyce in my self, that I can love you as you deserve to be loved: But that my happiness may be compleat, Give me leave to hope, that when I have let you know how my apprehensions of you, are appre∣hensions of Amity, and of Amity the most pure and tender, that then you will retaliate unto me Amity for Amity; for if you do not, I shall be more mise∣rable than you can imagine.

Is not this letter, a perfect letter of Amity, and Amity only, in which there is nothing that in rea∣son can cause any suspicion of a Love letter? And yet change but one word, and you will find it to be a most perfect letter of Love: And thus it is turned.

Herminius unto Valeria.

DId you know, Madam, how unexpressably, I am joyed to find that my thoughts of you, are effects of a most sincere Love, you would say that I have such thoughts in my heart, as are transcendently extraordi∣nary. Upon a strict examination of my self, I find my self so highly happy in loving you as I do, as I would not for a world love you after any other manner. Indeed Ma∣dam, when I consider of all those thoughts which my Love does inspire me withal, I am so charmed to know, that they are worthy of you, as I do infinitely rejoyce in my self, that I am able to love you, as you deserve to be loved. But that my happiness may be compleat; Give me leave to hope, that when I have let you know, how my apprehensions of you are apprehensions of Love, that then you will retaliate unto me Love for Love: for if you do not so, I shall be more miserable than you can imagine.

After this, it is easie to imagine what pleasure it was unto Herminius and Valeria, to see so many persons deluded, especially Valeria, who always charged Herminius to keep his Passion secret: And he so observant to content her, that he lived in a constant constraint.

Mean while Valeria, still resolving upon revenge, she pretended to be very ill, and kept her Cham∣ber two days, suffering none to see her: The third day she sent a letter unto Herminius, with orders to him that carried it, that he should deliver it unto one of his servants, and come immediately away without staying for any answer.

This was the style of the letter,

Valeria unto Herminius.

IF I break off with you for ever, then accuse None but your self of that cruel violence which only I do unto my self, justly to punish your Perfidie. Is it possible, that you should use any deceit Unto a person, who was ever ready to do any good effect for You? I strictly forbid you ever seeing me after this Unworthy proceeding: For, I know that you cannot be innocent; And will not trouble my self with any further Quest. of your Artifice.

As bitter as this letter was, it did not trouble Herminius at first: for upon the first reading, his conceit was, that Valeria had returned him trick for trick, and that he should certainly find it out. Therefore he began to observe the Letter very ex∣actly: for he thought Valeria to have more writ, than barely to write such reproaches, only to per∣plex him. He looked therefore upon the first Let∣ters of every line; he examined also the last Let∣ters: he turned them every way: and after he had tried all ways. he found nothing but bitterness a∣gainst himself, and could not find any Artifice in the thing. Then he began to conceit, that either Saloni∣na or Spurius, had done him some ill office: So as being pitifully perplext, he went unto Flavia, to communicate his fears unto her: For, if Valeria was in good earnest, he concluded himself most mi∣serable:

and if she only juggled with him, it vexed him to be deceived, and that he, who was reputed so ingenious, should not find it out. But Valeria, who had a good mind her design should take, and who thought that Herminius would shew the letter unto Flavia, she trusted her with the secret, and made her promise to be close and faithful, Imagining much delight in deceiving him, who had deceived her. So as Flavia straining courtesie upon such an occasion to be a little false unto Herminius, she set such a face upon the matter, as she seemed as much surprised as he was. Consider well with your self, (said she unto him) whether you have not acquain∣ted some or other, with your passion to Valeria: For, if you have, you know how nice she is upon that. No, no, no, replied he, you only are the con∣fident of my Passion. Then, (replied she) is it not some spark of jealousie? For, truly Herminius, you flow so with an universal Gallantry, as would make me desperate were I your Mistress: when ere you write to a woman, be she what she will, you always use more charming, and tender expressions than come from your heart: when you Compose any verses extempore, they are as amorous, as if they were dedicated unto Valeria. And you use a hundred Court∣ships unto all women whom you love not, which you should use only unto such as you love: believe it, you ought to be more circumspect and wary in such trifles; especially when you love one of a nice and delicate spirit, and a heart sensible. Ha, no, no, replied Herminius, if Valeria be angry, it is at something else; for I have told her a hundred times, that I never writ any thing but of her, and that she has as many names in my Verses, as are attributed to Diana, only to delude such as read them. Upon this he was strangely perplext, and desired Flavia to go unto his angry Mistress, and ask her from him, what her pleasure was: Then, checking himself; but if it be only a fallacy, (said he) she will laugh at me the more. But no matter, said he again, I had rather she should laugh at me, than to live in this incertainty. Then he looked upon Valerias Letter again, but finding no manner of mysterious matter in it, he resolved to imploy Flavia to discover what this charming Ladie meant. She feigned therefore to go and ask her what the matter was, though she went only to laugh with her at the inquietude of Herminius. So as Flavia thinking to delude her friend, she did him a very good office; for Valeria was more glad that Herminius was so much afflicted at her anger, than that her fallacy had so well taken.

But to be short, Herminius was three days in this cruel perplexity, and never saw Valerid; yet at last, this fair one, resolving to discover the truth unto him, she let him come into her Chamber, where none but Flavia and she was. When he en∣tred, the picture of sorrow was in his eyes; he approached her with more reverence than ordi∣nary, and beginning to speak; Oh Madam, (said he) what has unhappy Herminius done? He has deceived me (replied she, and smiled) and there∣fore he deserves all the inquietude I have caused in him, and something more: for having so sharp a wit as he has, and a wit able to deceive the most in∣genious, he may be ashamed, not to find that in my Letter, which would undeceive him. Ah cruel woman (said he) your Letter contains nothing but injuries, and yet you mock me, and would make me believe there is some hidden mystery in your words: To shame you the more (said she unto him) give me my Letter, and if I do not make you blush, deceive me again if you can. Upon which he gave her the Letter, and she shewing him the last word of every line, putting them together, he found them to signifie,

Accuse only your deceit for this innocent Artifice:

Oh Madam (cryed he out) you know how to deceive better than I do, and you can deceive the deceiver: after which, he commended her in∣vention, blaming her inhumanity in letting him continue so long in such tormenting inquietude: but at last, Flavia made peace betwixt them, who were so inclined thereunto, that there needed no Articles of Agreement to be drawn be∣tween them: but naturally promised never to deceive each other again: And to love eter∣nally.

Their affections being very innocent, Valeria was the more free: and she who was most assured that she was never criminal, did more obligingly testifie her tenderness unto Herminius, as if she had not been so well assured as she was of her own virtue. Mean while Salonina, who was most horribly vexed both at Valeria and Spurius, she knew not what resolution to take; for she be∣gan to be ashamed of the way which she took with Spurius to reclaim him: and she could hardly en∣dure Valeria. Her pride inspired her with a most fantastical opinion: for she who told Volesus, that she complied with Spurius only to hide her affection unto him, began now on the contrary to comply less with Spurius and more with Vo∣lesus in publick, in a thought that jealousie would draw Spurius unto her. And she did it with so much Art, that Volesus was pleased with it: for then he believed that the affection of this Ladie to him, was stronger than her reason; so he left Salonina at liberty, to follow her own Capricious humour, without thinking any more upon it. But Spurius being more subtil than Vole∣sus, he knew, that whatsoever Salonina did, she had a desire to re-engage him; so as he enjoy'd, as I told you before, all the pleasures that hope and re∣venge could inspire him withal; and all the Cabal wherein he was, were all so gallant, so pleasant, and so full of spirit and wit, as it was impossible to live more pleasant lives, than all these illustrious per∣sons lived. Not but that for all this, Herminius and Valeria had sometimes some petty quarrels; but since they sprung only from excess of tenderness, they quickly vanished, and their reconcilements were so sweet, as their quarrels might be called augmentations of Love and delight. Yet once there was a day whereon they had such a jarring, as put them both to much perplexity, the cause whereof was very particular.

You may remember I told you, that Valeria charged Herminius above all things to keep the passion which he had to her very close and secret; so as being very exact and prudent, and careful to content her, he constrained himself very admi∣rably well in all encounters. It hapned one day, that he being with her, the Prince of Pometia came in, who having found Herminius the day before in a walk far distant from all company; he began to chide him, and to ask what was the cause

of his solitary humour. Truly Sir, (said he unto him) I should pump very hard, if I should endea∣vour to tell you: For first, I am not in Love; and as for such things as I sometimes do in my foolery, I assure you, that I do them without invoking A∣pollo, or any of the Muses: I do them either out of ravishment of spirit, fancy, or humour, or out of a necessity to obey my friends: and yet it's none of all these that brought me yesterday into that me∣lancholy walk: but I walked alone only because I had no other company. A man (said the Prince and smiled) who tells he is not in Love, when he is not necessitated to tell it, does argue that he is: Truly Sir, replied Herminius, It does so ill become a man of my age, not to be in Love, that since I said I was not, I dishonoured my self: but what I said was true; and it is not the custome to lie to ones own disadvantage. Whilst Herminius talked thus to the Prince of Pometia, Valeria seemed as if she took no notice of what they said, nor to think upon any thing but her Dress, though she listned very attentively. She heard therefore, that the Prince of Pometia continuing discourse, asked Her∣minius, who said he was not in Love, how it was possible he could hit upon such passionate expressi∣ons in his writing, if his heart were not amorously touched. Truly Sir, (said Herminius) Love verses are things very fallacious; for sometimes one may come out with very melting verses, yet never be in Love; for to do such things, it sufficeth if one be of a passionate temper, though he have no passion: I know a man of great merit, who com∣posed a most rare Copy of verses upon Absence, even in the very presence of his Mistress; and complained most pitifully of her rigour, when he was highly in her favour. He whom you instance, replied the Prince of Pometia, was in Love, and, as I may say, did only transpose his Conceptions: but you, who say you are not in love, I cannot ap∣prehend you. And yet it is so, (replied Herminius, still thinking he had done well) after which, the Mother of Valeria coming in, the discourse changed. Yet Valeria talked but a little all the day; and when any asked the cause, she answerd, her head aked, which caused none to suspect that she had any thing in her mind which vexed her. The hour of retiring being come, the Prince of Pometia went away, and carried Herminius with him. The next morning betimes, this Lover failed not to send, and know how Valeria did, who sent him word back, that she was no better than she was the night before: After dinner, Valeria, who naturally did not affect any gadding abroad, and went to Tullia as seldom as possible she could, yet she went thither with one of her Cousins; but though she saw Herminius there, yet she never spoke unto him, but shunned him, and looked with an air of much anger in it, which so much disquieted Herminius, that he could not chuse but go and make his complaints unto Flavia, whom he saw with the Queen, and who promised him to go out with Valeria, to ask her what the matter was. Valeria going out betimes, Flavia followed her, after she had whispered Herminius in the ear, and bad him come an hour after unto Valeria's where she would be, promising to tell him what crime he had committed. As soon as Valeria came home, she went unto her Chamber, Fla∣via followed her; but desiring to see whether Valeria would of her self say any thing unto her, it was a quarter of an hour before she seemed to take any notice of any perplexity in her mind, but talked of such things as they saw at Court. But as Flavia spoke pleasantly, Valeria answered her so solemnly, as it was easie to perceive her mind was troubled; so as Flavia not being able any longer to endure her perplexity without know∣ing the cause, she asked her what the matter was; you are so melancholy to day (said she unto her) as I cannot chuse but ask you the cause. In the hu∣mour I am, replied Valeria, you would do me a pleasure if you would not ask it; for I can hardly tell you, and yet I do not love to refuse you any any thing. Yet you must either refuse me, re∣plied Flavia, or else satisfie my curiosity: for you were not wont to be humorous: and yet I saw you to day look so coldly upon poor Herminius as you came from the Queen, that I think you have done him great injustice: at least I can assure you, that he thinks himself very innocent, and cannot imagine what crime you impute unto him. If the sense of his affection were tender and delicate, answered she sharply, he might easily imagine what it is that vexeth me: for to tell you sincere∣ly, all his tenderness and delicacy is in his wit and tongue, and not at all in his heart. But I beseech you, (said Flavia) of what do you ac∣cuse him? Does he not love you well? is he un∣faithful? is he not obsequious enough? is he indi∣screet? or does he disobey you? On the contrary (replied she, and blushed for anger) he is the most discreet and obedient Lover that ever was. You speak this in such a tone, replied Flavia, and smiled, as if obedience and discretion were crimes; and as if in way to justifie himself, he ought to dis∣obey you in something, and brag of some favour you have shewed him. Ah, answered she, he was never culpable of that crime; for he is so much afraid of it, as one cannot suspect him in love with me: and is so extreamly careful to hide his affecti∣on, as one would think he hid it from himself. Good Madam, replied Flavia, did you not com∣mand him not to speak of his Love unto any but me, and to hide it from all the world beside? I confess it, replied Valeria: but did he love me as well as I would have him, it were impossible he should hide it so well as he does.

I am sure he had friends who see him every day, and such as know all his inclinations, yet none of them has the least suspicion of his being in Love; and he has Rivals also which cannot perceive it; so as upon serious thoughts, I must needs con∣clude, that such an affection as one can so easily hide, cannot be great. But good Valeria (replied Flavia, and looked earnestly upon her) do you speak this in good and serious earnest, or is it only some light whimsey? No, Flavia, replied she, this thought which you may think to be some whimsy, is in my heart, and not without good Ground. But I beseech you, replied Flavia, if Herminius by any of his speeches or actions, had given any cause to discover the affection that is betwixt you and him, would you not have grumbled at him, and have punished him for it? I confess I should, answered Valeria, but it should have been only as an act of imprudence which

I could have excused, because I should have at∣tributed it unto an excess of Love: but this excessive discretion whereby Herminius deceives all his friends, his enemies and his Rivals, I cannot impute it unto any thing but faintness, and coldness in his affection. Then you would have the love betwixt you known, replied Fla∣via, and all your commands of discretion upon Herminius, to stand for Ciphers. No, replied Valeria, and when I forbad Herminius to confess he loved me, I expected obedience from him: but to tell you truly, I did not believe he could do it so easily as he does, nor that any one of his Loves should betray him. Yet he is such a perfect Master of himself, that he never so much as looks upon me if any be present: he makes nothing of talking with his Rivals; and no longer since than yesterday, he had the power to say insolently before my face, that he was not in Love: which certainly is the hardest thing in the world for one that has a sensible spirit, and tender heart.

As Valeria said so, Herminius entred, so as Flavia, who had a desire to give him an occasion of making his peace, she told him that he was very opportunely come to justifie himself: Oh Flavia (said this incensed Lady) if you love me, do not tell Herminius any thing I said unto you. Since you have intimated, that it is dangerous to obey you too much, replied Flavia, and smiled, I do not fear disobeying you in this: And indeed, Flavia asked Herminius (mauger all that Valeria said) why he told the Prince of Pometia before his Mistress, that he was not in Love. Alas, re∣plied he, and sighed, I said it in obedience to un∣just Valeria, who commanded me a thousand times to hide my passion; and I said it with such extream repugnancy, as she ought to be infinitely obliged unto me for it. No, no, Herminius, replied Valeria, and blusht, never deceive your self: that which you said in my presence, can never be plea∣sing unto me. I beseech you (said Flavia) how came this to pass? Imagine, replied Valeria, that the Prince of Pometia should come hither, and ask Herminius what he did the day before in a walk towards the wood, where the Nymph Egeria inspired the wise Numa; and that Herminius when he had no need, should answer him, that he knew not what he did, but that he was very sure he was not in love, and repeated this unnecessa∣rily at least four times. Judge I pray, whether a man, who makes these terrible words to ring in the ears of her he loves, without ever being forced unto it, does not deserve to be suspected of a shallowness in Love: For indeed it was stretching his prudence too far: and I should sooner pardon Herminius, if out of a rapture of affection, and unawares, he had said before any one, that he loved Valeria, than I should, if he had said before me with so much tranquillity and aggravation, that he did not love me. Then Madam (said Hermini∣us unto her) give me leave to tell all the world that I do adore you; and then you shall see whe∣ther or no I be too prudent a Lover, and whether I shall not make it my greatest glory to wear your Chains. Take heed of that (said she to him) for it is not my intention you should publickly blaze your love. Oh Madam, replied he, what then would you have me do? I would (answered she) that you should bridle your self so far, as not to say grosly before my face, that you do not love me. I assure you, Madam, replied Herminius, that if you had not been within hearing, I had not said so: but my hopes of doing a thing which I supposed would please you, did prompt me unto it.

But charming Valeria, I am so far from retort∣ing any of these reproaches which you have given me, that I thank you for them, and most humbly beseech you to tell me, how a perfect and respect∣ful Lover ought to behave himself, when his Mi∣stress forbids him to say any thing of his affection. I would not have a Lover (said she) give any oc∣casion to make it thought he is loved: if it be sus∣pected that he is in love, I would not have him say at any time, or to any person, that he loves his Mistress: and yet I would not have it such a hor∣rible torment unto him, to hide the passion that is in his heart, as that he should think it the most terrible of all punishments. But above all, I would never have him able positively to say be∣fore his Mistress, that he is not in love: especially when he is not forced unto it by any necessity; for if he have a tender and passionate heart, it is a thing which he cannot imagine, much less brook: But then, Madam, replied Herminius, what will be∣come of all those absolute commands which you laid upon me, not to discover my affection? would you have me still use the word Amity in my Let∣ters, to express my passion? I would, replied she; but I would not have you say before my face, that you do not love me; for if you did love me fervently, you would not be able to pro∣nounce those cruel words. Yet he (added she, and looked upon Flavia) did never so much startle at the sound of them, or give the least sign that he was loth to utter them, but spoke resolutely, and loud, and in such a tone, as seemed to speak his heart: Ah cruel Valeria (said he unto her) I can no longer indure your injustice: I beseech you (said Flavia then unto her) what should Hermi∣nius do to appease you? Would you have him go presently unto the Prince of Pometia, and tell him that he is ready to die for the love of you? For my part, I know not how Herminius can give you satisfaction any other way, to repair the great injury he has done you. I see, replied Valeria, that you mock me: but I will maintain that one, who knows how to love aright, will not condemn me, but confess with me, that what I now say will seem a little too nice, and perhaps fantastical to those that are not in love, but such as are will allow of it: Well Madam, said Herminius, I will confess my self to blame: But I beseech you, are no errors in Love pardonable? Yes, said Valeria, very many: but let me tell you, that coolness in affection is seldom pardoned.

Oh I beseech you, replied he, do not give my supposed crime, a title so incongruent and un∣sutable: for the truth is, I am not culpable but of too punctual obedience, and of prudence too ex∣cessive: and my crime (if it be one) is an ex∣cess, no defect in Love: for had I lov'd you less, I had not been so careful to obey you, and conceal my Passion.

After this, Flavia having pressed Valeria to par∣don Herminius, she was pleased to grant it. Yet

it was two hours before the same sweetness, and joy, and the same tranquillity which used to shine in the eyes of Valeria, returned unto them: but at last, all Clouds being dissipated, Valeria ap∣peared in her accustomed Lustre, and humour. As for Herminius, he was still a little troubled: For, he was afraid of shewing either too much, or too little Love: knowing very well, that Valeria, what ere she said, would find as much fault, if he discovered his passion, as if he con∣cealed it over-much.

Mean time, Salonina seeing none of her designs to prosper, she was in a strange perplexitie: and the more, when she found the humour of Volesus, who being of such a Nature as could not love, but where he found some difficulties, and seeing Salo∣nina did more overtly shew her affection to him than ordinary, he grew glutted, and less re∣spective and amorous than he used. So as after all her endeavours to recal Spurius, both by sweetness and jealousie, she found her self like to lose the only Lover which she had remaining, though she was fair, and wittie. As for Spurius, he still thought himself very happy, although he had no reason.

As for Herminius and Valeria, they were both well satisfied, and had good cause for it: But, as it is impossible to love long without some rub, a chance hapned that vexed them both, and which might very well do so. For you must know, that the jealousie of Volesus being augmented, and Salonina fearing to lose him, she resolved to renounce her design of recalling Spurius. But in seeking to justifie her self towards Volesus, she was not sorry to do any mischief unto Spurius, or unto Valeria also, whom she loved not: So as endeavouring all she could, to piece Spurius and Volesus together; the occasion presently offered it self. She met with't in Domitia's Chamber: it chanced that Salonina was sitting between Volesus and Spurius: And it chanced also that the company was very great that day: And that the Ladies which sate by Spurius and Volesus being gone, Salonina and they were separated a good space from the rest of the company.

As for Herminius, though he did not often ap∣ply himself unto Valeria before company; yet since the approach of hiding his Love over-much was laid to his charge, he Courted her this day more than ordinary. So as Spurius seeing his Rival with his Mistress, and could not leave Salonina without two apparent incivility, he kept his place. Salonina making use of this unexpected occasion, both to cure Volesus, to vex Spurius, and spite Va∣leria; she turned toward Spurius, and addressing her speech to him with a disdainful smile, Since I am naturally very pitiful (said she unto him) I think it an act of charity to comfort you for the ill success you have in all your enterprises of Gallan∣try. For truly, as full of merit as Herminius is, I think Valeria ought to prefer you before him, though upon no other reason; but because you love her more than he. All Ladies in general, (replied Spurius faintly) are so apt to be unjust, that if this misfortune do befall me, yet it is not the first time. Salonina understanding his meaning, was afraid lest Volesus should hear, and understand; So as begin∣ning to speak again hastily, without answering to what he had said, she told him, that he was more beholding to her than he was aware of; For Volesus knows, that I being full of acknowledge∣ment for all the services which heretofore you have done me, I was very sorry to see you engaged in the service of a Lady, whose heart is not in her own power: and perhaps I have endeavoured, to disengage you, without any other intention, but to break those chains which unless you do undeceive your self, will grow more heavy upon you every day. For truly, (continued this crafty Lady) Volesus knows very well, that I had never endeavoured your Re∣engagement to me, but only to disengage you from Valeria, as much my Friend, as she is: For, I being better able to penetrate into her heart, than you, I was sorry to see how she made use of you, only as a Cloak to hide the inclination she had unto Herminius. But since I perceive, you do ill interpret my meaning, I leave you to your own bad destinie, and de∣clare, that I will never again endeavour to Re∣engage you to my service, nor dis-engage you from the service of Valeria.

Whilst Salonina was speaking this, Spurius un∣luckily looked at Valeria, as she was talking to Herminius, and had then in her eyes such a passio∣nate and sweet obligingness, that he blusht: So as it might be said, that the looks of Valeria did more perswade Spurius to believe what Saloni∣na said, than all the Language of that crafty Lady could. So as then, not rejecting what this en∣vious friend said, as he had upon other occasions, and Volesus making one in this Conversation, it grew at last a Conversation of real confidence on Spurius his side, and false confidence of the side of Volesus and Salonina, whose aims yet were not alike: For Volesus talked with Spurius only to make him understand, that Salonina had no design of Love upon him: And Salonina had no other intention, but to keep him from being in love with Valeria: For, as envie doth prepossess the mind as well as Love; Salonina did not think, that in making Spurius jealous, she should aug∣ment his Love to Valeria: And indeed, Spurius at that instant growing jealous, he did become much more in Love than before: And chance also would have it, that the conversation of the day did augment this growing jealousie: For, be pleased to know, that Valeria after she had done talking with Herminius, when Spurius had observed the sweetness of her looks; she began to chide Salonina, for separating her self from the company with two such Gallants as Spurius and Volesus. So as being all joyned together, and Prince Titus with Collatina being come, they fell insensibly to talk of Amity, and Love: Some said, that Amity ought to be preferred before Love, because the pleasures of it are more tran∣quil: And others, that Love ought to be preferred before Amity, because the sweets of it are infi∣nitely more sensible. I conceive (said Herminius) it is not impossible to joyn these two kinds of Plea∣sures together: and I affirm that to make a Love durable, it is requisite, that a woman be both the Friend and the Mistress of her Lover: I say fur∣ther, that if Amity do precede Love in the heart of a Lover, his Passion will be stronger, more

durable, more respectful, and also more ardent. Spurius hearing Herminius say so, he made an ap∣plication of what he said, as unto himself: So as out of those sparks of jealousie which began to grow in him; He began to contradict him, and to main∣tain, that Love and Amity cannot be both, in the heart of one and the same person. For said he, these two are so little resemblant, as it cannot be concei∣ved they should at one instant, be together, without so confounding each other as they cannot both be discerned. They do confound themselves indeed (re∣plied Herminius) but it is so, as two Rivers which meet and mingle: yet in mixing, (said Titus) these two Rivers make but one.

I do confess it, (replied Herminius) yet the Wa∣ters of both the Rivers are there, though they can∣not be separated; and that River which is the most famous, and alters the name of the other which it hath received, is the better, and more fit to bear great boats. If Tiber, which hath received forty and two Rivers into its Channel, had only the ori∣ginal water of its source, it would be but a petty brook. It is almost the very same in love: for to speak sincerely, to cause love barely, there needs no high spirit, great merit, great beauty, great gene∣rosity, nor any taking charms in conversation: there needs no more than youth and occasions of seeing: The order that Nature hath established, is sufficient to be get this simple bare Love, as well as in Birds that sing in their seasons: But then as for great and high passions, it is requisite to have all the ingredi∣ents that are necessary unto great and perfect ami∣ties. I do very well understand what you say, re∣plied Spurius; but yet I understand it with this dif∣ference, That a constant love ought to be grounded upon esteem, whereas you conceive it ought to be upon Amity.

Esteem and Amity are so oft together (replyed Herminius) as it is easie to take the one for the other: For one can hardly have a very great esteem of any without loving them also: not but that I know one may sometimes esteem enemies, but that is such an esteem as has limits; and it may be said, they esteem their good qualities, but not them: for as I conceive, it is high injustice to hate any whom they highly esteem. I think then, I was not much amiss, when I said, that amongst persons who see each other every day, great esteem and amitymeet often together: and therefore since you agree, that a constant Love ought to be grounded upon esteem, you will easily confess, that it may also be grounded upon Amity.

When one begins to have affection unto a person, with his reason free, and disengaged from all pre∣judice; he shall know all his good qualities: he will see them without illusion; and he will be assu∣red that he can never see them otherwise: but on the contrary, when Love springs by the eyes in an instant, he does not see things as they are; so as upon the least disgust that happens, his prejudicate fancy diminishing, he sees his Mistress far other∣wise than he saw her before: and seeing what he saw not before, his thoughts also change, and he thinks not what he thought before. But a Love that has amity mixed with it, there is almost no∣thing but death that can extinguish it. I do conceive indeed (said Spurius) that when a Mistress has all the necessary qualities requisite in a true and generous friend, Love is more strong; but I do not conceive how Amity can become Love: and though I should conceive it, yet I cannot agree that Love and Amity can subsist together, but think, that this affection does change into another Nature. I conceive (said Herminius) that a great esteem which begets a great and tender amity, may also ea∣sily become Love: But, replyed Spurius, why should it not become love at the first? For a thousand dif∣ferent reasons, answered Herminius: and for a thou∣sand reasons which we our selves do not know, though they be hid in us: for the same natural reason and instinct which teacheth all Children to hold up their hands when they fall, lest they should hurt their heads, though they were never taught it; the same instinct, I say, makes a man who begins to look upon a woman of vertue, modesty, and wisdom, not to love her at the very first, because hope which often precedes this passion, or at least begins with it, does not stir any such motions in him as are apt to be∣get an ardent affection.

It may be also, that this man who begins to be a friend unto any amiable woman, has then some wandring thoughts another way, which hinders his heart from being so pregnant of Love. But when esteem begets Amity, when familiarity augments it, and when the heart of a generous man is free and capable of passion; if an amiable woman become kind and tender towards such a friend, he easily becomes a lover. For certainly, it is easier for a heart already warmed with an ardent amity, to fall into ardent love, than a heart that is indifferent: and I affirm further, that the amity which a woman bears unto a man may make him more in love with her, than he would have been, had she not been at all ten∣der towards him. For my part (said Valeria then,) had I a Lover, and should discover such a temper in him, I should dislike it: I would indeed have him in amity before he be in Love: but I would have it to be the knowledge of merits that should change the nature of his affection, and not the signs and symptomes of my amity. Madam, replied Hermi∣nius, in consenting that his love should arise from the knowledge of your merits, you consent also that the symptomes of your amity do contribute some∣thing unto it: for Amity, as I conceive, is part of the merit of a generous person: and for my parti∣cular, I should be sooner melted by the tenderness of a generous heart, than by her beauty only. But for all that, this does not detract any thing from the glory of a Lady who is loved upon that ground; for all her tenderness would not move, if she had not many excellent qualities besides, which ren∣der her so precious. So as when Amity becomes love in the heart of a lover, or to say better, this love mixeth it self with Amity without extinguish∣ing it, there is nothing so sweet as this kind of love; for as violent as it is, yet it is always more regulated than ordinary love, it is more durable, more tender, more respectful, and more ardent, yet not subject to so many tumultuous whimsies as that love is, which is without amity. But still you must confess with me (said Spurius) that this Amity becomes Love, and does absolutely change its Na∣ture.

I have already told you upon this subject, (re∣plyed Herminius) That Love and Amity do mix together like two Rivers, the Nobler whereof carries away the name of the other. But for all that, the water of the lesser is as well there as that of

the greater; so as though a friend which is become a Lover, does say always that he is in love, and not say that he is in Amity; yet certainly both of them are in his heart, though he can hardly discern them; And it is most constantly true, that a Love of this temper, is more perfect than the other: To shew that Amity and Love are all one, (said Spurius) in the heart of a friend that is be∣come a Lover, I need only to instance, that com∣monly when a man in love, ceases to be in love, there remains nothing in his heart but hatred, or indifferency: so as it must consequently fol∣low, that amity is quite turned into love, or at least goes along with it. This happens some∣times (replied Herminius) but it happens very often, that Love cools, and Amity still re∣mains. For my particular (said Valeria) I had rather one should be indifferent towards me, nay hate me, than to be no more than in amity, after he once loved me: For if one should hate me, I might believe, that perhaps he loved me though unknown, and that his hatred was a dis∣guised Love.

But as for Amity which remains after Love, I look upon it as a dead Love that has no heat in it, and good for nothing: I know very well (ad∣ded she) that almost all the love of the best hus∣bands becomes amity: But I know withal, that there are few good wives, but will confess that it were better to be the Mistresses of those they have married, than to be no more than the friends of their husbands: I mean, such friends to whom their husbands impart no more of their secrets, than domestick affairs, and with whom they never hold any sweet conversation. Yet there are some (said Collutina) who are both Lovers and Husbands all their lives, and live so kindly with their wives, that they do enjoy all the sweets both of love and friendship. I assure you, (said Valeria) it is a harder matter than you imagine, to be both at once a good husband, a respectful Lover, and a very well accomplished man; For to be a Lover is to be a slave; to be a Husband, is to be a Master; and to be a well ac∣complisht man, is to be neither a Tyrant nor a slave to his wife.

I affirm also, That it is the honour of such wives as have good Husbands to let them have such an authority as may appear to the world, though out of excess in love, or some other cause, they would not have it: And a good wife will never desire it should be said, that she is the Governor of her Husband; but only, that she has a good credit in his opinion, that he esteems her, believes her, and loves her; not that he obeys her, as if he were not able to govern himself. Nor do I allow, that a Husband should be continually shewing himself a husband; An imperious husband, who looks upon his wife only as the first servant in the House, who trusts her with nothing, who never considers her, and who treats her as if she had not the use of Rea∣son, as if he were not obliged to love her, and as if it were his Prerogative to love a hundred others, and she not to say Mum. Collatina hearing Valeria speak thus, began to twit her, and to say, that doubtless she would make the best wife, and the best husband in the world, since she was able to discourse so well upon the Laws of Marriage. After which, it being very late, the company parted.

As for Spurius, he went home with a heartfull of jealousie: As for Salonina, though she was glad to observe, that she was the cause of it; yet sometimes this jealousie which she saw encreased, did vex her, because she saw plainly that Spurius had no affection at all unto her: But for all that, her hopes to take him off Valeria, did flatter her.

As for Herminius, he went away well satisfied: But as for Valeria, she being of a most delicate and nice spirit, she took it much to heart that Hermini∣us should so hotly affirm, that Amity and Love to∣gether was requisite. For from thence she argued, that the first thoughts which he had of her were no thoughts of Love: So as the first time she wrote unto him, she debated it with him: and for four or five days the subject of their Letters was upon no∣thing else.

Mean time, Spurius was very unhappy: For, as jealousie encreased every moment in his mind, so hope lessened, and Fears grew more strong, Is a few days therefore, he was grown all melan∣choly, fullen, mistrustful, pettish, and easily an∣gred: He imployed himself in nothing but obser∣ving all the actions of Herminius and Valeria: And the more he observed them, the more jealous he grew: Not that they lived any otherwise than they used together: But it is the Nature and Qua∣lity of jealousie, to prepossess, to change the ob∣jects, to seduce reason, and to force an interpre∣tation of all things to the disadvantage of the Inter∣preter: It troubles the senses; and whereas the eyes do sometimes deceive the imagination, it happens very oft, that the Imagination of a jealous man deceives his eyes, and makes him believe he sees, what he sees not: So as Spurius, being pos∣sessed with a most violent jealousie, he imagined a thousand things that never were. And as a jealous man always finds more than he seeks for; and since Spurius sought continually how to afflict himself, in seeking for some comfort, he caused unto himself a fresh subject of inquietude by the way which I shall tell you. Imagine then, that to clear all his doubts, he thought no better way would do it, than to gain one of Valeria's Slaves, who was witty, subtle, and naturally a lover of her self: For he had heard that Valeria accused her of that fault: So as Spurius neglected no way to win her unto himself: when he met her, he salu∣ted her very kindly; he commended her hand∣somness, and always offered to give her money: At first she refused, and said, that her Lady had charged her to take nothing of any person; and see∣ing he offered to give her, only to try if she would take, and then tell her Lady, she would not accept of anything.

Spurius, hearing this woman speak thus, and knowing that she tickled to be taking what he offer∣ed; he told her she was mistaken, and that he would not have Valeria know of any thing he gave her: So as this young wench, after some slight refusal, she began to accept of several things from Spurius, who after he had thus engaged her, he got her wholly unto him.

However, though she was very trusty, yet she would not tell him any thing. but that Valeria recei∣ved letters very often from Herminius. But as the mode of letters was in this Gallant Cabal, this gave him no satisfaction. This slave also told him, that Valeria was not very careful of those letters which

she received from Herminius: and that till she put a great number of them together into her Cabinet, she always either carried them in her pocket, or left them upon the Table, not caring who saw them. So as Spurius pressing her to get one of them, she promised to do it upon the first opportunity: and accordingly, about two days after, she took from her Lady one of Herminius his letters, and gave it unto Spurius, who to have the better opportunity of speech with this slave, he went unto Valeria's, when he knew she was not at home, which hapned then very often: For since Salonina and Valeria were out of League, there grew much Amity be∣twixt Valeria and Lucretia, who seldom stirring abroad, except to the Temple; was more visited by her new friend, than she returned visits. Spu∣rius then going to Valeria's one day, when she was with Lucretia, he asked to speak with the slave, with whom he held intelligence under a pretence of delivering a message for her Lady. So as this wench gave him the letter which she had taken: but in gi∣ving it, she began to laugh, and told him, that she had given him as good as nothing. At first, Spu∣rius thought, that though the wench was witty, yet perhaps she could not understand the letter, for he knew that Herminius could write but too well. When the wench saw that he made no reckoning of what she said, she laughed again, and said unto him, I perceive you think, I know not what I say, and that you think a poor slave cannot read; but for all that, I deserve a recompence from you: For, first I assure you, that it is no letter of Love: That ne∣ver letter was fuller of Amity; and that if I can un∣derstand any thing there is no sence in the letter; Spurius being tickled with an itching curiosity, and knowing that Valeria would quickly return, he opened the letter and found these words,

Herminius unto Valeria.

I Confess Madam, that my Amity preceded my amity: And Amity and amity do sometimes re∣semble: but believe it Madam, when that happens, either the Amity must be very tender, or the amity not very great: And if you would have me speak with∣out disguisement, your Amity is as far from resem∣bling amity, as my amity is from resembling Amity.

After Spurius had read this letter, he was much surpris'd: for he knew that Herminius used not to write Nonsence or Tautologies, or to put the word Amity so often in one letter without any sence.

So as not knowing well what to think upon't he carried away the letter, not knowing well what to make of it: The wench would have had it again, but he was resolved to examine it better before he restored it: He carried it therefore home; and when he was in his chamber, he read it over a hundred times: but understood it no better at the last than the first time, for he could not imagine what to make of the word Amity. The worst for him was, he knew well that there was some hidden secret under it: For, had it been one of those A∣crostick ingenuities which Herminius used, he should have understood it.

On the other side, the little care that Valeria took in hiding these letters from Herminius, did give him some consolation: but for all that, this Gallimaufry of Amity puzled him so much, that not being able to unty this knotty Riddle himself, he resolved out of an excess of jealousie to shew it un∣to Salonina, hoping that her acute wit would help him to discover what he desired to know. He went therefore unto her, but did not acquaint her with his intelligence he had with Valeria's slave, but told her, that a friend of his found the letter, and intreated him to decypher it. Salonina took the letter, and was as much puzled at the word Amity as Spurius was. She thought at the first that she had found out the trick, so as looking upon Spurius, she said unto him: you shall see that Herminius and Valeria are agreed to use the word Amity, in lieu of the word Love: if they had, replied Spurius, the Letter would be as much nonsence, for I will read it so, and you shall see it: and he read it thus.

I confess Madam, that my love preceded my love, and love and love does sometimes resemble: but believe it Madam, when that happens, either the love must be very tender, or the love not very great: And if you will have me speak without dis∣guisement, your love is as far from resembling love, as my love is from resembling love.

Well, (replied Spurius, after he had read the Letter) Do you understand the word Love, better than you do the word Amity? No, replied she, but I am resolved I will. And indeed this Lady, whose heart was full of curiosity, of envy, of anger, of jealousie, of vanity, and who moreover wished heartily that Spurius might be jealous, she began to look very seriously upon this Letter of Hermi∣nius, so as having a sharp and penetrating wit, she observed that the word Amity was written se∣veral ways in the Letter, for it sometimes begun with a great letter, and sometimes with a little. So that as soon as she had observed this, she hoped to discover the trick on't: she judg'd also, that Her∣minius being so exact in his writing as he was, would not use sometimes great and sometimes little letters to no end: so as she thought that this diffe∣rent manner of writing the same word, might change the sence, and indeed she was not mistaken; for when they agreed that the word amity should signifie Love, Valeria asked Herminius how they should do when they used the word Amity to sig∣nifie barely Amity: Herminius, who was full of invention, he told her, that when the word ami∣ty was to signifie Love, it was to begin with a little a, and when it was to signifie amity only, it was to begin with a great A. So as Salonina ha∣ving observed this difference in writing the same word, and imagining that it might change the sence, she began to try it after this rule, and then found that good sence followed: of which Spurius was as glad as she: Salonina also told Spurius, that certain∣ly this Letter was a consequence of that discourse, wherein Herminius affirmed, that Amity ought to be mingled with Love. So as after Spurius had observed this rule which she directed him to follow he found these words.

I confess, Madam, that my Amity preceded my love, and love and Amity do sometimes resem∣ble: But believe it, Madam, when that happens, either the Amity must be very tender, or the love

not very great: and if you will have me speak with∣out disguisement, your Amity is as far from resem∣bling love, as my love is from resembling Amity.

Oh Madam, (cried out Spurius) you have but too much wit for my tranquillity: and the nonsence which I found in the Letter of Herminius, had been better for me, than the sence which you have found out. For truly, since Valeria holds any in∣telligence of this nature with him, he does her wrong to say, that her Amity does not resemble Love, for such artifice is needless for an affection of ano∣ther nature: However, Madam, (added he in a transport of sorrow) I beseech you dispense with me, for not returning thanks unto you for the pains you have taken in unridling this Letter: for truly I have not power to do it. And to tell you truly, I see you so glad at your discovery, and at a thing which infinitely afflicts me, that I was not more grieved when you were the most rigorous unto me. If you would have me speak sincerely (replied Salonina) I think it something strange you should not bear me any good will for the pains I have taken in undeceiving you: for had you rather not know that Valeria loves Hermini∣us? Doubtless I had, replyed he, so I were never to know it. For my part, replied she, I am not so of your mind, but am very glad you find that I am not the only reasonable person who does not render justice unto your merit, and who cannot afford you any more than my esteem: for since the first time you loved me (added this crafty Lady) you thought me the only person in the world whom you loved, that would not love you again: but now you find by experience that it is not so. Ah cruel Salonina (cryed he out) Do not torment me with the rigour of another, after you have so much tormented me with your own: but if you speak thus, because you repent of your former cruelty, I shall think you excusable. No, replied she with a subtle smile: but on the contrary I speak as I do, to justifie my cruelty. As Salonina said so, Collatina and Flavia came into the Chamber, so as she having the Letter of Her∣minius in her hands, it was not possible for Spuri∣us to get it from her. Yet he asked it in a low voice, but she would not restore it, but said to him in Railery, that she had more right to it than he, after all the pains she had taken in expounding it: so as Spurius not being able to endure any longer in that place, he went out, and being extremely vext both at Herminius and at Valeria he was not very sorry that this Letter remained in the hands of Sa∣lonina, imagining that she would do some mischief unto Valeria by it, against whom he was most horribly incensed. And not being able to contain his grief, he went unto one of his friends, to whom he related the state of his fortune. Did ever any find (said he unto him) a more cross and peevish fate than mine? for within this few days, I found my self the happiest man in the world, and now the most miserable: when Salonina endeavoured to re-engage me, I had all the delights of a sweet re∣venge; and when Valeria treated me kindly, I enjoyed all the pleasures which hope can give in love. But now; I know that Salonina cares not for me, fur∣ther than to take me off from Valeria whom she loves not, Valeria cannot endure me, but only as a cloak to hide her affection unto Herminius: and whilst both Volesus and Herminius are happy, I am most miserable. I must confess (said his friend unto him) that your adventure is cruel; but you ought to take good heart; and were I in your case, I should be glad to lose a Mistress that should love any of my Rivals better than me: On the contrary, replied Spurius, I ought to be glad of the rigour of an insensible woman: For I look upon her as one incapable of affording any felicity unto any one no more than me: I look upon her, (I say) as an imperfect person, to whom the Gods have not given any sensibility or tenderness of heart, and one who is unworthy to be grieved for: But alas! when I think upon all the Char••s of Valeria, when I consider she is fair, witty, ver∣tuous, pleasing in her humour, modest, and as I think, capable of tenderness, I am so afflicted at the happiness of Herminius, that I do most horri∣bly hate him: And in this angry mood, I know no other consolation I can have, but to make him mi∣serable, and to trouble all the delights of Valeria, of Herminius, of Volesus, and of Salonina. And indeed Spurius did nothing all that day, but plot how he might ruine these four persons whom he most horridly hated. Yet he dissembled with them, the more easily to harm them: But that he might the better prepare himself with a garb of con∣straint, he feigned himself sick for a while: after which he appeared in the company as ordinary, though a little more melancholy, and a little less troubled for Valeria. Mean time, Salonina, who kept not the Letter of Herminius for nothing, she made a visit unto Valeria, and drawing her aside, told her, that to testifie how much she was her friend, she came to acquaint her how she had lost some of Herminius his Letters, because she heard one of her acquaintance say, that he had one of them in his hands.

Valeria not thinking that any of Herminius his Letters could be ill interpreted, and did not think she had lost that wherein the word Amity was so often used, which was the only one that could raise any suspicion; she told Salonina that she was much obliged unto her for her good intenti∣on; but truly, (said she) If I have lost any of them, I am not much troubled at it, neither in re∣lation to my self or Herminius: For all his Letters are so well penned, and so far from any suspicion of love, as I do not remember the word Love is so much as once mentioned in all that ere he wrote unto me: Then, replied Salonina, those who tell me they have one, are false Impostors: for here's the Copy of that which they say they have in keep∣ing. Upon this, Salonina shewed unto Valeria the Copy of Herminius his letter, with the words of Love and Amity in their right places.

This fair and innocent Lady knowing the first line, she could not chuse but blush: yet presently recollecting her self, and seeming to call up her memory, she told Salonina that this which may perhaps be thought some mystery, was nothing but some such trick as his Acrostick was, or some such fallacy, by which he had so often diverted the Ca∣bal: And upon better memory, he did once write some such invention in my chamber, but I ap∣prehended so little danger in shewing it, that I left it loose upon my table: so as certainly some or other has found it, and put an interpretation upon it. Since it is so, (replied Salonina, and seemed to be∣lieve her) I will never trouble my self to get the

Original out of their hands who have it: but I think it better to tell them the truth, and to let them shew it as the invention of Herminius. If all people were rational (replied Valeria) it were not amiss to do as you advise: but since there is an ill dispo∣sition in most people to interpet the best things in the worst sense, you would do me a pleasure in procuring me this letter, and undeceiving those that have made any ill construction of it. Madam, replied Salonina, since it was never my faculty to flatter my friends, I must needs tell you, that I think the course you would take, it not good, but better to acknowledge it as a real letter, and let it pass as a common and indifferent trifle which you value not. Were there a middle course between these two (replied prudent Valeria) it were the best; and therefore it will be enough if you only tell those that have this letter, how that I do not value it at all: And if ere I meet with an occasion wherein I may do you any service of the like nature, I shall entertain it with joy: Alas Madam (replied Salonina) since I have no friend so Ingenious as Herminius, you are are never like to do me the like office. But, replied Valeria, since Volesus useth to write unto you sometimes, and since he loves you in another manner than Hermi∣nius loves me, It is not impossible but I may do more for you, than you shall do for me. However (said Salonina) I am glad that I can shew the letter which Herminius wrote unto you; assuring you, what are you think of me, that I will act for you with the same thoughts that now I have. After this, Salonina went away: And this malicious wo∣man so negotiated the matter, that within three days there were dispersed above a hundred Copies of the letter of Herminius: Yet Salonina had not all the pleasure which she expected from this ma∣lice: For Herminius was so often known to vent such pieces of wit as these, without any particular design; And Valeria had so great a Reputation of Prudence, that few or none believ'd it to be more than only a passage of wit, and no particular or applicative aim of any Gallantry in it. Hermi∣nius found this advantage by it, which now I am going to relate unto you.

The perplexity that he saw in the spirit of Va∣leria, made him fear lest she should take resolu∣tion of seeing him no more, only to prevent scan∣dal. For, though Valeria's heart was all inno∣cency; yet she knew, that scandal seeks only a pretence to calumniate the most vertuous persons. So as Herminius, who knew that Valerius and Do∣mitia loved him, resolved upon two things; The First, to acquaint Sivelia with his Love, and ob∣lige her to consent unto his design, and help him. The second: To ask Valeria's leave to apply himself unto those who had the disposition of her, for their approbation of his affection. Hermi∣nius therefore, told his generous Mother of it, who commended his design, and assured him, that she would assist him in all that possibly she could: For she found in this alliance, all that she could wish for, especially Vertue, and Noble∣ness of bloud. But when Herminius pressed Valeria to let him speak unto her Father, he found greater resistance than he imagined: For after he had woo••d her unto it, with a thousand tender and passionate expressions and prayers, he saw she chang'd colour; and beginning to speak, she would not give him any precise answer: So as troubled in mind, Oh most Divine Valeria (said he unto her) do not put my passion unto any further tryal: you may know it; and to say more, do know it: And yet you speak unto me as faintly, as if you did not know I love you, and as if you had not permitted me to hope I should not be hated. Indeed, answered she, I do know that you love me sometimes: but how shall I be assured you will love me always? How Madam? (said Her∣minius and interrupted her) can you be so unjust as to say that I love you sometimes? I who have not a minutes rest in my passion: I, who love you more than ever any can; I (I say) who think upon none; nothing but you, who would not live but for you, who cannot live a minute without you. Though I should agree, that you do love me, replied she, yet I cannot, that you love me as I would be loved. But Herminius, do not deceive your self: but know, that if you did love me al∣ways equally, you could not do as I have seen you: There are some minutes, some hours, and some days wherein you can so well hide your af∣fection, even when you are not constrained unto it, as I have cause to fear how I do insepara∣bly conjoyn my Fortune with yours; Though you are the only man in the world, for whom I would without aversion obey my Father, if he should command me to marry. For, I do declare unto you, I had rather be the Wife of a man that hates me, and always has hated me, than of such a man as once zealously loved me, and afterwards does not. For, since the first of these ever hated me, I never loved him, and by consequence, his hatred never troubled me, as the indifference of him whom once I loved, would. But I beseech you Madam, replyed Herminius, who should you presuppose, that I should change my mind? Did you ever see me inconstant unto any of my friends? Oh Herminius replied she, some men may be con∣stant in Amity, that are not so in Love: And there are some men, who never have but one friend, who yet have many Mistresses. Madam, replied he, I am none of those: For, on the contrary, I have many friends, but you are my only Mistress, and I can safely say, that I have no other but you: For, if I did ever think my self in Love with any, I now see I was much mistaken when I thought so: For I never had such heart-burnings for any as for you. Do not fear then I shall ever change, when I cannot hope to be better: Nor think, that though time should offer any injury unto your fair face, I should yet alter my mind: No, no, Valeria; I do not love you for your beauty only: There are other excellencies in your soul and mind, which I prefer before the charms of your eyes, and all outward Lustre: you have a thousand, and a thousand beauties, over which time and age has no power: You have a thousand and a thousand Treasures which are not in the po∣wer of Fortune, and worth much more, than all those she is able to give: Fear not then, that my Passion will ere diminish as long as it is built upon so sure a foundation, and Cause so solid; I am nothing of the humor of those men, whose Loves are damped as soon as a little sick∣ness has paled the Complexion of their Mistres∣ses.

I most humbly beseech you Madam, think better of Herminius, and deny him not that permission, which he asketh, unless you will have him think you never loved him, or that you never will love him, and that you would not have him love you any longer. Though I should (replyed Valeria, with a demi-blush) you would not believe me: For indeed I do not refuse to consent unto what you desire, but lest in consenting, you should love me no longer, or love me less. After this, Herminius redoubled his prayers, and expressed his desires so tender∣ly, and full of passion, as she permitted him at last to speak unto Valerius her Father. So as Si∣velia, who knew the vertue of Valeria, and much approved of this alliance, she moved it unto Va∣lerius, who liked the proposition as well as she could desire.

But though both sides carried the matter very secret, that it might not be known untill all was consummated; yet the joys of Herminius did be∣tray this important secret, and made Spurius part∣ly guess at the truth, and fully discovered it by the intelligence of that wench which gave him the Letter of Herminius: so as entring into a new de∣spair, it caused such a disturbance in his heart, as did confirm the opinion of such who say, That a violent passion is often stronger than vertue or reason. For Spurius, who till then, had done nothing for which he could blame himself, unless loving too long, after all hopes of being loved was gone, he took a course to hinder Herminius from being happy, which he would not have taken, if jealousie had not altered the constitution of his soul.

The truth was, he was an enemy unto Tyranny; he hated Tarquin; and he heartily wished the liberty of Rome: yet in transport of passion, which then was Mistress of his heart, he thought it not impossible to hinder the marriage of Vale∣ria with Herminius, by acquainting some that were of Tarquins interest, how that in policy he ought to prevent this Alliance. Spurius then be∣ing acquainted with one that was kinsman unto Heslius, that was in favour with Tarquin, he went to see him; and seeming to talk of the mar∣riage of Herminius and Valeria, as the news of the Town, he began to speak of the good fortune of Herminius. For truly (said he very subtilly) if he had not good fortune, the King would never per∣mit this marriage, which unites two of the most potent Families that are his enemies, and out of whom there are more exiles since Tarquin reigned, than any others in Rome. Spurius seemed to say this, not as if he desired him unto whom he spoke, to tell Heslius, and that Heslius should tell Tar∣quin, but only as wondring at the good fortune of Herminius. For he knew very well, that he to whom he spoke, would tell Heslius all he heard: And indeed, as soon as ever Spurius was gone, this man went to his Cousin, and told him all he knew. Heslius conceiving indeed, that this alliance between two Families, enemies of Tarquin, was to be prevented, he went unto that Prince to ac∣quaint him with the business, and the consequences of it.

Tarquin, who, except Horatius and Clelius, hated Valerius and Herminius, more than all the rest of his enemies, he resolved to prevent this marriage by his absolute authority: Thus when Herminius and Valeria thought to pass all their lives together in a most happy condition, Tarquin sent for Vale∣rius, to tell him, that for some reasons which re∣lated unto the good of his service, he charged him not to marry his Daughter unto Herminius.

Valerius out of his great and noble soul told Tarquin all that his generosity guided by prudence did dictate unto him, to oblige him not to con∣strain him in a thing which ought to be free. But Tarquin answered, That if Herminius married Va∣leria, he would banish them Rome the next day, and that they should never enter the City again.

Valerius not being able to oppose force, he re∣tir'd home, where he found Herminius, who im∣patiently expected his return; for as a Lover is always fuller of fears than any other, so he was more disquieted than Domitia, that Tarquin had sent for Valerius. But when he was returned, the sorrows of Domitia, of Valeria, and of Herminius, were extreme. Valerius related unto them word for word, all that the Tyrant had said unto him, and all that he answered: after which Valerius spake unto them with abundance of wisdom: For after many other things worthy of his great heart and high spirit; To testifie unto you (said he unto Her∣minius) how much I esteem your vertue, and how happy I think my Daughter would be in being your wife, I do declare unto you, that were it not I have some secret hopes to be one day profitable unto the liberty of my Country, I would exile my self, and I would advise you unto the same, that you might live with Valeria in some part of the world, where vice does not triumph over vertue; as it does at Rome. But generous Herminius, you having so much spirit, so much heart, and so much vertue as you have, you are a Debtor unto your Countrey as well as I am: Therefore I ex∣hort you to stay here, and to overcome that inno∣cent passion which you have in your soul.

But to testifie how much I value you, I do de∣clare unto you, That if your vertue cannot over∣come your love, and that you cannot live unless miserably, I do consent to give you my Daughter; to deprive my self of her and you for ever, and to permit you to go and dwell in some other part of Italy, where the power of Tarquin is not acknow∣ledged, provided Valeria consent unto it. Oh Sir, replied this wise Lady, though I do esteem Herminius far above all other men, yet I do de∣clare, that I am not able to abandon you to fol∣low him: and I think him so generous, as he will not desire to take me from the best father in the world: but I hope he is so reasonable, as to be contented with that assurance which by your permission I shall give him of my affection; that though we cannot live together, yet I will with all the innocence, and all the tenderness of a sister, preserve it inviolably for him: Yes my Daughter (said Valerius) I do permit you to love Herminius as the only man worthy to be your Husband: and I would have Domitia also to love him, as if he were her son.

Oh Sir, replied Herminius, you do set before me a most happy example of vertue for me to imi∣tate; for I must ingenuously confess, that if you and Valeria did not give me so great an example of

generosity, I cannot tell what answer I should have returned. But yet I see that I should be the most ungrateful, and most unjust man in the world, if I did not think my self happy in my misfortunes, though through the grandeur of my passion, and the Tyranny of Tarquin, I am the most unfortu∣nate of men. As Herminius said this, one came to tell Valerius, that Spurius desired to speak with him: And indeed, that revengeful lover knowing that Tarquin had sent for Valerius, and being im∣patient to know whether his design prospered, he took a pretence of some business to speak with Valerius, purposely to see in what temper his spirit was. So that Valerius seeing tears in the eyes of Valeria, and despair painted in the face of Her∣minius, he went into another Chamber to receive the visit of Spurius. Valerius was no sooner gone, but word was brought Domitia, that some Ladies desired to speak with her; she seeing Valeria and Herminius in a condition unfit for visits, she put them into a Chamber within her own, and com∣manded the woman of Valeria to wait upon her Lady.

Valeria and Herminius were no sooner at liberty, but excess of sorrow taking away their speech, they looked upon each other a while, and did not speak: afterwards they went and sat down in the further part of the Chamber, where the servant durst not approach out of respect, though she had an itching desire unto it, that she might report unto Spurius what she heard.

But after this silence had lasted a while, Hermi∣nius was the first that broke it by a great and pro∣found sigh, which was a preface unto the saddest words that ever afflicted lover pronounced. Alas, Madam, (said he unto her) Herminius now must never be happy in fair Valeria: it may be, I shall live a while after so sad a doom: But Madam, you that know how to love, do also know, that this word, Never, is a most fatal sound, if it be applied as I do. Yes Madam, to think that you must never be mine, does cast such a gloomy mist upon my spirit, that my reason is confounded; and I repent of what I said unto the generous Va∣lerius and you, when I commended both your ver∣tues: Yes Madam, I am so overwhelmed with sorrow, that I have not the use of my reason, so as I think it not a folly to hope that I shall see Rome delivered from the Tyrant that oppresseth it; and by consequence, that it were an act of gene∣rosity to get out of a place where a Tyrant reigns so tyrannically: yet I know, that what Valerius has done, is great and Noble: but yet Madam, the love of a Father is nothing like the love of a Lover: And to speak things as they are, it is un∣just to refuse being happy, out of reasons which have only appearances of glory: Truth is, there is not much probability, that Tarquin may be destroyed, and were it not more generous to steal out of his Tyranny, than to endure it, out of an ill grounded hope that one day he may be de∣stroyed? Voluntary exile has some Generosity in it, when the cause is of such a Nature as this which exileth us; And since (my dearest Valeria, if a miserable man may call you so) it is so, it is not ba∣nishment to live with the person whom one loves: Rome is a strange Countrey unto me, if we cannot live together in it: Asia or Africa shall be my Countrey, if I live there with you. But Herminius, replied Valeria and sighed, let us live still at Rome, and we shall always see each other as now we do.

Oh Madam, (said he and took her hand) you love but little, I know, you can be contented with the present condition of our Fortune: I know we shall be both in the same Town; That Sivelia's house is not far from yours: that I shall see you every day, and that I shall sometimes speak with you when none understands us but our selves: But all this will not make us happy, if you do not love me as I love you. For when love is ardent, the Lovers would be out of all danger ever to lose each other: they would be made as sure as possibly may be: They cannot without sorrow but they must sit together, if they be in company: And much less endure to be separated by whole streets, and a thousand obstacles which hinder them from seeing one another every minute: nor can they enjoy a thousand pleasures which the society of the person loved can give them. For my part, I am not of your opinion: I can think any Lover is able to say that he is happy, but when he has no∣thing to fear, nor hope for: Into what a lamenta∣ble condition am I reduc'd, who am in perpetual fears of losing you, and sees none but weak hopes of having what my affection merits: If Tarquins Ruine be the ground of my felicity, I have no re∣medy but death, since it pleaseth the Gods for Reasons which are hid from us, that he should be happy, and continue still Master of Rome. Alas, was ever any misfortune equal unto mine? for I dare not say equal unto ours, not knowing whe∣ther you will share so far in my misery, as to make it properly spoken. Truly, Herminius (replied Valeria) it is impossible you should doubt of my mind; and not know that I am most sensible of our cruel destiny; And truly, there is nothing more insupportable than to consider the obstacles of our happiness: Nor any thing that makes it more ap∣parent, that the secrets of the gods are impenetra∣ble: For they do cross our happiness, as if it were a crime to be good, and because there are too many men of vertue in your Family, and mine. Were I daughter unto some of Tarquins vicious Favourites, we should be happy: But because your Parents and mine are true Romans, we must be miserable.

Oh Madam, replied Herminius, you shew your abundance in goodness by speaking thus, and in not suffering me to bear the heavy burthen of my misfortunes alone, but to share with me in calling them ours: But Madam, are all these misfortunes without any remedy? Can we not consummate a marriage secretly, and live happily in some corner of the World? is your love to me so small, that you can deny me in a thing that is innocent? Should I desire any thing from you that were criminal, I should be unjust. But Madam, I am none of those Lovers, who think the Grandeur of their Love can make unjust requests excusable: Your vertue does regulate my will, and keeps my de∣sires within the limits of innocency: but for you I have some cause to think, that I have some right to obtain from you any thing that is no crime. Give me therefore leave to get the consent of Valerius, either that I may marry you secretly, or that we may live out of Rome. You heard him so generous as to offer it: and you will be the most cruel person in the world, if you oppose

my happiness. Say rather the most reasonable, replyed Valeria: For indeed, Herminius, we should be the height of imprudence if we should think to hide a thing which in all likelihood will come to be known, and which would expose us unto the cruelty of Tarquin. Besides, such a secret would be contrary to my fancy and humour: And as for quitting of Rome, and my Father for ever, I am so sure that I ought not to do it, as I will never think upon it: Oh Madam, (replyed Herminius) you are too cruelly wise; what a sad Fate it is, I should be so deeply in love, and so miserable as to love one that will not do for me all that vertue permits her. Vertue, reply∣ed this wise Lady, does doubtless allow all that reason does: But Reason sometimes allows more than vertue: Therefore, since it is equally lauda∣ble to be vertuous and to be reasonable, be for my sake both the one and the other: Submit your mind unto your Fortune; and to oblige you unto it, Consider, that in quitting Rome, you quit the Interests of your Country, you quit the vertuous Sivelia, you quit Valerius, you quit all your Friends; and more than all this, you will see me most sadly mourn for the absence of Valerius, and Domitia: Yet do not think (added she most obligingly) that my tenderness to you is the less: For it is to be thought, that one who has so much affection for a Father and a Mother, has a most ardent affection for a Lover, and would have for a husband. But of what use are Reason and Vertue, if they be not imployed upon such occasions as this? They will serve, Madam, replyed he, to make the Grandeur of my Love to be seen: But Madam, if I must yield unto you, what comforts shall I have in my misery, and what assurance a∣gainst my Rivals, the number of which, I see, does every day increase? You may trust unto the pro∣mise which I shall make (replied she) That as long as you love me, I will love you: And, since the persons, who have the disposition of me, consent unto it, I will love you without any scruple. But Madam, replyed he, why do you say, that you will love me as long as I love you? Are you not able to say positively, that you will love me for ever, since you may be sure I shall love you as long as I live? When one does love, replied Va∣leria, he thinks that he shall Love always, and yet thousands of examples make it evident, that there are some Lovers, who cease to Love. Oh Madam, replied he, the heart of Herminius is not alike unto those Lovers that think so: Since so, replyed she, The Term that our affections shall last, shall be equi∣valent, since if you love me as long as you live, I will love you until I dye.

Herminius was so charmed to hear these obliging words from the mouth of Valeria, that he resolved to submit his spirit unto the reason of this wise La∣dy. He therefore commended her, he asked pardon for his importunity, and beseeched her to pity his imbecillity, and to comfort him in his misery, by her constant goodness.

So as Valeria being very glad to see that the power she had upon the heart of Herminius was so great, she spoke unto him so obligingly, that when Domitia and Valerius returned, they found his Soul in such a temper, as they desired it to be. Being therefore both of them charmed at his vertue, they assured him that they would love him as their own Son, as long as they lived. And indeed, ever since that day, they did love Herminius better than before. Yet for fear of incensing the Tyrant, they agreed, that for a time, he should not come so frequently unto them as he used, nor, that he should hide any of his sorrows, to the end, that un∣just Prince might know by his spies, that they had obeyed him.

Things being thus, Herminius not acquainting Valerius nor Valeria, he went unto Prince Titus, and to the Prince of Pometia, and imployed them to move Tarquin not to oppose his marriage. But though these Princes were very zealous in the ser∣vice of Herminius; yet they could not do him any good: So as he grew so melancholy, that the sple∣nitick Spurius was comforted in all his disgraces. He had also the pleasure to see, that Salonina did not marry Volesus: And some there was that sus∣pected, he hindred the Parents of that Lover from consenting unto his marriage. So as though Spuri∣us was not loved by neither Salonina, nor Valeria, yet he had the satisfaction to see they did not marry those whom they did love: and to break off the society of so many excellent persons, who were always together. But Herminius yet found out an invention to establish another Cabal: for the A∣mity between Valeria and Lucretia being very great, these two Ladies became inseparable. So as when Lucretius the Father of Lucretia permitted his Daughter to go unto Racilia in the Countrey; The Cabal grew as gallant as ever, Lucretia, Her∣milia, Collatina, and Valeria, being of it.

But the thing most particular in this adventure was, that Spurius, who now hated both Valeria and Salonina, and also Volesus and Herminius, especially the last of these, he took a fancy, that since he nei∣ther could, nor would be any longer his Rival, he would find him one that should. Endeavoring therefore how to bring such a fantastical design to pass, he bethought himself of Mutius, who till then never seem'd to have any amorous inclination. For, as perhaps you have observed him, Mutius is natu∣rally proud and ambitious, and the love of Glory takes up so much of his heart, as I believe Valeria with all her charms would not be so pleasing to him, as some dangerous occasion would be, if he were sure to come off with honour. So as Mutius ha∣ving a heart full of nothing but Heroick designs, he never minded such trifles as are the delights of lovers: you should see him oftener with grave bearded Senators, discoursing upon the valour of Romulus, than with young Gallants. So as Spurius who was a friend unto an Uncle of Mutius, who had the Guardianship of him, he cast his eyes upon him for this fantastical design: And indeed he made no ill choice; for Mutius was handsom, he had wit and spirit; he was proud and haughty; and he was fit to court a Lady, and enrage a Rival. Spurius then finding Mutius as he was walking with one of the gravest Senators in the Capitol, he drew him aside upon pretence of some business with him. Sir (said he unto him) I beg your pardon for depri∣ving you of a conversation which I know you pre∣ferred before all the young men of your own age, and before all the beauties in Rome: But, Sir, to speak sincerely, (added he, and smiled) I do aim at your honour in it.

For to be free with you, I love you very well, and you have often told me, that you would fol∣low my advice in all things. Mutius was a little surprised at this, for he knew not why he should be reprehended for preferring wise men before such as were not: Though he did not love any reprehen∣sions, yet since his Uncle had often commanded him to follow the advice of Spurius; and since he had often promised that he would, he asked him wherein he had failed, beseeching him to tell him, what he would do to get honour and glory. Since you would know, replied Spurius, I would, that you should not cross the order of nature: I would not have you wise before your time, but to think there is a kind of folly which well be∣comes all young men; and that to arrive at Glo∣ry the sooner, you must do many things which may seem a retreat from it: For in lieu of ap∣plying your self eternally unto these old, grave, and serious Sages, who are experienc'd in the con∣duct of affairs, and command of Armies, you should see all the Ladies in Rome, that have any beauty, wit, or handsomness: you should make your self some friends out of such as have spent five of six years in Gallantry, and are able by their example to teach you how to behave your self in the world. You should be in society with all such as have any reputation of excellency, but not hang upon them too much: Never go where you are not wished for: nor imprudently molest the plea∣sures of others, when you are not diverted your self; nor inconsiderately engage your self in such foolish company as meet with any business, and where none desires you. But you should cunningly and handsomely make your self desired: you should be sociable, you should love pleasures, you should court Ladies of merit: you should invent occasions to divert them: you should not be too merry nor too grave; but temperate with judg∣ment: you must not be a Wit, nor Sword-man, nor a Gallant of profession. I beseech you (said Mutius) Tell me what one should do to get esteem: you must fall in love, replied Spurius. But, said Mutius, Can one fall in love when one will? I assure you (answered Spurius) when one is of your age, it is harder to keep out than to fall in love; but as long as you keep company with none but gray bearded Senators, your heart can∣not be so easily engaged in love. But yet, replied Mutius, when I am in company with those men, I think my self very well; and they commend my wisdom and virtue: but on the contrary, when I go amongst Ladies, I am so far to seek what to say unto them, that I perceive they laugh at me. Oh Mutius, said Spurius, all compleat men must be exposed unto the Railery of women, before their wits can be refined; ask any of the Senators whom now you see so grave and wise, whe∣ther they were always so: if they be sincere, compleat, and ingenious men, they will tell you they were laughed at the first year they en∣tred into the world; and that the second year they laughed at those who came after them: They will tell you that they loved amorous and gallant con∣versation and pleasures: That they had never been so compleat and polite, but by a desire to please; and that they had never found any such desire, but by being in love: They will tell you also, that love made them more zealously affect glory: made them more liberal, more valiant, and that they were much beholding unto this passion. But you know, replied Mutius, that all Lovers are not happy: Most true, replied Spurius, However (an∣swered he and smiled) they have more considera∣tion than you: For a man that knows the world a little better than you do, would never upbraid me that I was never in love. But Mutius, take all well that I say: for you may think that I have no other interest in the counsel which I give, but only to save me the sorrows to see, that you who are handsome, of a good birth, of spirit, of wit, do yet not employ them as you should.

Mutius hearing. Spurius speak in such obliging language, did thank him, and assured him that he would follow his advice in all things; yet being of a proud temper, he did a little stomach this reprehension: but having a strong affectation and desire of glory, he resolved to hearken unto Spu∣rius, and to ask him what he should do. You must so behave your self (said he) that it may be repor∣ted as news, you are in love with some person of merit: For though you be not so really, you ought out of prudence to behave your self as if you were; and therefore, if you will follow my ad∣vice, you shall accustom your self to see all the Ladies, who have highest reputation of beautie, wit and gallantry: Amongst the rest, Lucretia, Col∣latina, Hermilia, Flavia, Salonina, and Valeria: And to avoid that shame which your fear, of being reproached for not being loved, begin with one who is accustomed not to love those who court her, to the end you may not be the only man who shall be reproached, if your design do not take. And therefore apply your self unto the service of Valeria; and if you prosper better than I, doubt∣less it will be glorious unto you; and if not, you have the consolation that you are not without company.

But I beseech you, replied Mutius, is it not reported, that Herminius is much in her favour? Most true answered Spurius, and therefore it is that I advise you to undertake a design so brave: for an old Lover is sometimes easily driven out by a new Rival. Besides, you being young and brave, one that loves Glory and difficult enterprises; it will be a noble attempt to conquer a heart that is defended by a brave man, and much more glo∣rious, than to assault one who will yield with∣out resistance: The Mistress is fair, the Rival is owner of a thousand admirable qualities, and the enterprise is worthy of your self: To be free with you, I shall be very much obliged unto you, if you attempt the conquest. For I assure you, I shall be as much joyed if you can obtain the love of Valeria, as I should have been heretofore, if I my self had been loved. After this, Spurius used several other inducements: so as Mutius, out of a pure appetite of glory, undertook to serve Vale∣ria. Submitting himself then to the Counsels of Spurius, he quickly gave him the opportunity of being received in this Noble societie; for Mutius was of quality to be received any where. Mutius, he had so deeply imprinted the love of Valeria in his fancy, that it became good earnest: so as after this he stood not in any need of coun∣sel from Spurius, for his own passion advised him what to do: Not that he had so many Tallents

of Gallantry as Herminius had, whose spirit was even Gallantry it self; But it being the quality of Love to tame the fierceness of Lions, and cruelty of Tigers, Mutius, who till then had none but Heroick designs in his soul, was now capable of lesser thoughts of submission and complacency: So as he quitted the company of his old Seigniors, and a great part of his wisdom, to see Valeria and all her friends. Herminius, he was so as∣sured of Valeria's heart, that at first, this new Rival never troubled him: but afterwards, it is so natural not to abide Rivals, and to fear lest they should make some progress in the heart of the person loved, that Herminius was disquieted at the passion of Mutius: so as upon divers occasi∣ons, they were very sharp upon one another, un∣til fortune presented Herminius with a great occa∣sion of glory in giving him an opportunity of saving the life of Mutius, when by the orders of Tarquin he was to be assassinated as he was going to the house of Racilia where Valeria was, and where Brutus and Herminius did that action which was so much spoken of at Rome, though Bru∣tus was not known who he was. But as gratitude is often too weak to strive with hatred in the heart of a Lover; so, though Mutius was obliged unto Herminius, yet after that, he had many squables with him, wherein appeared much animositie: Spurius his Confident sided with him against Hermi∣nius: and being the most revengeful person on earth, you may be sure he never lost any occasion, great or little, that might make against Herminius: And indeed, I was told, that when the fair and un∣fortunate Lucretia lost that Letter which caused her marriage with Collatine, and made Herminius suspected of some confederacy which Tarquin could not discover, Spurius had a great hand in the ba∣nishment of Herminius. For knowing what suspicion was had of this illustrious Roman, he procured the Kinsman of Heslius to testifie many things which moved Tarquin to be so incensed, That Herminius was constrained to fly from Rome to save his life, and to leave his dear Valeria, unto whom he could not bid Adieu, but only by Letter, which she durst not answer, or hear any news of him, lest it should be discovered where he was, and so she contribute to the ruine of that man whom she loved above all the world. And yet, at the last, she wrote unto him: for the generous Sivelia hear∣ing by a slave which Herminius sent secretly un∣to Rome, that he would not go at a farther distance, though he was not above a daies journey from thence, she went unto Valerius, beseeching him that he would desire his daughter to com∣mand Herminius to quit Italy, until the face of things changed: so as Valeria, both out of obe∣dience and tenderness, commanded her dear Her∣minius by Letter, to seek a sanctuary in some other place farther off, where he needed not to fear the injustice of Tarquin, and lest he should send some of his ministers of cruelty to assassinate him.

And since Herminius was equally dear both unto Sivelia, Valerius, Domitia and Valeria, he re∣ceived so many different Orders from all these persons, that he did resolve to go farther off: yet since there was an invisible Chain which tyed him to Italy, he contented himself with going to Metapont, where he thought to meet with more consolation than any where else, because he should there find the sage Damo, and all the rest of those friends which he had made when he was there: And indeed, Her∣minius was ravished with the society of these excel∣lent persons. But Sivelia hearing where he was, she sent him orders to be gone from thence, because the place of his retreat being known, she could not think him in safety: And to induce him to leave that place, she sent him a Letter from Valeria, written after her intention: so as this unfortunate Lover was more exiled by his friends and lovers, than by his enemies, which made his heart exceeding melancholy: And also it was a double sadness of soul to see, that Va∣leria's Letters were less obliging, than those he for∣merly received from her: For since they were to pass through the hands of Sivelia, this discreet Ladie would not include all the tenderness of her soul in them: But Herminius, who knew not that to be the reason, he was extreamly disquieted at it: however, he had received so many commands to get further off, that he resolved upon it. 'Tis true, he had for his companion in his travels, the Son of a generous Roman, who was born an exile, from whose Society he found much conso∣lation. And indeed this Roman, whose name is Emilius, is a man of much soul and very hand∣some, of a sweet disposition, a sociable spirit, a passionate soul, and a couragious heart.

Herminius and he then travelled together into Greece; after which they came to Capua, though Herminius was sure that if Sivelia did know he was there, she would think him too near Rome. But since Emilius fell sick, as soon as he came there, and since he had some reasons which kept him from making himself known in that place, he shared not with Herminius in many things which this plea∣sant City afforded. Nor did you see this friend of Herminius; who not being in a condition to stir abroad, he obliged his friends not to mention him. So as you knew only in general that Herminius was come to Capua with a stranger, who was faln sick and lodged in the suburbs, not knowing precisely who he was.

Mean-time, although Herminius loved Emilius very tenderly, and though they mutually received from each other many generous testimonies of Amity, during their Travels; yet Herminius out of a resentment of Fidelity to Valeria, he never acquainted Emilius that he was in Love at Rome. For, sincehe never had been there, though he was the Son of an illustrious Roman, he could not know any there. But Madam, to come unto that share which you have in the adventure of Her∣minius, you may remember, that as soon as that illustrious Roman came to Capua, he got a great share in the Amity of Clelius and your self: and that he was very much at your house: you know that he used to write unto you very often, and that you were wont to answer him: Also that he saw none but you with delight: That it was for him, you drew the Famous Map of Tender: and that those, who did not rightly know things, had some ground to think that Herminius was in love with you, though indeed, it was only pure Amity. In so much, as many at Capua did put Herminius in Rank with Aronces, or Horatius, and thought him to be your Lover. The thought was grown so pub∣lick, that a young Physician, who had Emilius in cure, and who was one of those Gallant

Physitians, who have much practice amongst La∣dies, he brought a Copy of this Map unto Emilius, not knowing that he knew him for whom it was made: upon this Emilius, who saw Herminius seldomer of late than usual, he thought indeed Madam, that he was in love with you.

Amilcar, said Clelia and interrupted, Consi∣der well what you say, and do not mix Fable with true History.

No Madam (replied Amilcar) but let me tell you, that your Fine wit had like to have had the life of poor Herminius: But to proceed, Emilius beginning to tax Herminius with the passion which he thought was in his soul, Herminius answer∣ed him in such a manner, as perswaded him he did not deny the thing, but only out of his dis∣cretion. Herminius yet did all he could to un∣deceive his friend, but all would not do, nay, ra∣ther confirmed him. And Madam, since you then used to write very often unto Herminius, he shewed Emilius your letters, he shewed him his own, and let him take Copies of them: thinking that this would better perswade him there was no mystery in this affection, and that there was no intimacy 'twixt him and you, but only a Gallant Amity without any tincture of Love. But since all these letters whereof he took Copies, were ex∣ceeding Gallant and sweet; and since Herminius had such a kind of passionate stile, as would de∣ceive any that did not know him very well, Emi∣lius took that for Love which was only Amity. He thought also that the Map of Tender was a Map of virtuous Love, and in short, made no doubt, but that he was deep in Love, and also, that he was not a little loved.

Howsoever the Air of Capua being thought bad for his health, he was constrained to leave it, and was carried unto a little Town whose scitu∣ation was more healthy. Herminius followed him, and had the joy to see him much mend in his health: But at the same time, he had the sor∣rows to lose his company: for Emilius under∣stood that he might now dwell at Rome: so as these two friends parted, and Herminius returned to Capua. When Emilius was ready to depart, Her∣minius had a mind to trust him with the secret of his Love, and to give him a letter for Valeria: but knowing the humor of that wise Lady, he thought she would not take it well, that such a man as Emilius should be the Confident of his affecti∣on, she being so scrupulous, and so wise as she was.

Therefore he only desired him, not to speak at Rome of his opinion, that he loved Clelia, lest such a report should unhappily come unto Valeria's ear: And for a colour, he told Emilius that the reason of this his desire was, lest Tarquin should hear such a false report and hate him the more, for endeavouring to make any alliance with his most mortal enemy. But though this reason had great appearance of probability, yet Emilius did not give much credit to it: but thought that Her∣minius spoke it, only to perswade him that he was not in Love. Yet he promised he would not speak of it: and after many kind embraces, he left him, and took the way towards Rome: yet he came not there so soon as he supposed; For Tarquin having chang'd advice, he stayed a long while at Lavini∣um, until his business was compleated. During which time, Herminius was at Capua, and could not have Commerce with Emilius, nor durst he send to Rome, lest Sivelia and Valeria should command him into some Country further off.

Things then being upon these Terms, it so fell out that as Emilius was ready to depart from Lavinium, the same Physitian who knew him at Capua, and who was originally of Clusium, passed by the place where he was, and told him with much sorrow that Herminius was dead, and had been Assasinated.

But Madam, that you may know the ground of this report I must tell you, that Clelius being to be assasinated by the cruel order of Tarquin, and that Herminius interposing himself in this adven∣ture, one of the Assasinates died of the wounds he had received, and the other died of Rage and de∣spair. So as this sad accident being published with much confusion and incertainty: It was writ un∣to this Physitian by a wrong informed man, who told him positively, that Herminius was dead, ad∣ding many circumstances which might confirm be∣lief of it: So as his heart being much moved at it, he could not chuse but tell unto Emilius, who grieved beyond measure, and so very much, that he went unto Rome without any delight; thinking the loss of his friend, greater than the loss of Li∣berty to live in his own Country. Emilius then, sighed as he entred into Rome, and appeared so melancholy unto all those that came to visit him, as every one asked him the Cause: for they saw that he was not melancholy by constitution, but by accident.

The next day after he came to Rome, he went to visit Flavia, who was his near Cousin, and with whom he had Commerce by letters, though he had never seen her. This Lady with whom Valeria was, when he entred, finding him more melan∣choly than she imagined he had reason for, she be∣gan to chide him, and to tell him she thought it strange he should have the pensiveness of an exile in his face, when he ought to be all joy in his heart. Did you but know the cause of my pen∣siveness, replied Emilius, I am confident you would excuse me, and since I have not yet had the honour to be known unto you, I think I ought to acquaint you with it, to justifie my sadness, to excuse my ill humour, and to oblige you to pity me. Flavia and I, are so naturally compassionate, replied Valeria then, That if compassion will comfort you, you shall not want it. Then Madam (said Emilius unto her) I beseech you pity me: For, I do not merit so great a misfortune as is fallen upon me: What is the misfortune? (said Flavia) The better to un∣derstand my bad, I must acquaint you with my good Fortune. During my Travels, I had got a friend, who had all the excellent qualities which a com∣pleat man could have, and who had unto me a∣bundance of most tender Amity and affection; and yet I loved him better than he loved me; for I trust∣ed him with my whole heart; but he had a passion in his soul which he would never trust unto me. But for all that, I looked upon his reservedness, as part of his discretion to his mistress, and not as a defect in his Amity to me: Herminius was so dear unto me, as I would most willingly give half my life that I could revive him, and restore him unto Cle∣lia, with whom he was deeply in love at Capua.

Upon these words, Valeria apprehended more than can be imagined, there being no sound so dis∣mal, as to hear of the death and infidelity of a Lover. She had in her heart so great a Turbulency, as she could not retain her apprehensions, nor chuse but testifie her extream desire of knowing whe∣ther it was true, that Herminius was inconstant; and whether Herminius was dead; but anger and grief meeting in her mind both at the same time, she had not leisure to expel love, only asked Emi∣lius very seriously, whether he knew of a cer∣tainty that Herminius was dead: Emilius to move more compassion in the heart of these two fair ones, and pity to himself, he told them that it was but too true, and told them more than indeed he was sure of.

After this, Valeria perceived that she could not be Mistress of her self, if she spoke any more; therefore she held her peace, with much ado to hold her tears. Anger was a help unto her in this encounter, for it kept her from lamenting the death of Herminius with despair. As for Flavia, she asked the same question Valeria did: but since she believed Emilius was much mistaken in saying, that Herminius loved a Lady in Capua, called Clelia, and desiring to justifie her friend, that his memory might be more dear unto Valeria, she told Emilius that most certainly he was much mistaken, in think∣ing Herminius was in love, it not being possible a man who had been in Rome, where he had seen so many fair and charming beauties, should love any else. Oh Flavia (answered Emilius) had you heard him make a description of Clelia, who is the daughter of Clelius, whom Tarquin so unjustly hates, you would not doubt of his being in love with her: for he spoke of her with so much admiration and tenderness, that he himself did not perceive how he commended her with extraordinary devotion: And had you seen the Copies which I have of their Let∣ters, you would see I have good reason to pity the admirable Clelia, and much more the unfortunate Herminius.

Whilst Emilius talked thus, Valeria endured more torment than can be well expressed; Grief, Anger and Love, made such a disorder in her soul, that perceiving she was no longer mistress of her self, she arose up, and went out of Flavia's Cham∣ber, who did not offer to stay her, because she thought that she went away only to hide her despair. As for Emilius, he was so taken up with his own sorrows, as he minded not the grief which appeared in the eyes of Valeria, that at the first, this Lady appeared unto him very amiable. But Valeria was no sooner out of Flavia's Chamber, but her face was swimming in tears, so not daring to walk the streets in that condition, nor return home until she had a little recollected her self, she pulled down her hood, and desired Flavia's ser∣vant to open her Ladies Closet, where she would stay until Emilius was gone, because she had for∣got something, which she desired to say unto her before she went.

The servant seeing Valeria very familiar with her Ladie, she did as she was desired, so as Valeria after she had shut the door, had liberty to pour out her tears. Now, her imagination representing unto her both at once, Herminius unfaithful, and Herminius dead, she was sensible of as much sor∣row, as love was able to inflict: This Ladie having a most tender soul, and loving Herminius most ar∣dently, her grief was stronger than her anger at the first. But when Emilius was gone, and Flavia came unto her Closer, this afflicted Ladie changed her thoughts. For being one who had heard Hermi∣nius swear a thousand and a thousand times, that he would be eternally faithful, her anger grew stronger than her grief. Come Flavid (said Valeria unto her, with as many sighs as words) what say you now of perfidious Herminius? I cannot tell what to think of his perfidie (answered Flavia) because appearances are very uncertain and deceitful: But I am much afflicted at his death: and I must con∣fess, I am much surprized to see you more moved at his inconstancy, than it.

Oh Flavia (said she) I know not well which moves me most; for I am so full of grief, so full of anger, so full of confusion at my own weakness, so full of tenderness for unfaithful Herminius; so full of hatred for inconstant Herminius, and so full of confused thoughts, as I know not what I think, what I would have, or what I say. How can I think Herminius, whose thoughts I believed so generous, should be perfidious? he who I have heard say a hundred times, that honesty and sincerity ought to be in love, as well as in all other things of the world; He, I say, who promised to love me until death; he who swore unto me, that the loss of youth and beautie should not extinguish his love; he who protested unto me, that ab∣sence would augment his passion. And he who imagined, that he should be continually melan∣choly, as long as I was out of his sight: And yet he forgot all his Oaths: he diverted himself at Capua, he became unfaithful, and which is most strange, he did not only forsake me, but betray me: for the last time he wrote unto me, was with all imaginable tenderness. Judge then Fla∣via, if I be not the most silly person in the world, to lament the death of this ungrateful per∣son, for whose sake I have so ill treated Mutius, during his absence. And I must confess to my shame, that maugre his inconstancy, maugre my anger, and maugre my reason, I would fain make a doubt of his perfidie, and lament his death. But what do I say (reprehending her self, and not giving Flavia time to speak) No, no, I will not lament him, but rather look upon his death as a just punishment of his perfidie: and I ought to taste all the pleasure that a sweet revenge can give a wronged heart. For Gods sake (said Flavia un∣to her) resolve with your self upon one of these thoughts which persecute you: either love Her∣minius, or else hate him; either only grieve, or be only angry; and do not pass so suddenly from one thought to another, lest this violent agitation should impair your health. No, no, Flavia (re∣plied this afflicted fair one) I cannot do as you ad∣vise, nor at the present can I love, or can I hate Herminius; for as soon as I would hate him, my imagination represents him unto me, as he was when I was pleased with him, and in a minute after does shew him unto me in his grave: so as seeing him in that condition, I know not what I should think, nor do know whether I should wish him living, and unfaithful. For if he lived, I might reclaim him from his infidelity; he might repent it, and I might hope to see him upon his knees asking pardon for his error, and swear new fidelitie

unto me. But alas, I cannot raise the dead, and la∣mentable destinie that has taken him from the earth, will never restore him neither unto Clelia nor me. But oh Heavens! (said she, and reprehended her self) can I pronounce the name of her whom the ungrateful Herminius preferred before me, and not hate him who is the cause of this injustice, and not rejoyce at his death? for though this person were the fairest woman in the world; though she had all the wit upon earth, and though she possessed all the vertues without exception; yet Herminius were worthy of my hatred, if he should forsake me for her. And yet my imagination never represents his death unto me, but I grieve extreamly for him, and wish I could raise him from death: But presently after, imagining, that if he were alive again, he would not wish to live, but to adore Clelia; then maugre all sorrows, I have not power to wish him alive again: but my only desire is, that I were dead as well as he.

After this, Valeria was silent, for the excess of her grief would not permit her to complain any longer. Flavia then said as much unto her as wit and friendship could invent upon such an encounter. For sometimes she accused Herminius, to see whe∣ther that would lessen the affliction of her friend: another while, she would justifie him, to make her grieve only without anger; but whatsoever she said, she cryed tears as well as she, and for a quarter of an hour, she did comfort her more by her Tears than her Reasons. But love being a passion full of odd devices, to torment those that are possessed with it, Valeria would sometimes ac∣cuse those very tears which did comfort her, and take it ill that Flavia should so much lament Her∣minius. Oh Flavia (said she) never lament the loss of a man who perhaps was as perfidious a friend as a Lover: and let me have some share in loose tears which you so prodigally shed. Hermi∣nius is culpable, but I am innocent and miserable, and more miserable than ever any was, since at one and the same instant, I suffer under two of the greatest pains that one can be sensible of: Yes, yes, my dear Flavia (added this fair afflicted one) I defie the Tyrant Tarquin, and all the Tyrants upon earth, to invent torments equal unto mine: For though Herminius were alive, yet the apprehen∣sion of his perfidie is enough to make me the most miserable person in the world: And though on the contrary, Herminius should not be perfidious, yet should I be the most unfortunate of my Sex in losing all that I loved, all that I ever can love. Judge then, if in having both these tor∣ments upon me at once, I am not excusable in giving my self over to despair, and in desiring an end unto my life, as the only remedie against all my miseries. I should never end, Madam, if I should repeat all the complaints of Valeria, who did nothing but complain until night constrained her to go home: but when she was ready to go, and was upon the stairs, pulling down-her hood to hide her tears, a thought came into her mind, which made her go back into the Closet again, and be∣seeth Flavia to grant her one favour. If what you desire, replied Flavia, be in my power, I shall not deny it. Then use a means, said Valeria, to get from your kinsman, all the Copies of Letters which he hath of Clelia's, and the unfaithful Herminius, and also the Map of Tender which he mentioned: for to lessen my grief, I would do all I could to augment my anger. But (said Flavia unto her) you do not know what you ask; and if I should do as you desire me, you would repent it. No matter, answered she, for as I am, I cannot do or say any thing which I shall not repent of within a minute after. Flavia seeing it was in vain to contest with her, did promise, that when she saw Emilius again, she would use her best endeavours to get all that he had, which belonged to Herminius: after which she went home, and was no sooner there, but feign∣ing her self sick she went to bed, speaking not a word of the cruel news which she had heard. For though Valerius and Domitia had commanded her to look upon Herminius, as a man who was to be her Husband, yet she would not shew all the grandeur of that passion which was in her soul; so as she endured her misery to hide her tears. 'Tis true, she could not long hide and dissemble all her sorrow; for Emilius, who could not chuse but lament his loss before every one, he pub∣lished the death of Herminius. He told it also un∣to Valerius, who was most extreamly troubled at it, and who made no question but the sickness of Valeria proceeded from the same news. As for Sivelia, when she heard of it, her grief was incredible; yet she comforted her self with a most Heroick courage; and had the consolation to see her illustrious Son lamented by all of any Rank in Rome, except the vindicative Spurius and Mutius, though it was then very dangerous to grieve for any whom Tarquin loved not: He also was strangely in∣censed at all the lamentation which every one made, and at those testimonies of esteem which every one gave of this illustrious Roman, whom they believed to be dead, and who was his enemy; so as all his hatred of him reviving in his heart, he said aloud, that he was more sorry for the death of Herminius, than they that lamented him most, because he was deprived of his hopes, of having him in his power, that he might see him die before his face, by the rigor of a torment which he had invented for him.

This cruel expression of Tarquins, being horrid to all of any virtue, it was buzzed from one to an∣other for some days, to make him hated; As for Valeria, none spoke unto her of Herminius, but Valerius and his wife, Sivelia and Flavia. But this sage Ladie having a great soul, she did not shew all her sorrow, and all her weakness, but unto the only person who knew the secrets of her heart.

Mean time, she had not forgot her request unto Flavia, but so pressed her to satisfie her curiosi∣ty, that this officious friend seeing the sorrow of Valeria to encrease, in lieu of diminishing, she thought it best to do any thing that would lessen her grief for Herminius. Therefore the first time Emilius came to visit her, she obliged him to lend her the Map of Tender, and all your Letters, Madam, also those of Herminius: After which, she went unto her friend, who knowing that she had brought them, caused the woman who waited upon her to with-draw: she shut the chamber door, and commanded that none should enter. She did not fear that Valerius would come and interrupt them, because Sivelia had entreated him to go unto her house. So as being safe on all sides, Flavia sat down by her, putting all that she had upon

a little Table, Valeria began to take one of the Letters; and having much a do to save it from her tears, she began to read the Copy of a Let∣ter which Herminius had writ unto you, Madam, whilst he was with Emilius at Capua; and which indeed was so tender, to be only a Letter of Amity, that Valeria may be pardoned if she took it for a Letter of Love; I would not read the Copy of it which I have, if none but you Madam, were to hear me. But Madam, since Cesonia and Plotina ne∣ver saw it, give me leave to read these lines.

Herminius unto Clelia.

Madam,

DO you ever think upon me? Do you love me as much as you promised? have you endured my absence with any sorrow? And to ask you many things in few words, is your Amity worthy the ten∣derness of mine?

Valeria had no sooner read this Letter, but cry∣ing out most lamentably, and looking upon Flavia in such a manner, as would turn a heart of stone into pity; Is it possible (said she unto her) I should ever see a Letter from Herminius in a style so tender, and not writ unto me? And is it possi∣ble that I should not for ever grieve for his loss? or receive any comfort of this? But (said Flavia unto her, seeing her sorrow to encrease, in lieu of diminishing) though Emilius be a man of much honour, yet this is but a Copy, not the hand of Herminius, for Emilius writ it, and there∣fore methinks, you should not absolutely conclude Herminius guilty. Ah Flavia, (replied she) I can∣not be deceived in the Letters of Herminius; This indeed has not so much wit in it, as some which he writes unto his friends, but it has the same tenderness which he used when he was in love: And I heartily wish this Letter were more witty, and less tender.

After this, she opened another; which Madam, proved to be your Answer, of which Herminius took a Copy to give unto his friend, hoping there∣by to let him see that he was not in love with you. So as Valeria seeing this Letter, and seeing it writ∣ten with the hand of Herminius, this circumstance troubled her more than all the tenderness she found in it.

Pray Amilcar (said Clelia, and interrupted) do not read my answer unto Cesonia and Plo∣tina: For it is not pertinent to the matter in hand; Yes, Madam, answered he, it augmented the jealousie of Valeria, and therefore it is so pertinent, as I conceive it necessary to the story: And therefore since it is short, I will read it di∣stinctly unto you.

Clelia unto Herminius.

PErhaps I think upon you, more than you do of me; I do love you more than ere I told you: your absence troubles me more than you think: and if my affection be not worthy of the Tenderness of yours, you will never find whose is.

Well Elavia (said Valeria to her) what think you of this Letter? Truly (answered she) I do so much wonder at what I see, as I think it pru∣dence, never to trust any again. You are in the right, (replied Valeria) For this Herminius whom you thought a Saint, has doubtless, all the Faults of other Men: You see his perfidie towards me, and you may see his indiscretion towards his new Mistress, in giving Copies of her Letters, and under his own hand. And alas, I doubt he ne∣ver values my honour: For it is more ordinary for a Lover to give the Letters of his first Mistress, unto his second, than for a man in Love to give Copies of his Mistresses letters unto a friend. Thus I have reason to think that he hath sacrificed me unto Clelia, and that whilst I am looking upon her letters with most horrid Anger, she is looking upon those I writ unto that unconstant Man as the most sensible marks of Love that ever were given.

After this, Valeria never staying for Flavia's answer, began to look upon other Letters; and to afflict her self the more, she often saw the word Amitie in the letters of Herminius unto you Madam: And she saw it writ after the same manner he was wont to write it unto her when it was to signifie Love: For, Herminius by often use, had gotten such a habit of writing that word with a great Letter or a little, as it was to signifie, that he writ it very often unto his friends without any manner of design. So as imagining that he used the same invention unto you, Madam, as he did unto her, her sorrows encreased more, and she broke out into such lamentable expressions, as Flavia re∣pented she had obeyed her. After she had read all the letters of this Gallant Amity, which unto miserable Valeria seemed Love, she opened the Map of Tender: But when she cast her eye upon that place, where at the departure from a new Amity, those that hold too much on the right hand, do go out of their way, and go unto Negligence, Inequality, Faintness, Levitie, Ob∣livion, and to the Lake of Indifferency: See, said she, all the ways by which he has passed unto me, and by which I cannot pass unto him: And I wish I could be unfaithful unto his memory, and not be constant unto one that is dead, and was incon∣stant.

Afterwards, looking upon the River of Incli∣nation, by which one goes so swiftly unto Tender, she presently turned away her eyes, as if that ob∣ject had upbraided the violent inclination which she had unto Herminius. Also finding some inven∣tion, and wit in this Map, maugre all her Grief and Anger, she had a spleen which augmented her jealousie, and consequently her despair: So as not being able to consider it any longer, she threw it away hastily, and turning to the other side, she seemed as if she would not any longer look upon the pretended marks of infidelity in Herminius. When Flavia would have taken the Map again, she would not suffer her; and not knowing her self whether she should restore it or no, or break in pieces, she took it out of the hands of Flavia: and after she had confusedly surveyed it, she threw it again unto her friend, who folded it up, with inten∣tion to restore it unto him that lent it. After this, she harkned unto the complaints of Valeria, who did not find that Remedie which she looked for.

Alas! said she, had I upon me but one of these two Torments, perhaps I should find out some kind of Consolation: For, if Herminius were not dead, but alive and unfaithful, then pity would not oppose it self against my hatred: I should have some kind of delight in hating him, or in being indifferent, if I could not hate him: I should do him some ill office to his Mistress, and be reveng∣ed some way or other. But what can I do unto a miserable Man, whom death only renders worthy of my Compassion? So as I can neither hate him, nor be revenged of his perfidie, since the Grave is an unavoidable sanctuary for all miserable people and Criminals. On the other side, had he not been in∣constant, and I had nothing to lament but his death, there might be some consolation found in time, and one might hope to mourn more moderately. When the violence of Grief is grown a little more moderate by habitude, it is some kind of sweet∣ness to talk of the person that is lost; one shall read his letters with a tenderness, which, as full of mourning memorandums as they are, yet there is some sweetness in it: one shall remember all the Testimonies of affection which ere they received; one shall imagine that they had a share in the last thoughts of him that is lost; and one may perhaps have some far fetcht hopes of seeing him again, and that death will reunite that which it did separate. But alas! in the pitiful estate wherein I am, I can never think on Herminius without anger: the very sight of his letters incenses me: The past, the pre∣sent, the future, all torment me and make me despe∣rate. I know, my dear Flavia that I trouble you with my tears, and do tell you no more than what I have told you a hundred times: But alas, I hope you will think it just to pardon me, since it pro∣ceeds from the object of my sorrows.

These Madam, were the thoughts of Valeria whilst Valerius was at Sivelia's house, who had sent for him, to know whether he had received any Packet from her Son: and consequently, whether all these reports of her Son death were true: by which it appeared, that all was false, because his Pacquet was of a very late date. Valerius was in∣finitely joyed to hear it, and commanded the news to be presently sent unto Domitia and Valeria. Ge∣nerous Valerius, replied Sivelia; Let us consider seriously what we do in making this news too pub∣lick: For, when the Tyrant heard of his pretended death, he broke into such cruel expressions against him, as I conceive it best to conceal his being alive from all the world, lest Tarquin should send some to Assassinate him: And to write unto Hermi∣nius that he go presently into Africa. This, replied Valerius, is a very good reason, but me∣thinks not very just, to let Valeria lament him always. Valeria, replied Sivelia, is very dear unto me: But if you consider the unfortunate condition of my Son, you will find, that it is better for Valeria not to know that he is living. For, as long as Tarquin lives, there is no hopes of his return to Rome, and consequently of his marrying Valeria, is it not better then to let her remain in the error, wherein she is? For the greatest part of her grief is past, and Time will so well cure her of affliction, as she will be able to obey you, when you command her to marry some other: For, as I said before, it is not probable my Son can ever be her husband: and though you should not intend to marry her unto another, yet you ought not to tell her that Herminius is alive: for she that cannot hide her sorrows, cannot hide her joys, when she hears the truth. And though I know it will much grieve my Son when he hears of Valeria's marriage: yet if he be just, he cannot blame her, since she thought him dead. You know also that absence, when it is Long, is a great remedy against Love: and there∣fore, since it concerns the life of my Son and the welfare of your Daughter, me-thinks we ought to lay hold of this occasion which fortune gives us for their advantage. This which you say (replied Vale∣rius) is so generous, and so prudent, as I cannot chuse but admire your wisdom and virtue: For, 'tis true, I do not think Herminius can return to Rome as long as Tarquin lives. So as, it being not likely he will dy this twenty years, there is no thinking of a marriage betwixt Valeria and Herminius, and consequently, it were better to cure them of a Fruitless passion, since we have so good an occasion for it. But I desire one promise from you, that if Herminius do return sooner than we expect, you will tell him that it was you who made this proposition unto me. I promise it, replied Sivelia: and to the end this may be kept the more secret, I beseech you, do not tell it unto Domitia, lest she, to cease the sorrows of Valeria, should spoil our plot. After this, Valerius and Sive∣lia agreed unto Herminius, to make him not think it strange if he received no Letters from Valeria, and to oblige him to go speedily in Africa.

As for Valerius, he was very glad that Sivelia had given him liberty to provide a match for Va∣leria: For having none but her, he feared, that if he dyed she should then be left unto the disposition of Tarquins Tyranny, who would seize upon all her estate, and marry her unto some whom he would recompence for some crimes which he had caused him to commit: so as consenting unto Sivelia's Pro∣position, he gave it out so that he was certain Herminius was dead: so as now none making any question of it, Mutius conceived new hopes, not to be denied if he asked Valeria in marriage. But Valerius thinking that Tarquin would as much dislike this match as with Herminius, he did not give Mutius so favourable an answer as he ex∣pected: nor did he like to bestow his daughter up∣on one that was enemy unto Herminius. Mean while, as great as Valeria's grief was, she appre∣hended that the excess of her melancholy might blemish her reputation, she did so strive against it, as she forced her self to appear in the world as she was wont. Truth is, this constraint was very troublesome unto her, but yet in a little time she was able to hide her real thoughts, and to be in company. So as Emilius seeing her as others did, he fell most desperately in love with her; he being of a sweet and complaisant temper, he plea∣sed the humour of Valeria, better than Mutius, who was a little too haughty for a Lover: so as Va∣leria in a little time had less aversion unto him, than unto any that came to see her: yet her soul was un∣satisfied, and far from tranquillity: for grief and anger did always torment her in their turns, and oftentimes both together. Sometimes she would say, she had rather die, than engage her self again in any new affection: otherwhiles she wished heartily, she could love some body to be revenged upon Herminius. And she could hardly ever tell

what to have, unless to be able to revive Hermi∣nius, and revive him faithful.

But whilst her soul was in this humor, whilst Mutius continued courting her; whilst Emi∣lius was engaging himself, and whilst Flavia was a friend unto Emilius, Herminius was in a most mi∣serable condition: For receiving no more Letters from Valeria, and understanding by Sivelia, that he was to go farther from her, and that Tarquin hated him more than ever, he suffered most incre∣dible torment.

However, Herminius highly respecting Sivelia, and knowing her to be very prudent, he thought it his duty to obey her, and go into Africa. Yet not being able to resolve upon it, before he heard from Valeria, he sent a man expresly unto Rome, with Orders to see none but Flavia, unto whom he directed a Letter for her friend. But Herminius did not receive so much satisfaction as he ex∣pected: For, be pleased to know, Madam, that he whom Herminius made choice of to go unto Rome, and who was a very able man, he fell sick at his Mothers, who lived not above six miles from Capua, and whither she was going to live in; he therefore resolved to send one of his Brothers to Rome, who was not so able as himself; and to send him without ever acquainting Herminius, lest he should lose the recompense which was promised unto him: for he thought Herminius would not trust his Brother as he did him, in such a business. However, hoping that his Brother would well ac∣quit himself in the business, he thought that Her∣minius could never know, but that he was at Rome: for he resolved to stay at his Mothers un∣til his Brother returned. Then be pleas'd to know further, that the man who carried the Let∣ter of Herminius, losing his way, and night sur∣prising him, he came to a house which belonged unto Spurius, within six miles of Rome, where he requested lodging for that night: for being a stran∣ger in the Country, and the night dark, he was not able to go any further: As he was talking unto one of Spurius his servants, Spurius himself came and asked him what Country-man he was: But Capua was no sooner named, but Spurius being very desirous to hear all the particulars of Hermi∣nius his death, he asked him if he heard of a Ro∣man called Herminius, that was lately kill'd at Capua. The man hearing Spurius ask this, was at a great non-plus: For, since Herminius did not know, that at Rome they thought him dead, he did not forbid the Messenger to say he was not living, in case any asked: and therefore he whom Hermi∣nius sent, never for bad his Brother; so as he an∣swered Spurius, that Herminius was never killed: true it was, there was another Roman called Cle∣lius, who was thought so; but as for Herminius, he was very well, and that he saw him so the day before he came from Capua. Spurius being surprized at this, asked the fellow a thousand questions, and yet the fellow being well instructed by his Brother, he would never confess what his business was at Rome. But Spurius imagining that Herminius had sent this fellow, and that perhaps he was plotting something in Rome, which moved Sivelia to say that her Son was dead, he therefore devised an expedient, to give himself better satisfaction: which was, to command his men to make very much of the man, and to promise him that in the morning, one of his men should conduct him to Rome: But to arrive at his end, he commanded one of his men to make a composition of the juyce of Poppy, mixed in drink, and to give this fellow: Spurius, being obeyed, the messenger of Herminius slept so soundly as if he would never wake; at least slept till noon the next day. Mean while, Spurius caused him to be searched for Letters: and they found in his Pocket one to Flavia, and another to Valeria: The first of these contained nothing but a desire to present the other unto Valeria, and to procure an answer: But the second con∣tained these words.

Herminius unto Valeria.

HOw comes it to pass, Madam, that you do not answer me? Is it because my passion is trouble∣some unto you? Can you not love one that is absent? Do ye think it a shame to love one that's miserable? And must you hate me because the Tyrant does? I beseech you let me know my destiny; for I cannot go into Afri∣ca, though Sivelia has commanded me, unless the fair Valeria command it also: Tell me therefore, I be∣seech you, Madam; what you would have me to do; and what I must hope for: And in the midst of my miseries, let me have the consolation to hear, that I never need to fear the greatest loss of all, which is the loss of you.

After Spurius had read this Letter, he made no doubt but Herminius was living: so as being as sorry for his life, as he was joyed at his pre∣tended death, his old hatred revived in his heart; and he promised himself to do some mischief with this Letter. He sent therefore speedily to Mutius, who was at a friends house not above two miles from thence: Mutius imagining that Spurius had some earnest business with him, he went as hastily unto him: they no sooner met, but Spurius told him that Herminius was living: he told him what he had done, and shewed him the Letter of this unfortunate Lover, which much afflicted Mu∣tius. Do not think (said Spurius unto him) That I put you unto so much trouble in coming hither, to make you only lament. But, replied Mu∣tius, what would you have me do? Any thing re∣plied Spurius, that will set Valeria and Hermi∣nius at odds: and I am much mistaken if I do not bring it to pass, so you will follow my directions. Alas (answered Mutius) you may be certain I will do any thing that may hurt my Rival. Write then a Letter unto Valeria, replyed Spurius, which may move her to give you a crabbed an∣swer, and which may answer unto the Letter which Herminius writ; and leave all the rest unto me. Alas, Spurius, answered he, I conceive your inven∣tion to be very doubtful: for perhaps Valeria will not answer at all, and though she should, how should I make her answer suit unto the Letter which Herminius writ? Doubtless her answer un∣to you, will answer his also (said Spurius) if your letter be rightly writ: Do you then write it (said Mutius) for I cannot; I will, answered Spurius, so you will write it afterwards in your own hand: After this, Spurius began to write unto Valeria as from Mutius; and these were the words of that crafty letter.

Madam,

WIll you never answer my affection? but leave me still in a most cruel uncertainty? Oh Madam, let me know my Destiny; I have ever enter∣tained some Flattering hopes that Tarquins hatred would prefer me unto your favour: yet I was mistaken in my conjectures, and find my self so unfortunate, as I shall go unto the utmost parts of the World if I lose all my hopes of happiness in you. And yet I will not go untill you command me, for you only have the abso∣lute power to make my destiny: Tell me therefore in two words, whether I shall stay where I am, or unto what part of the World shall I go to forget your cruel∣ty: I give you the choice of Asia, or Africa: For if you be not resolved to make me happy, it is no matter what part of the World be the place of my exile and death.

After Spurius had writ this letter, he observed unto Mutius that he mentioned, Exile, Africa, de∣parture, and command, as well as Herminius, and therefore her answer unto him would in all proba∣bility be an answer also unto Herminius: But re∣plied Mutius, how shall she receive this letter: for as soon as the man awakes, he will go to Rome and carry his letter unto Valeria? Leave that to me, answered Spurius: So Mutius writ over this letter, and also another unto Flavia, desiring her favour in procuring an answer from Valeria.

The Letter unto Flavia, was in these terms.

FOr God's sake, sweet Flavia, have pity upon a mi∣serable man, who at present desires no more but an answer from fair Valeria, which shall tell me whether I must depart from her, or die at her feet: Let me obtain this favour from you, I be∣seech you.

After this, Mutius sent a servant with these two letters unto Flavia. Mean while, Spurius the better to stay the Messenger of Herminius, who slept so soundly; he commanded his men, when he awakened to seem very busie and careful about him, and to tell him, that he had been above six hours in a swound: and accordingly when the cold vapours of the Poppy began to dissipate, and that the man began to give some signs of wa∣king, Spurius his men, who had brought several things, which might make him think he had taken several medicines, they told him all confidently that he was very like to die; that he was still sick: that by no means he should rise: that it was to be fear∣ed he would relapse into the like fit again, and that Spurius had sent for a Physician. So as the Man, who was really a little dizzy in the head with sleeping so long, he believed all that was told him, thanked the men, kept his bed still, and took all the medicines which a pretended Physician pre∣scribed unto him.

Mean while, Spurius, to arrive at his intended end, he did not put the Packet of letters into his Pocket again: But whilst this man was perswaded unto a disease he never had, the servant of Mutius went to Rome, where he acquitted himself so well of his Commission, as he brought answers from Fla∣via and Valeria the same night.

Valeria's answer was in these words.

IT concerns me so very little in what part of the World you live, that so you will write no more unto me, nor ever let me hear from you any expressi∣ons of your affection; I will give you the choice either of Asia or Africa, for the place of your exile: Go therefore whither you will, so you will never trouble me again: for truly you will force me to hate you more than ever Tarquin did, if you will not let me alone in quietness.

The letter from Flavia was in these words.

I Beseech you send me no more letters to Valeria: For since you can never hope for any favourable answer from her, you will but augment your misery in writing to her: Try therefore if you can find more happiness in some other part of the world; For believe it, you can never be but most miserable here.

You may imagine Madam, how welcome these two letters were unto those who expected them, especially Spurius, whose plot had so happily ta∣ken, and whose hatred unto Herminius was greater than that of Mutius, who naturally was not incli∣nable to hatred as he. After they had read these letters two or three times over, they read those from Herminius, and found them so punctually answered, as they doubted not but they would pass for currant. But for a better reception of them, it was requisite either to make the man that was to carry them unto Herminius, of the plot, or else to delude him. Hatred being sometimes as inge∣nious as Love. Spurius found out a way to bring that about: For, be pleased to know, that this En∣voy from Herminius, thinking at last upon the Pacquet which he brought, he began to look for it in his pocket; where not finding it he seemed to be much troubled at it: But being commanded to keep it very secret, he durst not tell the cause of his trouble, but only asked the servants of Spurius, whether during his sickness they found a Pacquet which he had in his pocket. But they all answer∣ing no, he resolved to impart it unto Spurius, that he might command them to make restitution of it. He therefore desired of Spurius, leave to speak with him, and told him, he was sure that he had it when he came into his house, and beseeched him to take such order, that he might have it again; Spurius promised he would; but was not so good as his word: but on the contrary, told him, that all his men swore they had it not, and that certainly it was not lost in his house. The man then grieving excessively at it, he told him plainly, that he durst not return to Capua without it, but that he was a undone man. Spurius seeing him in such a sad condition, most began to comfort him, and ask him if the Pacquet was of any great im∣portance: so as in hopes that perhaps Spurius would keep secret, he told him all the adventure, and how he had a brother whom Herminius ma•••• choice of to carry a Pacquet secretly unto Rome to a Lady called Flavia: That this brother fell

sick at his Mothers house, six miles from Capua, and that lest he should lose the Recompence which Herminius had promised unto him, he sent him in his room unknown to Herminius: adding further, that if he returned without any other answer but that he had lost it, his brother would never look upon him: his Mother would banish him her house, and Herminius would suspect he had be∣trayed him. Spurius then seemed to pity the fel∣low, and promised to make a more strict inqui∣sition: And to be short, he tore the two letters of Herminius in pieces, and went with them to this afflicted fellow, and told him, that as he was walk∣ing in a Wood close by a Garden, he found those pieces of Paper under a bush, and that certainly some of his men had done it; but would not con∣fess: the fellow was at first a little joyed, that they were the same pieces which he had lost; but presently after considering that he durst not car∣ry them to Flavia as they were, he was as much afflicted as before; nay more, because the secret was known amongst the men. Spurius then seeing the man in such despair, and hoping to bring him unto his own desires, he bad him never trouble himself excessively: For, so he would promise never to tell Herminius, nor his brother of this accident, he would infallibly find a remedy against his disease. The man even ravished with joy to hear this, he promised any thing that Spurius de∣sired. After this, Spurius told him, that he was in∣timately acquainted with Flavia and Valeria, and if any shift could be made, to read these torn pieces of the Letter, he would engage that they should never mention the accident unto Herminius; telling him also, that if he would rest himself at his house whilst he went to Rome, he would at his return get his business dispatched: The man finding so fair an opportunity, laid hold upon it; for the fellow not being so crafty as his Brother, he could not com∣prehend he had any further design, than only out of his goodness, to do him this good office: Therefore looking whether if the pieces of the Letters joyned together again, would make the meaning of them appear, and seeing they imported only matter of love, he easily believed, that Spu∣rius spoke sincerely unto him. Yet the fellow had a desire to see Flavia; so as Spurius conceiving that he was not to render an account of his voy∣age unto Herminius, but only unto his brother, who knew not Flavia, he offered to bring him to the speech of her, with intention to let him speak unto a sister he had in lieu of her. But at last, the man referred the whole business unto him; and Spurius going next day to Rome, he returned the day following, and gave him two Letters which were really from Flavia and Va∣leria, for his brother, to give them unto Hermi∣nius: for there being ordinarily no superscripti∣on upon such Letters, these were as applicative unto Herminius as Mutius, who though he was a Rival unto Herminius, yet had no mind to put this trick upon him: Not but that Mutius did naturally love Artifice; yet upon this occasion he had some repugnancy against what his friend did: But being, as I may say, the Father of his love, he 〈…〉〈…〉 unto him. Spurius then gave the two Letters to the fellow; he described Flavia unto him, to the end that if his brother asked any questi∣ons concerning her, he might be able to answer him: so as the man went away very well pleased with Spurius, and with the Letters which he thought would be very welcome unto them, unto whom he carried them; and the thing most parti∣cular in this cheat of Spurius was, that this fellow for his own interest, was obliged to conceal all that might hinder the effects of the fallacy. The fellow then returned to his Brother, who impatiently expected him, because he had stayed beyond his time.

But seeing him returned, and taking the Pacquet, he went to carry it unto Herminius, who was at Capua, after he had told him all that Flavia had said unto him. But I had forgot to tell you that Spu∣rius being very subtil, told the fellow his lesson, and bad him say that Flavia received him very faintly, and spoke but only three words unto him: adding further, that she was the most reserved woman that ever he met with, and spoke the least. Not, Madam, that she was so, but that Spurius proportioned her behaviour and language to the Letter which Herminius was to receive from her: and indeed his plot did take; for this fellow who never stirred from Capua, being well instructed by his Brother, he went unto Herminius, who received him with a strange expectation: since he had not been to see Valeria, he asked him only how Flavia did, and whether she had written unto him. Sir, said he, here's a Pacquet which will give you an exact account that I have performed all your commands. Herminius then took the Pacquet and open'd it, finding therein two Letters, the one from Flavia, the other from Valeria, whose hands he knew very well; so as the sight of them being much joy unto him, he began to read them. You may imagine his sorrow, to see with what rigour Valeria writ unto him, and how ••aint∣ly Flavia answered, and yet he knew the hands, and that both Letters answered punctually unto what he had written, so as he had not the least sus∣picion of any cheat in the business; yet he knew not what to think, but he conceived the silence of Sivelia proceeded from pity, because she would not acquaint him with the inconstancy of Valeria: yet all Lovers being naturally full of curiosity, he asked the fellow that brought these cruel Letters, what Flavia said unto him: but he answered that he found her so cold, and spoke so little unto him, as this confirmed his opinion, that he was the most unfortunate Lover in the world: indeed at that instant he was so, for the cruel thought of being hated by Valeria, made him suffer more torment than I am able to express. How? cruel Valeria (said this afflicted Lover, after he had satisfied and dismissed the fellow) does it not con∣cern you, in what part of the world I live, so you be not troubled with me? Are the testimonies of my passion troublesome unto you? and do you threaten to hate me more than the Tyrant doth, if I continue loving you? Ah Valeria, if you can think so, you have neither any reason nor goodness, nor vertue, and you could not lose your affection to me, without renouncing them all: And you, Flavia, can you tell me I must never be happy at Rome, and advise me to get further from it? Are you as cruel a Friend, as Valeria is a Mistress, and banish me without telling me any cause of my misfortunes? However (pursued he) I must depart, since Sivelia commands it, since Valeria

tells me such things as are able to make me seek a death in the utmost parts of the world, and since Flavia adviseth me unto it. Yet, did I but know what makes me thus miserable, I should be some∣thing less unfortunate; but since it pleaseth my cruel destinies that I should be ignorant of it, I must die desperate.

Herminius uttered a thousand such sad expressi∣ons, without being able to resolve upon any thing: But at last he resolved to write unto Sivelia, that he would go unto Africa, though his design was to go unknown unto Rome, and learn the true cause of his misfortune: And to make it the better believed, he embarqued for Sicily, saying that from thence he would embarque for Agrigente, or Lilybeus, and so continue his voyage. Indeed, he departed from Capua a little before Aronces. But when he was six leagues from Capua, the Commander of the Sip wherein he was, was a man who being resolved to make himself Master of all the merchandize in it, and which were none of his, he made sail toward the Ionian Sea; so as say what Herminius could, obey he must. My discourse would be too long, if I should relate the whole passage of this Sea voyage, though it would be glorious unto him, if you did know it: But I will only tell you, that Herminius being an enemy unto all injustice, and since the interest of his Love called him another way, he wrought so dexterously, as he sprung a faction in the Ship, wherein he was only a passenger: and telling some that they were going to be Pirats without any profit, and that the Captain would enrich himself with the merchandize they helped him to steal, they all became of his opinion. So as flattering them with fair promises, and the glory of doing a great Action, they began to seek occasion of quarrelling with their Commander, who not knowing how to dissemble with them handsome∣ly, did begin to menace them. So as civil war beginning in the Ship, and Herminius seeing the Malecontents to be the stronger party, he placed himself in the head of them: some ranging them∣selves to one end of thd Ship, some to the other, they came to handy blows. In the beginning of the combate, Herminius having gained the Pilot, he caused him to sail about; and he that was chief of the other party not being able to endure it, the combate began with more fury, be∣cause none could run away, but must fight it out, either out of valour or despair.

But at last, heaven assisting the juster side, Her∣minius vanquished, the chief of the other side was killed, the rest laid down their Arms, and all ac∣knowledged Herminius for their Captain: who thinking upon nothing but Valeria, they all made towards Capua, to restore the Ship and the mer∣chandize unto the owners. But Herminius being wounded in the fight, it happened that his wounds being dressed by an ignorant Chirurgion, they be∣came very dangerous. Truth is, his melancholy made them worse, so as he fell into a violent Fea∣ver; mean while, those whom he had incited unto this generous resolution, they took up a fresh one: For thinking that Herminius would die, they fear∣ed that if they should return unto Capua, they should be punished for their theft: so as they re∣solved to continue Pirats, and to divide amongst them all in the Ship, when they came unto any Port where they could make fale thereof. They altered therefore their course, and made towards Africa, for they were then near the the Cape of Lilybeus, being driven thither by the wind, but meeting there with a Bark of Sicilian Fishers, they resolved to put Herminius in it, and remove an ob∣ject which might make them change opinion: The Fishermen at first were unwilling to receive Hermi∣nius: but being given something, and told that the man would recompence them very bountifully if he recovered of his wounds, at last they took him into their Boat with one servant only. As for Hermi∣nius, he was not able to dispose of himself, or op∣pose them: for he was fallen into a Lethargy, and knew not what was done until after the Fishermen had brought him unto their house. I need not tell you, how he was astonished, when he returned to himself, and in lieu of being in a ship, to see him∣self in a Fishers Cabin, and to see, that he was on Land in lieu of Sea. But for all his melancholy he recovered, after a long sickness: Then he wrote into Campania for some relief. Yet since the thought of Valeria would not out of his mind, he designed himself for Rome, though time had made no altera∣tion in his love. Accordingly he imbarqued, and came by Sea with Artemidorus, Zenocrates, and me, as perhaps you have heard in your passage to Italy. But, Madam, if you will be pleased to reflect your thoughts upon Rome, and remember the condition wherein I was when I left Valeria; you will also remember how sadly she took the news of the death and inconstancy of her Lover: you will also re∣member that Emilius was deep in love; that Emi∣lius was amiable, sweet and complaisant: that Va∣lerius and Sivelia, would have all the world believe Herminius was dead: and how the fair Valeria sometimes wished she could love some or other, only to be revenged of Herminius, and forget him. On the other side, Spurius and his friend seeing the report of Herminius his death continue, they knew not what to think upon the adventure, and were much joyed to observe, that Valeria when any occasion presented it self, did not mention him with the same tenderness she was wont. For in the time when she did love him most tenderly, and believed her self loved again, she took much delight in talking of him, and could not chuse but so highly applaud him, as made it eminently ap∣parent, what pleasure she took in the mention of him. Yet Mutius was not a jot the more happy: for having seen him in the time of Herminius, she could not now look upon Mutius, but she remem∣bred him, and was so unjust as to wish him ill; and sometimes thought her self a little obliged unto Emilius, for being so much mistaken in Her∣minius. However, Emilius being of very good quality, and being both amiable and rich; Valeri∣us, who observed the inclination he had unto his Daughter, was very glad of it, and wished hearti∣ly she were married unto him, lest if he should dye she should be left to the disposition of the Tyrant Tarquin. So knowing no man but Herminius, upon whom he would more willingly bestow her, he bad him very kindly welcome to his house, and commanded Valeria to treat him very civilly: on the other side, the Parents of Emilius, who being desirous to keep him in Rome, and thinking to marry him, they bethought themselves of ano∣ther very rich young Lady: but they altered that

design, by reason of his love to Valeria, who maugre all the supposed inconstancy of Herminius, did continually lament him: and though when she imagined him to be unfaithful, she was extremely angry against him, yet she heartily wished he would revive constant, or at least repent of his inconstan∣cy. For though it is usual for death to efface or diminish injuries, yet it hapned otherwise with Valeria. Time did diminish her grief, but not her anger, and sometimes she thought, that since Herminius was inconstant, it was better for her that he was dead, than otherwise. At least (said she in talking of you Madam) my Rival has lost him as well as I; and I may well think that she is more afflicted than I am.

You may judge Madam, by what I have said, that Valeria still loved Herminius, when she thought she did not. But for all that, the sweetness of Emi∣lius was not displeasing unto her. As for Mutius, that which most hurt him, was, she knew he follow∣ed the Counsels of Spurius whom she loved not, and that he often saw Salonina, whom in her heart, she could not endure. But as for Emilius, knowing no∣thing but vertue in him; finding him to be sweet, civil complaisant, full of spirit, amorous, and very assiduous and officious about her, if she did not love him, she wished she could: and did believe she either did, or should love him. Yet she did not live with him as she was wont with Herminius: There was no secret or mystery made of this affection, but she permitted him to tell her that he loved her, yet not before Valerius had told her his mind.

Mean while, Emilius was very well satisfied with her; she received him kindly, and hearkned unto him, she did not answer him sharply, nor ever forbad him to hope for her Love. But the strangest thing was, that Emilius never heard there was any particular affection between Herminius and Va∣leria. The reason of it doubtless was, that fal∣ling in love with her, as soon as he came to Rome; and never making any secret of his Pas∣sion, none would so far trouble themselves as to tell him a thing that was to no purpose. Also, he being a meer stranger in his own Countrey, he had not any particular friend, to give him an ac∣count of former passages. However Valerius fear∣ing lest Tarquin should forbid him to marry his Daughter unto Emilius, as he had unto Hermi∣nius, he therefore told Emilius, that if he would marry his Daughter, he desired it might be done speedily, lest Tarquin should forbid the banes: So as Emilius without more consideration told him, that he wished nothing more earnestly than to have all concluded: and was the more earnest in it, because his Parents were desirous he should marry the Rich Inheritrix whom they had pro∣posed unto him: but his Parents being neither a Father or Mother, or any such near alliance whom he was obliged to obey, he rejected their Coun∣sel, and would follow his own inclination: So as having the consents of Valerius and his wife, it was resolved that Emilius should marry Vale∣ria within eight days, and that they should be married in the Countrey, at a house which Vale∣ria had, lest Tarquin should have intelligence of it.

Emilius was now as happy as a man could be, having no rubs in his Love, but the excess of his Passion. Valeria on her side, she was not much transported with any joy, nor was she very melan∣choly: and yet her converse with Flavia was very sad when she came unto the Country house where she was to marry Emilius the next day: For, begin∣ning then to think upon the engagement unto which she was to enter, and calling to memory former passages, her heart was much disordered: they were both together alone in Valeria's Chamber: Emilius was not to come until night: So as they had free liberty of speech together. Alas, Flavia (said Va∣leria unto her) If any had heretofore told me that I should marry any but Herminius, I should never have believed them: but then I thought he would never have left me for any other whomsoever. I must confess, that had not Herminius been dead, I should never have thought upon any marriage: for my hopes of his hearty repentance, would have de∣fended my heart against the passion of Emilius.

But he being both inconstant and dead, I must confess to my shame, that I have some tenderness towards Emilius, and look upon him as a man is whom I may be happy, or at least not very misera∣ble, if I can forget Herminius. Yet (added she and blusht) to be exactly vertuous, and also prudent, I ought before I marry him, to sacrifice unto my revenge all that remains of the perfidious Hermini∣us. I never could do't till now: but now both vertue and reason command it, and notwithstanding all the elegantness of his letters, verses, and ten∣derness towards me, I must deprive my self of them for ever. Oh Valeria (said Flavia) do not offer to lose such excellent pieces, but rather trust them unto my discretion. If I should (replyed Valeria) it should be upon condition, never to be reproached with them again: for to discover the bottom of my heart unto you, I shall merit your compassion: for upon examination of my self, I find, that when I would hate the memory of Her∣minius, I cannot; and when I would love Emi∣lius, I cannot bring it to pass: Yet at some times I think that I do hate Herminius, and love Emilius: But for all that I never can find that tranquil∣lity in my heart which is the effect of true joy, though I find not any thing to desire, but what I have. For Emilius is handsom, he has high bloud, he has courage and wit, and a violent passion to me: He prefers me before the richest match in Rome: he is of a sweet disposition; and I know not what I can wish more in him to make my self happy. After this falling into talk of Herminius, Valeria with Tears in her eyes, took a little Cabi∣ner, where she kept all his letters, and offered to tear in pieces all the Letters of her former Lover. But Flavia was so earnest with her, that at last she consented that she should have them, upon condition never to shew them unto her. So as Flavia taking the Cabinet, and all in it, she car∣ried it unto the Chamber which was allotted her. After which, these two Ladies went to walk by the side of a Rivulet, which was very pleasant, and from whence one might see all the way from Rome thither. And Emilius was to come that way.

As for Valerius and Domitia, they thought upon nothing but taking all necessary orders for the next day: For, though the company was not to be great, yet would they have all things in handsom order and decency at this private Feast.

Emilius for his part, his heart was so full of joy, that all the care he took, was to go be times unto the place where he was to be made happy: So as referring unto his servants the care of all things necessary for the marriage day, he departed with only one servant, to go unto his dear Valeria. In his going thither, he entertained himself with every thing that might flatter his passion; and his spirit thinking upon nothing but delights, he fanci∣ed the satisfaction Herminius would have to see him so happy, if he were alive; and also the pleasure he himself should have in seeing his friend. When this thought came upon him, he was not above two hundred paces from the house of Valerius. So as Valeria and Flavia, who were walking by the River side, might easily see him: entertaining himself in this manner at a place where two ways crossed; he heard the noise of a horse on his right hand which made him look that way. But as soon as ever he had turned his head, he espied Hermi∣nius; yet he never thought him whom he saw to be his friend: For his imagination being prepos∣sessed with an opinion of his death, and being also at a good distance, he thought him only some man that resembled him. But Herminius, who had nothing in his mind which made him not credit his eyes, no sooner espied Emilius, but he went immediately unto him. Oh my dear Emilius (said he unto him) how happy am I to meet with you! Emilius was much surprised at these words: for believing two of his senses, he began to think that Herminius, was risen from the dead, since both his eyes and his ears told him so; they meet there∣fore each other, and lighting from their horses, which they left with their men, they embraced each other with abundance of joy and tenderness, for they loved one another most dearly. Is it possible (said Emilius unto his friend) I should have the happiness to embrace you, after all hopes of you were lost? and at the very same instant when I was thinking of you, and desiring your company, you should come to partake of my joys: For, truly my dear Herminius, if you still re∣tain the same thoughts of your friend, doubtless you will be very glad to see me happy: Never doubt on't, replied Herminius; And to defer the pleasure of it no longer from me, pray tell me what happiness it is. You shall know it, replied Emilius, when you have told me by what miracle you are raised from the dead.

Herminius, who knew not that all Rome thought him dead, did think Emilius meant the length of his exile: so as making no great matter of what he said, he only told him that the relation of his fortune would be too long for that place; and that all he would tell him was, that being come to the Court of Italy with an African, called Amilcar, and two of his friends, the one called Artemido∣rus, and the other Zenocrates; he left them upon a promise to meet again at the house of Valerius, where he was to go to hear how squares went at Rome, and where he had much other business of great importance. But after this (added he) pray tell me, whither are you going at present, and of what nature is the happiness which you are to enjoy, and in which I must share with you? The place whither I go (answered Emilius) is the very same to which you go, and not to conceal my good fortune any longer from you; know, my dear Herminius, that to morrow I am to marry the fair Valeria, with whom I fell desperately in love as soon as I came to Rome, after I left you at Capua. How Emilius? (replied Herminius very sternly) are you to marry Valeria to morrow; Valeria the daughter of Valerius, whom Spurius once loved, and afterwards Mutius, when I went from Rome? The very same (replied Emilius, much surprised to see the astonishment and sorrow of his friend) But what's the reason this news in lieu of rejoycing, does trouble you? Oh Emilius (said Herminius, and recoyled apace) what News have you told me? I have told you the truth, replied he, and a truth which I thought would have been joy unto you: and yet I am so unhappy as to see it trouble you, but cannot imagine the cause. For I am sure you loved Clelia when we were at Capua, and I never saw any appearance of your loving Valeria, or of her loving you: What then is the cause of this great alterati∣on I find in your face, and this trouble which I see in your heart? For if my good fortune does any ways afflict you, I do declare unto you, that I cannot be happy.

Ah Emilius (said Herminius:) Is it possible you should never hear in Rome that I loved Valeria? and that you cannot love her unless you become my Rival, my enemy, and unless you betray that Ami∣ty which you promised? I knew not that you loved Valeria, replied Emilius: And though I had known it, yet believing you to be dead, as all the rest of your friends did, nay Sivelia her self, I think I did you no wrong in loving her whom you loved. I never knew of your love to Valeria, for since I had no thoughts of it at Capua, I could not have at Rome; so as finding in this sweet and fair Lady, all the sweetness and complaisance that vertue would permit her to shew, I had no reason to think she intended the happiness of any more than my self. Oh Emilius (replied Herminius, and sighed) Valeria is a perfidious woman, and may withdraw her affection from you, as well as from me: But since it is thus (added he) and that I am so unfortunate as to find a happy Rival in the person of a friend whom honour will not per∣mit me to use as an enemy; and that I am also so miserable as to have a Mistress, who does not only cease loving me, but can love another; my jour∣ney is at an end, I need know no more, I came only for Valeria, and since Valeria is to be yours, I have nothing to do but to die. In saying so, Herminius with abundance of sorrow in his eyes, would have left Emilius, to go and take his horse. But Emilius, whose heart was divided between Amity and Love, between his Friend and his Mistress, and who perhaps had some sparks of jea∣lousie which he knew not of, he was very de∣sirous to know a little more: so as taking Hermi∣nius by the arm, and speaking unto him with much generosity and tenderness; I beseech you (said he unto him) do not offer to leave me thus cruelly, but consider, I conjure you, my innocency towards you. For you know, that during all the time of our travails together, you never acquainted me with your love to Valeria; you never so much as named her unto me: as I often told you, I thought you in love with Clelia: 'Tis true, you would never confess that unto me: yet I had good cause to think you were: And I had reason to think, that if you had had any Mistress in Rome, you would

have imployed me with some Letter or service to her when I came thither, where I met with the Physician of Capua, who shewed me a Letter which imported your death: I published the news with incredible grief: It was confirmed by Sive∣lia, who also published the particulars of it to all the world: the Tyrant grieved you had escaped his cruelty; all your friends lamented you: I saw Valeria, I fell in love with her: I found her disposed to obey Valerius, who commanded her to entertain my affection: and I prepared my self to marry her by consent of all, even of your illustrious Mother who knew of it. What crime then have I committed? and wherein have I wronged you? In nothing, answered Herminius; but your innocence does only make me the more miserable: for indeed Emilius, if it had been any other but your self, either he or I should have died, rather than endured he should take Valeria from me, who as ungrateful and unfaithful as she is, yet is she so dear unto me, as without death, I cannot suffer another should enjoy her; Therefore, since I cannot with honour be your enemy, and since it does not please my capricious fortune I should have such a Rival whom I may ruine; I will even go and die in some place or other, where my passion shall not force me to any thing against my duty, For, let me tell you, that considering the humour I am in, I dare not answer for my self if I see you long. Go therefore, happy Emilius, and gather the re∣compence of all my services: and if you will, never tell the inconstant Valeria that I am living, since the term I have to live is so short, as I shall quickly confirm the news of my death.

Did I think the sight of me would afflict that ungrateful person, who is going to make you happy, and hath so long and so cruelly deluded me, I would go and upbraid her with inconstancy: But since now, she loves you better than ever she loved me, she will not startle at the sight of me, but rather triumph over my misfortune.

After this, he offered to disengage himself from Emilius, who held him by force, and gave him most obliging language, though his mind was much disquieted, for he loved Herminius most tenderly: he was infinitely obliged unto him: and he un∣derstood that Valeria had loved him, and he knew not what to think. Love on one side tormented him; friendship raised a thousand scruples in his heart: jealousie did mix it self amongst all these several sentiments, and he was no less miserable than Herminius, who could not conceive how Si∣velia could come to so many particulars of his sup∣posed death; nor why Valeria should write unto him as she did; nor how she could love Emilius so soon; nor how Valerius, who was a man of great honour, could break his word with him: for he could not fully perswade himself that he was thought to be dead, though his friend told him so, because looking then upon him as a Rival, he sus∣pected all he said: but during this long contest, Valeria and Flavia, who were walking by the River side, they could not imagine who it should be that was talking with Emilius whom they knew, because they knew he was to come that way: But as for Herminius, they never dreamt of him, nor thought him living; and therefore knew him not; and be∣sides, his back was turned towards them: they were a little troubled at their long discourse, which was with that earnestness, as made it evident they talked of something which did not please them; so as ima∣gining it might be Spurius or Mutius, they feared some disasterous adventure. Then spying Valerius, who was walking to see whether a Fountain was rightly ordered, these two Ladies told him the cause of their inquietude: Valerius turning about, and see∣ing them, he went unto the place where those two men were in such earnest discourse: he was come very near unto them, before they perceived him: for they were so intent upon their discourse, that they minded nothing else. But Valerius no sooner saw Herminius than he knew him, and was not in any such amaze as Emilius, because he knew that he was not dead: he therefore stept nearer, and embraced Herminius, who was much surprised to see him∣self in the Arms of Valerius; but much more, when Valerius turned towards Emilius, and told him, that he must now revoke his word. For (said he) if my daughters heart be not changed towards Herminius, and if the heart of Herminius be not changed towards my daughter, she cannot be yours, since now he is returned. Oh Sir, replied Emi∣lius, do not force me to grieve at the life of a friend who is so dear unto me: No, no, replied Herminius faintly, never fear the generosity of Va∣lerius: the heart of Valeria is changed, and I am not so happy as to render you miserable. Valerius finding himself betwixt two men whom he loved so dearly, and who found it so difficult to please both, he thought upon nothing then, but how to carry them both to his house, lest they should be exaspe∣rated against each other. At first, their spirits did so boil, and they knew so little what to do, that they would not go with him: For Herminius said he had no mind to see Valeria, since she loved him not: Emilius on his side said, that since Valerius revoked his word, in all probability Valeria would revoke her heart: and Valerius not knowing well what to answer them, he heartily beseeched them to follow him.

Mean time, these two fair ones that were walk∣ing, seeing Valerius bring those he went unto, along with him, they went unto the door where Va∣lerius was to enter, purposely to see who were with him: but in coming thither, they were strangely surprised to see Herminius whom they believed to be dead. Yet there was a great difference between Valeria and Flavia: for the last of these went to him with abundance of joy, and Valeria in lieu of joy, went back, and was constrained to sit down upon a seat of grass which was near the door, for she was so troubled and astonished at the sight, as she fell almost into a swoond; yet she had so much prudence to dissemble as well as she could: but being very pale, and not able to speak, they fear∣ed she was very sick; so as Herminius for all his anger, was the first that went to hold her up: 'Tis true, Emilius went presently after him; so as these two Lovers were equally officious in helping her; but she having her knowledge per∣fect, though she could not speak, she pushed them both away, and holding out her hand to Flavia; she looked so, as it was easie to see the disorder of her soul.

Mean while, Domitia being advertised of it, she came and caused Valeria to be carried in a Chair to

her Chamber, where Flavia who knew the secret of her heart, said, that it were convenient to leave her alone: so as Herminius and Emilius, as well as Va∣lerius, they all retired and left her with Domitia and Flavia. Domitia also left her as soon as she was a little come to her self, and went to hear how it was possible Herminius should be alive. She was no sooner gone, but Valeria began to speak: Oh Fla∣via, (said she unto her) what think you of my odd fortune and imbecillity? Do you think I will love Herminius and not Emilius? No, no, For I am resol∣ved never to pardon the infidelity of the first, and never to forget my obligations unto the second: But truly it must needs be confest, that I am very unfortunate. You have formerly wished so hearti∣ly, replied Flavia, only for one of those misfor∣tunes which tormented you, in desiring that Her∣minius were not inconstant, or that he were dead, that methinks you have reason for what you say; for you said, in those days, that if Herminius were living, you should be glad of it, only to revenge your self upon him, and upbraid him with his crime; so as if you be in the same mind still, you should be glad to see him, since now you are able to be reven∣ged of his inconstancy, by marrying Emilius to morrow; and you may upbraid him with infide∣lity, since he is now in the same house with you. Oh Flavia (replyed she) I was much in the wrong when I wished so: for certainly the sight of a per∣fidious Lover, is much more horrid than the sight of a dead one: or at least, it seems so unto me at present. Take heed what you say, replyed Flavia, for I never heard that anger made any swoond: and I believe there is something in your heart more than you know of, which perhaps is more favou∣rable unto Herminius than you imagine: No, no, Flavia, replied she, I am more Generous than you think me: and you shall never see me prefer an In∣constant, before a faithful Lover: And though I do find in my heart many advantageous thoughts of of that perfidious Lover, which is quite contrary to all Reason; yet notwithstanding, I wish heartily that death would equally take me both from Hermi∣nius and Emilius.

Valeria had a thousand other passionate expressi∣ons unto Flavia, who having not yet talked with Herminius, she knew not what to say of him: For though she observed by the manner of his going to help Valeria, that he did still passionately love her; yet considering upon what terms Vale∣ria was with Emilius, she durst not offer any of∣fice for Herminius, until she better knew both their minds.

Valeria, for all her perplexities, yet thought she saw some signs of Love in the behaviour of Her∣minius: but yet she kept it secret from Flavia, and would fain have thought that he did not love her. Whilst she was in this turbulency of mind, Valeri∣us, who dearly loved both Herminius and Emilius, he spoke unto them both in presence of each other with abundance of generosity and kindness: He told Herminius in presence of Emilius, that it was he who published the news of his death: He told him afterwards how great was the grief of all his Friends, of Sivelia, of Emilius, of his own: Confessing unto him, that Valeria was sooner comforted than he could have believed, and that she appeared more angry than sad. After this, he told him how Sivelia and he confirmed the re∣port of his death, to beget the same opinion in Valeria, and lest he should be exposed unto the cru∣elty of Tarquin, who was most horridly incensed against him. Yet, added he, Do not accuse me of voluntary breaking my word, since I did it only to save your life, and also by the advice of Generous Sivelia.

Mean while, since you and Emilius are friends, since you have not done any thing to upbraid each other, and since my daughter thinking you dead, did not commit any crime in obeying me; Let reason determine this great difference: and let him of you two, whom Valeria loves best, obtain her: For in my opinion, as things are, he that shall marry her will never be happy, unless he be so chosen. For my part, (replied Herminius, de∣jectedly) I know the heart of Valeria better than you do, and will prepare my self to die with grief without asking any other favour than once to have the liberty of speech with that unjust person, who has thrown me out of her heart.

Valerius hearing Herminius say so, he begun to excuse his Daughter, for he knew not of those bit∣ter letters which Herminius had received by the Artifice of Spurius, which made him think he quar∣relled with her without a cause, further than be∣cause she loved Emilius. But after a long discourse it was resolved that the next morning if Valeria was any thing better, Herminius should speak with her without any witnesses but Flavia. That Emilius; afterwards, should have the same freedom. That after this, they should both together see her in the presence of Valerius and Domitia; and then to let her chuse according unto her own mind. So as af∣ter this, every one retir'd into their Chambers. As for Valerius, upon pretence of Valeria's sickness, he sent to un-invite those persons who were to be at her wedding. Mean while, you may easily imagine how sad a night it was unto Herminius, unto Emilius, and unto Valeria. Emilius, when he was arrived at the very point of happiness, found himself ready to fall into a Gulf of misery, by reason of his friends misfortune, and out of fear that Valeria would not change her mind. Herminius on his side suffered most incredible tor∣ment, by reason of a thought that he was not loved: that he had such a Rival as he could not ruine him, nor charge him with any fault, and out of a most cruel thought that Valeria loved this Rival, that she would chuse him, and that Valeria would mar∣ry him.

As for that fair one, she was not a whit more happy than they: her heart and her mind was so full of love, anger, jealousie, and irresolution, that she could not sleep a jot all night, so as she spent it in talking with Flavia, who would by no means leave her in that condition. But morning being come, Valerius sent her a command to re∣ceive a visit from Herminius, and to hear all his reasons. At the first, she had a mind to disobey her Father; but presently after, desiring to chide and upbraid him for his supposed infidelity, she prepared her self to receive his visit.

But since it would require some time before her answer could be brought unto Valerius, who was walking in his Garden, and also some time before Herminius could be advertised of it, she thought him very long in coming, and imagined that he was ashamed to see her, and that he was

studying what to say. For my part (said Flavia) since Herminius does still desire to see you, I be∣lieve that either he is not unfaithful, or that he re∣pents of his being so. Though either of those two should be so, replied Valeria, yet should I still be very miserable. How? replied Flavia, would you think your self miserable, if you should find that Herminius did always love you, and still doth? Yes, answered Valeria, for if Herminius should prove innocent, I shall appear criminal unto him, and he will upbraid me with a thousand things. Then, replied Flavia, it were better for you, if it shall appear he has been inconstant, and that he repents. No, replied she, for I perceive that if he repent, I shall be so simple as to suffer my heart to melt, and perhaps so unjust, as to prefer a Repentant Criminal, before one that is inno∣cent, so as my reason disagreeing with my heart I shall be still miserable. What then should he have done, replied Flavia, to have rendred you happy? Herminius, replied she, ought ever to have been faithful unto me; I should never have suspected him for an inconstant man; that I had never thought him dead, that Emilius had never loved me, or that I had ever scorned him, so as since it is impossible these things should ever be, it is impossible I should ever be happy. As she said so, Herminius entred, and saluted her with most profound respect, yet with so much sadness in his countenance, that if the spirit of Valeria had not been prepossessed, her heart had melted. Mean time, she took his signs of sorrow for signs of shame, and both her grief and anger redoubled. All the Letters of Herminius to Clelia, which she had seen, and all those of Clelia to Herminius, came into her imagination to incense her. She fancied the Map of Tender, to be a Map of Love, rather than a Map of Amity: and Herminius appearing unfaithful unto her, he did not appear amiable. She received him therefore at the first, with a coldness mixed with disdain; and if Flavia had not made him sit down she would never have offered it. But in fine, Herminius be∣ginning to speak, I see, Madam, said he unto her, that you look upon me as an unfortunate man, who unwelcomly is come to molest your pleasures: and that now you loving the too happy Emilius, you hate the unfortunate Herminius. I do confess it (replied she sharply) And why should I not hate an ungrateful man, who has forgotten all the favours he has received from me, as soon as he is out of my sight: who loved another as soon as ever he was out of Rome, and who is so audacious now, as being out with his new Mistress, to come and torment me with his presence, and feigned complaisance? For I know you intend to speak unto me as formerly you used; but know, that now things look with another face: you are now out of my heart, and I have received Emilius by my Fathers command. Oh, Madam, (said Her∣minius) you are most unjust, and most cruel in saying so. I beseech you do not seek for any pretences unto your inconstancy, nor accuse me to excuse your self. Confess ingenuously, that looking upon me as an unfortunate exile, who durst never return to Rome; you had no mind to share in my misery, but to avoid the rigours of absence, have banished me out of your heart. Confess, I say, that to be the more handsomly un∣faithful, you have seemed to think me dead, and that Emilius seeming more handsome in your eye, you have loved him both by choice and weakness.

For my part, Madam, I can most safely swear, that since I was out of your sight, I never enjoyed one minute of real pleasure. Indeed, I did meet with an illustrious friend in my Travails: but all his friendship did never ease me of the least torments which my love to you made me endure: but I have been always the most miserable of men, whilst you thought your self most happy in lo∣ving, and in the love of Emilius. Oh most perfidious (cryed out Valeria, and interrupted him) Can you be so impudent, as to say you have not betrayed me, and that you have not been in love? But to make you the more ashamed of your crime, and to let you see I deserve not to be quitted for another; Do not interrupt me, but give me time to tell you what I think, and what you should never know, but to torment you. Know therefore ungrateful wretch, that I have loved you more tenderly than ever any loved: you know it well enough, unjust man that you are: and did I think you had forgotten all those testimonies of affections which I have given you, I should never have rubbed up your memory of them: for I am much ashamed that I ever loved a most perfidious man. But once more, I confess, that I loved you better than ever I did my self; and that I still loved you with equal tenderness, maugre your long silence, untill that unfortunate day wherein I heard both of your death and your infidelity. But Madam, replied he, since you see the news of my death was false, why will you not think the report of my infidelity to be so also? Because (answered she) I have such con∣vincing proofs of your infidelity, that I can ne∣ver doubt of it. However, Flavia knows very well, that had I not believed you dead, Emilius had loved me in vain; and as perfidious as you are, I should have been contented to have hated and scorned you, without ever loving any other. But believing you to be both inconstant and also dead; I must confess, I did what I could to love Emilius, and at last, I am—Oh, Madam (cryed Herminius, and interrupted her) you never did love me, if you be able to pronounce so cruel a sen∣tence. But before you try, give me leave to ask what testimonies you have of my inconstancy: and who the impostor is, that has told you so great a lye? Valeria was now at a stand: for all her suspicious were grounded only upon the report of Emilius, who had innocently shewed all the Let∣ters which had caused so much affliction unto her. So as being unwilling to bring him to the test, she would not at first give any precise answer unto Herminius, nor instance any particulars. Her∣minius upon this, thinking she had no cause for her pretended suspicious, and that all that she said was only to find an excuse for her weakness, he began to be very angry, and twit her with a thousand re∣proaches. For, Madam, (said he unto her, after many other things) can you make me believe, you thought me dead as others did, and yet with your own hand write unto me the most cruel Letter that ere was writ; and which certainly you would never have writ, but in hopes it would kill me, and so disengage your self from all those promises which

you have made unto me, or at least to pack me away unto places so remote, as I should never re∣turn to molest you. Neither can Flavia be igno∣rant of this truth, since she was as tart in her Letter almost as you. Valeria hearing Herminius say so, she looked upon Flavia with amazement: Flavia she looked upon Herminius, and told him that she never writ unto him, nor ever thought of writing, because since Emilius returned to Rome, she ever thought him to be dead. Herminius being out of all patience, shewed unto Valeria and Flavia, those two Letters which they had written unto Mutius, and which Spurius had sent unto Herminius, in an∣swer to those which he had written unto Valeria and Flavia. Valeria no soooner looked upon them, but she knew them to be those which Flavia and she had writ unto Mutius. How was it possible (said they then unto him) that these Letters should come into your hands? For, ungrateful man that you are (said Valeria unto Herminius) these Let∣ters were writ unto a man, whom for the love of you I ever scorned, and if you were just, you would think your self obliged unto me for the tart∣ness of this Letter, since it was unto Mutius I writ it. I think Madam, replied Herminius, you would drive me out of my wits; For, as certain as I am living, the Man whom I sent from Capua unto Rome, did bring me these two Letters in answer unto those two which I writ unto you and Flavia, and they do most punctually answer unto every thing contained in those two which I sent unto you: And it is also most certain, that this cruel answer is the true cause of my long silence, and of my exile: And yet Madam, the belief of your Inconstancy never moved me unto the least inclination of any Infidelity, and you have been always the only Saint whom I loved and adored: But I pray, who was he, said Flavia, that brought these two Letters unto you? he was a brother (answered he) unto one that is now my servant.

For, it was very true, that he who was imploy∣ed in this voyage to Rome, was entred into the ser∣vice of Herminius, when he came from Capua, and it was the same servant that was with him at the house of Valerius.

Mean time, Herminius, finding some sweetness in the thought that Valeria had no hand in wri∣ting those two letters; he desired still to justifie himself, and beseech her most earnestly to tell him, upon what cause she accused him: and she without ever mentioning Emilius, did intimate, that it was, because he loved you Madam.

Oh Madam (said he unto her) you could never have had any such thought but only by my Rival, who is the only man in the World, from whom it could proceed, though he never so much as saw her, whom he accused me to love: and to speak sincerely, my punctual fidelity in keeping my passi∣on secret, made him suspect me to love at Capua: He saw me very sad, and heard me sigh, and saw I received and writ Letters, wherein were some ex∣pressions of Amity, which appeared unto him, to be expressions of Love: and I make no doubt but that to ingratiate himself the more, he has shewed you all the Copies of those Letters which I wrote then unto that excellent Lady, and of which I made so little account, as I consented he should have them: yet now he says, he knew not that I loved you, but I have reason to think, he said not truth. Flavia then beginning to speak, she told Herminius, that he had no reason to blame or ac∣cuse Emilius; And told him truly how he acquaint∣ed Valeria, with the news of his death, and Incon∣stancy: and lest this should move Herminius against Emilius, she told him, how sadly he took the news of his loss.

So as Herminius, now knowing whereof he was accused, he was very glad to see that, without all doubt he should one day make a clear Justification of himself. Oh Madam (said he then unto Vale∣ria) thanks be to heaven I am most sure, that a little time will let you see my innocence. For that illustrious Daughter of generous Clelius, does love, and is loved by a Prince so great, that ere long this Love will be published over all Italy: Ho∣ratius, a Roman, and one you know, is Rival unto the Prince I speak of. And ten thousand Persons are able to testifie that Clelia is only my Friend, and never was my Mistress. When I first saw her, she was then engaged in the Love of Aronces, Son to the King of Clusium: I was and am still the Confident of this innocent Love: and if you could as easily justifie your self as I can, I should not be so unfortunate as I am: But alas unjust woman, though you had thought me dead and unfaithful; yet this was not enough to oblige you unto an en∣gagement in a second affection. Indeed, had you been contented to hate me, and forget me, I should have been obliged unto you, for your hatred, and oblivion: but you have done worse in bestowing upon Emilius that same heart which you have sworn ten thousand times should never be any's but mine. One would think, as you have confessed you have used him, that you were most desirous to recom∣pence him for acquainting you with my inconstan∣cy and death: For to tell you truly, had you loved me, you could never have endured so much as the sight of a man, who brought you such cruel news: And yet you suffered him, you loved him, you do love him still, and perhaps you are so unjust, as to tell me that you will Love him always. Yet think upon't once more, too amiable Valeria; Remem∣ber what promises you have made me: bethink your self of what you have told me since I came hither, how that if you had not thought me incon∣stant and dead, you had not been unfaithful: And to be just unto your self refer it unto Time, to know the truth of what I say: I will engage my self that Clelius and Sulpitia, whose vertue and merit is known unto Valerius, shall tell you, that I was never the Lover of their Daughter: I will engage my self that Clelia shall confess unto you, that she loves Aronces: And I promise you, that before it be long, all Italy shall talk of the love of A∣ronces and Clelia, whom I love as well as ever I did, though I know she does love her dear Aron∣ces, as well as I deserve to be loved by you. But Herminius, replied Valeria, the Letters which I have seen are so tender, and the Map which was shewed unto me so gallant, as I know not whether or no I should believe you. Madam, replied he, you may remember, that you upbraided me a thousand times with writing too much flattery, and in such a style, as those unto whom I writ, might think that Love which was only Amity: And indeed my tenderness of Passion to you, had infused such a passionate, character into all my

spirits, as made all my friends believe all the thoughts of my Soul to be love. And Madam, should I have given Copies of Letters from the person I loved? or should I only have shewed them? Alas, I was so far from any such indiscretion as I have carefully preserved that cruel letter which I shewed unto you, although I cannot look upon it without anger and despair.

Be assured therefore Madam, that I am innocent, and you are culpable: For Madam, though I had been dead and inconstant, yet ought you not to have engaged your self in a second affection; I should have died of sorrow; or if anger had kept me from dying, I should have hated all women in lieu of loving any one, and perhaps as unfaithful as you was, in my belief, I should have loved you in your Grave. However Madam, though you be criminal; though you have upon too shallow grounds believed me inconstant, and though I have reason to think, that you do unjustly deny that cruel letter which I shewed you: Though I say you be unfaithful in loving Emilius, yet—Oh Herminius (said she and interrupted) I cannot en∣dure you should accuse me of infidelity: For cer∣tainly, according to the common received opini∣on, the death and inconstancy of the party loved does freely set the heart of the lover at liberty, and to be disposed of as she pleaseth: and there∣fore thinking you to be inconstant and dead, I ought not to be charged with inconstancy. And yet I do consent to be accused of infidelity, if thinking you faithful, I had committed any infi∣delity unto your memory: but as the Case is, I cannot endure any such accusation to be charged upon me: Then Madam, replied he, (and looked upon her with eyes full of Love) if you would not be so accused, you must restore unto me that heart which you took from me, since I am neither dead, nor inconstant: For as unfaithful as that heart is, I am most willing to receive it upon my knees: I will begin a new obligation unto you; I will forget all my past miseries: and I will love you as zealously and ardently as ever I did, so E∣milius be driven out of that heart which is none of his, and unto which none has any right but my self, since I am not dead, nor ever was un∣faithful.

But if you cannot do so, then be so generous, I beseech you, as not to deceive me: For, I should be more unfortunate in having but half your heart, than if I had lost it all.

Emilius is indeed my friend, and I do grant that he was innocent both towards you, and towards me until his return. But alas, am I Culpable to∣wards any one? Am I any cause that Emilius be∣lieved I was dead, and that I was in love with Cle∣lia? 'Tis very true, I did not make him the con∣fident of my Love to you: but ought I to have done it? and would you have taken it well? Con∣sider therefore, I beseech you, how innocent I am, and how unfortunate. But is it possible (replyed Valeria) that you should be so innocent as you say you are? But is it possible, replyed Herminius, you should make any doubt of what I say? for if I did not love you, what reason had I so earnestly to court your affection? for you have furnished me with colour enough not to pretend unto it: Emili∣us loves you, you do not hate him: And were not my love unto you most violent, I had just reason ne∣ver to see you again.

It is not sufficient, replied she, that you do love me now at present: but you ought to have loved me always. If I have not done so, replied he, may you never love me, but for ever love my Rival. But (added he, and sighed) one may see a notable difference betwixt you and me: for had my heart been so weak as to receive the Image of any other into it, you would have rejected it: And yet, though you have ceased to love me, and though you have loved another, yet for all that, I am ready with all joy to receive that Treasure which I had lost.

Restore it then, most amiable Valeria, and to oblige you unto it, call to memory all the happy times we have passed together: your eyes have told me ten thousand times, that you were con∣cerned and troubled at my sufferings: your mouth has told me, that I was not hated; and I was so happy, as to have reason to believe you made my felicity yours, and that you would esteem your self happy, if our condition were such as we could never be separated. Strive then to drive Emilius out of that heart unto which he has no right, since I told you I am neither dead nor unfaithful: for perhaps it concerns your happiness, as well as the happiness of unfortunate Herminius: And indeed, I am sure that if you should be so unjust, as not to restore that which belongs unto me, but should bestow your self upon Emilius, you will be no sooner his, but you will mourn for me: Yes, cruel Valeria, I shall defie all your cruely, if you shall make me so miserable, as I shall be if you do me that injustice. Think therefore both of your self and me, and you will find all reason to be on one side.

Whilst Herminius was talking thus, Valeria hearkned, sometimes looking upon him, sometimes upon Flavia, and sometimes upon the ground. But at last, Herminius having done, she began in her turn to speak: Though all you say were true, replyed she, and though you never did love Clelia, yet I cannot tell whether I ought to restore you my affection: you think you have reason to treat me as one inconstant, and also have right to be in∣constant your self upon the first occasion: Yet I conceive that I cannot without injustice, be called unfaithful: for to discover the very bottom of my heart unto you, I had a mind to love Emilius, but never any inclination to love him as I loved you: Oh Madam (said Herminius, and interrup∣ted) I most earnestly beseech you to alter but one word, and in lieu of saying, As you did love me, say, As you do love, and then you will make me happy. Perhaps, replied she, I could say so, for I perceive my heart is willing to believe you in∣nocent, and I know but too well, that my ten∣derness towards Emilius, is not of that nature as it is unto you. But Herminius, I find my self at a strange Dilemma: For if you have not been in∣constant, I confess you have right to demand re∣stitution of my heart: but I confess withal, that if you look upon me as a weak person, I ought not to restore it unto you, since most certainly I never did any thing which can be a reproach unto me: had I thought you dead, and not thought you inconstant, I had then been to blame, if I had com∣forted my self, and entertained the love of Emili∣us: I confess also, that if I had not thought you dead, but only thought you unfaithful, you might

have reproached me for being too obedient unto my Father when he commanded me to entertain the love of Emilius: for I do believe, maugre all I have said, that if one do love well, they cannot chuse but wish, and hope for the repentance of the person loved, though he be culpable. But, Her∣minius, Flavia knows, that if I did suffer Emilius, it was only because I endeavoured to drive you out of my heart: yet since I am sincere, I will confess unto you, that I have such tenderness towards you, as makes me think I ought to make you happy: And all that I can do as I conceive, is to protest unto you, that I will never bestow my self upon Emilius, nor any other.

By this means, I shall not expose my self unto your reproaches: I shall not give Emilius any cause to complain against me, since I am none of yours, and you have no reason to accuse me, since I am none of his.

Herminius then broke out into a thousand moving expressions unto Valeria: Flavia, she joyn'd her reasons unto his, and offered to make Emilius un∣derstand reason: but, say all they could, Valeria would not then fix upon any other resolution. For though she was fully convinc'd, that Herminius had not been inconstant, but that he loved her as well as e're be did, yet she could not make her self ab∣solutely believe it; she could not bring her self to tell Emilius, that her passion to Herminius made her take her heart out of his hands; and she was ashamed that this second affection had partly cool∣ed her tenderness to Herminius: Yet being desirous to know by what adventure those Letters which Valeria and Flavia had written unto Mutius, came into the hands of Herminius; Flavia desired him to question his servant, and to find out how his brother came unto them. After which, Flavia making Herminius to understand by signs, that when he was gone, she would speak for him (for though Emilius was her Cousin, yet she loved Her∣minius better) he went away without making any alteration in the resolution of Valeria.

He was no sooner gone out of the Chamber, but Emilius entred, who in lieu of finding any hopes in the eyes of that fair one, he saw in them nothing but sadness and confusion: so as his fears seizing upon his spirits, he approached unto her in a trembling manner. I perceive, Madam (said he unto her) that you are not very well disposed to give a favourable hearing unto my reasons, though I cannot but think them worthy of it. But to obtain a more plausible Audience, I will confess that Herminius is more worthy than I am to be your lover, and to enjoy your heart: I do confess also, that if he had not been inconstant, he has good right unto your affection: I confess further, that being a man of honour as I know him to be, I am per∣swaded, though I am his Rival, that since he now saith he is not in love with Clelia, I believe he is not: I say again, that being so much a friend unto Herminius as I am, I will consent he should marry you, if ye be both consenting. But Madam, you know how the Tyrant hates him; how the generous Sivelia to save his life confirm'd the false reports of his death: He is then an exile from Rome for ever; surely you will not abandon Valerius and Domitia to follow him: And though you would, yet Hermi∣nius, if he love you, will not desire you should follow his fortune: This being so, Madam, why will you not permit me to be happy, since my friend cannot? We will both love him if you please, and never fear I shall upbraid you with your affection to him: I know his merit, and your vertue, and I will never desire you to banish him your heart; but only since Herminius cannot be happy, not to change your thoughts of me.

When he came, I was in your good esteem; you did obey the commands of Valerius without any repugnancy: and though you never gave me any testimonies of love, yet I was contented: And however, I never did any thing since the return of Herminius which could displease you; I have not withdrawn my Amity from him, nor ever will, unless you put me out of all hopes; which Madam, if you do, I dare not answer that my reason will be stronger than my resentments. Consider, I beseech you, that the unfortunate Emilius would not court you, but that Herminius cannot enjoy you in peace: And therefore, I beseech you, be mine, since for∣tune will not let you be his: I do love you Madam, better than he can, and shall love you ten thousand times above my own life, if you will but resolve to make me happy. You speak so very well, replied Va∣leria; as I must needs commend you. But for all that, Emilius, this which you ask is not just: for you know that it was you, who told me of the death and inconstancy of Herminius, and indeed you have been the cause of that injustice which I have done him. But Madam, replied he, I was the innocent cause of it: I confess it, answered she, and I do pardon all the harm which unknowingly you did me: And to testifie how much I esteem you, I will ingenuously confess unto you, that I can never make you happy: I have as good an opinion of you, as any reasonable person can have. I know your vertue, your love, and your innocency; I know also the amity you preserve for Herminius; I ex∣hort you to continue it. And indeed, I do confess that you do merit my affection.

But since, Emilius, this affection can never be given unto you, therefore you ought not to ask it. If I would bestow my affection upon any one, I ought to prefer Herminius before any other: But if my Father did give me the liberty to dispose of my self. I will never dispose of my self unto any.

Oh Madam, replied Emilius, that is not reason∣able; And though you think to comfort me by tel∣ling me you will be my Rivals no more than mine: yet I assure you, I am not a jot the more happy. You think to lessen my grief, and will not in an instant throw me from the height of happiness to the depth of despair: This is the reason why you tell me nor, you can never be mine, without telling me that you never be my Rivals: But Madam, I care not for any such kind of compassion; it is but a false pity, which will make me the more miserable: I had better dye suddenly than languish long: Pronounce therefore a Definitive sentence. But first consider I beseech you, whether Emilius will not be more miserable than Herminius, if you reject him.

Herminius is already accustomed to think himself not loved: He can live, and not see you, and think himself not loved: And though you should tell him you can never love him, but would love me always, yet he will be no more miserable than he was with∣in this two days. But I Madam, who till yester∣day did hope you would be eternally mine, think I beseech you in what a sad condition I should be;

if you should assure me, I should never be yours. I have already told you my resolution, replied Va∣leria, and you cannot make me change it.

Upon this Valerius,-Domitia, and Herminius entred.

Valeria blushed when she saw them, and was at a strange perplexity, especially when Valerius be∣gan to speak: Well Daughter, said he unto her, have you heard the reasons of Herminius and Emi∣lius, and are you resolved upon their destinies? Sir, replied this sage Lady, you are so absolutely master of mine, that it better becomes me to ad∣vise with your will, than examine their Reasons. But if it be your pleasure I should tell you what I think, I would beseech you to let me live with you as long as I live, and not bestow my self either upon Herminius or Emilius.

Oh Sir, (said Herminius) I beseech you do not consent unto the request which Valeria makes: And I (said Emilius) do make the same Petition my Ri∣val doth, though I am more exposed unto misery than he. Doubtless you are exposed unto more misery, replied Herminius, because my Right is better than yours: For the word of Valerius, and the word of Valeria had engaged me, before they ever knew you: And were it not that I know by my own experience, it is not possible to love Valeria, and preserve the use of Reason, I should accuse you of injustice in pretending still to marry her, after you know that I am living: Till then, I confess you were not to blame: But now you see me, and know what just pretensions I have unto Valeria, you ought to renounce all yours.

Oh most cruel friend, (replied Emilius) can one leave loving when they would: and could you let fall your design of regaining the heart of Valeria, if I had more right unto her than you?

I beseech you, said Valerius then, do not amuse us with any unprofitable contestations: I do esteem and love you both, and both of you ought to esteem and love me also; nor have you any reason to com∣plain against one another: my Daughter has not given either of you any cause to wish her ill: Nor can I accuse her of any thing. The only thing to be done then is, to look at the future, and to com∣pose this difference without doing any injustice. I conceive then (pursued he and spoke unto Flavia) that in all reason my Daughter and I should keep our first words unto Herminius, if he have not made himself unworthy by his inconstancy, and if the heart of my Daughter be not changed; There∣fore my advice is, that both Herminius and Emi∣lius shall keep at a distance untill it clearly appear that Herminius had never any engagement with Clelia: For if all be true, he says, the thing is out of doubt, unless as I said before, that Valeria has chang'd her mind. For in that case, I leave her to be mistress of her own destiny, not thinking it just to force the will in such things.

Speak then Daughter (said Valerius then unto her) and tell me sincerely, whether you retain the same thoughts still, which formerly you had of Herminius, and what thoughts you have of Emi∣lius. Sir, replied she, if I had a mind to make choice of one, I should speak sincerely, but since I design to be no bodies but my own, I cannot say any thing unto you. Valeria blusht as she spoke these words, and could not chuse but look upon Herminius, who conceiving some hope from this favourable look, did speak so vigorously and ten∣derly both, that Emilius perceiving he was like to lose his cause, and fearing lest his destiny should be worse, he hastily said that he would accept of the motion which Valerius offered, which was to keep at a distance from Valeria, until Herminius had made his innocence appear. This fair one would then have opposed that, and desired to put both these Lovers out of all hopes: but she did it in such a manner, as made it evident unto Emilius, that Herminius was much more in her heart than he, and would ere long return into his first place, which did most sensibly affect him.

Things being thus, they had more cause to think that Tarquin had been advertis'd of Herminius his being alive, and that he was at the house of Vale∣rius: for there came a Lieutenant of his Guard, accompanied with ten of his Souldiers, and asked to speak with Valerius: so as this conversation was interrupted in such a manner, as made it known unto Valeria her self, what rank Herminus had in her heart: For when it was told that the Lieute∣nant of Tarquins Guard was in the Court, and asked to speak with Valerius, she was most strange∣ly troubled at it, and was the first that desired Herminius to hide himself; she also imagined a place very hard to be found out; And Emilius knew so well by this unexpected accident, that she loved Herminius very dearly, as it grieved him ex∣tremely.

'Tis true indeed, it was a generous grief: for after Herminius was gone into his close Cabinet, which was in a thick wall joyning to Flavia's Chamber, and Valerius gone to the Lieutenant of Tarquin's Guard, he summon'd up all his genero∣sity, all his friendship to Herminius, all the justice in the pretensions of his friend, and small hopes he had that Valeria would break with him: so as at last coming to Valeria, who was in a melancholy study, leaning upon the window towards the Court where her Father was, he earnestly conjur'd her to open her heart unto him, assuring her, that if she would speak ingenuously unto him, he would ne∣ver trouble her more, but leave her in peace. Tell me therefore sincerely (said he) whether you think I can ever hope to be happy. If you will promise me (said she) to wish no harm unto Herminius, I will with all possible sincerity tell you what you desire to know. Oh, Madam, re∣plied he, I need not, ask you any more, for you have answered me enough in not answering. After this he left her, and without speaking unto any, or staying to know what business the Lieutenant of Tarquin's Guard had, he took horse and rid away none knows whither. Mean while Tarquin hearing by his Spies, that divers persons were to be at the house of Valerius, he sent to see what kind of as∣sembly it was, and whether any thing was suspi∣cious against his Authority. But since the marriage held not, no company came, and Emilius was gone out at a back door: so as having no further order, the Lieutenant returned, as soon as Valerius had shewed him that there was no assembly in his house.

But after he was gone, Valerius concluded that it was not safe for Herminius to stay long in his house: they brought him out of the place where he was hid; and when Valerius asked for Emilius, he was much surprised to hear by his men that he was gone. Domitia feared lest his amorous despair

should move him to acquaint Tarquin that Hermi∣nius was there: But Herminius did not apprehend that danger, no more than Valerius, knowing Emilius had more generosity than to be capable of such a base action.

However, since his departure made it plainly appear, that he abandoned his pretensions unto Valeria, Herminius was extremely joyed; for he saw that Valeria had given him cause to despair in his good fortune. Herminius then asking leave of Valerius to stay at his house until to morrow at night, he made his peace so well with his dear Va∣leria, who protested that what e're she said, she had only thoughts of Amity for Emilius, that he esteemed himself most happy; yet he could not alter her from the proposition which Valerius had made: for as things were, it was not likely he should marry Valeria: Valerius also told him, that he would not send unto Rome to advertise Sivelia, lest some ill chance should happen which might discover him: and all he could do, was to get so much liberty as to spend one day with Valeria. 'Tis true, Valerius told him in private, that perhaps he would not be long an exile, because there were some secret plots against the Tyrant which would at last break out into a flame. However, Hermi∣nius told his Mistress so many particular passages concerning the love of Aronces and Clelia, that she did believe him innocent; but in restoring her heart wholly unto him, she conjured him to conti∣nue his amity towards Emilius. After this, Her∣minius being inquisitive into the matter, he made the servant confess how he came by those Letters which he brought unto him; so as Valeria under∣standing thereby, that Spurius and Mutius did know that Herminius was not dead, she apprehend∣ed the more danger unto him by being in her Fa∣thers house, therefore Flavia and she did never let him rest until he was gone: He departed then as happy as before he came, he was afflicted; yet it grieved him to see, that Valerius should not make any positive promise unto him, and that Emilius had not renounced his pretensions before his face. But for all, seeing himself upon good terms with Valeria, it may well be said, that he went with abundance of satisfaction unto Artemi∣dorus and Zenocrates, who expected him as well as I. Since that, we met with Aronces, with whom we joyned society. So that, Madam, I have no more to say unto you: for you know all that hapned since unto Herminius, unless that Emilius not appearing, Valerius would not let Herminius marry his Daughter, until his friend consented thereunto; so as this invincible Rival did much more trouble Herminius than Mutius did as brave as he was.

After this, Amilcar holding his peace, Clelia gave him thanks: Cesonia, and Plotina did the same, and the company parted, referring it untill the next day, to talk of the pleasant adventure which had hapned unto them, because it was too late to begin a story which contained so many parti∣culars, as it was likely to be a long and pleasant discourse.

The End of the First Book of the Third Part.

CLELIA: The Third Part. BOOK II.

WHile the Adventures of Hermi∣nius and Valeria took up the me∣mories of so many excellent persons, and that Clelia, compa∣ring them with her own, want∣ed not a little envy to Valeria, who at that time seem'd to be in far greater hopes to arrive it happiness with much more ease than she, and who had always the comfort of seeing him by whom she was best beloved, and honour him with thousands of expressions of affection, Titus and Tiberius were considering of the resolution they were to take. But after a large consideration, Honour and Nature getting the upper hand of Love, they re∣paired that evening to the place appointed them by Aquilius, absolutely resolved not to engage in the conspiracy. On the other side, Aquilius and his friends had manag'd Tarquin's interest so well, that they had cajoll'd into his party a great number of young Gentlemen of quality; so that they were with the first at the place where they were expected. There they found those envoys of Tarquin, to whom they gave an account of what they had done; adding that if they could but draw in Brutus his Sons, as such as had abundance of friends, they might be in a capa∣city to accomplish something more than ordina∣ry. Nay, they came so far as to acquaint these Envoys that the main business was to engage Tiberius, it being then easie to bring in Titus, as one that rely'd very much on the others judgment, and was guided by him.

To this the Envoys reply'd, that they were sure of some of the Senate, though there were no such thing, so to enflame their hopes, and courage to the sudden undertaking of any thing they had a mind to put them upon; For, the posture of Tarquin's affairs at that time consider'd, there was nothing to be done by consultation. Things being at this point, and the young Gentlemen contriving how to get Tarquin's Troops into the City by night, Titus and Tiberius came into the place. But having no thoughts at all of engaging in the conspiracy, but coming hither meerly out of a fear that Ocrisia and Teraminta might take it ill, if they did nothing at all, the concernments of their loves put them into some trouble, and accordingly they were at first very cold as to the design. The moon shin'd very bright, so that it was not hard to discern very distinctly the air of the faces of some who were in a spacious walk which a high fence kept from the sight of such as out of the windows of the house of the Faeciales, which stood on the other side of the Garden, might have looked into it. They were no sooner in sight, but the Envoys of Tarquin went to meet them, and Aquilius attended by ten or twelve of their common friends embracing them, asked whe∣ther they would not participate of the glory they were in hope to attain, telling them confusedly one after another, and sometimes all together, that they would be accountable to them for the life and fortunes of Brutus: adding withal, that in civil Wars, it was policy that families should be divided, that so where-ever the victory fell, it might be some way or other advantageous. To these and many other things, Titus and Ti∣berius made answer, that the power of Brutus, and the impossibility of the design proposed, were two invincible obstacles; and seconded it with all the reasons they could produce to excuse them∣selves from being engaged in that party. Aquilius seeing them so resolved, was so much the more importunate with them to change their minds, but to no purpose. So that being come to the end of the walk where they walk'd, and where there was a large Arbor, which had within it four lesser ones, one at each corner, he entreated Ti∣tus and Tiberius to withdraw from the Company, as having something particular to acquaint them with.

Brutus's Sons having followed him into the Ar∣bour, he immediately broke forth thus: I desire once more to know, said he to them, whether you are unchangeable, and if it be not possible to draw you into the Kings party, which ••et men say what they will, is certainly the more just. It is nor our business to examine whether he be a lawful King, or whether he be not; all we have to do, is only to keep off the people from becoming Masters of all the persons of quality. Nay, the safety of your Father, as well as that of a many more lies at the stake: for these very Romans who celebrate him to day, will discard him to morrow if the humour take them: endeavour then to prove a Protector to Brutus, by faithfully serving the Prince he hath so much exasperated. You ought,

and you may do it without hazarding any thing, or if you will not do it, do but tell me what I shall say to Ocrisia and Teraminta, from whom I sent you Letters by Aquilius. For in a word I am to tell you, that if you engage not in the Kings Party, Tullia will not be perswaded but that it is their fault: and that by some indirect way or other, they have given you notice not to give any credit to the Letters I brought you from them; so that you may easily judge, that Ocrisia will be never the more happy for your standing out, and the fet∣ters of poor Teraminta will never be the lighter. The Gods are my witnesses, says Titus, how far I would venture my life for Ocrisia; but to deal freely with you, it is against my judgment to un∣dertake a thing as unjust as impossible. For my part, added Tiberius, though I am satisfied that honour would advise me to leave Teraminta a captive, rather than return Rome into slavery; yet must I needs confess, that it is not without abun∣dance of difficulty, that I resolve to leave her loaden with chains, and that the absolute impossibi∣lity of the design proposed to me, is little enough to keep up my vertue in this emergency, and to be convinc'd that it is the advice of reason, that I should suffer my Mistress to be a slave rather than my Countrey.

At these words, Teraminta, who by the appoint∣ment of Tullia, was come with the Envoys, dis∣guised in mans clothes, started out of one of the little Arbours I spoke of, and fixing her eyes on Tiberius, Ah, my Lord, said she, if it be true, that Reason advises you to be willing your Mistress should be a slave rather than your Countrey: it is as true on the other side, that if you will be advis'd by Love, you will rather see Rome in slavery, and Teraminta free. Tiberius surpris'd at the sight and voice of that excellent person whom he had so extraordinary an affection for, started back a little to take the better notice of her; whereupon, pre∣sently after breaking forth into an exclamation; Ah more than amiable Teraminta, said he to her, what dangerous tryal do you put my vertue to? Ah! Tiberius, replyed she with a languishing voice, to what posture do you intend to reduce my fortune! Titus perceiving Teraminta, presently imagin'd that Ocrisia was to come out of one of the Arbours, and turned about hoping to see her; but Tarquin's Envoy guessing at his imagination, told him, that she wanted the confidence to come along, though Tullia would have oblig'd her to do it. Where∣upon giving Teraminta opportunity to prevail with Tiberius, as she had promised him, if she might but speak with him alone; he took Titus aside into one of the little Arbours, to repeat over to him all the inducements he made use of to perswade those he had any discourse with, to engage in Tarquin's party. So that Teraminta seeing her self at liberty, and being no longer forc'd to smother her true real sentiments, with a low voice spoke thus.

Think not my Lord, says this fair and vertuous slave to Tiberius, that the Letter you have recei∣ved as from me, is any effect of my will: I writ it by the appointment of the cruel Tullia, and it is by her absolute command that I am here at this present. Do not therefore I beseech you, suspect me guilty of so much baseness, as to prefer my liberty and life before your interests, and imagine not, though I have the liberty to speak with you without any body by, that I shall dispose of the power you have given me over your heart, to per∣swade you to do a thing that's unjust. No, my Lord, Teraminta hath a soul too generous to do it; not but that I am satisfied, that if you engage not in Tarquin's party, I shall be the most unfortu∣nate slave that ever was; for this cruel Princess told me as I took leave of her, That if I prevail'd with you I should be assured of liberty; but if I did not, I must expect a misery, in comparison whereof death were a mercy. However, my Lord, know, I ask nothing of you, either contra∣ry to vertue, or your own concernments; and that I had rather a thousand times die crushed with the chains I carry about me, than to make an unjust proposition to you. Ah Teraminta, said Tibe∣rius, you ask me all things when you ask me no∣thing; and you perswade me much the more, when you avoid perswading me, than if you imployed all your eloquence to draw me into the interests of Tarquin. Think not, I beseech you my Lord, replied that discreet Virgin, that what I say to you proceeds from any artifice; for I would have you confident, that though I am in a manner assured of death, if you do not what the cruel Tullia would have you, yet am I far from desiring you should. I am certainly born in such a condition, as makes slavery insupportable to me; but to be free with you, the Queens injustice hath wrought so much horrour in me for any thing that is unjust, that I would rather die innocently than live criminal∣ly. Give me then leave to entreat you, not to reflect on me at all in this adventure, and to do nothing but what your own reason shall advise you to, without consulting your Love. But Teraminta, replied Tiberius, you are now in Rome, is there no means to hinder your departure hence? The Senate hath not yet concluded the debate upon the proposition hath been made to it; so that these Envoys not leaving the City till to morrow, I may in the mean time endeavour to get you out of their hands. Ah my Lord, replyed Te∣raminta, offer it not, unless you have a mind to hasten my death; for he who is now in discourse with Titus, hath order to kill me, if any tumult should happen that might oblige him either to: fly or stand upon his own defence. So that from the time I have been speaking, he hath about him the Poniard that's design'd to take away my life; and did he but know what I now tell you, I should not long survive. Ah! Teraminta (cryed he, with extreme precipitation) It is then in vain to deliberate.

This Envy hearing him speak so loud, came along with Titus to him, and asked him what resolution he had taken; but Teraminta preventing him, and desirous to enflame his generosity as much as might be, told him that Tiberius was resolved not to quit the Party he was in, and that she had no more to say to him. Pardon me there, replyed bluntly the Envoy, you have yet something to say to him, as much as a last farewell amounts to, for assure your self, the Queen is so far perswaded that you have an absolute power over Tiberius, that she will never believe you have done all that lay in your power: so that she being violent and mischievous, may be easily induc'd to make use against you, of that right whereby the life of a slave is at the mercy of the master. While the Envoy was speaking

thus, Tiberius looked on Teraminta whose inviting eyes seemed to beg life at his hands. Insomuch, that the danger wherein he saw her, filling his mind with all the fatal images which the death of a person beloved might raise in that of a Lover; he presently yielded, and thought it better to hazard all, than to lose Teraminta. He thereupon told the Envoy, that provided they would secure his Father's life, he would be of Tarquin's party, and would do all that lay in his power to ruine the newly erected Common-wealth. Teraminta durst not for the present oppose Tiberius; besides that, notwithstanding her great generosity, she was not displeased to receive such an expression of affection from a Lover, she had so much ten∣derness for. In the mean time, Titus, who saw not Ocrisia as Tiberius did Teraminta, would not so ea∣sily comply with his Brother: but the other, who was wont ever to guide him by his judgment, spoke to him as a man that had taken a resolution which nothing should alter. So that Titus think∣ing it a dishonour to seem less tender of Ocri∣sia, than Tiberius was of Teraminta. submitted to him: Not but that Tiberius had a great strug∣ling in his soul; but he was young, he was a lover, he saw his Mistress exposed to death, and he could not be perswaded, but that he who promised him his Fathers life, would be as good as his word. Besides, running over things confusedly; he thought, that if the design took, their Father should depend on him and Titus, whereas now they depended on their Father, whom they at first made some difficulty to obey. Tarquin's Envoy seeing things thus onward to the design, put Te∣raminta into the hands of an ancient slave, who had waited on her, and looked after her ever since she came to Rome, and carried back these two young Lovers to their friends. Tiberius would needs be the last, because he would have said some∣thing to Teraminta, but the other not desirous to leave him behind, suffered him not to deliver him∣self of all he had to say, nor Teraminta to an∣swer what she could have desired: so that the best interpreters of their several apprehensions were their eyes.

The Envoy having brought Brutus's Sons among the Conspirators, they were received with inex∣pressible joy, they promised them what they would themselves, and thought those who were come from Tarquin, were resolved to begin the executi∣on of their design, with the death of Brutus and Valerius, yet did they not discover their intention to all that were present: they told them, that the first thing to be done, was to secure the persons of the two Consuls; but as to the design of dispatching them, it was kept as a great secret: and the bet∣ter to blind the Sons of Brutus, they said, that be∣cause Tarquin had been banished from Rome because he was charg'd with too much cruelty, care should be taken to avoid it where it were not necessary, so to perswade the people that he was now of another judgment. Tiberius and Titus being secure as to their Fathers life, soon digested that aversion which they had at first to engage in that party. Besides, that it being ordinary in young men un∣acquainted with affairs, to be glad of something to do, they did as the rest, and behaved themselves as young men whose hearts are full of their first love, and first apprehensions of ambition.

They therefore considered of all the courses they should take to execute their design, and for the space of three or four days, during which time the Senate were still debating the propositions put in by the Envoys, they met divers times in several places to give an account of what progress they had made. But the Senate having at last granted the Envoys the liberty to carry away whatever belonged to Tarquin and the Princes his Sons, they, to gain time, desir'd further the permission to give him notice that had sent them, and that they might send for Chariots and Mules sufficient to carry away such abundance of things as be∣long'd to a Prince, who had impoverished all the Families of Rome to enrich himself. So that this last favour being also granted, they imploy'd the time assigned them to accomplish their con∣spiracy. What was most remarkable, was, that there were a many of Brutus's kindred in it; and that Tiberius, whom Teraminta could never have perswaded had she endeavour'd it, was one of the most earnest of the conspirators, merely because he would save the life, and secure the liberty of a person that had a Soul great enough to give him an advice so generous, and full of vertue. Now the En∣voys thought that Teraminta had really prevail'd with Tiberius, and thereupon permitted a little di∣scourse between them sometimes; but the more she urged the things she had said before, the more was he strengthen'd in the resolution he had taken to de∣liver her. Tarquin's Envoys in the mean time prudently labouring the safety of that Prince, who was to come in the night, and with certain Troops, seize the City, as soon as they had secured the Consuls, and possessed themselves of one of the Gates, would needs oblige all the Conspirators to write to the Tyrant, to assure him of their fidelity. They at first made some difficulty at it, and the business came to so long and so loud a dispute, one night that they were at Brutus's Bro∣ther-laws, who was also one of the conspiracy, that a slave named Vindicius, seeing them ready to come to blows, hearkned at the Hall door what pass'd between people that seem'd to be so ex∣asperated one against another. Besides, that his Master having commanded all his slaves out of the Hall, which assoon as they were out, he had carefully lock'd, Vindicius was guilty of so much curiosity as amounted to a desire of knowing what was done. There being a cranny in the midst of the door, he could the better both see and hear those that spoke. He heard then that the business was to serve Tarquin, to subvert the new Govern∣ment, and to oblige the Conspirators to write to the Tyrant to assure him of their fidelity, that so he might the more securely approach Rome. Nay, he saw that, yielding at last, some began to write, others to dispose themselves to do the like.

Things being in this posture, Vindicius, a per∣son that understood himself well enough, wearied with slavery, ill treated by his Master, and startled to see persons so near Brutus conspiring against him, imagin'd it would be a certain way to recover his own liberty, if he hindred Rome from returning into slavery. He therefore resolv'd to go secretly and acquaint the Consuls with what was in hand; but as he went, he bethought him that he needed do no more than acquaint Valerius with the busi∣ness; for the Sons, Brother-laws, and Nephews

of Brutus being engag'd in the Conspiracy, he was afraid he might proceed too slowly in it, should he have acquainted him with it at first. He went therefore to Valerius, whom he ac∣quainted with all he knew, and being one that knew well enough how to deliver himself, he discovered the circumstances so particularly, that Valerius was satisfy'd of the truth of it. So that the business re∣quiring expedition, in regard it might be fear'd lest the plotters might disperse themselves, and that the letters they had written might not be found for their conviction, he went streight to the place where they were, without acquainting Brutus therewith, taking with him such a number of peo∣ple, that it was not possible for the conspirators to make their party good against him. In the first place, Valerius possessed himself of the main Gate of the house, which was open'd to him by Vindi∣cius, as also that of the Hall where they were lock'd in. But because the windows of it were low, Valerius caus'd some of his people to pass on the other side, while others were breaking open the Gate; so that with little trouble, both the En∣voys and Conspirators were secured; and what was most considerable, they met with all the letters had been written to Tarquin, nay, they found the order they were to observe in the execution of their grand design, which the Envoys were also to send to their Master. They had not shewn it to Brutus's Sons, but had it about them, intending to joyn it to the Letters, which they were to have, so to send all together to Tarquin.

Having thus taken them, Valerius, as a prudent man, made a distinction between the Tyrant's En∣voys and the Conspirators; for the latter were bound as Traytors, the others only put under a strong guard; and having taken all necessary order in the business, he acquainted Brutus with all that had passed, who was extremely troubled that his Sons should engage in so wicked a design. But as he had sometime sacrificed his own reason in hope to deliver Rome, so now he resolv'd, if need were, to sacrifice his own children for the safety of his Countrey. All the hope he had, was, that their crime might not haply be so great as was said, and that there were some way either to justifie or excuse them. However he prepar'd himself to endure whatever were most insupportable, and, to do it, summonid all his constancy. For, having seen the death of Lucretia, he thought himself able to over∣come any misfortune whatever. Having there∣fore hardued himself for whatsoever his mind should represent to him as most deplorable after so deplorable an accident, he joyn'd with Valerius in giving order for all things. A Senate was call'd as soon as dayappear'd, all publick places were guard∣ed, they chang'd the Guards of all the City Gates, for fear of some treachery; and that they might do nothing injurious to the Law of Nations, they sent out of Rome those Envoys of Tarquin without doing them the least violence. So that being forc'd away in some disorder, they thought not on either the unfortunate Teraminta, or the old Slave that kept her, who remain'd in the house of the Feciales; for they were conducted out of the City, not ha∣ving the liberty to return to the place where they had lodg'd since their coming to Rome. But for Tarquin's housholdstuff, which they might have carried away, the Senate having well examined the business, thought it not so fit to confiscate them to the use of the Common-wealth, as that they should be bestow'd by way of plunder among the people, who after an action of that nature, would not be so easily induc'd to trust the Tyrant, if ever he should endeavour to lure them by false pro∣mises.

The business was no sooner said than executed, for in less than two hours space, there was hardly any popular house in Rome wherein there was not something that had belong'd to Tarquin. For the grounds between Tiber and the City, belong∣ing to that Prince, they were by order of the Se∣nate consecrated to the God Mars, to obtain his assistance in the War they were to undertake. So that it being not then lawful to take the wheat then ready to be put into the King's Storehouses, the people to express their indignation, cast into the Tyber, which at that time was very low, the whole harvest of that large tract of ground. So that that prodigious number of sheaves, crossing and knocking one against another, and so consequent∣ly being entangsed, were stopp'd in one place where the Sand hindred their passage; and the first keeping back the second, they the third, and so fastning one in another, they made diverse heaps, which also being joyn'd together, the Sun and the moisture did as it were cement, and so made a kind of an Island, which in pro∣gress of time became as firm and durable, as those Islands which had been from the beginning of the World.

But while the multitude thus expressed their hatred against Tarquin, the Senate thought fit to examine the conspiracy. To understand it the bet∣ter, the Letters of the Conspirators were to be seen, which Valerius having deliver'd to him, who by his place was to read them in the Assembly, whereupon it was ordered they should be read. The first thing read was the order of the enterprise, which those agents of Tarquin were to send to him, without the knowledge of either of Brutus's Sons. But as this illustrious Consul could not divine that it was so, so he was extremely surpris'd to hear the following Paper read.

It is resolved the execution of the enterprise shall begin with the deaths of Brutus and Valerius: which done, we shall possess our selves of the Gate that leads to Tarquinian, so to make way for the troops which shall come on that side. We shall also do what may be to seize the Cirque, the Capitol, and the Sub∣lician Bridge. An Act of Oblivion shall be pro∣mised the people, and we shall not trouble our selves to kill any but the most considerable persons of the Senate, so to deprive it of those which might prove the heads of Parties. Be you therefore ready, Sir, to send away the Troops that shall be expected from you, and to come your self in person, if you would be soon in a condition to reascend into the Throne. We send you the Letters of the chiefest of those who are of our party, that you may not doubt of what we say; as also that you may be the more diligent in the execution of so considerable •• design.

The person imployed to read, had hardly given over reading what Tarquin's Envoys had written, but a secret noise was heard in the assembly, pro∣ceeding from the horror they conceiv'd at so per∣nicious a design. Brutus, for his part, was astonish'd to see his Sons engaged in a conspiracy which was to break out with his death. But it troubled him much more, when he who was to read, continuing his imployment, entertained him with the Letters of Tiberius and Titus, to Tarquin, which were in these words.

Tiberius to the King.

Sir,

THose whom you have entrusted your secret to, know with what earnestness I engage my self to do whatever they shall think may contribute to and pro∣mote your service: but since they would needs have me to give you this assurance my self, I faithfully pro∣mise you not to spare either bloud or life to reseat you in your Throne.

Titus to the King.

Sir,

TO know my sentiments, you need only be acquaint∣ed with those of my Brother, since you may be assured I shall do whatever he hath resolv'd to further your service, and withal, that I shall look or••all those that are not for you as my enemies.

The reading of these two letters made more noise in the assembly, than what had been read at first; and there was not a Senator present, but did par∣ticipate of the grief which Brutus must needs be in, to see his own Sons conspiring his death: for these two letters being read immediately after what the Envoys writ to Tarquin, it must need be imagined that these unfortunate young men, whom only love had made criminal, knew something of the design there was to dispatch Valerius and Brutus.

In the mean time this great man, whose soul was undisturbed in all accidents, being loth to con∣demn his Children, but in case it were out of his power to excuse them, desir'd the sight of the letters, whereof he soon knew both the writing and the seals: so that being satisfi'd of their guilt, he was incredibly troubled at it. How∣ever, he mastered his own Sentiments, and gave hearing to all the other Letters of the conspirators. But at length all being legally proved against them, and they pleading guilty themselves, Valerius asked Brutus what he thought fittest to be done, especi∣ally as to what concerned Tiberius and Titus. As I am their Father, replied this illustrious Consul, I pardon them the design they had to destroy me. But as I am a Roman Citizen, which I cannot but be, I cannot pardon them the crime they have com∣mitted against their Countrey, and am forc'd by the same vertue which obliges me to pity their misfortune, to leave them to the Laws of the Countrey, and not to desire any favour for them. For since I have ever been ready to sacrifice my own life for Romes safety, I may very well be en∣gaged to offer up those of my children, if the pub∣lick good require them.

These words came from Brutus, not only with an accent of that deep melancholy he had not shaken off since Lucretia's death, but also with a certain fierceness which very much discovered the agitation of his mind: And indeed something it was he felt, which cannot well be expressed, for though he had a horror for the crimes of his Children, yet had he still a tenderness for them: so that Nature and Glory debating the business in his heart, his disturbances were incredible. He reflected on the generous answer he had made, and thought it might contribute more to the saving of their lives than any thing else: nay he was of opinion, that if he took any other course, it would but hasten their death: So that being silent after he had spoken so generously, there role a great con∣testation in the Assembly: for what likelihood could there be in such a conjuncture of time, that a crime of that nature should be pardoned; and that when so many were engaged in it; and what means was there to make any distinction between the Tray∣tors, when they were equally guilty and convict∣ed of a Treason which the Roman severity had made impardonable, especially after the Oath which Brutus himself had forced from the people, to put all those to death who should but propose the recalling of Tarquin? They were almost all young men, they were in a manner all of the same quality; they were engaged in the same design, according to the Laws they all deserved to die; and consequently there was no way to save two, unless it were done by an unjust favour. For to say they were the Sons of a man to whom Rome ought all she had, would not amount to much; since that, on the contrary, look'd on as his Sons, they deserv'd a double punishment. Besides, upon that account, they must have saved the greatest part of the Traytors for his sake, since that he had a∣mongst them Brother-in-laws, and Nephews, as well as Children. Add to that, the danger of giving an example of indulgence in such an emer∣gency, was so great, that the safety of Rome was concerned in it; and the business was of such consequence, that there was not any Roman who thought not himself lost, and that Rome would be reduced into her former slavery, if all these Conspirators were not most severely punished.

Brutus wanted not that prudence that led him to the sight of all these things, as also to a know∣ledge of the most secret sentiments of those who spoke most favourably on the behalf of his Sons. But this contestation taking up much time, the peo∣ple weary with pillaging, and casting the wheat out of Mars's field into the Tyber, came tumul∣tuously to the place where the Senate was, and furiously demanded why those were not punished, who would have delivered Rome into the Tyrants hands. So that Brutus laying hold on that occasion, said it were but just the people should be heard in that occurrence, hoping that when the multitude should see the criminals, it would distinguish his Sons from the rest, and would have saved their lives for his sake. He had further the opportu∣nity during this tumult, to speak to Herminius and Amilcar, who made a shift to get near him; for while this confusion lasted, no order could be observed. He therefore advised with them, to see it without doing ought against Rome, there were any means left to save the lives of his children.

But while he was speaking to them, a young man very fair and and handsome, but withal very sad, cast himself before Brutus, with the tears in his eyes, and directing his speech to him; My Lord, said he, I humbly beg a little discourse with you in private, for I have some things to tell you, which it very much concerns you to know, so to oblige you to some compassion on Tiberius and Titus, who are more innocent than you imagine. Brutus surprised at what he heard, looked earnest∣ly on him that spoke to him; but though he was perswaded he had some acquaintance with that face, yet could he not discover it to be Teraminta, whom he had so often seen at Tullia's: for she be∣ing in mans clothes, he being extremely troubled, made no great reflexion thereupon, and only gave her the hearing; so that assuring her she might speak freely before those that were with him, he askt her what she would have. Alas! my Lord, re∣plyed she, I would tell you that the unfortunate Teraminta who now speaks to you, is the innocent cause of Tiberius's crime. How, replied Brutus, are you Teraminta, Tullia's slave? I am, my Lord, said she, that Teraminta whom that cruel Princess hath sent hither to engage Tiberius unto her party, and who, though I have not had the least intention to do it, have nevertheless proved the cause that he is engaged therein, merely to save my life, and to break my chains: so that love is the occasion of his crime: But, my Lord, I pro∣test to you, that when he engaged in that party, it was with provision made for your safety, and that you should not receive the least prejudice either as to life or fortune. And yet I did all that lay in my power to hinder him from being drawn into the interests of Tarquin; but I find, though too late, that my vertue hath surmounted his, and that his affection being inflamed by what I said to him, he would needs save the life of a person, whom he was told the merciless Tullia would put to death, if she prevailed not with him. But, my Lord, I protest to you once more, that he knew not in the least that there was any design against your life; and for Titus, the love he had for Ocrisia, and the friendship for Tiberius, drew him into the same party, and both being prepossessed by their passions were perswaded they did you service, even when they conspired against you, nay imagin'd they obliged their Countrey, in not suffering the Government thereof to be chang'd. Have there∣fore some compassion on your unfortunate Chil∣dren, and do what you can to save their lives; for I swear to you once more, that they were very tender of yours: Not but that I know, continued this generous Captive, the people generally think otherwise, but knowing the whole truth, this sad report no sooner came to the place where I was, but I got away from the slave that kept me, to come and raise pity in your soul; and were it the plea∣sure of the Gods, O my Lord, that my death might purchase the lives of Tiberius and Titus: Not but that if the people knew me to be a slave of Tullia's, I should be immediately torn to pieces: But, my Lord, I can defie that danger; for I should dye satisfied, should your illustrious Sons but live.

These words fell from Teraminta with such a perswasive kind of grief, that there, could no doubt be made of what she said; for there were in her eyes and face such visible marks of ingenuity, vertue, and despair, as might well have softned the hardest heart in the world. So that Brutus al∣ready yielding to that tenderness of soul he was much guilty of, felt his grief increasing upon him. He therefore spoke with much mildness to Tera∣minta, and told her he was resolved to do for his Sons, how guilty soever they be, whatever honour the interest of Rome, and the indeprecability of the people would permit. Whereupon, intreating Herminius to have a care of that fair and generous slave, who were she discovered would be in no small danger; he advis'd with Amilcar, Artemi∣dorus, and Zenocrates, about what was fit to be done. But after a long debate of the business, they concluded that Brutus must not by any means en∣deavour to deliver his Sons by any absolute autho∣rity, because it might haply hasten their death, and expose Rome to a sedition, and that the best course they could take, was to divide themselves among the people, so to endeavour to perswade them, that it were but justice to save the lives of Bru∣tus's Sons, out of a consideration of their youth, and the vertue of their Father. But it being the main key of the work, that many should cry out the same thing, that so the people might seem to close with the multitude; Amilcar took it upon him to go and find out all their friends, to disperse them up and down among the multitude, and to come and give Brutus an account of the in∣clinations of the people, that so he might act as he thought most convenient. So that refraining to come near the assembly till he were satisfied what to do, he spoke to Horatius as he passed by, and had some discourse with him about the present face of affairs.

But while he had been talking with Herminius, Teraminta, Amilcar, Artemidorus, and Zenocra∣tes, and had some discourse with Horatius, the peo∣ple sent in their demand to the Senate, that these Conspirators might be put to death, and that the Oath which Brutus had made all the Romans take, which was, that all those should dye without ex∣ceptions, who should but propose the recalling of the Tyrant, should be observed. Valerius at first would needs tell them, that they must not be so hasty; but this answer so far incensed those to whom it was made, that it was easily inferred thence, it could not but be dangerous to oppose that exasperated multitude. No, no, said some who were desirous those wretches might be immediately put to death, there's nothing to be debated in this case; these Con∣spirators must be severely punished, to keep the contagion from spreading to others, or we must set open the gates of Rome for Tarquin to come in, for it were better to entertain him willingly, than to stay till he become Master of Rome, through the treachery of some base Citizens. Hasten therefore the execution of those Traytors who would have cut your throats, and let the Sons of Brutus be put to a more cruel death than the rest, as being the most criminal.

In a word, added one of those people, if they have their lives given them, they would take away his from whom they have theirs, and would endanger the safety of Rome by destroying him. What more suitable than death for Traytors, who would be the executioners of their own Father, and enslave their Countrey to a Tyrants will?

This man having finished his Harangue, there was heard a strange noise of acclamations, and thousands of voyces crying out at the same time, Let them dye, let them dye, whereby Valerius and the whole Senate easily discovered that it was not in their power to pardon any one of the criminals. In the mean time Amilcar, and the rest of Brutus's friends having throng'd in among the people, to say something for the Sons of that illustrious Ro∣man, met with so few to joyn with them, that they perceived it was impossible to save Tiberius, and Titus. So that fearing Brutus might endeavor to rescue them by his Authority, and to ruine him∣self, Amilcar came and acquainted him how things stood. But while he was with him, the people without any order, went and brought all those cri∣minals to the place where all the Senators then were, and not willing to take the pains to conduct them to the ordinary place for such executions; this in∣censed multitude demanded they should be imme∣diately put to death, since that their crime being proved, Sentence was given against them by the Laws, and by the Oath which Brutus had made them take. Valerius seeing things reduced to this extremity, would not have Brutus called, it seem∣ing to him a thing that spoke too much cruelty, to desire him to be a Spectator at the death of his own Sons. So that leaving these criminals to the rigor of the Laws, they began, according to the custom of Rome, to punish them for their crime by a kind of punishment rather ignominious than cruel, which was to precede their death. But Amilcar comeing thereupon to Brutus, and giving him an account of the disposition wherein he found the people; this great man feeling within him all that a paternal tenderness might make him feel, would needs try whether his presence might not raise some sentiment of humanity in the minds of that people. Doing therefore a more than ordinary violence on his own inclinations: yet after he had submitted himself to the disposal of fate, and of∣fered up the lives of his Children to the Protecto∣ral Gods of Rome, if the publick liberty required him, he breaks through the people, followed by Amilcar, Herminius, and the unfortunate Teraminta who would not be gotten from him by any thing could be said to her, and with much ado comes up to Valerius. But alass! he was no sooner gotten to him, but he finds some of the Conspirators dead, and his two Sons so near death, that he had not the leisure to think of what he had either to do or say; for one minute resolved him that he had no other course to take, than resolutely to undergo so great an affliction, or to betray a fruitless weakness. So that mustering up all the forces of his Soul, he kept his ground, and smothering the disorder he felt within, he seemed with abundance of constan∣cy to look on the most deplorable object in the world. And yet it is certain he saw not what he looked on, for the first sight of those dead bodies putting him in mind of all his misfortunes, the Image of dead Lucretia presented it self to him, and joining with that of his expiring children, filled him with so much affliction, that it made him seem insensible, and in a manner cruel to those who are not acquainted with what was with∣in him.

On the other side, the wretched Teraminta seeing her dear Tiberius in so sad a condition, and so near parting with his life, would needs go up to him not knowing what she did. But he, notwithstanding the terrors of death, knowing who it was, made signs to her to go back, and so gave her occasion to ima∣gine that he was more troubled for her than him∣self; though he were ready to receive Death's last blow. Teraminta went forward nevertheless, but offe∣ring to come yet nearer and nearer, those who were employed in this sad execution, gave her an unman∣nerly repulse, and finishing the last act of their office, took away the life of the unfortunate Tiberius. Tera∣minta had no sooner seen his head severed from his body; but she fell down, crying out aloud, yet so as nothing could be heard, but the name of Tiberius confusedly pronounced. Herminius and Amilcar, who saw her falling, went to raise her up and to cherish her, for they knew the cause of her affliction, but they found her expiring, and that the same blow which took off Tiberius's his life, made her acquainted with death. So that having a certain compassion on the sad fate of that beauty, they took a care to keep the people from coming to the knowledge of what she was, least they might tear her body in pieces, and so caused some of their Slaves to carry her to the generous Sivelia's, who was so charitable as to defray the charges of her enterment.

The Sons of Brutus in the mean time, having breathed out their last, and their Illustrious Father given that great example of constancy, which hath made him to be charged with an excess of severity by such as were not acquainted with the transacti∣ons within him, the Tumult was appeased, the peo∣ple was astonished at the sacrifice Brutus had made to his Countrey, his Authority became thereby the greater, and that constancy raising terror in the minds of all the Romans, there was not any one that durst so much as think of Tarquin's re-admissi∣on. But what reputation soever Brutus might gain thereby, it brought him not the least satisfaction; on the contrary, he never had been so much afflicted. He was no sooner come to his own house, but all his friends came to him, yet knew not what to say to him, as not presuming either to commend or bemoan him. There hapned one thing that renew∣ed his grief; for one of those under whose custody Tiberius and Titus had been, was come to tell him, that those unfortunate Lovers had charged him to assure their Father of their innocence, as to what concerned him, and that it was Tiberius's desire he should be acquainted with the generosity of Tera∣minta, that he might accordingly provide for so virtuous a Lady, giving him a punctual account of all she had said to him in the Garden of the Faeciales, all which added very much to Brutus's affliction. However he seemed not to be much troubled while there were any with him; but when all were dis∣missed, and that there was only Herminius left with him, I was almost perswaded, said he to him, with a deep sigh, when the unfortunate Lucretia di∣ed, that I should never have known any other grief, but fortune hath been pleased to find out other tor∣ments for me. For my part, I am at a loss what to think, and it must be acknowledged, though to the confusion of humane reason, that the secret Counsels of the Gods are unsearchable, and that it is a thing very hard for men to arrive at such a con∣dition

as to be assured they do nothing that may displease them. And in a word, will it not be said that Fortune makes sport with all the designs that Prudence laies, and that all her business is to bring about unexpected events, without ever considering whether the things be just or not?

And yet it must needs be granted, that there is a Reason above ours which guides us with discreti∣on, though we apprehend it not, and which by un∣known ways makes the same causes produce effects of a different nature. 'Tis true indeed, replied Her∣minius, that all that hath happened to you is alto∣gether extraordinary; But when all is done, since it contributes to the glory of the Gods, and the in∣struction of men, that there should be great ex∣amples of virtue; there must also be misfortunes, and unfortunate persons. I grant it, replied Brutus, but to speak freely, it is a sad thing for a man to be the model of constancy, and not to live, but only to suffer. For in a word, my dear Herminius, would you but take the pains to reflect on what ever hath happened to me, you will find nothing but a long series of misfortunes. The first of all, was to be born in the time, and under the government of the lewdest Tyrant in the World, and withall to be of his blood. The consequence of this you know was, that I was brought up in exile, that Tar∣quin's cruelty robb'd me of a Father and a Brother, that I was forc'd to conceal my reason to secure my life, and to wait the opportunity to deliver Rome. How have I been in love, yet durst not discover it; that afterwards I was not beloved again, but that I might be the more miserable? How have I been forced by a strange unhappiness, to see Lucretia in the embraces of my Rival; and what is yet more terrible, how have I seen her in those of Death? This once endured, I thought there was not any thing afterwards to be feared, and that to lessen my affliction, it might haply be the pleasure of the Gods, that her death and my love should prove serviceable to the Liberty of my Countrey. And yet it happens that the same passion that makes me undertake any thing for Rome, makes my children undertake all things against both Rome and me. So that by a sentiment, which I cannot but discover, I excuse them while I accuse them, and I am very much more sensible of their unhappiness than I should have been, had they been guided by any other motive. Not but that it grieves me to the heart to think that I have had Children that should endeavor to put Rome into her chains again, but when I reflect on their being in Love, I pity and bemoan them. Lucretia appears to me with all her inviting attractions to plead for them, and I suffer at this instant, all that a paternal indulgence, all that the tender resentments of Love can make me endure, and all that Nature and Reason, when they are contrary one to another, can make a man feel that is most harsh and insupportable.

You are so ingenious, and your complaints so just, replyed Herminius, that a man cannot well find what to say to you. But all considered, if you are the most unfortunate, you are withall the most il∣lustrious of that Praedicament, for your misfor∣tunes contribute to your glory, and are beneficial to your Countrey, Lucretia's death caused Tar∣quin's removal, and that of your Sons will stifle all conspiracies, and settle Rome's liberty. It is my wish it may be so, replyed Brutus, but to be free with you, I am at a loss what to think of it, for who could ever imagine that Brutus's Son should conspire against Rome, and against him? and yet you have seen it, and consequently there is not any thing which we may not, nothing which we ought not to be distrustful of, even to our virtue, nothing that can for any long time secure any mans happi∣ness. Nay, I am so far unhappy, that I am not happy in my friends. Aronces is where he would not be; Clelia is among the Rivals of that only person whom she loves; nor are you yet in such a safe posture as to fear nothing. But when all is done, the Liberty of my Countrey engages me to live, and struggle with calamities; and the revenge due to Lucretia's death, calls upon me to destroy those whom yet I have only driven hence. But that you may live, replyed Herminius, you must make a truce with your grief: on the contrary, re∣plyed this afflicted, yet illustrious person, I must give it way till I have made it habitual, and for a man to suffer long, he must suffer without any intermission.

Whilst these two friends exchanged these sad dis∣courses, the general talk of all was about what had happened. Some discoursed of the Conspiracy, others of the death of the Conspirators, and all of the con∣stancy and great virtue of Brutus. The Prince of Numidia, sick and weak as he was, would needs have the story of this unhappy adventure exactly told him over and over, by Amilcar who came to visit him, and who to lessen the grief he might take at it, gave him a short account of the History of Brutus. So that this generous Numidian have∣ing heard Amilcar's relation, was for a while silent; then breaking forth on a sudden, Ah, Amilcar how far am I short of the virtue of your illustrious friend, how weak am I, or how much in Love! for he hath met with thousands of misfortunes, and he bears them, and I groan under no other than that of not being loved, and it is insupportable to me. I am indeed ashamed to be so little master of my self, and were it only that I might in some sort deserve Brutus's friendship, I will do what lies in my power to overcome the passion now predomi∣nant in my Soul Till now was I never guilty of so much as any design to oppose it, so that it speaks not a little courage, that I am resolved to do what I can to conquer it. I have indeed sometimes said that I would do it, but must acknowledge I never have, and even in the very instant that I say I will do it: I am not very certain whether I shall conti∣nue in the same sentiments wherein I think my self to be. Amilcar, who thought it no hard matter to cure him of such a disease, assured him of his re∣covery, when he pleased himself, and so having comforted him, as he was wont, he went to Ra∣cilia's, where were the more virtuous persons of Rome met to do their civilities to Hermilia, upon the accident that had happened to her Brothers Sons. For though she was very young, yet were Ti••eri••s and Titus her Nephews. Clelia, Plotina, Cesonia, Flavia, Salonina, Valeria, and Collatina, as also Mu∣tius, Horatius, Artemidorus, Zenocrates, and Her∣minius, were in Hermilia's Chamber, when Amil∣car came thither. But of all these, Hermilia and Collatina were the most troubled at that unhappy accident; for among the Conspirators that had suf∣fered

death there, were two of near kin to Collati∣na. What made them yet more sad was, that the interest of the two Princes, by whom they were courted, had engaged more into the Conspiracy, than any other motive, and consequently they might look on them as the innocent cause of that unfortunate adventure. Besides they were then in so little hope ever to see the Prince of Pometia, or Prince Titus, that they were sometimes glad of any occasion to weep which they might discover, so to mask the tears of love with those of friend∣ship. They were therefore extreamly sad that day, and all that were present, complying with their humor, were no less. For Clelia, she had so much cause to be sad, that she never appeared other∣wise. Horatius for his part, finding her ever cold and indifferent towards him, had no reason to be over joyful, though things were in such a posture as that he might entertain some hope.

Artemidorus had his fancy ever full of Clidamira and Berelisa. Zenocrates wanted not reflections, though more favorable than those of the rest. Her∣minius, by reason of the greatness of his affection, and the odd posture of his amorous fortune was also melancholly enough. Mutius was troubled that his Rival was so happy as to be loved, and the whole company excepting Plotina and Amilcar was not the least inclined to engage in any thing that were divertive, though it consisted of the noblest Souls in the World. And yet though their discourse were sad, sutable to the subject of it, Death; yet Plotina and Amilcar brought it at last to something that were pleasant.

In the first place, according to the custom up∣on such occasions, they spoke of the just occasion of grief which she had whom they came to condole with; that brought in some discourse upon the ac∣cident; some were silent, others whispered, and all grew weary of it. But falling insensibly into other discourse and speaking lowder, they began to play upon Flavia, for that the very thought of death disturbed her reason, and troubled her al∣most as much as if she had been to dye a minute after her self. For though Flavia were a person of excellent endowments, yet had she that weak∣ness of not commanding her own sentiments, so that she was subject to thousands of causeless fears. For my part, says Plotina, I have such an aversion for death, that for fear it should come too soon, I am resolved not to fear it at all; for certainly there is nothing worse for ones health, than to fear it too much. Nay, then says Herminius, I am hap∣pier than you; for I neither hates nor fear it. But for my part, says Plotina, I hate it most abomina∣bly, and I think I have reason to do so. For it is a rash inconsiderate thing, that ever comes before it is looked for, ever comes unseasonably, troubles all the enjoyments of life, separates friends and lovers, hath no respect of any thing, destroys beauty, laughs at youth, and is inflexible. All this is true replies Herminius, but it hath withall this advan∣tage, that it makes all men equal, cures all di∣seases, puts a period to all misfortunes, and puts those it hastens on into such a condition. as not to suffer any thing afterward. In a word, it satisfies the ambitious, determines love and hatred, appea∣peases all passions, and this evil that is so great and terrible, is the evil but of an instant, and such as for its infallibility ought not to be called an evil. On the contrary, replied Flavia, 'tis for that rea∣son that death is the more terrible to me; for if it were uncertain, hope might take away some part of the fear I am in of it. But when I consider that one may dye every minute, and that thou∣sands of several ways, I feel a certain cold at the heart, and I am almost at a loss of all reason. You are then very happy, replyed Plotina: Nay, she is such, beyond what you can imagine, says Collatina, for having a lively imagination, she sees dangers where there were never any. I am really of opini∣on, answers Plotina, that there is more prudence than is conceived, in being a little dull of appre∣hension; for when people search so much into the bottom of things, they many times get more hurt than good But you are not certainly always in fear, continued she, speaking to Flavia, for when one is well, is neither on a River, nor at Sea, nor yet in a Chariot, but in ones Chamber, in good company, and good health, methinks there's no such occasion of fear. Ah! Plotina, replyed Fla∣via, you know not what the fear of dying means, if you measure it only by the present dangers that wait on us. I remember says Horatius, that I saw Flavia much troubled at the death of a man that had lived almost an age. For my part says Mu∣tius, I have known her lose her share of an ex∣cellent Collation, because it thundred. And to my knowledge says Salonina, I have seen her one day refuse an excellent walk, only because we were to cross the Tiber. For heavens sake, replyed she very pleasantly, take not so much pains to pump your memories for my fears, for I know them better than you do: and since you will needs have Clelia, and all present that know me not, to be acquaint∣ed with my weakness, I will tell my self all that I fear. I fear then all diseases in general great and small; I fear Thunder, I fear the Sea, and all Ri∣vers, I fear fire and water, heat and cold, fair wea∣ther and foul, and I am afraid the earth should take occasion to shake at Rome as it does in Sicily. Be∣sides, to my own misfortune, I know all that the Tuscans have said of presages, and I know it con∣tributes to my torment, and to say all in few words, I fear what ever may directly or indirectly cause death. But cannot you imagine in your self, reply∣ed Amilcar, that the fear of death causes deformi∣ty, sickness, and may occasion death it self, that you may be rid of so many fears. May it not come into your thoughts, added Clelia, that all these frights amount to nothing, that if the earth must shake, it will shake whether you will or no; that if a Thunder-bolt must fall, it will fall haply ra∣ther on that place where you take refuge, than on that you quit; and in a word, can you not submit your self to the disposal of the Gods? But can you not conceive your self, replyed Flavia, that if I could do otherwise I would do it? Do you think me de∣stitute of reason, and that I do not many times perceive I am too blame? And yet after all, even at the same time that my reason condemns me, my imagination commands my heart, and makes it feel what she pleases. What I think most to be ad∣mired, says Herminius is, that all people find out some handsome pretence for the fear they have of death, for they confidently affirm that they are not subject to so much weakness, as to fear the pain that is suffered in dying, but they are afraid they

have not lived well enough; and what is remarka∣ble, is, that without growing better, so to take away the fear they say they are in, their thoughts are wholly taken up in the preservation of their health, and avoiding what ever may prejudice it. Ah! Of that kind of people, says Amilcar, the world is full, and you meet every where such as fear the punishments of the other life without any amendment, and whose actions are contrary to their professions, and easily discover that they simply fear death, since they make provision only against that. For my part says Flavia, I am no very bad liver, and trust much in the goodness of the Gods, and therefore do not so much fear what shall hap∣pen to me after death as before, for I fear pain very much, besides the darkness of a Tomb star∣tles me. But when all is done, says Clelia, all your fears are fruitless,, you will dye as well as those that fear nothing, and the surest way is to lead the most virtuous life that one can, to expect death without wishing it or fearing it, and to entertain it as a thing we have waited for all our life, and which cannot be avoided. For my part, added Ra∣cilia, I find it requires a greater constancy to sup∣port a long old age, attended by those inconveni∣ences which it commonly brings along with it, than to receive death chearfully. It is indeed, says Plo∣tina, very pleasantly, a very cruel thing to become old, sick and deformed, when one hath been ac∣customed to be young, handsome, and healthy; and I know not whether I hate death so far, as that I had not rather see it than my self in that condi∣tion. But for what concerns me, says Flavia, though I were handsomer than Lucretia ever was, should any one offer to raise me up again, were I in her place, so as that I must come into the world, ugly, old, sick, and troublesome, I should take him at his word, and I would rather live, though abo∣minably deformed, than be dead. You consider not what you say, says Platina smiling, and you fear death something less then you imagine; for I thought you would not for any thing have been rai∣sed to life again, for fear of dying once more, and you affirm the contrary. It is a thing so ordinary to abuse my weakness, replved Flavia, that I am never angry how satyrical soever people may be at it. But the misery of it is, replyed Herminius, that you are not cured of it, nor indeed curable; for do what you can you will find, that as a gal∣lant man cannot prove cowardly and base, so a fearful person can never become valiant. Since fear does make some sleight the danger, says Horatius, I know not why reason may do as much. Those who sleight danger, out of an excess of fear where∣by they become valiant, replyed Herminius, can never give a greater expression of their fearfulness, than by doing a thing so much contrary to their disposition, so that they may be said to be a sort of Hectors, yet are still arrant cowards, and have lost nothing of their natural inclination. The case is otherwise with those who imploy their reason to force away fear from their hearts, since it can∣not do it but by working a change in the persons, and making them act contrary to their inclinations. Herminius is certainly very much in the right, says Flavia; but to comply a little with my imperfecti∣ons, I would all the Ladies now present, were ob∣liged to give precisely their thoughts of death. For my part says Hermilia, take me in the humor I am in, I could without great intreaty wish it. I go beyond you says Collatina, and there are certain in∣tervals wherein I should not be much troubled if I had never been. Assure your self, says Plotina, I am not of your opinion, for there are things pleasant enough in this place; and I know no other remedy to cure the pensiveness of death, than that of never thinking on it. But when it hapens, against my will, that I hear of the death of any one, I ever sist out some cause of that death, such as can∣not be appliable to my self. For instance, if it be of an aged person, I simply say, he hath been a long time in the World, and secretly think my self as yet very far from that age. If it were of a young body, I say, he or she was of a weak and sickly con∣stitution, sometimes that they took no care of themselves, sometimes, that they had done some∣thing that occasioned that misfortune; and what∣soever I may say, I still flatter my self with a hope of living as long as any one can live.

I have a Catalogue of all those who have lived an age, and so discarding those pensive reflections assoon as possibly I can, and I fix my imaginati∣on on whatever speaks any joy, and so find my self incomparably better than Flavia, who fixes hers on fear. For my part says Clelia, I am of ano∣ther humor, for I think on death when there is oc∣casion, but without any frightning; for since I must infallibly see him one day, methinks it is but fit he should not be absolutely a stranger to me.

No more for Heaven's sake, says Flavia, of this discourse concerning death, unless you would have me dye, besides the poor comfort you afford the afflicted when you entertain them with nothing but what is sad. Those who speak of things that require much wit and mirth replyed, Artemidorus, are more importunate on the other side, and yet this is ordinary in the World. What you say is true, answered Zenocrates, and therefore am I an enemy to these mourning-visits, for I cannot en∣dure to be sad when I am not troubled; and it is certainly a very unhandsome thing to go and laugh with those that weep. There are so many things disorderly done in the Word, replies Amilcar, that we must accustom our selves to them, and were there no other inconveniencies in humane life than what we suffer through the extravagancies of others, we should not be much unfortunate, for look on mens humors generally, they rather make sport, then are troubled at them.

While they were thus engaged, was news brought that Tarquin, understanding by the return of his Envoys, that those who had declared for him were taken, had sent word by a Herald who was at the City-gate, that if they were put to death he declared open war against Rome. So that they be∣ing alraedy dispatched, the war was as good as de∣clared. To this news was added that Brutus and Valerius, to shew how little they valued that bra∣vado, had answered they would accept the chal∣lenge, and that on the morrow they would cause Janus's Temple to be opened, which they had not shut since the departure of Tarquin, but to re∣create the people with such a representation of peace as they had not seen during the Tyrants reign: For that Temple had not been shut since the time of Numa, during which there were 43 years of peace. This intelligence surprised not the enemy much, only Clelia was troubled at it, as

imagining it must needs be hard, if, the War conti∣nuing, the King of Clusium should not engage therein; and that Aronces should not be drawn in∣to a party opposite to that of Rome. Yet did she not discover her resentment, nay, was forced to permit Horatius to entertain her for some time, after which the company dissolved it self.

The next morning the two Consuls went, and, according to the Ceremony, opened all the Gates of Janus's Temple, which was presently thronged with people to assist at the sacrifices offered on the twelve Altars, which were consecrated to the twelve months of the year, to the end, that when ever the Romans made war, they might get the better. Brutus made a publick Prayer for the people of Rome, which in few words, acquainted those that heard it, with the justice of their cause, and the respect they owed the Gods. Which done, and the presages proving all fortunate, and that that day was not any one of those that are thought fa∣tal to the Romans, the people was generally in hope that the war might have a happy issue.

In the mean time, order was taken to put in ex∣ecution who had been resolved on some daies be∣fore. Artemidorus and Zenocrates, went disguised from Rome to Clusium, there, with the assistance of the Princess of Leontum, to hinder Porsenna from engaging in the War, that Tarquin was go∣ing to make; but this was, after conference had with Brutus, Valerius, Herminius, and Amilcar, and after leave taken by Sulpicia, and her in∣comparable Daughter. On the other side, Cele∣res having sufficiently disguised himself, was not discovered at Tarquinia, but was witness of the fury Tarquin and Tullllia were in, when the enter∣prize of their Envoys failed at Rome. However, they took a certain wicked comfort to hear that Brutus had the affliction to see the death of his own children. Cileres saw also the despair of the beautiful Ocrisia, who would needs die when she understood the death of her servant.

In the mean time, though Tarquin were implaca∣bly incensed against Aronces, because he was loved by Clelia, the Tyrant's ambition being then predo∣minant over his love, yet durst he not treat him harshly. On the contrary, he was so careful of him, that he soon recovered of his wounds, but was nevertheless very narrowly looked to. The great∣est enjoyment Aronces had, was, that the Prince of Pometia and Titus, both virtuous persons were per∣mitted to visit him. So that from them he under∣stood the transactions at Rome. Celeres therefore having observed that these Princes often visited Aronces, and not finding any other way to speak to him, but by their assistance, resolved to trust himself to the Prince of Pometia, a person of no∣ble and virtuous inclinations. He therefore made acquaintance with him, and begged of him the fa∣vour to see Aronces, to bring him tidings from Cle∣lia, assuring him he would not meddle with any thing but what directly related to the Loves of Aronces, without the least reflection on the concern∣ments of Rome. In so much that the Prince of Pometia, sensible of Lovers misfortunes, promised Celeres to do what he desired, besides that, being infinitely in love with Hermilia, he in like manner would trust Celeres, and intreated him, that by the same way as he gave Aronces an account of Clelia, he would send tidings of him to the amiable Sister of Brutus. He made the Prince his Brother acquaint∣ed with this business, that Celeres might send from him to Collatina, whom he so dearly loved; for as things stood then, it would have been hard for them to send often to Rome, without being discovered. But by the means of Celeres, they doubted not the safe carriage of their Letters, so that having promised him not to write any thing but what related to their Love, and he on the other side engaged him∣self to them, not to meddle with any thing but what concerned that of his friend; those two Princes carried their business with so much pru∣dence, that the officers that guarded Aronces, suf∣fered some of their retinue to go in along with them, when ever they went to visit that prisoner. By this means Celeres, disguised like one of those Slaves, who wait on Princes in their Chambers, attended them when they went to see Aronces. The first time he came, that illustrious Prisoner was al∣most out of himself for joy, and the entertainment that happened between the Prince of Pometia, Titus and him, was the noblest and most generous in the World. So that from that time Celeres became the Confident of these three Princes, and went divers times to Rome to bring their Letters to Clelia, Hermilia and Collatina, whose answers he faithfully returned to these three Lovers, who found some ease in discoursing of their joynt misfortunes, For, the Prince of Pometia and Titus being great Lovers of Virtue, they had a horror for the wick∣ed actions of those to whom they owed their lives; and if the same virtue that oblig'd them to abhorr their crimes, had not also engag'd them in their interests, they had been their enemies, for as to the Crown they had no pretence to it, Sextus be∣ing only look'd upon by Tarquin and Tullia, as fit to succeed them.

What was most remarkable, was, that this Prince, who, by the violence he did Lucretia, caused the ruine of his House, the insurrection of Rome, and all the miseries of the King his Father, the Queen his Mother, the Princes his Brethren, and him∣self, groaned under, did nevertheless mind his en∣joyments in the little Town where he was retir'd, and whence he durst not stirr, because Tarquin could not in policy have been near his person. So that never reflecting on the death of that amiable person, or regarding the misfortunes which in all likelihood he must foresee; he led as voluptuous a life, as if he had been in Rome in absolute peace.

It was not so with Tarquin and Tullia, for they omitted nothing which they thought might con∣tribute any thing to their re-establishment. Having therefore sent to Rome, and the Consuls having ac∣cepted the War they had declared, Tarquin went one morning to Aronces, to get him to write to Por∣senna, to assure him of his noble entertainment, that so the person whom he intended to send to him, might the better be received. What I desire of you, saies Tarquin to him, contains nothing that is unjust, and savors not of the Tyranny which my enemies reproach me with. For having taken you in Arms against me, I might treat you as an enemy, and yet not be charged with any injustice. But since there is a very strict alliance between the King of Clusium and my self, I shall proceed with moderation. I am not to learn, My Lord, replies Aronces, without the least disturbance, that there hath been an alliance between Rome and Clusium,

but know not whether there will be any hereafter between Tarquin and Porsenna.

How it ever may happen, added he, all I can tell you, is, that you have taken me in Arms, and that accordingly, I expect no other favor than to be treated as a Prisoner of War. Look not there∣fore on me in this conjuncture, as son to the King of Clusium, but as a friend to Clelius, Brutus, Valerius, and Herminius, and a servant to Clelia. Look upon me, I say, as an enemy, and expect not I should write any thing to the King my Father, to ensnare him into your interests. He understands his own better, replyed Tarquin, than to refuse his protection to a Prince, forced away by his rebellious Subjects, and consequently not to joyn with me. If he do it, replies generously Aronces, I shall be the most unfortunate of men, as being reduced to such an extremity, as that I can∣not bear Arms against you; and if he do it not, I shall infallibly make one among your enemies. Tarquin observing with what constancy Aronces spoke, and attributing it to the strongest passion he had for Clelia, was so much the more exaspe∣rated against him, insomuch, that though he ought in point of policy to humour that illustri∣ous captive, yet could he not forbear to give him a bitter answer, telling him, that if he were treat∣ed any better than he should, it was not for his own sake.

However, he sends to Porsenna, to acquaint him, that he had taken his Son in Arms, yet that he did not detain him as an enemy, but only to keep him from getting into Rome, where he might marry Clelia, who was then at liberty; That knowing it was not his intention it should be so, he sent him notice of it, intreating and exhorting him to take his part; that he would remember the alliance there was between them; and to consider his cause, as such as might be that of all Kings.

This done, Tarquin went in person from City to City, to beg assistance of his neighbors, taking a∣long with him the Princes Son's, to raise the more compassion in the people. But Tarquin being rather feared than loved, he was not received favoura∣bly any where but among the Veientes, for which reason he took the more pains to win them into his party, than any other; besides that Veiae was one of the most considerable Cities of all Tuscany. It was as big as Athens, extreamly populous, and very rich, the inhabitants were stout men, and the Countrey belonging thereunto, reached from the Janiculus to Tarquinia, and from thence to the Mountain Soracie, towards the County of the Fa∣lisci, being seated high in a fertile Country, about fourteen miles from Rome, and consequently, very sit for the commodious entertainment of an Army, and withal, strangely to incommodate the Romans. Besides which, Tarquin being confident that the people of Tarquinia, which was also a very strong City, would be for him, thought that if he could but joyn the Veientes and the Tarquinians together, they would be strong enough to reduce Rome. He therefore was extreamly desirous to engage them into his interests, and being loath to trust any one to perswade those whom he would gain, he pro∣vided to speak himself. The Council whereby that considerable City was governed, met toge∣ther, Tarquin being followed only by the two Prin∣ces his Sons, with a small train, to raise the great∣er pity in those whom he would make partners in his disgraces,

And as men are generally moved at extraordi∣nary accidents, so, how tyrannical soever Tarquin might have been, those he spoke to being not his subjects, but his neighbors and allies, they heard him with respect, and had a great compassion for him. Tarquin was not certainly any of the hand∣somest men, yet had he, I know not what, that was great amidst his fierceness, which was not un∣suitable to his birth. Add to that, his being fol∣lowed by the Princes his Sons, who were very handsom men, did as it were, soften the hearts of those who saw Princes of such high birth, become unfortunate in so small a time. Tarquin therefore being placed where he was to speak, doing his hu∣mour a certain violence, began now to intreat, who had never before but commanded

You see generous Veientes, said he to them, what haply others never did, that is, an unfortunate King, that hath lost a Crown in a moment, while he exposed his life at the Siege of Ardaea, for the glory of those who forced him away. I make no Apology for all the pretended violences which my enemies reproach me with, for the just limits of lawful authority, and tyrannical power, are not so precisely designed by reason, but that men may sometimes call that tyrannie, which is no more than an expression of his vigor who governs: Without any examination therefore whether my Poli∣ticks have been guilty of too much rigor or not; I shall only say, that should I have been unjust, yet are my subjects nevertheless criminal, and that my neighbors are obliged to assist me, You will haply tell me, That Monarchical States are more concerned in my protecti∣on than you are; but I may answer you, that it is no less your concernment than theirs, and that the conse∣quences of it may prove as dangerous in relation to your government, as to any other of a different nature. For in fine, to speak properly, the King is not the ob∣ject of the peoples hatred, but the power that keeps them in subjection. For he that would search into the hearts of all Nations in the world, would find very often that those who live in Republiques, would glad∣ly live under Kings; and that those that live under Kings, would fain live under a Common-wealth. So that it concerns you to punish the rebellion of my sub∣jects, unless you would give an ill example to those who at the present obey you, as being such as haply are perswaded that they cannot, but with expecta∣tion of punishment disobey you. You know moreover, generous Veientes, that there is a natural antipathy between the Romans and you, which should oblige you to embrace any just occasion, to revenge your selves for the antient injuries they have done you. Embrace it then generously, and forsake not an unfortunate King, forced away not only by his subjects, but by his nearest kindred, who have snatched the Crown from him with their own hands, and who yet are forced to divide his power, because there was not any one among them, that deserved the sole possession of it to himself. Be not afraid to have to do with a sort of men, who since they have proved rebellious to their King, will cer∣tainly prove traitors one to another. We shall triumph without trouble, if you will but assist me. But above all things, that which is of greatest concernment, is ex∣pedition, so that my enemies may not have time to for∣tifie themselves, by a conjunction of parties. Assist me then, generous Veientes, revenge your Troops hereto∣fore defeated by the Roman Legions, and assume to your

selves the glory of having re-instated a King in his Throne, who shall not otherwise employ the power he shall by your means recover, than to revenge you on your enemies, if there happen to be any that shall pre∣sume to molest you, when we shall be joyned together. The Tarquinians will be on our side, and if you will take my advice, you will not stay till all other Nations con∣cern themselves in my disgrace, you will envy your ene∣mies the advantage of having revenged the affront I have received, and in a word, you will behave your selves like generous neighbors, faithful Allies and able Statesmen.

Tarquin having given over speaking, withdrew, to leave them to the liberty of their suffrages. At first sight, he seemed to have moved the hearts of those that heard him, that all the voices were for him. But some of the Assembly having consider∣ed the business more narrowly, said, that the point to be debated was, whether they were Allies to Rome, or to Tarquin. For in fine, said one of those that were of that opinion, the union of two people, is that which occasions the conveni∣ence of Commerce, and not the alliance of a dis∣possessed King, who is not to be considered other∣wise by us, than as a private person. But if Tar∣quin get into the Throne again without our assist∣ance, replyed another, what condition should we be in? would he not be our most implacable ene∣my, and this union of Nations, whence are deri∣ved all the conveniences of Commerce, could it sub∣sist when we had forsaken him? It does not con∣cern us to examine whether he hath been forced away justly or not; but it is our business to lay hold on an occasion, to make a War against our an∣tient enemies, since it proves advantageous to us. It is ever good to afford protection to fortunate Princes, and it were dangerous to refuse it: for in fine, if we refuse to be of Tarquin's party, we must fide with Rome, for whom we have been already courted to declare: So that Rome being the place that is to be set upon, it will be in our Countrey, and at our charge, that the enemies Army will subsist, without discipline, and consequently with all the violences which attend the first eruptions of Wars of this nature. On the contrary, if we are of their side, who must set upon Rome, it will be easier for us to rescue our Countrey from all mi∣litary hostilities.

This Velentin having spoken with much earnest∣ness, hindred the other that opposed him to carry away the greatest number of voices, though he al∣so debated the business with much obstinacy. So that it was resolved that they would assist Tarquin with all the force they could make.

This Prince returning thereupon to Tarquinia, the Inhabitants of the City chearfully prepared to take the field with as many Troops as could be raised, as thinking it a thing making much for their glory, that a family of their City should reign at Rome. On the other side, Brutus and Valerius left ••o stone unmoved, in order to a preparation for the War, and, causing all to be listed that were able to bear Arms, and that were not listed before, they were to think at the same time of mustering 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Legions, modelling an Army, exercising the new rais'd Soldiers, fortifying their City, and translating the War as far as they could from their own Walls. So that in Rome, Veiae, and Tarquinia, all were in Arms, all ready to fight. However, Celeres passed to and fro between Rome and Tarqui∣nia; to carry news from Aronces to Clelia, and from Clelia to Aronces. But when ever he went, he wanted not a Pacquet to Hermilia and Collatina, who were more than infinitely troubled, when they understood that the Armies were soon to take the field. For when Hermilia did but imagine that she saw her Brother and her servant fighting one a∣gainst another, she strugled with a grief that was too hard for her reason to deal with, and not know∣ing what to wish, she wished nothing at all, and so remained in the most afflictive uncertainty in the world. Collatina was also extreamly troubled, and Clelia so far, that her grief admitted no com∣parison. What added to her affliction, was, that she had understood by Celeres, that Aronces was at certain times guilty of a strange jealousie, out of a fear that Horatius might undermine him in her esteem. Insomuch that she knew not what to de∣sire, as things stood; for if she wished that Tar∣quin would deliver him up to Porsenna, she thought he might be clapped up at Clusium as he was at Tarquinia, unless he should promise the King his Father, never to think of her more, which would have proved the greatest misfortune that ever could have happened to her. On the other side, if he made an escape, and came to Rome, she saw him between two Rivals, and withal, exposed to all the hazards of a War.

In the mean time, Mutius left nothing undone that might please Valeria, and Herminius was still importunate with Valerius, who would start from his resolution; besides that, not thinking it fit to marry his Daughter in that troublesome conjun∣cture of time, Herminius was forced to give over pressing him any further. So that there were only Amilcar and Plotina, who were subject to no pre∣sent misfortune; on the contrary, having abun∣dance of good inclinations one for the other, they accounted themselves happy enough, and not fore∣seeing that their fortune was such as would not give them leave to imagine they should continue long together, the present enjoyment swallowed up the fear of what was to come, and was enough to satisfie them. So that amidst so many unfor∣tunate persons, and a City where there was no discourse but that of War, all theirs was of Love, as not being troubled at any thing but the misfor∣tunes of their friends.

Persander, on the other side being resolved to serve Rome while the War should last, besides that, the waies were not safe, Caesonia took a house, and Plontina lived with her. 'Tis true, they so often visited Clelia, Valeria, Collatina, and Hermilia, that it might be said they seldom were asunder. For Horatius he left not a stone unmoved to curry fa∣vour with Clelius, who had a very particular af∣fection for him, upon the account of his Mother, whom he had been a Suitor to before he married Sulpicia. But for Clelia, he observed such a re∣spectful distance towards her, that she had not the least occasion to complain of him, though she had been ever so desirous of it. When ever he said any thing to her of Aronces, he did it with abundance of reservedness, insomuch that the manner of his carriage put her into a greater disturbance, than if he had spoken in any other way.

I easily perceive Madam (said he to her one day, that being come to wait on her, she was some∣what pensive) that your mind is not where your bo∣dy is, and that you are more taken up with Aron∣ces than with Horatius. Nay, 'tis certain, Madam, that your heart is in prison with my Rival, and even at the very instant that I speak to you, you do not so much as give me the hearing. And yet would you but seriously reflect on the state of af∣fairs, you would find it were not the pleasure of Fortune that Aronces should be happy. His own birth is an unavoidable hindrance to his felicity, since that the King his Father would never permit him to marry you, and that in all probability Por∣senna being likely to become an Enemy to Rome, Clelius himself will oblige you to give over all thoughts of Aronces, besides that being Tarquin's Pri∣soner, his destiny, as to what may become of him, is yet more doubtful.

As I am not guilty of so great a presumption as that of prying into the secrets of the Gods, replied Clelia, so I leave what is to come to their disposal: but when all is done, Horatius, though I should ne∣ver be Aronces's, I will never be yours, and to sa∣tisfie you that I do not say so out of humor, I shall assure you that it ever hath been my faith, that it is for any one lawful to love once in his life, provided that Love be innocent, and that one love with an irretractable resolution of never entertaining any second passion, whatever may happen; for with∣out that I look on the woman as fit to be slighted, and indeed unworthy to live. So that as I must needs acknowledge, that my heart is full of Aronces, and that he hath the absolute possession thereof; so though thousands of hindrances retard the happy progress of our affection, you should be never the nearer happiness for it. But Madam, replyed Horati∣us, since it is certain that Aronces cannot be satisfied, why are you not willing I should? because, replyed she, I am confident you never can. For, in a word, take it from me, as told you with all possible sincerity, I shall never admit a second affection: nay, though Aronces were dead, or what were more insupporta∣ble, were he unconstant, and that I should love him no longer, I should not love any thing after him, and that out of a pure sentiment of glory, and I should die a thousand times rather than be engaged to affect any thing again. But things are not come to that pass, for Aronces lives, and will not be un∣faithful, and Clelius is so rational, that I am not in the least fear he will ever force my inclinations, even though his mind were changed.

As Clelia spoke these words, the Prince of Nu∣midia came (this being his first visit) to Sulpicia's, who thought him extreamly altered; his wounds and his melancholy having brought him so very low tha he was hardly known. He was grown so pale, that he seemed not to be an African, besides that, by the change of Climate, he was so fallen away, that he could not well be distinguished from a Roman. Sul∣picia, who knew his quality, whom he had spo∣ken to with so much generosity when Clelius and she met him near Ameriola, and was not ignorant how gallantly he had exposed his life to rescue her incom∣parable daughter, entertained him very kindly. Even Clelia her self, who had seen him fight with incredible valor for her Liberty, must needs have a civility for him, and withal remember, that when she saw him hazarding his life for her in Tarquin's Palace, she took him for Aronces. But the Prince of Numidia and Horatius having not seen one ano∣ther since they had sought on the Lake of Thrasi∣menes, they looked on the other with a little indig∣nation, insomuch, that if Clelius had not come in, these two Lovers, who could not ruine Aronces in the esteem of Clelia; nor be revenged on him, as being both obliged to him, would haply have made some quarrels. But such was the prudence of Cle∣lius, that having heard the Prince of Numidia and Horatius were in his wifes Chamber, he came in purposely to send away Horatius upon pretence of publick affairs, giving Sulpicia and Clelia order so to deal with Adherball, as he should do with his Rival. Clelia accordingly, willing to obey her Fa∣ther, and submit to reason, spoke to the Prince of Numidia, with abundance of kindness, while Sul∣picia entertained the virtuous Sivelia, who was come to give her a visit. She gave him thanks for the hazards he had exposed himself to for her sake; she commended in him the generous resolution he had taken to do what he could to conquer his passion, and entreated him not to entertain any longer the aversion he had for Horatius. You know, said she to him, that I speak not this out of any affection I have for him, but only to hinder two persons of extraordinary merit from engaging in any quarrel, at a time when Rome stands so much in need of gal∣lant men, such as should think of nothing but how to defend her. Ah! Madam, replyes Adherbal, is it not enough that you take Aronces, whom you love, into your protection; but you must also plead for Horatius, whom you love not? But since I love him not, replyes she, why should you hate him? Alass! Madam, replyed, he hastily, I hate him because he loves you, and that it is impossible but that a man should hate a Rival. How ere it be said she, I beg it as a boon of you, that you would not make it your business to quarrel with him. I assure you, reply∣ed he, that all I desire is to dye, nay, I am so unhap∣py, as not to find what so many others meet with without ever looking after it. But Madam, till such time as I do die, deny me not one favor I am now to beg of you. All Lovers replyed she, are un∣reasonable, and therefore they must not be promised any thing; before it be known what is asked; and so you must tell me what you would desire before I answer you. My desire, Madam, said he, is, that you would favor me so far as to tell me, that I am not the most hated of all those that love you; I allow Aronces the glory of being the best beloved, he deserves it and I am unworthy of it, and there are a many rea∣sons I should undergo that misfortune: But give me leave to think my self much more in your favor than Horatius. I know he brought you back to Rome, but he it was also Madam, that carried you away at Capoa, and all that can be said of him, as to his bringing of you hither, is, that he made a shift to resist the temptation of carrying you away a second time: but for my part Madam, I came to Rome pur∣posely to deliver you, though I had not the least confidence of your love. Think your self therefore so far obliged to me, as not to deny me the favor I beg of you. I grant you more then you desire, re∣plyed Clelia, for you shall not only not be hated but I shall have abundance of friendship for you, if you will but be pleased to forbear all love to me. Ah! Madam, cryes he, you will never love me while you live, if you cannot love me till such time as I shall love you no longer.

Adherbal being at those words, Valeria and Flavia came in, followed not long after by Her∣minius, who was but in the room e're came in Caesonia and Plotina, and after them, their constant attendant Amilcar, e're the company was set down. But he being at that time not in so lively an humor as he used to be, Clelia asked him the reason of it. Though I cannot easily refuse any request made by a person of your worth, replyed he, yet I have no inclination to answer you; for if I tell you what it is, you will laugh at me. You so seldome run that hazard, replyes Plotina, that were it only out of curiosity, I would advise you to do it for once. I shall not certainly be believed, says Amilcar, if I tell you what troubles me. It will not be the first time that you were not believed, answers Plotina smiling, you should not so much fear our incredu∣lity. Know then says he, I never was so tyred out with a man in my life, as I was this day for three hours space, during which, I entertained him with a hundred several things. It must be some man of no great understanding, replyes the Prince of Numidia. Not so, My Lord, replyes Amilcar; it is not his stupidity that I quarrel at: it must be then one of those who dispute all things, says Hermi∣nius, such as with whom a man must contest very earnestly, because they ever contradict those that are present. On the contrary, replyes Amilcar; 'tis a man that never disputes any thing, who grants a man what he would have, says all you would have him, knows no opinion but what you puts into his head, that never says No of any thing, says Yea of all, contradicts himself as much as you please, and by a base unworthy, and importunate compliance, murthers conversation every minute, put a man to a loss what to say to him, and keeps a man from making any sport, unless it be with him. You aggravate this so pleasantly, says Clelia, that I should be glad to know that man, who by being excessively compliant, turns a good quality into an imperfection. 'Tis a man, replyed he, of a pale countenance, of a mild disposition, in point of action careless, as to gate, very slow, and one that is given extreamly to say, 'Tis true.

In a word having unhappily engaged into his company, our first discourse was of War, but ha∣ving presently discovered him to be one that said all a man would have him, I made him change his op∣nion above a hundred times. I made him com∣mend both Brutus and Tarquin, say that Rome should conquer, and be conquered; that Sextus was a fool, and that the same Sextus was a wise man; that without virtue a man could not be happy; that with virtue a man is ever miserable: To be short, I made him contradict himself as I pleased. Upon this, I made the motion to him, to go to twenty several places, where I am confident he had not any thing to do: and yet he would needs tell me he had some business where-ever I proposed he should go, insomuch, that I was forced at last to tell him, I could very well be without him, and to leave him there and come hither, where the greatest pleasure I can have, is to be contradicted; for I am so weary of compliance, that at the pre∣sent, I look on the pleasure of disputing, as the greatest diversion in the World.

It is a thing so easie to afford you that pleasure, ••••plyes Plotina laughing, that I undertake to main∣tain that compliance is the best, the most acceptable, the most convenient, and the most necessary quality that a man can have. For do but compare the man that never says No, with another of my ac∣quaintance that never says Yes, that disputes per∣petually, opposes all the world, who ceases to be of an opinion assoon as another man is of it, who quits his own sentiments, assoon as he hath per∣swaded any other into them, for fear of being of the same judgment with another; and who in a word, banishes out of all company where he comes, the quiet and enjoyments thereof, by his obstinacy in disputing with all he meets; and you will find whether your complaint man that wearied you so much, be not to be preferred before him that I speak of. Nor indeed can it be denyed, that Compliance is a good quality. No question but it is, replyed Herminius, but it must certainly be confined with∣in its limits, and be guided by judgment: for it is of such a nature, that sometimes it is as service∣able to Vice as to Virtue. I could never have belie∣ved, says Clelia, that the two most compliant men in the world should speak so much against compliance. For my part said Herminius, I am not against it, when it is rational; on the contrary, I maintain, that it is necessary to all societies of men, that it contributes something to all enjoyments, that it is the cement of love and friendship, and that without compliance we should be always in dis∣cord and fullenness. But I must withall hold, that as sincerity is the principal virtue of all in relation to persons of quality; compliance is that of all the virtues which is most commonly abused by men of base and byassed inclinations, cheats and sycophants. In a word, I think it so dangerous, that I com∣pare it to those subtil poysons that are put into flowers, and kill men unavoidably. On the other side, says Caesonia, when you would commend a woman, you say, she is of a compliant sweet dispo∣sition. 'Tis very true, replyes Amilcar, and I must confess, 'tis fit a woman should be so; but the difficulty is to know how far she ought to be so; and how far the true limits of compliance ex∣tend. For as liberality, that Heroick virtue, that makes men the most like Gods, becomes prodiga∣lity, when it is excessive and not limited by judg∣ment; so compliance, which is a quiet virtue, acceptable and requisite to society, and very much to be esteemed, degenerates into a vice, when it hath no limits. And to speak truly, the case is not the same with this vice as with others, for there is but one kind of justice, one kind of gene∣rosity and wisdom, but there are a hundred kinds of compliances, whereof the greatest part are vi∣cious. If you say a hundred, replyes Plotina, you say too much. On the contrary, replyed Hermi∣nius, were it my humor to say a thousand, I should not say amiss. I think you would very much oblige the company says Clelia, would you afford it your instruction in a business of such consequence. I very readily shall, says he, on condition that all the illustrious persons present will before hand ac∣acknowledge, that they have all met with some compliant persons whom they have sleighted. For my part, says Adherbal, I have known some in Numidia, whom I have denyed whatever they have desired of me, without any other reason for it, than that they were guilty of a certain interes∣sed compliance, which I could not endure. You were very much in the right, my Lord, replies Her∣minius,

for there is not any thing more insuppor∣table, than a sort of people that affect compliance, whose wills are consonant to yours, meerly to oblige you to comply with theirs. And yet the world is full of this kind of people, in all conditi∣ons, and of all sexes; but there are withall such a vast number of compliances that I think it almost impossible to name them all. For there are compli¦ances of interest, compliances of disposition, com∣pliances of love, compliances of esteem, complian∣ces of friendship, compliances of ambition, un wor∣thy, base compliances, compliances derived from dissimulation, Court-compliances, City-compliances, serious compliances, merry compliances, eloquent compliances, mute compliances, true and false com∣pliances, and thousands more. 'Tis true, there are of all those kinds that you have named, says Plo∣tina; but in fine, what I would fain learn is, the true use of compliance, whether it be with our Superiours or inferiours, whether between persons of the same condition, whether between men and their female acquaintances, or between persons that are in love. I think says Herminius, it were an easier matter to say what ought not to be done, than what ought: But I shall briefly tell you, all I shall think fit, without any compliance. To speak then of compliance in general, I would not have it to be such as shall flatter vice, betray virtue, dis∣guise truth, derogate from Religion. I would not have people to be less sincere, just, and faithful, that they may be the more compliant: I would have those that are related to great ones to respect them, but would have them study such a compli∣ance, as regards only their quality, and not their own interest, and such as obliges them to commend that which they abhor in their hearts. Compli∣ance does indeed very well in things indifferent, but it must ever be avoided in those that may be prejudicial either to him with whom a man com∣plies, or any other.

You'll pardon me, that I interrupt you says Plo∣tina, but I am so with child to know what you meant when you spoke of a mute compliance, that I cannot forbear entreating you to inform me. By a mute compliance, replyes Herminius, I mean those people, that for fear of saying any thing that might displease their friends, suffer them to run into indiscreet and extravagant actions, with∣out giving them the least notice thereof, and know not, that the greatest expression of friendship, is to give faithful advice. I am of your mind, re∣plyed Clelia, but with this proviso, that it is but fit, that those who give advice, should do it with mildness and prudence; for there are few love those that acquaint them with their imperfections. But to return to compliance, added she, I would fain know when people ought to have any, when not. It does always well, replyed Amilcar, when it is not unpleasant to those for whom it is had, nor to him that hath it. That's too generally said, replyes Herminius, for though it ought to be had for all indifferent things, yet were it not amiss to introduce into a society, a generous freedom, such whereby men may not be obliged to captivate them∣selves eternally, and never say any thing but as you please, or, at your service, to those who propose any thing of divertisement to them: for as to matter of I am confident business; there needs no great compli∣ance, and that it is the part of reason to regulate it. Herminius does indeed speak very pertinently, says Amilcar smiling; for to speak properly, it might be said, that compliance is the Queen of Trifles, and that it is of main concernment, when there is a dispute, whether it be better walking in one place than another, to dance or not to dance, o sing or not to sing. But however saies Plotina, I hope you will confess there cannot be in love, any excess of compliance; and that the more compliant a Lover is, the more amiable he is. I grant it, replies Amilcar, but I queston whether he will be as much beloved as he is amiable, if he continue to be excessively compliant; and whether it be not a kind of policy in Love, and consequently very fit, that a man carry himself so as to be a little courted into compliance. For my part says Hermi∣nius, I am not of your opinion, for I think it is not so true, that jealousie is the inseparable attendant of love, as that there cannot be true love without compliance, since it is out of all question, that there are some Lovers so confident of the fidelity of the persons they love, that they admit not the least jea∣lousie, and that there never were any that wanted compliance. While a Lover is not loved, replies Plotina, I shall easily grant he may be compliant, but in my judgment, assoon as he is once confi∣dent of his Mistresses affection, he is sometimes as much inclined to do his own will, as that of the person he loves. How ere it be says Hermi∣nius, if he be not compliant, he ought to be so, nay I dare maintain he cannot forbear being such if he love truly. But if compliance in Love ought to be implicite, it must not be such in friendship, for there it must ever be attended with prudence and sincerity. Compliance is certainly the cement of civil society: but as I have already said, it should never either betray or flatter. Things absolutely indifferent, fall under its jurisdiction; in all others, it lies subject to circumvention, artifice, baseness or interest. Not but that a man may somtimes have a compliance even in things of consequence, though as it hath been said, it ought not ordinarily to be so. Yet is it allowable, when the person who hath the compliance is only concerned in the business they have in hand, and that generosity on that oc∣casion supplies the place of reason, and guides it as the other would. But one of the most dange∣rous compliances of any, is that which applauds detraction, meerly to comply with the detractor, and is so far from vindicating innocence, that it suffers it to be oppressed basely and unjustly.

'Tis very true, says Clelia, that this happens daily, for the person traduced being absent, and the detractor present, such as make it their pro∣fession to be compliant, flatter those they see, and neglect those they see not. But says Caesonia, I am yet farther to learn what you mean by Court-Compliances, City-Compliances, Serious-Compliances, and merry-Compliances: For as to the rest, the very names you give them discover what they are. For Court-compli∣ances, says Amilcar, it is easily perceived that Her∣minius speaks of those who are ever telling you they will do any thing you will have them, and yet do nothing but what they will themselves. And for the City-compliance, I understand it not so well, I can only guess at what it is. What I call by that name, says Herminius, is properly a cer∣tain forced compliance, misconstrued, stuffed with

complements, ceremony, and unseasonable com∣mendation, and such as is not a little offensive to those to whom it is directed. For serious com∣pliance, it points at people of a cold disposition, such as are reserved and discreet, such as force their inclinations not without some violence to their nature, and so give their friends away with such gravity and coldness, as if they denied what they grant them. For what I call the merry, it is the particular humour of Amilcar, and is so appa∣rent in him, that there needs no more to discover it than to see him; for he seems to be so cheerful and glad to do what is desired of him, that it might be said he obeys his own inclinations, though he saies he only obeys those of his friends. So that I dare confidently say, that he is never more com∣pliant towards others than when he hath most compliance for himself. But, says Plotina, what must be done, and what must be omitted? You must do, replied Herminius, whatever reason ad∣vises, that is, you must express a certain mildness, civility, and compliance; but it must be such a compliance as is not incompatible with Liberty; that gives way without weakness, commends with∣out flattery, accommodates it self with judgement and innocence to times, places, and persons; and such as without affectation and lowness makes so∣ciety pleasant, and heightens the conveniences and diversions of life. It should also qualifie a man to bear with the humorousness of friends; so as not to be too sensible of those sharp familiarities that happen, so they be not over frequent, but to submit sometimes to the pleasures of others, and to do a thousand other little offices that may be done without injury to reason, or violence to justice, and consequently such as do effectually make men better. In a word, compliance is some∣times able to disarm wrath, and to bring a calm in∣to an exasperated mind. But all the skill is in knowing what it is good for, so it may not be abu∣sed, as certain remedies are, which men apply in∣differently to all manner of distempers. For it is certain, that sottish compliance is flat and weari∣some, and distastful even to those to whom it is directed. You must therefore, if possible, en∣deavour to get that which I mean, and that it may be seen I speak not of a thing that is not in being, you need go no further to find it, than to the La∣dies that are present, who are certainly furnished with all that honourable compliance that pleases, that offends no body, refines the judgement, sweetens the disposition, angments friendship, multiplies love, and closing with justice and gene∣rosity, becomes the secret charm of society.

Herminius putting this period to his discourse, the Ladies he had commended, looked very ear∣nestly upon one another, as if they would have said one to another, it was fit they should make some answer to Herminius civility. But at last Cle∣lia perceiving that none of the rest concerned them∣selves so much in the praises given them by Hermi∣nius, as to return him any, answered him with abundance of wit and no less modesty.

This put a period to that conference, for Mu∣tius and Spurius being come into the room, brought news that the enemies horse would be suddenly in the field, and that for certain, Tarquin would have a very considerable Army. So that discourses of this nature being not so acceptable as what had passed before, the company was soon after dissol∣ved. Valeria, who had a particular dis-affection for Spurius, and desired nothing so much as to ob∣lige Herminius, went along with Flavia; as soon as Mutius had told this news; Amilcar waited on Caersonia and Plotina; Mutius and Spurius made but a short visit, and the Prince of Numidia per∣ceiving it to be late, took his leave with the rest. But e're he went, he said to Clelia, whatever a conjunction of Love and Respect, might furnish an unfortunate Lover with such a one as would needs love while he lives, even with an assurance of be∣ing ever miserable. He therefore went his way loa∣den with melancholly, that found his spirits such employment, that he saw not what he seemed to look on, so strangely were his thoughts taken up with the deplorable condition he was in. For in fine, said he to himself, What advantage is it to me to be a Kings Son, if I cannot avoid being Clelia's slave? What am I the better for my Rea∣son, if it must ever be subject to my Love? What avails it me, that I am generously born, if I can∣not forbear being ungrateful to Aronces; And what happiness is it to me that I was born in Numidia, since I am not capable of the inconstan∣cy attributed to those of my Countrey? 'Tis sad I should not have those imperfections that were some way advantageous to me, and that I have those virtues I am never the better for, since I can∣not overcome my passion.

Adherbal, amidst these reflections, was got to the place where he lodged, without taking any notice of an old man, a stranger, that had obser∣ved him very wish'dly, and had followed him. But being come to the Gate, this man, whose name was Donilcar, passing before the slaves that belonged to the Prince (for Brutus had ordered him to have some about him) presented himself to him with a very sad deportment, and speaking to him, I know not, my Lord, said he, whether you can re∣member the unfortunate Donilcar, who hath had the happiness to bring you up; but this I know, that I had much ado to call you to mind, you are so sad, and so much altered. Adherbal at these words, remembring him who had been the guide of his youth, and whom he had trusted with his life, embraced him with much affection, and lead∣ing him into his Chamber, Is it the King my Fa∣ther that hath sent you to look after me, said he to him? Alas! my Lord, replied Donilcar sighing, I know not whether I may presume to tell you what hath brought me hither, and that I shall run the hazard of losing your friendship, if I acquaint you with one of the strangest things in the world. The posture my soul is in at the present considered, re∣plies the Prince very dolefully, I cannot apprehend there should happen such misfortunes to me in Nu∣midia, as I might have more than an ordinary re∣sentment, for, if so be the King my Father be well. The King of Numidia, replies Donilcar, is in very good health, but my Lord, that abates nothing of your misery. I prethee, says Adherbal, never fear to tell me what you know, for, as I have al∣ready said, according to the posture I am in, there can no misfortune fall to me, but what happens at Rome. Promise me then, replies Donilcar, that you will not be displeased with me when I have told you. I am so highly obliged to you, replies Adherbal, that I think it impossible I should be an∣gry

with you, even though you should disoblige me: speak then boldly, and deliver me out of the uncer∣tainty I am in. And yet, if I may guess at what you have to tell me, it is this; That it is upon my account that the Carthaginians have broken with the King my Father, and consequently, that the Subjects I should one day have had, are dissatisfi∣ed, and are haply, risen up against me. Alas! My Lord, you cannot guess at your unhappiness, and therefore since you must one day know it, 'twere best you had it from me. Know then, that there now stands before you, that unhappy man, who was desirous to bestow on you a Crown which my wife hath, upon her death, taken away from you whether I would or no. What you tell me, is to my apprehension so obscure, and so impossible, replied Adherbal, that you must express your self more clearly, if you would have me to understand you. Alas, My Lord, what I have to tell you, is, that you are not Son to the King of Numidia. How, replies Adherbal, am I not what I ever thought my self? No, My Lord, replied he, and if you will needs be acquainted with your fortune, it shall cost you but the patience to hear me. Make an end once, make an end, O fortune, says the unfor∣tunate Adherbal, leave me not any thing, not so much as a noble birth; but when thou hast done thy worst, how great soever thy power and in∣justice may be, thou shalt never take away from me a Kings heart, though I should be so unfortu∣nate as to have been born a Shepherd. Whereup∣on Adherbal recovering himself, look'd on Donilcar with an extream sadness, and intreated him to re∣late the truth, without the least palliation.

Since it is your pleasure, my Lord, replied he, you are to know, that the King of Numidia, whose Son you thought your self, being yet young enough, had very violent inclinations for a young Lady of the Court, a person of great quality; but the dis∣proportion there was between them, being very great, the King his Father (then alive) told him one day, that he was not to do any thing as to that Gentlewoman, but what proceeded only out of Gallantry, and forbad him to entertain any thoughts of ever marrying her. But as it ordinarily happens, that the prohibition of things we are taken with, augments the desires we have of them; this young Prince fell so deeply in love, that he secretly mar∣ried the person he so much affected, and had a Son by her: insomuch that the noise this secret marri∣age made, and the alarm it put the whole Court into, was so great, that the excellent Lady having but newly given life to a Son, dyed, out of meer grief. Whereupon my wife, having been chosen by the Prince of Numidia, to nurse up the Child secretly, he intreated us to repair into Sicily, till such time as the Kings favour were re-obtained. Thither we crossed, and took up our abode near Lilybaeum, where having no acquaintance, we led a very solitary life. Being gone one day a walk∣ing into a small Wood, where the umbrage afford∣ed much refreshment and delight; my wife sate down at the foot of a tree, and set the Child she had in her arms upon a Grass-plot, where she thought she might sleep more quietly than in her arms. But, as ill fortune would have it, she fell asleep her self, while I was walking alone in the Wood, whereof the umbrage was so delightful to me: So that a great Serpent coming, questionless out of the Thickets, roll'd it self about the Child; for as all Serpents love the smell of milk, it found there something that drew it thither. It was not long e'r the Child waked, crying, whereupon my Wife waking also on a sudden, was astonished to see him incircled with a Serpent, whereof the dreadful folds were terible to behold. She had no sooner ey'd that sad object, but she starts up furi∣ously, not knowing what she should do her self: but treading as she got up upon the Serpent, it stung the unhappy Child, and without staying for any punishment for the mischief it had done, it got into the Thicket from whence it came; so that my wife crying out aloud, I heard her, came to her, understood the accident had happend to her, and participated of the affliction it was to her, to see that young Prince expiring three days after. We in the mean time stood extreamly in fear of the Prince's anger, who had committed a Child to our trust, which, by reason of the affection he had for the Mother, must needs be very dear to him. However, we thought it would be our best course to return to acquaint him our selves with the death of his Son, yet so as to conceal from him the un∣happy adventure whereby he had miscarried. We took shipping, being none but my Wife and my self in a Merchant-man, that stood ready to set sail from Lilybaeum to pass into Africk. We were no sooner at Sea, but a Tempest overtakes us: yet were we much more fortunate than other ships, for we saw some sinking near enough to us, indeed so near, that the wind ceasing of a sudden, we could save some part of the wrack of one that had been cast away, and wherewith the Sea was covered. But what was a very strange thing, was, to see a great Plank floating on the water, with a Pack of Merchandise tyed to it, whereof the Cords that ty∣ed it being half loose, had accidentally fastned on a Cradle, wherein was a little Child, much about the age of that we had lost. This object working much upon my wives heart, gave her oc∣casion to intreat the Master of the Ship, to give or∣der that it might be saved, and bestowed on her. Now the Child being fastned to the pack of Mer∣chandise, assigned as it were for a reward for him that should save it, her desire was easily granted. Thus, My Lord was your life easily saved, for to tell you truly how things past, it was you that my Wife and I found in that sad condition.

Ah Donilcar, cries out Adherbal, if what you say be true, what an ill office did you do me when you saved my life, and what cruelty was there in your pity. Alas! my Lord, replyed Donilcar, It was far from our intention to do you any such; it was our desire, not only to make you live, but to make you live happily, nay, to bestow a Crown on you. 'Tis true, my Lord, it was not so much out of affection to you, as to avoid the indignati∣on of the Prince, and to spare him an extraordi∣nary affliction, that we put you into the place of the young Prince that we had lost. We were not as yet got far from Sicily, so that our Vessel was forced to return thither, as having suffered a little by the tempest: but when we were gotten ashore, my wife pretended such a fear of the Sea, that no intreaties could get her aboard again. We there∣fore returned to our old habitation, where we con∣tinued not six months, for news being come that the King of Numidia was dead, we returned into

Africk, and told the Prince, who then did, and now does raign, that you were his Son. This we told him, not only to divert his anger from our selves, and to prevent his grief, but also out of some thought, it might prove a means to raise our for∣tunes. We thought our crime so far the more inno∣cent, in that we injured no body; for he, who should have succeeded the Prince, in case he had dyed without issue, is, as you know, one of the wickedst men alive. Upon these considerations, did we tell the new King that you were his Son, and he was the rather induc'd to believe it, for that the Princess your Mother, being of a complexi∣on different from that of an African, he imagin∣ed you were like her. He accordingly entertained you with joy, he made much of you, and caused you to be publiquely acknowledged his successor; in a word, he hath brought you up as such, and you have ever since thought your self his Son, as he believed himself your Father. I shall not tell you what affliction your love to Clelia hath cost him, nor what displeasure he takes at your absence, and at your departure, disguised, to follow the ob∣ject of your affection; but must needs tell you, that after your departure, having sent me to dis∣cover what way you had taken; my wife fell sick in my absence, but the disease proved so violent, that it soon deprived her of her reason. And where∣as you were very much in her affection, she could not speak of any thing in her fits but of you. Some∣times she said, that God punished her for thrusting you into the place of the true Prince of Numidia; sometimes, that she was not sorry for it, that you were better than he that is dead would have been, and a hundred such things, amongst a many more that had no dependance on these. At first, those that heard her, made no reflexion thereon, but she so often repeated the same thing, that at last a cer∣tain woman who visited her often, and was Mistriss, to his Secretary that should have raigned after you, took some particular notice of it, and acquainted her beloved therewith. This man told his Master, who seeing it a business that concerned a Crown, thought it not to be neglected. This woman there∣upon received order to put several interrogatories to the poor sick party, and that before such people, as should testifie what he had said. The business was thus carried, and my wife told all she knew; nay, she did more than all this, for having the command of her reason some six hours before she died, and her conscience being strangely troubled at that subordination; she in her perfect senses and memory declared the truth, after a promise made her, that I should not be punished. You may imagine, My Lord, (for I shall still call you so) what grief this was to the King of Numidia, and what good news to the Prince that should succeed him. In the mean time, hearing all this upon the way, from persons that knew me not, and under∣standing that search was made after her Husband, who had revealed a secret of that consequence, I thought it no good course to expose my selfe to the indignation of two Princes that I have offend∣ed, and that I should rather find you out to see what course you would take; For, my Lord, it were an obligation put upon my Countrey, to hinder it from coming under the Government of a wicked man: 'twere to oblige the King of Numidia, not to deprive him of a virtuous Prince, that he loves as his Son, and it were to do you but justice to con∣tinue you in the condition into which I had put you. And therefore, my Lord, if it be your plea∣sure, I will expose my self to all torments imagina∣ble, to maintain, that my wife had not recovered her senses when she spoke as she did; for we lived in a very solitary place near Lilybaeum, and it would be in all probability, a very had matter, either to find any people that knew me in Sicily, or to meet with the merchants who saved your life at my wives intreaty; it being so long since, that this truth will not easily be discovered, besides, that King having an aversion for him that should suc∣ceed him, will gladly be over-reach'd, and so, my Lord, I am ready to hazard my life to make you King.

It should have been done without my privity, replied Adherbal very smartly, had you made it your business to get me into the Throne, and you must have deceived me first, before you had decei∣ved others. But now that I know my self not to be what I ever thought I was, the Gods preserve me from purchasing a Kingdom by a cheat. Nor in∣deed do I take so much pleasure in life, that I should be over-sensible of the loss of a Crown which were not haply enough to make me happy. But alas! how am I afraid that my fortune is yet much worse than you imagine. Tell me then, added he, but in what place you found me when you saved my life? It was so near the Cape of Lilybaeum, re∣plied Donilcar, that we expected to have been cast away in it. But further, added Adherbal, In what year, what moneth, what day did this wrack hap∣pen? Donilcar having satisfied Adherbal very par∣ticularly, his colour changed; for having before understood all the circumstances of the Adventures of Aronces, he found that the very day on which Donilcar told him he had been found on the Sea, was the same with that whereon Clelius found Aronces, and had lost his own Son. He found it to be the same place, so that there was no question to be made, but that he was Son to Clelius. In∣somuch that this very consideration raised more disturbance in his thoughts, than had done that of the loss of a Crown. But I pray, said he to Donil∣car, could you not guess by the swathing-bands that were about me, what Nation I might be of, and of what birth? For your birth, replied Donil∣car, it must in all likelihood be noble, for your swathing-bands were very rich; and for your Countrey, I think you were a Romane; for it was reported at that time at Lilybaeum, that Tarquin was so cruel, that all the virtuous people was for∣ced to leave Rome. Besides, I found a Ring tyed in a Ribband, such as they said the Roman Knights used to wear, which haply might have been your Fathers, and which, for what reason I know not, should have been hidden in the swathing-band you had about you. And have you this Ring still (replies Adherbal, infinitely desirous to find some∣thing that should confirm him.) I have, My Lord, replied Donilcar, and for what reason I know not, I took it the very day I came away to find you out, but now I find it was the good pleasure of the gods. As he said so, Donilcar shewed him the Ring, which Adherbal had no sooner looked on, but he knew it to be like that which Clelius had worn since his return to Rome: so that being in a manner fully satisfied that Clelia was his Sister, he

felt such a distraction in his soul, that not able to master his own sentiments, he bid Donilcar stay with him, and locking his Chamber door, he walk∣ed a while without saying any thing, and indeed without being able to fasten his thoughts on any one object. But at last, reflecting on the sad con∣dition he was in, he thought himself the most un∣fortunate man in the World, Love and Ambition strugling so with his Reason and Virtue, that they raised in his heart, the greatest irresolution that ever the heart of an amorous and miserable man was acquainted with. What shall I do, said he to himself, which side shall I take? Shall I follow the advice of Donilcar or not? One way I may still be a Lover of Clelia, and Son to the King, and an∣other, I shall be Son to an illustrious Romar, and brother to my Mistress, and consequently must not entertain a thought, that I ever can be in love with her. All my Rivals will be glad of this change of my condition; 'twill be welcome news to Clelia; Clelius will be joyful at it, and I only shall be miserable, and that after so dreadful a manner as never any was before me. But yet I have this comfort, that my innocence will smo∣ther one great part of my disgraces, and Clelia, the cruel Clelia, will be obliged, even by Nature, to own some light resentment of compassion, since Love could never raise any in her. She will bemoan me, nay, will be forced to mourn for my death. But alas, continued he, doth it not signifie a vast decay of reason, to go and seek such weak and imaginary consolations beyond death it self? See we then, whether I shall be more happy on the other side: I may haply come to be King, 'tis granted; but alas, if I may not reign in Cle∣lia's heart, a Tomb is fitter for me than a Throne. It shall be still lawful for me, to call my self Cle∣lia's servant, and prejudice my Rivals what I can. But alas, to be a Lover and to be slighted, is a sad adventure. Besides, if to preserve the quality of Lover, as well as that of King, I shall commit di∣vers enormous crimes, I cannot rationally ever be perswaded, I shall be any other than an unfortu∣nate and uncar'd for Lover: so that if I take that unjust resolution, I shall add to my misfortunes, because the conscience I shall have of my crimes, will ever put me in mind, that I deserve my mi∣series. But can there be any thing more cruel, than for a man to go and tell his Mistriss himself, that he is her Brother? Let the ignorance Clelius is in, be eternal; for since grief will shortly take me hence, 'twere a kind of cruelty to let him know he hath a Son, whose death he must within a few daies bewail.

Let us then take a third course, let us gene∣rously write to the King of Numidia, that we pretend no Title to his Crown, and passing for an unknown wretch, let us conceal from Clelia what relation there is between us; that so we may have some light shadow of felicity, out of that only consideration, that she will ever look upon me as her servant. For as things stand now, if I do my self so much violence as not to entertain her any longer with my love, she will think her self obli∣ged to me, and I shall be somewhat less misera∣ble than I should be, if she knew me to be her Brother. But if I am look'd on as a meer stranger, added he, she will slight me the more, so that I shall not know how to dispose of my self. For this last consideration, it is certainly very weak, for what care should a wretch, resolv'd to dye, take? and for the other, Clelia is so generous, that I have rea∣son to hope that my condition, as to fortune, will rather raise compassion in her, than contempt: So that without doing any thing against virtue, I shall have the comfort to dye in the quality of Clelia's Lover; and accordingly, after a distraction that lasted all night, he resolv'd only to say that he was no Kings Son, without discovering any thing of that adventure, or acknowledging himself to be the Son of Clelius, though he had withal made a resolution, not to mention any thing of his love to Clelia, and to do all that lay in his power to dis∣burthen his heart thereof. In so much that Amilcar coming to see him the next morning, and giving him the respect he was wont, he told him that he ought him no more than he would do him as his friend, and in few words told him, that he was but an unfortunate and unknown person. Amilcar at first would hardly believe him, and asked who had brought him that strange news; to which he made answer, that he had it from one that had been related to him from his infancy, and whose faith he could not question in the least.

Upon this, Amilcar acquainting Brutus, Clelius, and Herminius, with this unexpected news, it was generally known the very same day, insomuch that Adherbal was visited thereupon by all of greatest quality in the City. Brutus told him in particular, that it was his desire he would adopt Rome for his Countrey, since he knew not which was his own, and assured him he should want for nothing. Her∣minius did the like, and Clelius generously offered him all his Estate. Sulpicia and Clelia sent to vi∣sit him, and the change of his fortune begat him more honor than he had received since his coming to Rome. Even Horatius himself spoke very discreet∣ly of it, and Adherbal had reason to be glad he was no Numidian, and to know he was a Roman, were it only out of a reflection on the virtue of so ma∣ny illustrious Romans.

In the mean time, being a person of a great and generous soul, he would not by any means per∣mit the honors they were wont to do him, and went to acknowledge their civilities who had vi∣sited him, as a private person. But coming once to Sulpicia's, he felt such a heavy grief upon him, that if he had not done himself a great violence, he would have return'd when he was got to the very door. For, it coming into his thoughts, that if he were sad, Clelia would have the less esteem for him, out of a conceit that his soul was not strong enough to support that change of condition, he overcame himself, and went into the house with such a constancy, as put all that were there into ad∣miration, and obliged Clelia to treat him with much more kindness than ordinary, not only, because she thought him more worthy esteem; but also out of a belief that he had given over all preten∣ces to her, and was content to make one among her friends. But he had hardly been with her a quarter of an hour, e'r he let fall the Ring Donilcar had given him, and which he thought he had not had about him: so that Sulpicia seeing it, and not able to conceive how a Numidian should come by the Ring of a Roman Knight; she took it up, but she no sooner had it in her hands, e'r she knew it to be Clelius's, and the same that she had

hid in her Sons swaithing-band, lost her Husband should be discovred as he fled from Rome: So that crying out for heavens sake, generous Adherbal, said she, tell me by what miraculous adventure you came by this Ring; for who ever gave you this, must needs have found at least, the body of my unfortunate Child, which I lost near Lilybaeum, when Clelius and I were like to be cast away, and at the same time we found Aronces. At these words Adherbal changed colour, and not able to say that which was false, to a person he knew to be his Mo∣ther, he made her so punctual an answer, that it added to the curiosity of Sulpicia. She looked on him very earnestly, and was so importunate with him to tell the truth, that nature working on his heart, and his reason assuming at that time, part of her lawful authority, he resolv'd to discover him∣self, and so changing his design of a sudden, he said himself what but a quarter of an hour before, he had made a resolution to conceal. For Sulpicia being earnest with him to satisfie her: Alas, Ma∣dam, said he, you know not what you desire when you speak after this rate; for were it not much more satisfaction to you to believe you had lost a Son in the Cradle, than to know you have one li∣ving that is unfortunate; and such as you will haply think so far unworthy to be yours, that you will disclaim him. Ah Adherbal, replied Sulpicia looking on him, are you my Son, or may I be so happy as to have one like you. Do me but the fa∣vour to let me look on your left arm, for if you are mine, you should have a little above your wrist, a fire-mark which a careless slave gave you some few days after you were born. Whereupon Adher∣bal being fully satisfied that he was Sulpicia's Son, was not able to conceal himself any longer; so that having shewn her what might perswade her he was her Son, he briefly related all that Donilcar had said to him: insomuch that Sulpicia being infinite∣ly overjoyed, that she had so gallant and so virtu∣ous a person to her Son, embraced him with much affection, Clelia was also not a little glad to lose a Lover, to purchase a Brother: But Adherbal could not take well the loss of a Mistriss, though he got thereby a most generous Father, a most vir∣tuous Mother, and the most amiable Sister in the World. Yet he still put on much gravity, and though he very civilly entertained the caresses of Sulpicia, and the kindnesses of Clelia; yet was it easie to see he was extreamly troubled.

Upon this, Clelius comes in, to whom Sulpicia had no sooner shewn the Ring, but he knew it. She also shew'd him the mark upon Adherbals arm, who having sent for Donilcar, absolutely satisfied Clelius that he was his Son, for he had been ac∣quainted with Donilcar at Carthage. Besides that, the Ring, the mark on Adherbals arm, the particu∣lar day the wrack happened, and the place where, were such circumstances, as put the business out of all controversie. So that being infinitely satisfied in the recovery of a Son, and to find him withal, one of the most accomplish'd men in the World, he spoke to him with the greatest civility in the world. Take comfort Adherbal, said he to him, and be not troubled at the change of your condition; for to speak truly, it is better to be a Citizen of Rome, than Son to a King of Numidia: and it is better to be Clelia's Brother, than her Servant, since you cannot now be loved by her in the manner you desire. I grant what you say is true, replied Ad∣herbal; but since it is impssible there should happen a change of sentiments to a man in an instant, with∣out some violence done to himself; I beg your par∣don, if I express not all the joy I should, that I am Son to one of the most virtuous men upon earth. However, I hope, my Lord, the earnestness I feel in me, to deserve that honor, will help me to over∣come those remainders of weakness that hang about me, and that within a few days there shall not be any thing to be objected against me. Whereupon Clelius embracing his Son with extraordinary af∣fection, spoke to him with all the generosity and obligation that could be, which stirring up in his heart those sentiments of Nature which lay there buried by the ignorance of his true condition, made him receive the caresses of his Father, with much more kindness than he thought he could have done.

This accident being strange and extraordinary, was in the space of two hours generally known, in∣somuch that the whole City came to Clelius to con∣gratulate him, and Adherbal, whose condition was much beyond what it was the day before, when it was known whose Son he was, after he had thought himself a King's. The Ladies came upon the same account to visit Sulpicia and Clelia. Horatius for this part, was glad to see that he had one Rival the less, so that he came in all haste to Clelius's, whom he complemented as also Sulpicia; which done, co∣ming to Adherbal, give me leave, said he to him, to express the satisfaction it is to me, that I am no longer your enemy, and to beg the favour to be numbred among your friends. Certain it is, I can be no longer your Rival, answered he, but that Ho∣ratius implies no obligation, I should be your friend, for looking on the concernments of my friends as my own, if I cease being a servant to Clelia, I must be the Protector of Aronces, who is my anti∣ent friend: and therefore expect no more from me, than you would from a man who can do nothing against his honour, and consequently not against him, whom of all the world he is most obliged to. This put a little fire into Horatius, for had he obeyed his own inclination, he would have made Adherbal some bitter reply; but looking on him now as Clelius's Son, and Clelia's Brother, he mastered his violence, and onely made him this answer. I am not to learn, generous Adherbal, that you and Aronces are antient friends; but I al∣so know you to be Son to Clelius, by whom I am not hated, though he be more inclin'd to Aronces; and therefore I shall not dispair of your friendship. Adherbal would have answered Horatius, but Amil∣car being come in interrupted them, for he made very pleasant reflexions on this adventure, detecting them to Clelius, Sulpicia, Clelia, and Adherbal, not forgetting Horatius. Plotina being also in the room, added to the mirth of the company; for she told Adherbal, that to make him absolutely happy, she would undertake to raise love in him, though it were only, says she, to raise a jealousie in Amilcar. Jealousie, replies he, is a thing that is not given when one pleases, and it is taken sometimes whe∣ther one will or no; but for my part, continued he smiling, I assure you, I give a great deal more than I take. You are much more happier than I have been, replyes Adherbal, for I have ever ta∣ken and never given any. Kings Sons, replyes

Amilcar, cannot ordinarily cause either love or jealousie, for their condition is much more consi∣dered than their persons. But now that you are an illustrious private man, you may cause any thing that it lies in your power to cause, and you will raise in me a jealousie, if Plotina be as kind to you to morrow, as she is to day.

At these words came in Brutus and Valerius, with whose advice it was resolved, that Adherbal should take another name, and re-assume that which was given him at his Birth. He was therefore called Octavius; that changing his name and fortune, it might also cause a change in him as to sentiments. However, it was resolved he should write to the King of Numidia, to acquaint him truly how things stood, and to intercede for Donilcar, who in the mean time was to remain at Clelius's, as a friend to whom he ought the life and education of his Son.

This done, and all being departed, Clelius as∣signs lodgings for Octavius, where he no sooner was at liberty to hearken to his own thoughts, but he felt what ever may fall on a Lover, when hope takes her last leave of him, and that his reason and his will combining against him, he, not without violence endeavours to subdue the passion that per∣secutes him. For Octavius being a great lover of virtue, innocence, and glory, and knowing it to be unlawful for him to pretend any longer love to Clelia, made a gallant resolution to subdue the passi∣on he felt in his Soul, and to dye a thousand times, rather than to do or say any thing that should raise the least suspition that there were left any the least spark of that fire whereby he had been almost consumed. But as he made it, what did he not feel, and how did he bemoan the cruelty of his destiny, which exposed him to so insupportable an adventure? Had not the affairs of Rome stood as they did, he might have looked on banishment, as a remedy to cure his misfortune; but the War just breaking out, there was no just pretence to leave Rome, so that there was a necessity he should resolve to give a great and difficult tryal of his virtue. But to do it with greater ease, he be∣thought him to fill his heart with the love of his Countrey, instead of that of Clelia. This gave him occasion often to visit those who sat at the helm of affairs, and the melancholly of Brutus taking him at that time, more than the merry hu∣mors of the rest, he saw him as often as possibly he could. So that Brutus and Herminius being but the same thing, he made a third with those illustri∣ous Romans, whose virtue strengthened his, and whose conversation smother'd part of that secret affliction which his reason was not absolutely able to master.

Among other times, Octavius coming one morn∣ing to Brutus, found him ready to get on Horse∣back, with intention to ride without the City, near the Sublician bridge, where he thought there need∣ed somthing of Fortification. Herminius and Amilcar hapned to be then with him, so that make∣ing a fourth man, and Brutus furnishing him with a Horse, they went altogether to see what was fit to be done to fortifie that place. And indeed Octa∣vius and Amilcar were not unserviceable to Brutus, for reflecting on the Fortifications of Carthage, which was then the strongest place in Africk, they gave him such good directions, that they were put in execution. But while they were discourse∣ing upon this occasion, and while Amilcar was tel∣ling them as much as they could have expected from the ablest Engineer upon the like occasion, four Soldiers that had left Tarquin's Army, coming up to Brutus told him, that being unwilling to fight against Rome, they were come to defend it. Brutus commending them for their good intentions, yet not trusting them too far, ask'd them what condition Tarquins Army was in. No question, very strong, My Lord, replyes the oldest of the Soldiers, and within a short time you may find it so from your walls, for assoon as the Horse are all joyned they will march hither. We do not intend, replyes Brutus coldly, to expect the enemies of Rome within Rome, we shall spare them the trouble of coming to find us at our gates. You must make hast then, replyes one of the Souldiers, for had it not been for an unhappy accident that hapned, that hath caused the Prince of Clusium to be kept close Prisoner, I think Tarquin would have been ere this time in the field: And what was that, says Amil∣car? They say, replyes the Souldier, that there is discovered a certain friend of Aronces's disguised, that brought intelligence to Rome that he was there∣upon taken; and that it being suspected that the Prince of Pometia, and Prince Titus were privy thereto, a great stir is made about it. Yet is there no great fear that this will do Aronces any prejudice, because Tarquin stands too much in need of the King of Clusium, to treat the Prince his Son unhandsomly.

Brutus perceived he could get no more out of the Soldiers, caused them to be conducted by one of his own to Lucretius, with order that they should be listed in several Companies for more security. Amilcar and Herminius were much troubled at the unhappy accident had befallen Celeres, as well for his own sake, as for Aronces's and Clelia's. They also had pittied Hermilia and Collatina, whose con∣cernment in the business they well knew. But at last taking their way towards Rome, they were no sooner come to the end of the bridge but they saw a very handsome man coming towards the place where they were, who seemed to be Mastar to four others that accompanyed him, and friend to ano∣ther that was in discourse with him. Things at Rome were in such a posture at that time, that no∣thing happened which gave not some occasion of fear and suspicion, so that Brutus and his friends stayed at the Bridge-foot, to see the stranger come up, and to ask him what he was. But being come a little nearer, Amilcar knew him, as having seen him at Syracuse, when Artemidorus, Zenocrates, and he were there. So that being one he had a great esteem and affection for, he turn'd to Brutus, I beseech you give me leave to acquaint this illustri∣ous stranger who you are, for he is a man of as great worth as any in the world. Whereupon Amilcar went and met him, whom he had spoken of to Brutus, who had no sooner known him, but coming up close to him, they embraced each other, as such as between whom there was much friendship and affection. What happy fate favors me, says Amilcar to Themistus (for so was he name∣ed) that I have the happiness to see you at Rome? It had been more pertinently spoken, replyes The∣mistus if you had ask'd by what misfortune it came to pass, that I am not at Syracuse; but how

e're it be, I am not a little glad to see you. Where∣upon Themistus presented one of his friends to Amilcar, whose name was Meleagenes; but Amil∣car knowing that Brutus, Octavius, and Herminius, were staying at the Bridge-foot, he told Themistus who they were that he saw there: so that intreat∣ing him to present himself to Brutus, as a person whom his misfortunes forced to Rome for refuge, Amilcar gave him that advice in that obliging way he used, when he had a mind to do a good office. He therefore presented Themistus and Me∣leagenes to Brutus, who received them with much civility, he having before acquainted him that they were persons of quality, and withall of extraor∣dinary merit. He also made them salute Octavius and Herminius, and got them to lodge where he did. And though the dignity of Consul required that all this company should have waited on Brutus home, yet would he not suffer it, for the house where Amilcar then lodged, being in a street cal∣led Lovestreet, and in the way to that wherein Bru∣tus lived: this generous Roman left the strangers there, after he had proffered them any civility that lay in his power. Themistus and Meleagenes were very loath to obey him, but having told him that he went not directly home, they stayed with Ami∣car and Octavius, and Herminius followed Bru∣tus.

But having brought him to the place where he was to go, they returned to Amilcar's to give these strangers a visit, whose complexion and deport∣ment had rais'd in them a great opinion of them. Besides that, having discovered by the complement, that Themistus had made to Brutus, that he lay un∣der some cloud of misfortune, they were glad of that occasion to offer them any service that lay in their power. Thither they come, and find Amil∣car, according to his manner offering them what∣ever he thought worthy their acceptance. I be∣seech you, says he to Themistus, tell me freely what you would have me to do for you; for certainly there are but few things which I cannot do here. In the first place, I have such generous friends at Rome, and among the rest, Herminius, that I dare offer you what is theirs, as if it were my own. Next if you are sad, and desire to be comforted, I shall not only offer you all the merry humors I am Master of, but there shall be at your service that of the merriest lass in the world; nay, what is more than all this, all the pleasures that Rome can afford. If you would drive away one affection with ano∣ther, I will bring you to Ladies whom never any left, but they carried love away with them; for if you are not enflamed when you see them, you will be when you leave them. If on the contrary you desire sollitude, I will bring you into the en∣chanted Grove, where the Nymph Aegeria inspir'd the wise Numa: nay, I will bring you to the foot of that tree where Remus and Romulus were found and where your sollitude will be so great that you shall hear no noise but that of your own sighs, if so be you are in an humor to sigh. In a word, ad∣ded he smiling, whatever may be your humor, I offer you friends that shall comply therewith, for there are a sort of gallant people here, some fortu∣nate, some unfortunate. There are those that love, and those that do not; there are Lovers that are well treated, and others that are slighted; Lo∣vers in mourning, and Lovers in mirth; and to tell you all in few words, what cannot be had in Rome, cannot be had any where.

You offer me so many things at the same time, replyes Themistus, that I know not what answer to make you; and all I can say, is, that what I desire at the present, is your friendship, and the esteem of your Friends. I have friends of the other sex whom you must also see, replyes Amilcar, for if you desire only the esteem of such as are my friends, 'twere but fit I visited not so often some persons I am taken with, and whom you will be, when you are acquainted with them. Not but I very well re∣member, that when I knew you at Syracuse, you were called the indifferent and insensible Lover. Alass, replyed Themistus sighing, those names were not fit for me, though it be true they were given me, and if you were to go now through Syracuse, you would hear such things of me, whence you would soon infer that I deserved them not. 'Tis true, added Meleagenes, you had the art of concealing your passion, and so you might with more justice have been called the Secret-lover, or the close-lover, than the insensible or indifferent. How re∣plyed Amilcar, were you in Love when I was at Syeacuse, I was so, replyes Themistus, and I am at this present no more than I was then, though I am the most amorous of all mankind. Were it not unhandsome to raise matter of dispute with an illustrious stranger, replyed Herminius smiling, you would find here such as should pretend to be as amo∣rous as your self. But it is in this case as it is in point of common sense, whereof every one thinks he hath as much as another. Octavius hearing Herminius speak after that rate, sighed out of the very thought that he could bear no part in this dis∣course, it being not lawful for him to speak of the flame had set him on fire, and whereof there were haply some embers left in the bottom of his heart, though he ever and anon did all that lay in his power to quench it.

As the conference that hapned between these four illustrious men proved very long, so had they thereby the time to know one the other suf∣ficiently to ground an esteem; nay there was such a sympathy between Themistus and Herminius, that they entred into a strict friendship that very day. They had some discourse of Artemidorus and Zeno∣crates, who were their common friends, and they spoke to one another with abundance of confidence ere they parted. The next day Amilcar and Her∣minius brought Themistus and Meleagenes to Bru∣tus, to Valerius, to Sulpicia, to Valeria and Caeso∣nia; but by the way, Amilcar acquainted them who were in love, and who were not, that so they might the better disengage themselves from those several companies. Themistus and Meleagenes gained the esteem of all that saw them. And yet Themistus seemed to groan under a little Melancho∣ly, which yet was guided by his reason; but all hindred not but that he was looked on as a very lovely person. For Themistus wanted not any thing that might recommend him to the Ladies; as being of an excellent good complexion, and ha∣ving a certain gallantry and freedome of air in the face. He spoke as it were by weight, and he was naturally very inclinable to civility and com∣pliance, and yet expressed with all his countenance somwhat that was great, nay, indeed something of fierceness. For these qualities were all the Ladies

that saw him, much taken with him, so far, that they were infinitely desirous to understand the ad∣ventures of a person so excellently handsom. His language was not very pure, as having I know not what accent of half-Greek half-African, which was not unpleasant. For Meleagenes though he were a very proper and very ingenious person; yet was not there so much curiosity of having any account of him, because his discourses discovered he was acquainted with no other misfortunes than those of his friends. Octavius was for his part in∣finitely desirous to know the misfortunes of such as were in love, only to see whether there were any as unhappy as himself, for he thought all that time, that a man whom death had deprived of his Mistress, were less miserable than himself, that was become Brother to the person he loved. So that Amilcar was prosecuted by his friends of both sexes, for an account of the adventures of The∣mistus. For my part says Plotina one day, (there being in place only Valeria, Themistus, Meleagenes, Herminius, and he) if you do not order things, so that I may know what hath brought so amiable a stranger to Rome, you shall never precisely know what I esteem I have for you. Nay then, I be∣seech you, says Amilcar to Themistus, be pleased to satisfie the curiosity of the excellent Plotina, and expose me not to a perpetual ignorance of what it so much concerns me to know. If Plotina could but guess at some part of my misfortunes, she would not desire the full relation of them, replyed Themistus, for being of a mirthful disposition, she will find no great diversion in my sadnesses. Anothers me∣lancholly, replyes she smiling, signifies commonly so little to those that know it, that you need not fear I shall be too much cast down at yours. 'Tis not Madam, replyed Themistus, so much out of any fear of troubling you, but out of that of not diverting you; and to do this latter, I cannot ima∣gine the relation of my life can contribute much. Ah! Themistus, cryed she, I see well you never had the pleasure to do your own will, since you are not sensible of the great satisfaction it were to me to be informed of a thing I am infinitely desirous to know. 'Tis indeed a great pleasure for a man to do what he pleases, replyes Themistus, but I wish your satisfaction were so limited, as that you would content your self with an account of Sy∣racuse, and that you would oblige Amilcar, Melea∣genes, and my self, no farther than to give you a discription thereof, without requiring any relation of my life. Not that it is at this day any secret in Sicily, but that I finding my self far from any in∣clination to do it. So you but give your consent, replyes Meleagenes, the fair Plotina may easily be satisfied; for you know I am acquainted with your life as well as your self. If it be so, says Valeria to Themistus, methinks you should not deny Amilcar a thing whereby he might come to learn what place he hath in Plotina's heart. And that so much the rather, added Herminius, for that your adventures are generally known in the place where it concern∣ed you, more they should not then it does here. If I must comply with the desires of Plotina and Valeria, replyes Themistus, I shall beg it as a boon, that Amilcar may describe the most eminent per∣sons of our Court, and particularly the Ladies: for since he knows not which I am in love with, as being of an opinion I was insensible of any when he was at Syracuse, I shall be extreamly pleased with the Character of the person that hath subdued my heart, and thence to convince you, that I am not prepossessed by my passion, it being impossible he should not describe her; that is, commend her pro∣portionably to her deserts.

If you love a woman, replyes Amilcar, but without any hope of ever being regarded or acknowledged, it must certainly be the admirable Amalthaea, who is the most attractive, the most amiable, the most virtuous, and the most accompli∣shed woman in all Sicily, for I dare not say in the world, before two that now hear me. But if you love a widow, you must infallibly affect the Princess of Himera, who may justly pretend to whatever is excellent, whatever is inviting, whatever is gal∣lant in this world. For Amalthaea, replyed The∣mistus, he that would love her, must run the ha∣zard of dying in despair; for though she owns whatever can make a woman admirable, yet hath she not that whence a man can take the least encou∣ragement to venture his affection upon her, amaze∣ment, respect, and friendship, being the infallible and ordinary effects of her desert. But in fine, without discovering my self, or telling you whom I love, do you describe the Ladies of the first magnitude, that shine in the Court of Syracuse, to see if those that are here present, will be able to guess which of them I am in love with, as also give me the satisfaction to hear the praises of the person I adore, without any suspicion of preoccu∣pation. I shall obey you, replyes Amilcar, con∣ditionally you give your consent that Meleagenes may relate your History. He must needs grant that, says Plotina; but first, be pleased to let me know what kind of creature this Amalthaea is, whom he makes so amiable, and yet such as a man may not presume to love. For my part, I cannot see how a woman can have all those charms which you make her Mistress of, and that it should be impossible a man should have the confidence to adore her. If she be humorsome, severe, and me∣lancholly, she is not to be so much commended; and if her virtue be civiliz'd, and that she really own all you attribute to her, she may be loved whether she will or no, for the inclinations of the heart are not to be diverted. If you would have a draught of her, says Amilcar, you must tell me whether you would have it for the Pocket, or the Parlour, that is great or small. If a small one will satisfie you, I should soon have done, but you shall not see her perfectly, but if large, you shall be as well acquainted with her as if you had seen her. For though I stayed but four months at Syracuse, I am as well read in that Court, as if I had spent my whole life there. For my part says Valeria, I am not for small pictures; nor I neither, says Plotina, and I wish, were my own to be done, it should be so exact, as not to want a cer∣tain little mark you see upon my cheek, and which I think adds not a little to my beauty. Begin then, says Herminius to Amilcar, for if you run through the whole Court of Syracuse, we must not this day expect the life of Themistus. Since it is not fit I should be an auditor, of my own History, repyled he, you shall stay for it till to morrow, when Meleagenes shall be at the trouble to give it you. Since it must be so, says Plotina, Amilcar must pre∣pare himself to draw us as many Pictures as may

serve to furnish a Gallery. And I expect farther, that he should chequer it with those of men as well as Ladies; for it is my persuasion, that as there is greater pleasure in company when there is a mixture, so Pictures, when there are many, raise greater delight, if there are men and women, than if there were only the Pictures of women without any men. You are very much in the right, ex∣cellent Plotina, replyes Amilcar, but I am to tell you, that my humor is such, that I am as ex∣travagant in painting as in love, and that you are not to wonder, if being about the picture of a La∣dy, I will give you a draught of the situation of her house, if the humor takes me, or the des∣cription of her Garden. For that, says Plotina, I shall easily pardon you, for such kinds of descripti∣ons do only fill the imagination with things that are pleasant and divertive: but what I should think unpardonable in you, were to be too punctu∣al in giving us an account of their predecessors, whose Pictures you give us; for there is no great pleasure in opening all those ancient Monuments, to make a resurrection for a sort of people we have nothing to say to, and are good for nought. Fear not, fairest Plotina, replyes Amilcar, I shall trouble you with fruitless Genealogies; yet it is but fit you knew the quality of those that are spoken of. Very right, replied she, but you must not do as those who to acquaint you with the loves of some beauty, would keep you an hour with stories of the Heroick acts of her Predecessors. I have al∣ready told you, that I shall not be guilty of any such importunity, answered Amilcar, and for that reason I shall not raise up those prodi∣gious Giants who were the first inhabitants of Si∣cily. Not but that, to deal freely with you, a man that makes a relation, is many times glad to take occasion to discover his knowledge in History and Geography; but indeed, all considered, you deserve a man should be reserved.

I am then to tell you, that the Court of Sy∣racuse, is one of the noblest in the world, as well in regard it is the most chequer'd with seve∣ral Nations, as that it is the most inclined to gal∣lantry. But since Amalthaea makes not one of those Ladies, among whom Themistus would have us to find him a Mistress, I think it but fit to describe her first, as a person that indeed admits no pa∣rallel. Amalthaea then is a person of extraordina∣ry perfections, and so meridian a virtue, that there cannot rationally be found any thing comparable to her: Her birth is certainly very noble; but she is so much to be celebrated upon her own account, that we need not run into any discourse of the Princes from whom she is descended, to look for any thing whence she might derive any advan∣tage. So that for what concerns her, I shall easily follow the advice of the amiable Plotina. But the very memory of her being infinitely delightful to me, I cannot but celebrate her for some things, for which she defies all commendations, though she very much deserves it. For as her sentiments are extreamly above the ordinary sentiments of those of her Sex, so it is a part of her knowledge, that the mind is to be preferred before all beauty, but she also knows as well that the heart is above the mind. Were she to hear me her self, I durst not tell you she were excellently handsome, and infinitely amiable; nay I have such a reverence for her, that I durst hardly assure you that she is fair, and hath a good complexion. And there∣fore judge of it your selves, when I have in few words described her to you. Amalthaea is tall; of an obliging countenance, at the first cast of your eye she hath a gallant presence, noble and courteous; yet a little reserved when she entertains persons that are indifferent in her esteem. But when she pleases her self, she is guilty of a certain mirth, insinuation, sweetness, complyance, nay gallantry, in her entertainment of persons that she is taken with. Not that she ever degenerates into that lowness, as to flatter any one: but there are certain charms in her gestures, such as so well express what she would have you to think, that you are sometimes absolutely satisfied with her, though she be not at the least pains to make you understand what she would have of you. But to return to her person; her Hair is of a light chest∣nut colour, the fairest in the World; her eyes grey, large, full of spirit, and that such as scatters abun∣dance of sweetness. Nay upon some occasions, were it not that the high virtue whereof she makes profession, had not accustomed her eyes not to discover all those pleasant things with whatever is delightful in this world, gives her occasion to think on, they would haply betray the mildest and most ingenious malice that could be. For the compass of her face, it is in a manner Oval, a de∣licate skin, a smile infinitely inviting, and as I have said she hath the best countenance in the world, and the best grace that can possibly be. 'Tis true, I speak improperly there, for whoever hath a good countenance, hath infallibly a good grace, it being impossible but they should be together. And yet the excellencies of her person is not all I have to commend in Amalthaea, for her great un∣derstanding, her great heart, and her great virtue, distinguish her much more from all other of her Sex. For the first, there is one thing in her, that is an in∣fallible argument of the greatness of it, that is an universal curiosity for whatever she thinks good or excellent, from the least things to the greatest, whe∣ther they be such as it is allowable for Ladies to know, or such as concern the noblest Arts, Works, Architecture, Painting, Gardening, particular se∣crets, and thousands of other rarities, which it were too long to insist on. But what is best of all, is, that she will not pretend to the knowledge of any thing she understands not. On the contrary, she avoids the affectation of knowledge and wit; nay she makes a secret of her curiosity, and you find not in her chamber but such works as are or∣dinary with persons of her Sex. But what she hath been most earnest to learn, is, whatever might make her more virtuous; she was certainly born to a certain freedome of spirit, though her tempera∣ment seem to have a little ingredient of Melanchol∣ly, but it is a mild melancholly, that disturbs not the calmness of her disposition, and hinders her not from delighting in those ingenious things she either hears from her friends, or speaking abun∣dance her self, when she will put her self to the trouble, and that she is among a few that she hath a greater esteem for then others.

Amalthaea hath farther the happiness of having made early discoveries, that the greatest part of the pleasures that young people take, are but vain tri∣fles, so far that she cannot be over-commended, as

to that point; for without turning savage, or being severe towards others, she hath discarded magnificence in point of clothes, at a time when that passion is wont to be most predominant in the Sex. She hath given over going to Balls, she ad∣mits not fruitless and dangerous visits, how plea∣sant soever they may seem to those who have not their spirits ballanced as hers; and she professeth such a purity of virtue, and a generosity so Hero∣ick, that she makes it her greatest pleasure to find out occasions to relieve the unfortunate. I know a Gentlewoman at Syracuse, who was no sooner known to this admirable woman, but she did her extraordinary favors, without any other reason than that of her unhappiness, and that she had haply goodness enough to deserve a better fortune. Amalthaea's greatest pleasures consist in the regula∣tion of her passions, in giving good example to those that see her, in doing all the good she can, in living with Anaxander, as the chastest wife in the World can do with a Husband, whose quality is that of the greatest, one that carries about him a thousand excellent endowments, and among the rest, generosity, goodness, magnificence, integrity, and an infinite affection for her. But to conclude, the pleasures of Amalthaea, she orders her House with abundance of discretion, she looks her self to the education of her Children, and serves the Gods with admirable exactness. In a word, I do not think that the first Vestals that were established at Rome, were more careful to preserve the sacred fire; than Amalthaea is to observe whatever Religi∣on requires of her. Would you go from her bu∣siness to her recreations; she is much given to reading, she is excellent good at all manner of Works; she designs, she paints Dishes to adorn her Closet, she makes mixtures of flowers in order to Perfumes, nay she diverts her self in putting inno∣cent tricks upon her friends, but it is to surprise them into delight, and to oblige them. And though she is a greater lover of solitude than of company, yet is she not guilty of the least harsh∣ness towards those of her Sex that are her friends. Her company is infinitely pleasant, and the great liberality she exercises on so many unfortunate peo∣ple, hinders not, but that she lives to the height of her condition, so to comply with custom. Hence is it that her house affords whatever magnificence guided by virtue, can pretend to that, is most stately. and the Palace of Anaxander, which lies upon the Port of Syracuse, is one of the most sumptuous things in the World. The apartment thereof which Amalthaea hath for her lodgings, is so pleasant, that nothing can be more; for besides many rare things that are level with the ground, there are artificial Rocks, and Grots represented, as also magnificent Cabinets, and a Belcony, whence may be seen the Port, the Ships that ride in it, and the greatest part of the City: and yet Anaxander and Amalthaea have a house about twenty miles from Syracuse, which blasts, as I may so say, the beauty of that, and is the most delightful and most incomparable thing in the world. For to speak ra∣tionally, a man cannot well say, whether this House be in a valley, upon a plain, or upon a hill: for it hath about it Rivers large and magnificent, Moats full of running water, Currents, Meadows, Wood, and a vast extent of ground. On the one side it seems to be in a plain; on the other it seems to be on a hill, and yet it may most truely be said to be almost in the midst of a pleasant valley, drenched by a great and a small River, whereof the sight is very admirable. I shall not give you any large description of this house, for I should never have done, should I speak of the outer parts of this inchanted Palace; that is, should I repre∣sent to you the spacious walks leading to the great River: should I give you an exact account of the length and breadth of the Avenues; the largeness and beauty of the Orchards, the coolness and um∣brage of the Wood, which lies within the com∣pass of its walls, the magnificence of that first Court which is octangular, and hath two stately Gates, and the beauty of three sumptuous sides of the building, which are seen as you come in∣to the Court. Nor shall I trouble you with a de∣scription of the Entry, nor the Stair-case, nor par∣ticularise the great number of noble and large Apartments that a man sees there, and which are so neatly disposed and contrived, that they are as remarkable for their convenience as their beauty. Nor shall I say ought of the largeness of the Halls in particular, of the magnificence of the Gallery, the handsomness of the Belconies, and a thousand other things worthy to be taken notice of, and which very much discover the neatness, the mag∣nificence, and the conduct of those that are Ma∣sters thereof. But I shall only tell you, that this House, which as I said, is in a Valley, is never∣theless upon a little ascent, in regard of the pro∣spect that lies on the Garden side, where there is a bridge to pass over the large and magnificent Moats I told you of. So that when a man stands in the Belcony, that is in the middle of this proud building, he sees beneath him those large Moats, full of excellent water, beyond which lies a plea∣sant green bank, out of which he comes into a spacious place, of a vast extent, enclosed by two great Currents, the one born up by Arch-work, the other running on the flat, beyond which, as well as beyond the spacious place, passes a small River, which having played the serpent among the Meadows fringed with Willow, seems to make another channel passing before the Garden, and those other Currents, for in that place it is as strait as an Arrow. And what's most remarkable, is, that assoon as it is passed that place it becomes a Ri∣ver again, if I may so express it, that is uneven in its course, till it disembogues it self into the great River which passes on the left hand, and makes a kind of an Island of the Valley, so that there being no Wall to the Garden on that side, as being enclosed only by the River, a man may with the same sight, see the Moats, the Banks, the Cur∣rents, the falls of waters beyond the Garden, fal∣ling into green Meadows; and beyond all this the little Rivers, Meadows, Hills, Cottages, Country∣houses, Villages, and Mountains, which insensi∣bly rising above one another, seemed to reach up to Heaven, such a confusedness doth distance cause in objects. But as the piety of Amalthaea and her illustrious husband shines in all they do, so was it the founder of a Temple in their house, which is the noblest and most admirable part thereof. 'Tis indeed a Master-piece of Architecture, the charge was certainly great, but the Workmanship is so mi∣racalous, that a man cannot say it hath been ex∣cessive. 'Tis true, that a punctilio of honor added

much to the perfection of this Temple, for the ex∣cellent Architect that did it, took his model from that of Ephesus, out of an expectation to be em∣ployed to re-build that magnificent Temple of Ve∣nus, that is at Ericium. But the late Prince of that place having preferred another Architect before him, and Anaxander having employed him, he engaged his reputation to do that in a small com∣passe, which he should have done in a great: So that I look on this Temple as the most miraculous thing I have seen in all my travel. For though it be but little, yet hath it all the advantages of the best archi∣tecture, and that without confusion, but in order.

But to return to Amalthaea, I am to tell you, that for those Ladies that come to her house, she gives them all the innocent freedom that may be, in∣somuch, that they can hardly be perswaded, but that they are at their own house. 'Tis true, those whom she gives this liberty to, are persons chosen out, who are all ingenious, all virtuous, and of more than ordinary desert. Among others, there is a Neece of Amalthaea's that lives with her, who, as young as she is, makes this pleasant desart, yet more inviting; for she hath the freshness of Aurora in her complexion, the innocency of the Graces in her Physiognomy, and I know not what of Diana in her eies; and what does very well with Youth and beauty, she hath Wit, Discretion, and Good∣ness. Amalthaea does also very often entertain some men of her friends, such as deserve that glo∣rious quality, and whom I shall one day give you an account of: but since it is not among them, that we are to find Themistus's Mistress, I shall not med∣dle with them at the present, and shall only ask you by the way, how you like Amalthaea. She seems so lovely to me, replies Plotina, that I would go purposely to Syracuse to see her.

And for my part, saies Valeria, I cannot but a little envy those, who have the happiness of her friendship. And for mine, added Herminius, I think there's no Prince in the world that may not repine at the happiness of Anaxander, were it not that he highly deserves it; for certainly there is no pleasure like that of having such a Wife. Were you ac∣quainted with her your self, replies Themistus, you would be more taken with her than you are. But it is Amilcar's business to describe to you the other La∣dies of our Court, for I am impatient till you have her description that I love. But if I should for∣get her, replies Amilcar, you were finely served; I defie you as to that, replies Themistus, for I think it impossible a man should see her once, and not re∣member her eternally.

Since it happens sometimes, that a man falls in love with Queens, it is not impossible, but that you may have loved the Prince of Syracusa's Wife, though you were his favourite; for Love, where he comes, is a little humoursome god, who laughs at all mortality, policy, and prudence; and such as makes a man love in spight of his reason, and con∣trary to his own concernments. I shall therefore at a venture tell Plotina and Valeria, that Demarata is a fierce Beauty, yet hath withal a certain mixture of mildness, spirit, and disdain in her eyes. Her hair is perfectly black, she is somewhat of a dusk∣ish complexion, having Lips incarnated, very white Teeth, a very handsome Breast, a very neat Hand, and a noble Presence. She is infinitely in∣genious; but her Wit is not always of the same weight, and is a little inclining to ambition. She hath a Soul that is very passionate, whatever she desires, she desires violently, and she knows as well how to disguise her Sentiments, as any one what∣soever; for when she will undertake to do it, a man will think she loves those she hates, and hates those she loves: but, all this notwith∣standing, she is very likely to raise love in any one. Yet do I not believe that Themistus hath received any from her, but should rather think that a cer∣tain young Lady of my acquaintance at Syracuse, called Belisa, may have smitten his heart, for she hath all the charms fit to engage a man into affecti∣on. She comes of a very noble house, though ill treated by fortune, and the changes introduced by the Wars, even into the noblest Families. She is flaxen-hair'd, fair as to complexion, and excellent∣ly well made; and though the lineaments of her face do not at all express any extraordinary beauty, yet are they all pleasant; and from the conflux of all those lines, there issues a certain inexpressible air, which hath more charms in it, than the great∣est beauties have. For she hath a thousand pretty gestures taught her by nature frome her infancy, which become her admirably well, and whence there is derived a certain sprightliness to her whole bo∣dy. Her eies are full of it, her smiles betray it, and it is visible in all her actions. Nay, there is a certain gallantry, in whatsoever she does or says, and by a certain conjunction of whatever is handsome and virtuous, there is made up a complacency that can∣not well be expressed. For, whether she speak, or whether she hearken, she is ever infinitely pleasant, and there is something that is so delicate in what she is pleased to bestow her thoughts on, and what she saies, and she hath such subtle apprehensions of what others say, that she is as it were a charm to all those that are near her. Insomuch, that though she speak against Love, she is ever attended by thousands of Lovers, who make all slaves about her. And yet she seems to be unwilling they should be such, and desirous to knock off their chains; for she makes a particular profession to be extream∣ly tender of her reputation; but while she endea∣vours to knock them off, she makes them faster; Some say, it happens when she never thinks on it; others, that sometimes she takes a certain pleasure in making these miserable wretches; how e're it be, it is but too true that she makes a many unfor∣tunate men; nay, at this hour all the world com∣plains of her cruelty.

And yet it is the most lovely cruelty in the world, for there's nothing in it that is frightful, savage, or uncivil; Nay, sometimes there needs no more in her, than but a scornful smile, to make a man more wretched than another should, with menaces, injuries, and incivility. Besides, that which puts all that love her into despair, is, that she hath a cer∣tain friendship for those Ladies that are of her ac∣quaintance, not much unlike Love it self, especially for one called Melisera, a person of extraordinary merit, such indeed that I dare not give you a re∣presentation of her. For in a word, she hath all the wit in the world within her self, if I may use that expression, but I mean that illuminated wit, that is capable of all things, that merry wit that would be pleasantly malicious, were it not bridled by reason; that discreet wit, which makes one ne∣ver to say, but what one would, nor to do but

what one ought. Judge then, how a person of so much worth may be esteemed, who yet, besides what I have said, is of a noble birth, is a great beauty, hath abundance of virtue, and no less ge∣nerosity.

For my part, saies Plotina, I think her as wor∣thy to be Themistus's Mistress, as Amalthaea to be his Friend. She is indeed a very admirable person, re∣plied Meleagenes, but the conquest of such a wo∣man, were a very hard business; but Amilcar hath not yet said all he hath to say. If Themistus could fall in love with a pretty coy Lady, that loves a∣bundance of talk, replies Amilcar, I know one at Syracuse, that must infallibly be his Mistriss, for she is extreamly fair, hugely amiable, full of sweet∣ness, and invitation. She hath a wit made suita∣ble to her inclination; it is not guilty of too much solidity, for it is not ordinary for great talkers to have any of that kind; but it ever sparkles, it pleases, its full of mirth and insinuation, and this very persons who flatters flowers where ever she comes, and takes in hearts where ever she meets them, makes such pleasant sport with them, that a man never leaves her unsatisfied, though it be trou∣blesome to him to be so long fool'd with a fruitless hope in so much company. You give us the draught of a very strange prattle-box, replies Plotina, but for change sake, let us have the picture of a gallant man of Syracuse, were it only to see whether I can guess at the Rivals of Themistus, as well as I pretend to have done at his Mistress.

You shall be obeyed, saies Amilcar, and that so much the rather, because it being unlikely you shall ever see him I am going to represent, I shall not need fear he will be my Rival. You are very cau∣tious, replies Herminius. Believe me, saies Amil∣car, a man cannot be too cautious in Love; and it is better be so too much than too little, even in point of Gallantry. But to return to him I am to speak of; Know there is a person of quality in the Court of Syracuse, called Meriander, a man that deserves so particular a character, as being master of an extraordinary virtue, that it were certainly much injurious to him, should a man simply say of him that he is nobly born, an understanding man, and an honest man. For certain it is, that he hath thousands of excellencies which may well distin∣guish him from, and set him above the most consi∣derable in the Court of Syracuse. Meriander is a proper person, of a fair stature, and a good coun∣tenance; he is flaxen hair'd, hath a grey eye, mild, yet full of spirit. His Face is somewhat long, his Physiognomy sweet and noble, in a word, he wants not any thing requisite in a person of his condition. He hath not only a clear understanding, but also full of gallantry, civility, and compliance. All his in∣clinations are so noble and generous, that it is hard to find a person of more honour, more fidelity, more sincerity, more discretion, and more true vir∣tue.

Besides, he is as it were, born Master of all the nobler Arts and Sciences. Yet would he perswade his femal friends, that he hath had no Tutor but the Court and Nature: But howe're it be, he knows all that others learn, and knows it equally with those that have studied it most. In a word, Meriander is acquainted with all those things that require wit, subtilty, gallantry, and civility. In the first place he is versed in that which they call the knowledge of the world, more than any other can be; and that decency wherein the civility of the Court consists, he is so well read in, that no man can be more. Were there an Art that should teach men the infallible way to joyn civility, wit, noble liberty, mirth, innocence, pleasures, virtue and gallantry, no man could undertake it but he; so true is it that Meriander is well instructed, in whatever may make up a noble Courtier. He is not like those persons of quality, who love those things that are handsom, though they neither know them nor can do them; no, he is versed in all, he writes a very excellent style in Prose, and that ve∣ry natural; and he makes verses so good and hand∣some, that they cannot be over-commended: For he fancies things very neatly, and his expression is so gallant, that it is easily seen that there are few in the world could do what he does. All which hinders not, but that Meriander is serious enough, nay, he makes a great profession of wisdom, though that be no Court virtue: but his wisdom admits a mirth so full of spirit, that it might be said, he is made for no other end than to entertain, and be en∣tertained by his female acquaintances. He knows Musick after Orpheus's his way, though nature hath not afforded him any good voice; and yet he makes such good Airs, and excellent Sonnets, that it may be said he hath in his head, whatever is most sweet and passionate in Harmony, and whatever is gal∣lant and delicate in Poesie. He dances admirably well, he designes rarely, he hath studied Painting and Architecture, and he hath made the design of a Building, which hath all the beauties of others, and yet are they nothing like it. Among other things, he hath designed in it, a certain place arch'd coupelo-wise, which he hath made purposely for the Ladies. The Sun never shines into it, and being en∣lightned only by false lights, falling from the Apart∣ments that encompass it, it hath a gentle light fit for beauties and private meetings. And it is so much the more convenient for the Summer, in that it is extreamly cool, having divers Hollows wherein the cool and the shade very much favour those that are desirous to meditate. To be short, Meriander is admirable in all things, for he loves Gardens, and understands them so well, as if he affected nothing but solitude, and yet when he is at Syracuse, it might be said he could not live one day in the Countrey without weariness. He sees what∣ever is polite, sprightful, rare, and gallant. There is no news, either of more or less consequence, but he knows it; all the excellent and virtuous of both Sexes are of his friendship, so that in all entertain∣ments he makes one; nay, he is a particular friend, even to those women, who out of considerations of virtue, live as it were out of the world; he visits others that love nothing so much as tumult; and, not having the baseness to dissemble upon any mans account, he yet complies with persons of quite contrary dispositions. Add to this, that Merian∣der loves to deal freely, and acquaint those that he looks on as his true friends, truly with what he thinks; and yet there never was so great a ha∣ter of detraction, or more discreet, more obliging, more sweet-natur'd or more officious man towards all persons of worth, nor more unlikely to offend any one, and consequently, it were no easie mat∣ter to meet with a man more accomplish'd. This Meriander, says Valeria, would certainly be a very

dangerous Rival. He is certainly a person of very much worth, added Plotina, but in point of gal∣lantry, a little mischief does a great deal of good; and it is my opinion at least, that there are in love many cheats, that are as fortunate as these persons of worth and virtue. If it be so, I know one at Syracuse, replies Amilcar, that may pretend much to happiness, for he equally deceives those he loves, and those he does not. He abuses all he commends, and commends all he contemns. He puts truth into the Catalogue of imperfections, and thinks a man cannot be witty without lying; when he is at a loss for a story, he invents one; he fathers those he knows, on such as do not so much as think on them. He thinks none his true friends, but such as he stands in need of; he prejudices all that cannot hurt him, and serves only those that can serve him again, With all these good qualities, he sings well, dances well, is witty, importunate, and whether you will or no, must be one of your friends. I' th' humour I am now in, replies Valeria, he should never be any of mine. I assure you, saies Plotina, it would not trouble me much, if he were my neighbor; for such people make better sport than those, that are much more virtuous; but let us return to Themistus's Mistress. For my part, me∣thinks she is long a coming, saies Valeria; and I am in some fear, added Herminius, that Themistus hath made an ill choice, if she be not one of those that Amilcar hath described. And yet I am satis∣fied she is not, for I have not observed in Themi∣stus's eyes that emotion, which a man hath when he hears his Mistriss nam'd.

Then be sure now to look well on Themistus's eyes, saies Amilcar to Plotina, for I am going to re∣present unto you the Mother of all Loves, when I give you the draught of the Princess of Himera, Sister to the Prince of Syracuse. Lindamira is cer∣tainly a person fit to conquer, even those hearts that being hard to be taken, stand upon their de∣sence, and when they are, it is done with twice as much difficulty as others. At these words, Plo∣tina, Valeria, Herminius, and Amilcar, looking on Themistus, perceived his colour to change, that his eyes betrayed that pleasant emotion Amilcar had spoken of. Insomuch that Plotina cries out, Hah! Themistus, said she to him, you love the Princess Lindamira. Whether I do or no, saies Themistus, recovering himself a little, I am not to acknow∣ledge, till Amilcar have said all he hath to say; for I would not have the praises, he shall give the per∣son hath conquered me, be thought chargeable with the least flattery. For my part, saies Amil∣car I must needs tell you, I am weary of paint∣ing, and that I will conclude with the Picture of Lindamira. When you have finished that replies Herminius, Themistus I believe, will desire no more of you. I will do it then with abundance of care, answerd Amilcar, and yet assure your selves it shall be no flatter'd piece. It were no easie matter to flatter Lindamira, reply'd Themistus, and if you were not so admirable a Painter as you are, it would go very hard, but you would take away something from her. Howe're it fall out, saies Amilcar, this is the Picture of the Princess of Hi∣mera. Know then, that Lindamira is a Princess of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 much beauty, and such attractions, that the ••••ddess that is ador'd in the famous Temple of Eri∣••••••, was never more lovely than she. Loves and Graces are her constant attendants; nay, the gods have endued this admirable Woman with so many things fit to kindle Adoration, that if one were to be cured of insensibility, there needed no more than one minutes sight of her, to make him sensi∣ble for all the rest of his life. You speak of Linda∣mira with such a transport of passion, saies Plotina, that I fear me you are a little in love with her. Thanks to your attractions, and my disposition, replies Amilcar, I am not, but indeed I have been. And yet I dare assure you, without any pre-occu∣pation, that the world affords not a person more likely to raise Love, even to the hazard of Reason. Tell us then briefly how she is made, replies Plo∣tina, to see whether there may not be one amongst us may please, though it were meerly out of some slender resemblance to her. I make no answer to what you say, replies Amilcar, for you know whom I am taken with; but to know Lindamira well, imagine that you see a person of an admirable Presence, such as at first sight captivates all eyes and all hearts; so beautiful does she seem to be. For before you have the time to examine all I am to tell you, there are so many different charms pre∣sent themselves to the sight, that your admiration prevents your knowledge of her. 'Tis true, Rea∣son comes immediately, and acts its part; for the more one sees the Princess of Himera, the more amiable he thinks her. In a word, besides the pre∣sence which she hath, very excellent and very no∣ble, her hair is of a flaxen ashy colour, the fairest that ever I beheld;nay, it betrays such a particular beauty, that to give it its due, a man cannot posi∣tively say it is of a flaxen chesnut, or ashy colour, but confidently affirm there never was any thing so handsome. Lindamira's face is almost round, but the compass is so pleasant, that there cannot any thing be more. She is of a very fair com∣plexion, hath an excellent mouth, the eye-brows somewhat fleshy and brown, her cheeks fair, the teeth white, and a smile the most sprightly in the World. Her eyes are black, sending forth their in∣evitable attractions: and it may be said without flattery, that there never was any, whose eyes and looks were more fit to command victories. For they discover mildness, understanding, goodness, subtilty, modesty, mirth, and languishingness; and what is yet more remarkable in the Princess of Himera, is, That she hath the noblest, the neatest, and the most fortunate Physiognomy in the world. Besides, she betrays such an excess of youth, that there may be seen on her face a certain flower of innocence, which adds infinitely to her charms; but what augments her beauty, is, that sometimes she is guilty of a lovely negligence, that becomes her so well, that nothing can stand out against it. For what is observable, is, that let her do what she pleases. it comes with a gallant grace, and a chear∣ful countenance, and that the most negligent acti∣on she may do, contributes something to make her appear more beautiful. In a word, if she bow down her head a little, she does it in such a way, as would make a man wish to have her so drawn. If she turn it towards you, you find in your self a rea∣diness to give her thanks for that favour, though she look not on you; and if she be in a melanchol∣ly posture, there is I know not what in the air of her countenance, which forces a man to wish him∣self the occasion thereof. But if she speak, she

ravishes you; for besides that, though all she saies be full of wit, and comes off handsomely well; yet there is something in her voice, which moves the heart as soon as it smites the ear. There is in it a certain sweetness and harmony, and I know not what kind of carelessness, such as I cannot ex∣press, so that I take a greater pleasure to hear her but speak, than to hear the best singing in the world. For matter of Brest, Lindamira is there also excellently well made; in a word, she is all over so gallant and lovely, that a man cannot for∣bear loving her.

And yet, all this granted, it cannot be said that she knows her self to be handsome; so indifferent is she for all strange fashions, which those of her age are infinitely taken with; her Dress is com∣monly without any great curiosity, as needing no other ornament than that of her own beauty. The mere Graces of her person, are enough to prefer her above those, who make it most their business to be gorgeously attired. Not but that when she will be dress'd, it becomes her admirably, and knows the art of doing it in the best manner; but for the most part she so far trusts her charms, that she will not be obliged to Art. For matter of under∣standing, it is not enough to say, that she is in∣finitely well furnish'd; for 'tis no such wonder to meet with women extreamly witty, but there are in her disposition, in her soul, and in her conver∣sation, the same charms as there are in her face. Further, Lindamira is fit for all sorts of persons, as having in her, as well mirth as melancholly, mildness, civility, an innocent malice, sincerity, ge∣nerosity, virtue, fearfulness, modesty, gallantry, and compliance, not only for those that are so hap∣py, as to serve or to please her, but even for such as are so confident as to importune her. For out of a certain principle of goodness and justice, when she thinks her self obliged by any one, she cannot possibly entertain any roughness for him, if he should afterward prove troublesome to her; and she would rather bear with those that she does not affect, than to do that which might give her occa∣sion to reproach her self, with having done any one an incivility. Not but that she can well di∣stinguish between those she sees, but she discreetly smothers the discontent she takes at those whom she cannot affect. Yet it is easie for those that know her well, to see whether her civilities are absolute∣ly sincere or not, for there are certain accents in her voice, that weaken or add to the obliging sense of her words, sutably to the persons to whom she speaks. She hath such an Art in writing Letters, that those that receive them, are more satisfied therewith, than they should be, if they could sift out the meaning of her that writ them. For friend∣ship, she pretends to be the most tender of it, of any in the world; hers is at least most pleasant and most convenient.

I have an hundred other remarks to make on Lindamira's Picture, were it not, as I told you, for weariness, and that it is time you should guess at Themistus's Mistress. I think, saies Plotina, we are to judge of it by Themistus's eyes; when the first mention was made of Lindamira: I am of the same opinion, saies Valeria, For my part, saies Her∣minius, I make no doubt of it, and now that I speak of her, I see by Themistus's face, that you are not mistaken. I must consess it, replied he; but do you also acknowledge that I am not blame∣able for loving so excellent a Princess. Why should I not acknowledge what you would have me, when I maintain that no mans love is to be censured; for a man loves not to please others, but himself; and the choice of a Mistriss ought to be as free as the choice of Colors. So that, as no body thinks it strange, that a man should preferr Sky color before Green, and White before Red; so is it no more to be won∣dered, that some love Beauty, others Wit, others a good Nature, others greatness of Birth, since at last it comes to this, that every one loves what he is pleased with. There is nothing at the present, saies Plotina, can please me so much, as the relation of the History of Themistus. You are never the nearer having it to day, replied he, for I am not in an humor, either to go hence, to hear my ad∣ventures, or to relate them. Be it then put off till to morrow, replies Valeria: Be it so, if Meleagenes please, saies Themistus, for without him you are not like to know any thing that concerns me. If that be all, replied Meleagenes, the curiosity of these Ladies shall infallibly be satisfied: and yet can I not but be troubled, that so excellent an History must pass through my mouth; but I shall be a faith∣ful Historian, and if I may be charged with want of Art, I will not be chargeable with any thing that is false.

Hereupon this little company separated, promi∣sing to meet again the next day; but Valeria bear∣ing a great affection to Clelia, aad knowing she wanted diversion, brought her in, saying, she should take Themistus's place, who would not be there. And so Valeria having thus ordered things, Clelia, Plotina, Herminius, Amilcar, and Meleagenes, came the next day to her Chamber (Themistus staying away) where as soon as they had passed their first complements, and every one taken his place, Meleagenes began his relation, directing his speech to Clelia, because Valeria, and Plotina would have it so.

The History of THE MISTUS, and the Princess LINDA∣MIRA.

Since my discourse is directed to persons that understand themselves infinitely well, and have been already acquainted with the qua∣lities and dispositions of those whom I am to give them an account of, as also with the manner and cu∣stoms of my Countrey; I shall not trouble you with things not worth the relation. But whereas The∣mistus is not absolutely known to you, I shall in few words, tell you, that he is come out of a very noble and very great House, which yet fortune had in process of time, deprived of the Estate belong∣ing thereto; so that having a soul full of ambiti∣on from his infancy, he could not sit down with his present fortunes, but resolved to travel into strange Countreys, where having shewn himself a gallant man, he might return into his own, to see if he could restore his House to its former Iustre. He went at sixteen years of age, but e're he was

gone, had he made an innocent conquest, though he had not the least thought he had done such a thing. For Demarata, wife to the Prince of Syra∣cuse, being then but ten years of age, had so vi∣olent an inclination for him, that all the women that were employed about her took notice of it. Having look'd on her from the Cradle, as she that should marry the Prince of Syracuse, and that she was both Fatherless and Motherless: there was choice made of a woman of the highest quality, who proved to be Aunt to Themistus, to take care of her education: So that Themistus coming often to his Aunt, especially when she was in the Coun∣trey, the young Demarata had seen him a thou∣sand times, and had received from him a many little services. Those he yet did meerly out of an officious nature, beside that, looking on her as a young Gentlewoman, that was to be one day his sovereign, a sentiment of ambition made him e∣steem her the more. But for Demarata, the love she bore Themistus, proceeded from a natural in∣clination, whence it came, she was more taken with him than any other; insomuch, that when he went to travel, she wept for him, though she were then but ten years of age, and for some time before his departure, spoke always with him in private. What is also very considerable, is, That Demarata had as much aversion for the Prince of Syracuse, whom she was to marry, as she had in∣clination for Themistus; so that she was seventeen years of age e're she could be prevail'd with to mar∣ry him. This aversion was kept so secret, that the Prince never had the least suspicion thereof. But at last Themistus's Aunt perswaded Demarata, that persons of her quality were not married by choice, and that there was no sovereign Prince in our Island, whom it were more advantageons for her to marry, than Perianthus. So that this young Lady, who was apprehensive enough, fierce, and ambitious, suddainly resolving to marry the Prince of Syracuse, resolv'd at the same time to gain his affection; not out of any pleasure she took in being loved by him, but only to gain credit with him, and consequently in his Court. She there∣fore dissembled, and carried her business so cun∣ningly, that she fired the Prince with the great∣est Love that could be, and by that means came effectually to gain what power and interest she de∣sired. During that time Lindamira, though she were a year younger than Demarata, was married to the Prince of Himera.

But have I not heard, saies Clelia, interrupting him, that Himera is a River that divides all Sicily? 'Tis very right, replied Meleagenes, and 'tis from the source of that pleasant River, that a proud Castle takes its name, belonging to the Prince whom Lindamira had married, meerly forced to it by her Brother, she having not the least love or aversion for him. Nay, the Prince of Himera was so young when he married her, that, as handsome as she was then, it may be said She was a Wife 〈◊〉〈◊〉 she was a Mistriss. So that being married before she had been much in love, and the familia∣rity of marriage having hindred the growth of affection, he lived well enough with Lindamira, and she with him, only because reason would have it so.

In the mean time this excellent Princess, placed her greatest pleasures in the friendship of a Sister of mine called Mericia. She often visited Dema∣rata, but as there was not a sympathy in their disposi∣tions, so was not the friendship between them sound and sincere, though from all circumstances it might be thought they loved one another. For Lindamira, out of the respect she bore the Prince her Brother, was infinitely civil to Demarata; and Demarata, well vers'd in dissimulation, and withal, desirous to gain all she could upon the Prince, was no less to Lindamira.

Things being in this posture, the Prince's wed∣ding-day was set, and all prepared themselves at Syracuse, for that great solemnity, whereof the magnificence was to last eight days. So that all related to the Court, were taken up about some pleasant inventions, every one being, out of emu∣lation, desirous to honour the Prince and Princess, by taking the honour of being at the charge of some particular magnificence. About four daies before Demarata's marriage, the Prince of Himera getting upon an excellent horse, which he thought to make use of in a Race, that was to be soon after, the horse rose up before of a sudden, and fell down backward so violently that, being mortally hurt, he was the next day desperate of any recovery, and died the day that the Prince of Syracuse was to be married. It being but fit the Solemnity should be put off for some time upon this accident, it was so; but the Prince's love being at the height of violence, it was only put off for eight daies, so that only the Princess of Himera was deprived of all enjoyments at that time. For, though she had for her Husband, but an affection meerly grounded on Reason and Will; yet was she trou∣bled at his death, out of resentments of humanity and decorum, and accordingly she staied at home, without any other comfort than what she had from my Sister, who pretended her self not well, be∣cause she would not leave her, during the eight daies of the Solemnity. Yet was it ordered that the Court should goe into Mourning for the Prince of Himera, as soon as those eight daies were over.

I shall not trouble you with the magnificence of the Prince's marriage, which was solemnized in fight of all the people, in the spacious place of Acradina, at the foot of the Altar of Concord, which stands in the midst of it, where the Articles of Peace are Signed, when any War ceases. Not but that this Ceremony were well worth the relation and your hearing; but I have so many other things to entertain you with, that I shall not trouble you with this. I shall also go slightly over the great∣est part of Demarata's Wedding; but must, for your better acquaintance with this Princess, tell you, that the night immediately before the Solem∣nity, she locked her self in a room with a woman she loved very dearly, called Amerintha, and that she discovered her thoughts to her. It hath been known since that she wept two hours, and con∣fessed to her, that if she coudl have but resolved to die, she should have thought her self happy, so great was the aversion she had for Prince Perian∣thus. 'Twas indeed a groundless aversion; for he is a person, that, besides his understanding and magnificence, hath thousands of excellent endow∣ments. But to be short, she could not o'recome that natural aversion, and so, as I have told you, she wept two hours the night before her Wedding. However, she forced her self so admirably the next

day, that the Prince thought she shar'd with him in all his pleasures, and that she was as well satis∣fied as he, so that there was nothing but continu∣al rejoycing. The fourth day there was a Horse∣race, the noblest in the World, but as they were ready to begin it, and that the Princess of Demara∣ta, then called Princess of Syracuse, was upon a Scaffold attended by all the Ladies, who, accord∣ing to the custom, were chosen to advise her when she should give the prize, there appeared a man of an admirable handsome Presence, mounted on an Isabella-colour'd horse with a black mane, attend∣ed by six Africans with Colors of Silver, who, stay∣ing without the Lists, sent to the Princess to de∣sire leave to run, and to pretend to the prize as well as others: for the Prince being among those that ran, and the solemnity being intended for De∣marata, all the honours thereof were directed to her. He that desired the permission, had red, white, and green Feathers; his cloathing was mag∣nificent and gallant, and, it being then the custom to carry shields, for that after the Race there was a little skirmish to be, among those who pretended any interest in the prize, he had painted upon his, A Heart in the field, Or; with these words in the African Language,

I am his that shall take me.

In the mean time, a Gentleman that belonged to this lovely unknown person, came very submis∣sively before the Scaffold, where Demarata was, which was covered with a magnificent pavilion, to desire in his Master's name the permission he was a suitor for: When you have given me his name that sends you, replied she, and his Countrey, I shall see what answer it will be fit to give you. Madam, replied the Gentleman, my Master hath the honour to be your Subject, and if you have not forgotten the name of Themistus, you know his. How, replied she, her colour changing, is he I now see, the same Themistus that left Sicily about seven years ago, and hath not been heard of since? The very same, Madam, replied he, 'tis he that desires your leave to participate of the glory of this day. Tell him, replied she, very resolutely, that I not only give him leave to pretend to the prize I am to give, but also wish that if the Prince ran not himself, that he might carry it.

Upon this, the Gentleman retires to acquaint his Master with what the Princess had said. So that Themistus thanking her very submissively, by bending to the very pommel of the Saddle, he came in among those that were preparing to run. I shall not Madam, trouble you with the particu∣lars of this Race, but assure you, that Themistus carried away all the honour of it, and that he was the most able, and the most fortunate of all that ran. Nay, he carried himself with such judge∣ment that he was never in competition with the Prince of Syracuse, who observed it, and thought himself obliged to him. So that at last, the race and the skirmish ended, Perianthus having disco∣vered who it was, took him and presented him to Demarata, to demand the prize she was to be∣stow.

In the mean time, you are to know that this Princess had no sooner heard Themistus named, but that antient inclination she had for him in her in∣fancy, began to take fresh root in her heart, not∣withstanding all the opposition she used. So that feeling an accustomed joy, she received Themistus from the Prince in the most obliging manner that could be. And without asking the advice of the Ladies that were about her, according to the cu∣stom she gave him the prize, saying, they had gi∣ven him their consent, by their former commen∣dations of him when he ran. Themistus on the other side, glad of the advantage he had over the young Courtiers, took on a more noble confidence, put on a certain majesty, and spoke more resolute∣ly; in a word, he so carried himself, that he was thought worthy his birth, and a better fortune than he then had. Themistus was the subject of all the discourse that day; and there wanted not beau∣ties, who made it their design to conquer his heart; he rais'd fear and jealousie in all that had Mistresses, and he had certainly all the reason in the world to be satisfied with what he had done that day.

He came that night to the Ball, where he expres∣sed no less experience and ability, than at the Race, his company was infinitely pleasant to all that en∣joy'd it, and Demarata her advantage of the anti∣ent familiarity, wherein they had lived from their infancy, made him relate some of the adventures of his Travels. But for my part, I shall not ac∣quaint you with them, for it is sufficient I tell you, that he had been in Africk, Greece, and Asia; that he had by that means, learned abundance of excel∣lent things; that he had done extraordinary things in the War; and that having gotten enough to put himself into a magnificent equipage, and to subsist on for one year, with a retinue proportion∣able to his high birth; his resolution was to see whether he could restore his House, through the favour of the Prince; and that if he could not do it, to return, and wander up and down the world, with a design never to return again into Sicily.

Now having understood at his coming into it, that the Prince was to be married, he ordered things so as not to appear at Court, till the day of the Race, then to do that piece of gallantry, which hath proved so fortunate to him: For Perianthus finding in Themistus what he could not in any of the young Courtiers, began to affect him from that day, and to assure him he would have a care of his misfortune. But for Demarata, when she was alone, she was in some sort troubled at the return of Themistus. Was it not enough (said she to her self, as she hath repeated it since) for me to be so unhappy as to club fortunes with a Prince, for whom I have an invincible aversion; but I must see again a man, for whom I have such inclinations, as seven years absence hath not been able to destroy? And yet these must I struggle with for my reputation sake; nay, for my quiet must overcome. Demarata therefore took this generous resolution, and omitted nothing in order to the ex∣ecution thereof.

On the other side, Themistus minding only his fortune, and forgetting in a manner, the inclinati∣on, Demarata had had for him in her infancy, did her a thousand devoirs, meerly out of a conside∣ration, that she had a great influence over the Prince, and his ambition advising him not to neglect any thing, he visited all the most considerable persons of the Court. Among the rest, he visited the

Princess of Himera, whither he was brought by Meriander, with whom he had made friendship the very day of his arrival▪ For my part, I was accidentally at Lindamira's when he came in, by which means I became a witness of their first en∣terview. It being not many days since that Prin∣cess became a Widow, and the first mourning be∣ing full of ceremony at Syracuse, her Chamber was hang'd with black, all the windows were shut; it was enlightned by fifty Chrystal Lamps, and in one corner of the Chamber, there was a Bed covered with a large Pavillion; ty'd up at the four corners with black Tassels, upon which, the fair Lindamira negligently leant on Cushions, but in such sort, that without any affectation, one might see her hands, which were the fairest in the world. So that Themistus perceiving amidst so much black, a person that was young, beautiful, flaxen-hair'd, very fair, graceful, of a modest, sad, and civil deportment, it is not strange if he were taken with her, or that she offer'd his heart some violence. Lindamira spoke very little that day; but all she said was pertinent: nay, she sigh'd so languishingly two or three times, that she seemed the more lovely for it: and I must confess, though she be extreamly inviting in what posture soever a man sees her, yet have I never seen her more fit to take a heart in an instant than that day. Nor indeed did she fail of Themistus's, who being come to her Palace, only out of motives of ambition, left it with abundance of love. However, he kept this new born passion very secret, for the po∣sture his fortunes were in, gave him not leave to discover what he felt. Besides that, though he doubted not but that the emotion of his heart was the effect of a growing love, yet was he in hope to be still master of his liberty. For my part, I ob∣served, that Lindamira had smitten the heart of Themistus from that very day, for he looked after none but her, he hearked only to what she said, he entertained himself with her sight, and did a many things without considering what he did, whence I inferr'd, he was infinitely taken with Lindamira, and that he was a little at a loss to find her so beautiful and so inviting.

Thus Madam, have you seen two originals of Love very different; Demarata was taken with Themistus, upon a day of publick rejoycing, and in a magnificent equipage; and Themistus falls in love with Lindamira on a day of sadness and in mourning. This new Lover being desirous to smother this growing flame, spent all his time in visits, as well to men as to women. I brought him to the virtuous Amilthaea, to the lovely Melisera, to the amiable Belisa, and a many more. He visited also most men of quality, and made the best inte∣rest he could with the Prince: He was very much with Demarata, not thinking that the civilities he had then for her, enflamed in the heart of that Princess, an affection that should prove all the un∣happiness of her life. During this time, he was many times desirous to return to Lindamira; and as many, his reason prevailing with him, he did not. On the other side Lindamira, who had my Sister still with her, and had not, as I told you, had time to raise any extraordinary structure of affection for the Husband she had lost, was in a short time comforted: Insomuch, that when there were not many about her, she permitted any one to relate what had happened at the magnificent solemnity of Demarata's Marriage. And where∣as, what was most remarkable in it, was, the ar∣rival of Themistus, all the Ladies that gave her any account of what had past, entertained her with divers things of Themistus, celebrating him to the heavens, every one commending him according either to her inclination, or her capacity. For some commended the gracefulness of his person, others his activity; some his magnificence, others his dancing; and the most witty, his wit, his com∣pany, and his gallantry. Lindamira summing up all that others said of him, and adding what she knew of him her self, entertained a good opinion of Themistus, and was very ready to afford him her esteem. But he not having been to visit her, ever since the first time, she took notice of it, and asked my sister one day, smiling, whom he was fallen in love with? Why do you suppose he should be with any, replyed she? Because, answered Lin∣damira, that being a person of so much honour as he is, he should have given me a second visit, if he be not extreamly taken up; so that I conclude, that he is either fallen in love with some Beauty of our Court, or that he hates me. That he should hate you, saies Mericia, it is impossible, and it might be more probably said, that he may stand in fear of you.

You see, Madam, how Lindamira stood affect∣ed towards Themistus, who absolutely wedded to his ambition, thought he had dashed out that light impression which the charms of Lindamira had made in his heart. And indeed, the Prince of Syracuse treating him with extraordinary civilities, and all others looking on him as a new Favourite, he felt a certain joy that made him reflect on Love as a passion that should truckle under ambition, and such as could not in him subsist with it, as what would not be crossed by it, so that for some daies he knew not the least disturbance. But at last, about a month after his return into Sicily, the time of Lindamira's private mourning being expired, and she at liberty to go abroad, she, according to the custom of Syracuse, made her first visit to De∣marata, as wife to the Prince her Brother, being attended by a great number of fair Ladies, all in mourning. But to say truth, they were all eclip∣sed, in comparison to her that day, such charms did there appear in her person. For though her cloaths were but simple and negligent, and she had only a large veile hanging carelesly down to the ground, whereof she held one corner pleasantly twining a∣bout the left arm, she was a thousand times more lovely, than any other could have been, with all the dressing imaginable. It being Themistus's for∣tune to be at Demarata's, when she came thither, he perceived she was as handsome in the broad day, as he had thought her in that night of mourning, when he had seen her before. So that he was more smitten than at the first time; and it happen∣ed so much the more fatally, in that Lindamira, having met his eies, made a little sign with the head, obliging enough, as much as if it had been to say to him, I know you again, though I never saw you but once. Whereupon Themistus breaking the resolution he had taken, sought what he had resol∣ved to avoid, and the next day made a visit to Lin∣damira. He came so betimes, that he found her a∣lone, but he came thither with such agitations, as

his heart could not master. However, at his coming in, he carried himself so as nothing could be discovered, and saluted Lindamira very respect∣fully, but it was she that first spoke, for she had no sooner seen him, but breaking forth, I thought, said she to him, you had fallen out with me for that I was the occasion of your going into mourning, and that accordingly you would see me no more. Alass! Madam, replyed he, you have not only put me into a mourning, but you have also given me cause to mourn; for it is impossible a man can have the honor to be known to you; but he must be withall extreamly troubled that he cannot rationally merit your esteem.

I assure you, replyed she very kindly, that if you meet with no other trouble, you will be the happiest man in the World; for I do not conceive my self so lost to discretion, as that I can be the only person in the Court that does not esteem you. What you say, Madam, hath so much insinuation, and withall so much gallantry in it, replyed The∣mistus, that I fear me it is your design to make me forfeit my reason and something besides. This came from Themistus, with such a freedom, that Lindamira could not take any offence thereat; nor indeed did she answer it otherwise than as a gal∣lantry expressed without design, and which she had deserved by the kindness she had expressed to Themistns, who thereupon staied three hours with her, but with such entertainment as he had never known before. For whereas Lindamira hath a cer∣tain goodness shining in her face, which disco∣vers the inevitable charms of her mind, he was amazed to hear her speak; and that particularly when the fair Melisera, whose Picture Amilcar gave you yesterday, being come to see her, began ingenuously to reproach her for so easily admitting all sorts of people to visit her. Heaven be prai∣sed, said she to her, as she came into the room, for so great a happiness as that of finding but one ho∣nest man with you, when you were wont to have a hundred persons about you, such as you neither care for, nor any body else, and yet you endure them without giving any good reason why. When Themistus is in a manner but a stranger in his own Country, replyes Lindamira smiling, you will put him into a strange opinion of me, for he must needs believe that I make no distinction of people, and will think himself nothing obliged to me for all the kindnesses I have said to him before you came. Could I have guessed you had been so kind to him, replyed Melisera, laughing with her, I should have been far from saying what I have. But to do you right, added she pleasantly, I must acknowledge before him, that you of all the World, are a person of most clear apprehensions, and most delicate in the discernment of things, and than whom none ever did better understand vertuous persons. But what I am nevertheless startled at, is, to see you take so much pleasure with those that pretend to the excellencies of the mind, and yet are withall so little troubled at certain per∣sons that are not known, because one will not know them, and who are so importunate, that I think they are such to none but you, so carefully are they avoided by all those that have ever so lit∣tle tenderness to their own satisfaction, and love not to be troubled. Whoever, says Themistus owns great perfections, and withall a great goodness, is more than any exposed to the importunity of troublesome persons. For the great perfections, replyed Lindamira, I pretend not to them, but my quality is such, that it is not easie for me to avoid those that come to me. 'Tis very true, re∣plies Melisera, but you may many times take such order as that you may not be found. For my part replyes Lindamira, I must needs acknowledge, I am far from that inhumanity of being rough to those that come to see me; for is it not misery enough, that they can neither raise love, nor re∣ceive any; and that they are shaken off every where, but I must also persecute them? and me∣thinks I do better to let them alone out of pitty, than if I should take the pains to send them to some other place where they would be more trou∣blesome than they are to me. For when I have any such about me, I think on something else, as if they were not near me; I reflect no more on them, than if I saw them not; and unless it be that I find them Chamber-room, give them leave to speak when they can, and answer them when I please; that I do not beat them, or laugh at them I neither oblige them, nor disoblige them. But you consider not, says Melisera, that it is your in∣viting complexion that draws them about you, and which deceives them; that a single smile is enter∣tainment enough for two hours; and that you are obliged much more than any other, to be a little scornful, because there are a thousand things in your carriage, which without any design in you, make people swarm about you. But if I should re∣medy all those things, replyed she, the effect of it would haply be, that I should scare away as well those that I am pleased with, as those I am not, so that I had much rather satisfie those I love, than displease those I do not. Besides, how would you have those miserable Souls disposed of, that are born to no merit, and cannot change their nature? They are ignorant of their having any, and you would have me by cyness and incivility, make them know so much: not but that I love as much as any one, to be private with two or three friends of my own sex; but say what you will, I have not the cruelty to force away even those that are importunate in their visits; nay, I am perswaded, it is an effect of goodness and justice. I must in∣deed acknowledge says Themistus, that what you say may proceed from some goodness, but I questi∣on whether it be always just that one should be al∣ways good to his own prejudice.

On the contrary replied Melisera, speak truely, there is nothing so opposite to true goodness and true justice, than what this Princess does. For if she suffer any inconvenience, she derives it to all she loves, who must needs think it the greatest af∣fliction that may be, to see her pestred with peo∣ple that they care not for. Nay, she is the occasi∣on that even these people take the less pleasure: for if all those that have any worth, would civilly disengage them out of their company, they would find out others that were inore consonant to their humor, and to whom their conversation were more supportable. Would you but teach me the art of disingaging these people civilly, replyed Lindami∣ra, it may be I should endeavor to do it, but I must confess I am absolutely ignorant in it. For my part, says Melisera, I think it no hard matter and conceive it a thing easier to be done, than to

be persecuted by a sort of troublesome people. But how is it to be done, replies Lindamira? For all those you esteem not, replies Melisera, you are to have only a cold civility, which as it hath in it nothing that's inhumane, so hath it not any thing that is divertive. You are not voluntarily to con∣tribute ought to their enjoyments, and for virtues sake you must forbear censuring them publickly. But when there is very particular company, says Lindamira, the least can be said of you, is, that you are very nice, that you are a little humersome, or that you break forth into too much gallantry. This last reproach, replyes Melisera, suits well with those who are guilty of a certain ticklish wit, yet live not as if they had any such; for those who make it their business to misconstrue things, ima∣gine and affirm that one sees an hundred people if he hath seen but one, and never suspect they do my such thing. And therefore since it is impossi∣ble, one should not corrupt things that are most in∣nocent when he is set upon it, the best course were to choose the side that is most convenient. Seri∣ously; replyed the Princess Lindamira, you would do me the greatest courtesie in the world, could you but furnish me with a little harshness for three or four women of my acquaintance, that so I may be absolutely what you would have me. If you were not so, replyed Themistus, the fair Melisera would not be so much troubled at what you do. You are in the right, replyes that excellent Lady, for if the Princess were less amiable than she is, she might be persecuted by the multitude without any bodies quarrelling at it. You are yet a stran∣ger, and the Princess in mourning, and therefore you know not what torment it is to see her, so as not to be able to speak a word with her in private; but ere six months be past, you'll tell me more. Take a shorter time replyed he, for without know∣ing whether the persons I hear in the outer room, are troublesome or not, I sit upon thorns till the company be broke up. Ah, Themistus, what affecti∣on do I owe you for being so much of my humor, replies Melisera, and how shall I think my self ob∣liged, if you afford me your assistance to cure the Princess of an excess of goodness and comply∣ance.

Hereupon came into the room five women, though they came not at the same time into the Palace, and who seemed not to make that days visit to Lindami∣ra, to any other end than to satisfie Themistus, that Melisera was not mistaken. For there was no con∣sonancy between any of them, either among them∣selves, or in relation to Lindamira. There was one had lived almost an age, and consequently was very grave, austere, discoursing of nothing but the disgust people should have of the things of this world; found nothing good of all that it afforded could not endure those of the new Court, and wore cloaths that were in fashion in the time of Phalaris, Tyrant of Agrigentum. On the other side, there was another that was young, thought her self very pretty, looked very simperingly, and minded nothing but how to keep on the redness of her lips, during a conference she was extream∣ly weary of. There was a third that pretended much to news and intelligence, and consequently had a priviledge to be ever talking. For the other two, of whom I say nothing, they are such a ••••ace of women as a man knows not what to say of, as such as are neither handsome nor ugly; nei∣ther fools, nor yet very wise; and whereof the mediocrity keeps them from being assign'd any rank; for when there are none handsomer than themselves in company, they are strangely weary of it, and when they are with persons that are pleasant and ingenious; they are suffered, because it is not perceived they are present. So that Me∣lisera whispering something to Themistus, and looking on Lindamira, put her into a great distraction what to do; yet could she not absolutely resist her inclination; for she rayled at the World, with the antient Lady that quarrelled so much at the new Court; she commended her Dresses, who understood not any thing but what was of that na∣ture: she ask'd news of her who loved nothing so much as to tell it; and she had something I know not what, to say to the two mean-witted persons I told you of. So that when they were gone, it occasioned one of the pleasantest discourses that ever was.

Themistus therefore finding no fewer charms in Lindamira's mind, than he did in her face, fell so much the more in love with her, insomuch, that within a few days, not being able to resist the vio∣lence of his passion, he delivered himself up a Prisoner thereto. Yet could he not avoid a vio∣lent agitation of mind; for reflecting on the de∣sign he had to be a favorite to his Prince, he thought it concerned him very much to conceal his love; and he knew, but too much for his own quiet, that the business he undertook was very difficult. Should he discover his affection, he must run the hazard of being banished the Court by his Master, and should he still smoother it, he must run that of not gaining his Mistresses love. Nay, he well knew, that Lindamira would prove no easie con∣quest, and consequently there was the less likeli∣hood he should ever be happy. But, after all, it being not in his power to master his sentiments, he loved that which he could not forbear loving, and was at last satisfi'd that his Love was not such an enemy to the designs of his ambition as he thought it had. Nay, it happened that love and ambition, by conjunction, grew stronger and stron∣ger in him; for being desirous to shew himself worthy of Lindamira, it enflam'd his ambition: and in regard he was naturally ambitious, the qua∣lity of the person he loved added to his Love. So that he undertook at the same time, two very hard things, that is, to gain the favors of his Prince, and to deserve the good inclinations of a fair Princess. Those he looked on as his two main labors; the former he easily overcame, for Perianthus was so extreamly inclined to affect him, that in a short time, he was his only Favorite: and for the second, he went so far, as without any great difficulty to get into the esteem of Lindamira, nay indeed, very far into her friendship. 'Tis true, that spoke no particular favor from Lindamira, for he had the esteem and love of all the world, ex∣cept those who envyed his virtue, and repined at the favor he was in, yet durst not openly dis∣cover any such thing.

In the mean time, Deniarata seeing what re∣spects the whole Court had for Themistus, felt the secret passion she had for him, growing strong within her. And yet she dissembled it so well, that Amerintha excepted, none ever knew any

thing of it, nay even Themistus himself, whose imagination was full of the excellencies of Linda∣mira, had not the least suspicion thereof. Howe∣ver he waited on her very diligently, not only for the Prince's sake, who thought himself concerned in all the civilities done to Demarata, whom he still extreamly loved, but also to elude the notice might be taken of his frequent visits to Lindamira, and consequently that it might be thought that he had no other designs than those of ambition, that is, courted all those that might any way further them. Towards all the other Ladies, he behaved himself civilly, officiously, and like a gallant, but seemed not to have any particular inclinations for any one, whereat Demarata was extreamly well pleased. In a word, should her secret sentiments be examined, it would be found she imagined to her self a certain pleasure to do things, so as that Themistus might not love at all. So that to keep him from it, she thought fit to advance a dis∣course concerning the qualities a Favorite should have, to continue long in favor. Lindamira was present at that debate, which was occasioned up∣on a change that had happened at the Court of the Prince of Hereclea, that made a great noise in the Court of Syracuse, upon pretence that the Favorite, who was fallen into disgrace, had lost himself by making his Mistress acquainted with some secrets of his Master.

For my part, says Demarata, I would never ad∣vise a man that were guilty of ambition, and would be Favorite to a Prince, to be engaged in Love. For these two principal passions require ei∣ther of them a whole heart, and it is not possible to be fortunate in both at the same time. For my part replyes Lindamira, I do not think those two passions so incompatible as you conceive. For when a man is a Favorite, it is so much the more easie for him to prevail, and if his addresses amount to any thing, there will be those Ladies that will sacrifice themselves to his desires, and will spare him abundance of pains. Take me in the humor I am in now, replyes Themistus, were I Favorite to a Prince, I would not care for that Mistriss whose good inclinations I should gain but conditionally with the favors of my Master. And therefore, if I propose to my self the conquest of any Beauty, I am confident I shall pick out such an one as shall consider nothing but my affection. The question is not to know what a man should do when he loves nor yet when he should love, replyes Demarata, but only to examine whether I have not reason to affirm, that a Favorite, who would advance his fortune, should avoid being in Love. But if he be a Favorite to a young Prince, replyed Lindamira, will you have him to be barbarous? or will you not al∣low him to concern himself in the pleasures of his Prince, and that if he be in Love, the other should be so too? I allow him to be civil, replyes Deme∣rata, to be a Gallant, to be generous, nay to be a Lover in appearance, if the Prince by whom he is favored condescended thereto: but I maintain, that all his actions should relate to his ambition, if he be desirous to be happy; and that he should al∣ways be disposed to follow the inclinations of his Prince, and to renounce his own. Hence it comes, that sometimes he must mind Hunting, other times Court-ship, other times Bravery, acording as the humor of his Prince leads him; but he must never come to that extremity as to betray his Master to obey a Mistress. He must never come to that for∣ced point, as to persecute his Prince with perpetu∣al petitions for the friends of the Person he is in love with; he to whom he is a Favorite, should ne∣ver fear he might reveal any secret of his; and a man must never put himself into such a posture, as that it may be in his power to deny that Prince any thing, whom he would have to repose an absolute confidence in him. For this reason must his Love∣adventures be such, as that he shall not refuse to acquaint his Prince therewith, nor yet to make him privy to the favors he receives from his Mistress if in case he have any. For my part says Themistus, were I a Lover, and that a fortunate one, I am confident, I should rather sacrifice my fortune, than acquaint my Master with the favors I receive∣ed from any Lady, how inconsiderable so ever they were, if secret. What you say is doubtless very generously said, replyes Demarata, but when all's done, it clearly demonstrates that a Favorite ought not be in Love; for a young Prince that should trust you with all the secrets of State, would not take it well you should conceal ought from him that he is desirous to know. Besides, to be for∣tunate in ambition, a man must be disposed to loose all, to forsake all, when Policy requires it, and he must not admit diversity of interests to bring any one to effect. There are two kind of Favorites, added she, for there are some who love the Prince and the State, and others who mind only their own advancement, and would as gladly sacrifice the Prince and the State, to raise their own for∣tunes, as they would do their particular ene∣mies. But whether the Favorite love his Ma∣ster, or only himself, it is still equally convenient he should be unacquainted with Love. If all the Ladies of the Court heard you speak after that rate, replyes Lindamira, they would look on you as a person who had a design to hinder them from conquering the heart of Themistus, whom all be∣gin to look on as the Favorite of the Prince my Brother. I am so far from deserving that honor, answers Themistus, that I think none looks on me as such an one. However it be, added Demerata blushing, it hath been my endeavor to give you the advice of a faithful friend. I am extreamly obliged to you for your good wishes, Madam, replyed he, and to let you know how far I submit to you, I promise you here before the fair Lindamira, that neither of you shall ever see me in love with any one of all those Ladies that are not present; which as he said, Themistus looked on Lindamira, who laugh∣ing, said to him, e're she was a ware, that to make him a positive answer to what he said, he must needs be in Love in Africk, Greece, or Asia. If I had discovered my secret, replyes he, smiling with her, the Princess might reproach me, that I had done that for you which ought not to be done for a Mistress. And therefore I shall tell you no more.

Hereupon the Prince coming in, dissolved the company, and carried away Themistus along with him, so that Lindamira, being also gone, and De∣marata left alone, she went into her Closet, whi∣ther she called Amerintha, who knew all the se∣crets of her heart. Could you believe, said she to her, that I should spend the whole afternoon in endeavoring to perswade the only man in the world

that I love, and cannot but love, that it is not fit he should be in love himself. Not but that I must ac∣knowledge, though to my own confusion, that it were an incredible joy to me, that he were in love with me, conditionally that he neither told me so, nor knew that I knew so much. But since it is not so, nor can I wish it were, I must con∣fess it is some pleasure to me, to think that The∣mistus is not in love at all, and minds nothing but his ambition. And yet methinks Madam, replyed Amarintha, since it is your design to disburthen your heart of the violent affection that torments you, it should be your wish either that Themistus were in disgrace or in love; for having so great a heart as you have, you would not be able to con∣tinue your affection long to a man that were in love elsewhere: and if the other happened, ab∣sence would haply cure you. For absence, replyes Demarata, 'tis to me a fruitless remedy, I was but ten years of age when Themistus went hence, he stayed seven years out of Sicily, and yet at his re∣turn, I no sooner saw him but I blushed; nay durst I say it without confusion, I loved him. The other way you propose is no better, for my condition, and the posture of Themistus's fortune considered, though he should love me, he durst not discover it, so that I have no reproach to make to him that he loves me not. He is very liberal of his civili∣ties towards me, he sees me often; and though he should engage his love elsewhere, it were no in∣jury to me, and yet it would afflict me beyond all remedy. To find out therefore an innocent ease in my misfortunes, all I have to wish, is, that Themistus, be not in love at all: for if it be so, I shall love with some satisfaction, though it should be my de∣sire to love him eternally without his knowledge, and without ever being loved by him.

These, Madam, were the transactions that pas∣sed in Demarata's soul, who had the satisfaction to see that Themistus was not engaged to any of the Ladies of the Court, and the pleasure to see him so much in the esteem of Perianthus, that it would not be long e're all the favors of the Prince were at his disposal. Yet was he still in a very unfortu∣nate condition; for the passion he had for Linda∣mira was so violent, that he hardly had one mi∣nutes rest. However, he durst not discover what be felt, to her who was the cause thereof; for though he could do any thing with the Prince, yet was there no ••••••elihood he should make any pre∣tensions to the Princess of Himera; since that the same favor that had raised him up so high, and had found him the opportunities to approach her, ad∣vised him to avoid all inclinations towards her, out of a consideration that the Prince might have accu∣sed him of ingratitude, should he have been guil∣ty of a presumption to lift up his eyes so high as the Princess his Sister. In the mean time he was in love, nay he would love contrary to the suggesti∣ous of his reason: for the Princess Lindamira seem∣ed so amiable to him, that he thought it as unjust as impossible not to love her. But all considered, he smothered his passion with abundance of care, yet not omitting ought that might any way gain him the esteem of Lindamira, he did very consi∣derable services about the Prince her Brother, he saw her as often as he could; and when she was out of her first mourning, he found her a thou∣sand several sorts of diversions and entertainments. In all the great and noble things he did, he direct∣ed his thoughts to Lindamira, and he never met with any occasion to relieve some illustrious un∣fortunate person, but he did it with a particular sa∣tisfaction, out of a confidence that Lindamira would have the greater esteem for him; and indeed that confidence met with its reward in her. But all this notwithstanding, since he had never acquaint∣ed her with his affection, he was still dissatisfied with his fortune.

Being therefore one day at Lindamira's in that disturbance, though there were four or five Ladies present, I came in and told a piece of news I had newly heard, that concerned a person of the Court whom all the World knew. He I speak of would marry a Woman he was extreamly in love with, though one very much below his condition. This bringing about the discourse to the business of love, it was put to the question, whether a man did more oblige a woman by loving her, though she were infinitely below his condition; or by loving her sincerely and constantly, when she were infinitely above him; that is when there was such a distance between them, that he could not pretend to the least hope of ever obtaining her. At first, those who had not made the proposition, thought there had been no question in it; and that he who loved a person much below him, put a greater obligati∣on upon her, than he should have done on ano∣ther of higher quality than himself, whom he durst not pretend to. But having considered the busi∣ness more narrowly, they saw it might very well come into debate. For my part, said a Lady of the company, I cannot apprehend any comparison between these two things; for is there any thing more satisfactory to a handsome woman, than to see her beauty and desert esteemed as highly as no∣bleness of birth and riches; and to find at her feet a person of great quality, sacrificing for her sake, his fortunes; incurring the displeasure of his kind∣red, and the censure of his friends, and one that notwithstanding a thousand obstacles, makes her happy by making himself such? What you say, (re∣plyes Lindamira, not thinking of any advantage that Themistus might make of it) does doubtless speak abundance of obligation, but to consider things more narrowly, and to search into the depth of the question, there is no comparison between these two kinds of love now in dispute; the love that is most perfect, is certainly that which hath least of self-interest; and to speak freely, I do not think that the inequality of conditions, when there is nothing dishonorable in the birth of a person a man is in love with, is one of the greatest obsta∣cles that love can conquer. For a man that loves any thing violently, may easily imagine, that that difference of quality introduced by fortune among men, is a thing of no real consideration, and that the true distinction that wise men allow among them, ought to be no other than that of desert. And as for Riches, when a man is once in love, he troubles not his thoughts about them; and if he were able to forbear Marrying the person, he should love because she were not rich; it must needs fol∣low, that he is no richer than she, and that the meer fear of making her miserable, should prevail with him, not to satisfie his love. But if the thing be, as we have presupposed, I think it no miracle a rich man should marry a poor Woman, and shall

therefore never number that amongst the greatest expressions of love. On the contrary, when ever I shall see a person of a higher condition and more rich, applying himself to one below him, and will not marry her, I shall say he either love her not, or very little.

Your Sentence is very just, Madam, replyes Themistus, when you speak after that rate: for I am perswaded when love is weaker than reason, it is no perfect love, especially in emergencies of that na∣ture. And so Madam, it is not to be wondered, if the love of a man of a higher condition than the person he loves, continues and is fortified to that degree, as to oblige him to marry her. For hope being that which enlivens and augments love, he wants not any thing whence he may derive any confidence of his happiness when he pleases him∣self. So that I am much more astonished to see there are some Lovers who can forbear attaining to what they desire, than I am to see who slight all considerations of interest to satisfie themselves; and therefore to speak justly, a love that grows without hope, and subsists without it, and meets with no obstacles but what are invincible, is much more obliging, and accordingly more resolute than that which cannot but hope, even though it would not, and may arrive to whatever it hopes. What you say is very subtilly spoken, replies a Lady that was present; but when all is done, I conceive that what hope doth in the heart of other lovers, glory does the same in those we speak of; and that the secret satisfaction there is in loving a person of great quality, that hath beauty, wit, and virtue, entertains the passion of the Lover. Besides, ad∣ded I, to speak sincerely, though there be a great disproportion between the lover and the person he loves, yet does he still flatter himself, and that if he have not a real hope, he hath at least something that's near it, and like it, that bears him up and comforts him. For my part, reples the Princess of Himera, I easily conceive there may be such a lover as cannot really hope any thing, and I imagine at the same time, that there is not any thing speaks more obligation than a love of that nature.

But Madam, replyed I, a man may have at least a hope to be pittied. That's but a sad kind of hope, replyed Themistus. Nay, added Lindamira, it's pos∣sible there may be such a Lover as cannot rationally hope ever to see the liberty to bemoan himself, and consequently much less to be pittyed by another. Ah, Madam, replyes Themistus, there you go too far; for I cannot conceive it possible for a man to endure a great affliction without ever complaining of it. For my part, added I, I am of Themistus's opi∣nion. Howe're it may be, replyed that secret Lo∣ver, you must needs acknowledge, Madam, that a man who lovrs a person infinitely above himself, and loves her with a resolution to love her eternal∣ly, though he cannot rationally hope to be happy, must needs have a more elevated love, than he who loves a person whose condition being inferior to his own, affords him an easie hope of being sa∣tisfied, even when he pleases himself. I grant it, says she, yet not out of any perswasion that a woman can ever be obliged to a Lover, since that when a man is in love, he is such whether he will or no, and that he does but what he cannot forbear doing. Very right replyes Themistus; I acknow∣ledge a woman should not lie under any obligation, provided you confess she ought not to be without pitty. As a woman hath not love when she plea∣ses her self, replyed Lindamira, so no more can she have pitty when ever the wretches she hath made expect she should, nor yet as often as she would her self: our will for the most part, having so little predominancy over the secret sentiments of our hearts, that we cannot without temerity give an account of our own thoughts.

Having so said, Lindamira rises up to go and walk in those spacious Gardens that lye at the end of the Hexapila, so they call one part of the City that lyes to the Land-side, as the Achradina lyes to the Sea-side. Themistus walking along with her, went on still, having his thoughts taken up with the discourse that had passed. He thought it some pleasure to think that the Princess of Hi∣mera, allowed the love of a man whose affection derived no encouragement from hope, to be more considerable than that of those Lovers who have thousands of occasions to hope. So that Themistus being wholly intentive to that reflection, Linda∣mira, whom he held up as she walked, as soon as they were come into the Gardens where she inten∣ded to walk, perceiving it, asked him the reason thereof. What you desire to know, Madam, re∣plyed he, is of greater consequence than you imagine: for in a word, though the Prince to whom I owe thousands of obligations, and for whom I would sacrifice my life a thousand times, should ask me the same thing, I should not tell him, and yet you are the only person in the world to whom I might tell it, if you lay your absolute commands upon me to do so. What you say, seems to me very obliging, replyes Lindamira, but as I am not very forward to burden my self with the secrets of my Friends, without any necessity, so shall I not press you to acquaint me with yours. You shall never know it then, replyes Themistus, for it is of such a nature, that I cannot have the presumption to tell it you, if you do not command me to do it. It must needs be a very odd secret it seems, replyed Lindamira, looking on him. On the contrary, Madam, replyed he, his colour change∣ing, 'tis the noblest secret in the world, and were it less Noble, it were a less secret than it is, and so more easily guessed at. Not but that I am a little amazed, added he, that you who have so clear a wit, and understand those that come to you so well, have not already found it out. Assure your self, replyed Lindamira, I have no skill in Divina∣tion, but as I find there is something more than or∣dinary in having a secret that's never to be commu∣nicated to any one, I shall not command you to ac∣quaint me with yours. But Madam, replyed The∣mistus, since you think there's something extraor∣dinary in having a secret that is not to be told any one in the world, I have a great desire to tell you mine; for I am confident you will never tell it any other, and that you will be the only person upon earth that knows it, when I have told you, That I am an unfortunate wretch that loves you, with∣out hope, and to pretend to love you so eternally. Ah! Themistus, replyed the Princess, blushing for very anger, do you consider what you say? Do you speak in good earnest? Do you know me well? Or have you forgot your self? I am in good earnest Madam, replyed he, I consider well what I say. I know well who you are, and have not forgotten my

self: but in spight of Reason and my Will, I adore you, and shall do so eternally. But are you not a∣fraid, replied Lindamira, that I shall acquaint the Prince my Brother with your presumption? No, Madam, replied he, for as you have put me into a condition not to fear death, and only to tremble at your indignation, I cannot be afraid of disgrace. Were you afraid of my indignation, added Linda∣mira, you would not tell me what you do, and you would not force me to forbid you my sight. Ah! Madam, replyed he, if you will not allow me to see you, no question but I shall die, and you will haply be troubled at my death; for, Madam, if you observe, I have not had the presumption to tell you that my passion was guilty of any hope; on the contrary, I declare I have not any; nay, I pre∣tend not to the poor comfort that proceeds from pitty, and that I desire nothing but the glory to love you, though none know it, nay, if you please, without my ever telling you so much. Were it possible, replies the Princess Lindamira, you could have the least shadow of hope in your madness, I should treat you otherwise than I do; but since that cannot be, and that I have a certain esteem and friendship for you, and cannot ruine you, with∣out doing my self some prejudice, I give your Rea∣son time to bring you to your wits again. I would not therefore you should ever presume to acquaint me with any thing of your indiscretion; I would have you very carefully avoid being alone with me; nay, I would have you see me as seldom as you can possibly, till such time as you shall be in a condition to ask me pardon for your extrava∣gance, and come and declare that you love me not otherwise than you ought to love me: For if you do not what I tell you, though I abhor nothing so much as noise and disturbance, I shall acquaint the Prince my Brother with your presumption, and shall infallibly ruine you. Your commands, Madam, replied he, are certainly very hard to be observed, and yet I shall obey you in all, unless it be, Ma∣dam, that I shall never tell you that I have ceased to love you.

Lindamira coming hereupon to certain Green seats, sate down, and obliged the Ladies that came along with her, to do the like. But being ex∣treamly troubled at the adventure that had hapned to her, she staid not long in the Garden, nay, or∣dered things so, that Themistus led her not, and so she returned home very sad and melancholly. She was no sooner in her chamber, but calling my Sister to her into the Closet, she acquainted her with what had happened to her, expressing a great indignation at Themistus's boldness, and with∣al, abundance of affliction, that they could not have so much of his company as formerly. For in fine, said she to Mericia, I looked on Themistus as a person I should have made the chiefest of my friends, because he not only wanted, not any thing that might recommend him, as to his per∣son, but was also very serviceable to me in my af∣fairs. 'Tis certain, he hath a great influence over the Prince my Brother, he is an understanding man, discreet, respectful, divertive, and methought there was no danger to enter into a friendship with him. In the mean time he is fallen into an impertinent madness, that ruines all my designs, and puts me into no small distraction. For I will not give him any occasion to conceive the least hope, nor on the contrary, give any other cause to suspect, any thing of his temerity. You have so much prudence, replied Mericia, that you will do what you have a mind to do; but certainly 'tis great pi∣ty that Themistus's fortune does not justifie the pas∣sion he hath for you; for that allowed, he is worthy your love. I grant it, replied Lyndamira, and that is it that torments me, for not being able to admit him as a Lover, I should have been ve∣ry glad to have had him while I lived for my Friend.

While this entertainment passed between Linda∣mira and my Sister, Themistus, not able to becalm the several sentiments, wherewith his heart was tossed, desired He and I might have some discourse. I at first saw him so sad, that I thought some secret discontent had happened between him and the Prince. Insomuch as perceiving after he had seem∣ed willing to speak with me, that he said nothing to me, I asked him what it was that troubled him. I should not indeed, added I, much wonder to see you disturbed, for I think it impossible that ever ambition should be without disquiet. Ah! dear Meleaganes, cries He, were I only ambitious, I were the happiest man in the world. But alas, I struggle both with Love and Ambition at the same time, and not being well able to distinguish whether my Love proceeds from Ambition, or my Ambition from my Love, all I know is, that my heart is rack'd with all the disturbances that are the attendants of these two passions. I would fain be at this very instant, that I speak, both near the Prince, and near the Princess Lindamira. How, said I, are you in love with the Princess of Himera? I am, replied he, and what is most deplorable, I love her without hope. And yet I am resolved to act, as if I did hope, and to see whether that Proverb which saies, that Fortune favours the Con∣fident, be true or no.

Upon that, he gave me an account of the dis∣course he had had with Lindamira. But when I would have told him, that I thought his condition not so sad, in that she had not treated him worse, he told me that I was mistaken, and that he had been less miserable, if she had expressed a great∣er violence towards him. But, to be short, added he, since as an ambitions man I cannot love more nobly, and that as a Lover, I must be withal am∣bitious, I resign my self equally to these two vio∣lent passions, and am absolutely resolved that they shall either mutually assist one the other, or com∣bine to ruine me.

Tell me therefore my dear Meleagenes, whether what I intend to do be rational, for my thoughts are in such a tempest, that I dare not trust my own reason in this accident. But, said I, what can you do to satisfie your ambition more than you do? The Prince affects you, you follow him every where, you participate of all his pleasures, and he cannot live without you. Ah? Meleagenes, repled he, a peaceful Favourite goes on but slowly, and great fortunes are never found but in great af∣fairs. When I have followed the Prince a hunting, or to Demarata's, to Lindamira's, to the Revels, to the Walks, I shall never be the more powerful; and so the ease of the Grandees will at last give them an opportunity to ruine me. Besides that, doing no more about the Prince, than what a many others could do as well as I, it will be easie

for my aemulators to undermine me, feeling there∣fore within me, something that aims at greater matters, I would stirr up some War, that might contribute as well to my Ambition as my Love. This is my only way to arrive at great employ∣ments, wherein I am sure to meet with either glory or death. By this means shall I come to a nearer distance from Lindamira, and more approach the rank and quality of my Ancestors. Tell me then that I am in the right way, my dear Meleagenes, if you would advise me as I would be advised. On the other side, trouble not your self for the War I intend to raise, for the Prince may justly declare one against the Prince of Messena, and were he not taken up with the love of Demarata, he had haply been already in Arms. If it be so, said I to him, I think it the best course you can take, provided you be in some sort confident of the hap∣py success of this design; for it is a most deplo∣rable thing to be the occasion of a War that is not crowned with victory. Victory, replies Themistus, is commonly the reward of those that assault, ra∣ther than of those that are assaulted, because the former voluntarily seek it, the latter do but as it were entertain it out of necessity. Besides that, in all great designs, wherein both Love and Am∣bition are concerned, much must be left to hazard, and a man should as much resign himself to Fortune as to Prudence.

Themistus being thus resolved for the War, be∣gan to act with so much policy, that in the space of three months, the interest of the Princes of Syracuse and Messena were so intangled, that no∣thing could unravel the differences but a War. In the interim, Themistus behaved himself towards Lindamira with the greatest respect in the world; he exactly observed the command she had laid up∣on him, of not speaking to her alone; and car∣ried himself so discreetly, that though she could not be perswaded his sentiments were other to∣wards her, than they had been, he gave her not the least occasion to take ought ill at his hands. For Demarata, considering only the great influence she had upon the Prince, he humoured her as much as lay in his power, not knowing that he was but too much in her favour; for as I have told you, the world affords not another that can so well disguise her sentiments as this Princess. And since it was her design to overcome the passion that torment∣ed her soul, she was not troubled at a War that should rid her of a man whom she would not love, and a Prince she could not endure without doing extream violence to her self. So that she furthered Themistus's design, though she knew not so much. For, Lyndamira, the hope she was in, that absence would contribute much to his recovery of Themi∣stus, she was also glad of the War, though natu∣rally a great lover of peace. Perianthus for his part, being courageous, young, and desirous of Fame, was easily perswaded to embrace the War, though he still doted on Demarata; so that all things fur∣thering Themistus's design, preparations were made for the execution thereof. Troops were raised, an Army was modelled; and Perianthus being to command it in person, went to take his leave of the Princess Lindamira, attended by the greatest part of the Court, and among others Themistus, who had the gallantest Presence in the world, be∣ing in a military equipage. While she spoke in private with the Prince, Themistus had his eye fixt on her, as if it had been to give her occasion to guess, that his intention were still the same to∣wards her, insomuch that Lindamira told my Si∣ster that very night, that she was much in fear that Themistus was not yet fully recovered of his ex∣travagance▪ But I had forgot to tell you, that Pe∣rianthus taking his leave of her, she very obligingly turned to all those that came along with him, and without distinguishing Themistus from the rest; she told them, that she recommended the Prince her Brother to their care; and that it was her wish to see them all returned home again covered with Laurels. In the mean time Themistus, who sought his own comfort, found a particular satisfaction in the words Lindamira had said in general, though she had not afforded him so much as a look, which he might rationally conceive directed to him.

I shall not trouble you, Madam, with the par∣ticulars of this War, which was over in six months, It sufficeth that I tell you, that as it was begun by Themistus, so was it also gloriously concluded by him, since that through his courage and prudence, a battel was gained, that decided the differences of the Princes of Syracuse and Messena, and in∣troduced a peace between the two States. For The∣mistus commanding the Reserve, brought it into the fight so seasonably, that his side gain'd the victory thereby. Accordingly, was the sole honor of this War, even in his Masters judgement, due to him: for it was undertaken by his advice, he had given very fortunate directions while it last∣ed, and he had contributed more to the gain of the battel than any other. Add to this, that he had the happiness to save the Prince of Syracuse's life, who had his Horse killed under him, when The∣mistus being come up to the Prince, dispatched one of the enemies, that would have either killed or taken him, and furnished him with his Horse, so that he relieved him in the greatest hazard that he could be in.

Hereupon the Prince of Messena being an anti∣ent man, and fearing, if the War continued, he might lose his Estate, resolved to send such indif∣ferent propositions, in order to a Peace, as Themi∣stus could not but hearken to. So that within three daies the Articles were sign'd, and for more security of the performance thereof, it was agreed, that the young Prince of Messena should remain a hostage at Syracuse, till some fortifications were demolished, wherein consisted part of the diffe∣rence between those two Princes. This done, Pe∣rianthus, to reward Themistus with the first honors of the advantage he had gained, would needs dis∣patch him before to Syracuse, to acquaint Demarata and Lindamira with the first news of Victory and Peace. Themistus, overjoyed at this welcome Com∣mission, accepted it with great satisfaction; and, having received Letters from the Prince to those two Princesses, returned to Syracuse. But as he went, he felt, whatever hope hath of insinuation, and fear of disturbance; for the glory he had ac∣quir'd, put him into hope to receive some acknow∣ledgment from Lindamira, but having not seen her in private from the day that he had acquaint∣ed her with his affection, he was strangely afraid to see her alone. Yet Love and Ambition grow∣ing stronger than his Fear, his Heart sided with Hope. However, he was obliged to go first to De∣marata,

〈…〉〈…〉 Lindamira. He did so, and was 〈…〉〈…〉 her with abundance of civili∣ty, and a 〈…〉〈…〉 expressions of joy, wherein he thought not himself at all concerned. For he thought that Demarata would not receive him so kindly; but considering him as a person, of whom Perianthus spoke with abundance of obligation; for, if I am not mistaken, the Prince's Letter to the Princess, was to this effect.

PERIANTHUS to the Princess DEMARATA.

IF you have any affection for me, Madam, en∣tertain Themistus as a person, to whom I owe all things, and whom you are obliged to for the life of a Prince, who loves you be∣yond himself.

Demarata blushed as she read this Letter, and felt within her an agitation which she had much ado to calm, Yet at last she overcame it, and speaking very kindly to Themistus, she intreated him to relate the particulars of the Fight; but he did it with such modesty, that if the common re∣port had not inform'd her of the great things he had done, she could hardly have inferr'd from his relation, that he had been there. So that the esteem she had for Themistus, encreasing thereby, the flame she would have quenched, increased also. Inso∣much that Themistus having left her, she got into her Closet, and speaking to the person that was privy to her secrets; Well, Amerintha, said she to her, what think you of the strangeness of my de∣stiny? I would not love Themistus any longer, and he becomes daily more and more worthy to be lov'd; I would have him go to the Wars purpose∣ly to forget him, and he does there such extraor∣dinary things, that it is impossible not to remember him eternally: I wished he might have dyed there, so to rid my heart of him, and he saves the Prince's life, so to fasten himself for ever to the Court of Syracuse. This granted, what would you have me to do, Amerintha? or have I not reason to think, that it is the pleasure of my destiny, that I should love Themistus in spight of my virtue? I were as good, added she, love him voluntarily; and since Reason and Virtue, joyned together, can∣not resist fortune, nor oppose my inclinations; let us love Themistus whom we cannot hate; but lest he might slight us, added she, let us endeavor to do it so, as that he may not know any thing, and that he be not any way engaged in love. For my part, Madam, replies Amerintha, I think it would not be amiss, should you not so directly oppose the inclination you have for Themistus; for Love is en∣flamed by resistance, and that passion increases ma∣ny times more easily of it self, than it would if it were wished: Do not therefore any violence to your own sentiments, and you will haply see, that within a few daies, you will find rest when you do not seek it, and your heart will be at liber∣ty. But while Demarata was thus entertained, Themistus went to Lindamira, whom he found a∣lone. I know Madam, (said he to her, very re∣spectfully, delivering Perianthus's Letter) that I transgress your commands, but Madam, you will haply find my excuse in the Prince's Letter which I give you. At these words, Lindamira, without making him any answer, took the Letter, and opening it, found these words,

PERIANTHUS to the Princess of HIMERA.

IF you desire to put a sensible obligation upon me, entertain Themistus as a person, to whom I owe Life, Victory, and Peace; for by the friendship you shall have for him, I shall measure that you have for me.

Lindamira having read the Letter, looked very kindly on Themistus, and speaking to him, I be∣seech you, said she, hinder me not from doing what the Prince my Brother would have me. And what would he have you to do for me, Madam, replies Themistus? He commands me to have a friendship for you, replied she, and if I have not it shall not be my fault. Your friendship, Madam, replies Themistus, is a thing so precious, that no man ought to receive it otherwise than on his knees. Receive it then, saies Lindamira, interrupt∣ing him, and without speaking any more of it, I pray tell me what I have not from report, but very confusedly; for I shall credit you more than I do her, and shall trust the account you give me of the fight, more than I do what she hath told me. No doubt, Madam, but I ever speak truth, replied he, and were I not afraid, you should think that the Victory wherein the Prince is pleased to have me so much concern'd, had encouraged me to any presumption, I should haply tell you once more e're I die, that that you have gained over me, is much more absolute, than what the Prince hath gained over his enemies. But since I would not be thought a person so presumptuous, as to have turn∣ed bankrupt as to all respect, but on the contrary, desirous to express much more towards you than I have. I shall obey you, and employ these pre∣cious minutes, wherein I have the honour to be alone with you, to acquaint you with what you would know. Whereupon Themistus, not giving Lindamira leisure to make him any answer, rela∣ted what had passed, with such Eloquence,, Wit, Modesty and Art, that though he said nothing ad∣vantageous to himself, yet was she satisfied, that Fame had not flattered him. Being come just to to the closure of his relation, there came so many into Lindamira's chamber, that it was impossible for him to say any thing to her in private.

In the mean time was this Princess in no small disturbance; for, as it was but just to commend a person that had done the State such considerable service, so on the other side was she troubled to do it with any earnestness, knowing what inclinati∣ons he had for her, lest he should make any advan∣tage thereof. So that to take a mean betwixt these two extremities, she read aloud what the Prince her Brother had written concerning Themistus, so to do justice to the valour of that secret Lover, yet not to heighten his confidence by any excess of commendation. But, Themistus perceiving the company to encrease, and finding himself bur∣thened

with the flatteries of those that were about Lindamira, his own modesty forced him to leave the Princess. Nay, he thought that the interest of his love and ambition advised him to do so. So that being returned to his own House, I went to wait on him, for I came to Syracuse along with him. As soon as I saw him, I asked what posture his affairs were in, as well in relation to his love as his ambition. For what concerns my ambiti∣on, replies he, they go very well, for after the service I have now done the Prince, there are few places I may not pretend to. But for my love-af∣fairs, the case is otherwise, for the Princess may haply have a greater esteem for me than she had, but I do not believe she will ever venture to love me, even though she should cease to have an a ver∣sion for me. I know well enough, added he, that my birth is noble, but my fortune was in such an ill equipage when I left Sicily, that I find it a kind of madness to love Lindamira. But since your courage, replied I, will soon make your fortune equal to your birth, why may you not aspire to the affection of that Princess? Because, saies he, there is a fantastick humor in the world, that will hardly let people remember the high births of such as are fallen into poverty; nay, that ever reflects on their former poverty, even when they are be∣come rich. This may hold, replied I, in such as enrich themselves otherwise than by the favour of their Sovereign, not in those that are Favorites to some great Prince. For, in a word, favour covers whatever is not advantageous to those that are in it, with oblivion. No, no, replied Themistus, for∣bear these fruitless flatteries; Lindamira will never love me, or I must expect no more from her than what a b••re friendship amounts to. Nay, I am in some doubt, whether my love to her may not pro∣cure me her aversion. That seldom happens, repli∣ed I, and I cannot imagine your fortune will prove so fantastick, Come what will, replies Themistus, I will love her eternally, and I will do so many things to preserve the Prince's favour, that I shall haply play my Cards so well, that I may be the greatest man in the Court.

Nor was he less than his word, for Perianthus being returned, he was absolutely looked on as his Favourite. He bestowed on him the most conside∣rable employment in the State, he enriched him, and lodged him in the Palace; nay, all the favours of the Prince passed through his hands. However, Themistus was so good a Steward of his favour, that envy it self had a respect for his virtue; he did all the good he could, he was a Protector of the unfortunate, he was liberal, his conversation with his antient friends was such, as before he came into favour; he was an eager assertor of his Ma∣ster's authority, he was not wedded to any inte∣rest, and it was evident in all his actions, that he lo∣ved the Prince and the State. But none knew of his being in love, but Lindamira, Mericia, and my self.

In the mean time, at Perianthus's return, all was full of divertisements, besides that, the Prince of Messena being a gallant and our proper person, his presence added something to the gallantry of the Court. Nay, he fell so strangely in love with Lin∣damira, that all the world soon after perceived his passion. But among the rest, Themistus was one of those that first discovered it, and was so much troubled at it, as if some great misfortune had hap∣pened to him. 'Tis certainly a thing not easily di∣gestible by a Lover, that dares not mention his love; nor give the least expression thereof, to see a Rival that discovers all his, yet so, as he is not to be called to account for it. Yet did Themistus make his advantage of this adventure; for Lin∣damira observing him very narrowly, soon per∣ceived the disturbance and melancholly, which the Prince of Messena's love caused in him. She spoke of it to Mericia, who had also taken notice thereof. Yet were there not any but these two persons and my self, that observed it; for, as to the Prince of Messena, he was so far from suspecting Themistus to be his Rival, that he did all that lay in his power, to court him, to be one of his intimate friends. But as Themistus found much ado to suffer it, and that the Prince of Messena came at last to perceive, that he avoided his company as much as he could with civility, he endeavoured to find out the rea∣son of it. So that he imagined, it proceeded from his two frequent discourses of Love and Gallantry. For seeing him not particularly engaged to any Beauty, he drew that consequence, and was wont by way of raillery, to call Themistus sometimes the indifferent, sometimes the insensible Courtier, and that became so general, that Themistus was some∣times forced to answer to these two names, which he so little deserved. Demarata on the other side was somewhat satisfied, to think that Themistus was not in love at all; and Lindamira was not dis∣pleased to find that his passion was kept very se∣cret; for that having a very particular friendship for him, she would have been troubled to be forced to forbid him coming to her. In the mean time she did not any action, nor scattered the least word, whence Themistus might raise ever so little hope he might ever give her heart the least assault; nay, not so much as that he might oblige her to admit his passion, though without making any return.

'Twas upon such an occasion; that she had a very long discourse with him one day; for it hap∣pening that Themistus was alone with her walking, and that they leant over a rail that looked upon the Sea, she saw him so much taken up with his own thoughts, that forgetting at that time the love he had for her, she immediately asked him whe∣ther there were any discontent between him and the Prince. Alas, Madam, replied he sighing, were I as much in favour with the Princess of Himera, as I am with the Prince of Syracuse, I should not be so much troubled in my thoughts, or if I were, it would be so much to my satisfaction, that I should be nevertheless happy. I assure you, replies very courteously Lindamira, you have received greater expressions of friendship from me, than you could have from the Prince my Brother: for in my judgement, one cannot do those he loves a greater obligation, than to forget the injuries they have done him. Ah, Madam, replies Themistus, if it be an injury to adore you, and if my submissive passi∣on be the affront you mean, you cannot do any thing more unjust or more cruel than to forget it. But alas, added he sighing, I daily and hourly perceive that you have not done me that kind of injustice, for you make it so much your business, to avoid even the meeting of our eyes; you so obstinate∣ly shun my company, and you take so great plea∣sure to persecute me, that I am in no doubt but you remember the love I have for you.

Themistus said these words with so much re∣sentment, that the Princess, who had an infinite esteem, and withal a real friendship for him, re¦solved not to stand out so against that unfortunate Lover, to afford him some inward pitty, and to endeavor to recover him by reason. So that speak∣ing to him with all the kindness that can proceed from friendship, you are, said she, so virtuous a man, that it would be the greatest trouble to me in the world, to prove the only cause of your un∣happiness. Besides that, being obliged to you for my Brothers life, I think my self concern'd to be tender of yours. Nay, you are so considerable to the State, that the interest of my Countrey requires further, that I should not suffer you to run into an extravagance, which might make you unservicea∣ble to the Prince, the State, and your friends. Give me leave then, Themistus, to discover my heart to you, and tell you, that though there were no dis∣proportion between us, you should not entertain any love for me, because it is evident I cannot have ought beyond a friendship for you. Ah, Madam, cries out Themistus, is it not enough I know, that being of the quality you are of, you will not love me, but you must withal tell me, that though for∣tune had put no rub in my way to happiness, yet I could never be happy. I beseech you, Madam, be not so ingeniously cruel and give me leave to flat∣••es my self into this poor consolation, as to think, that if you had been born in a cottage, I might presume to love you, and that it were not impos∣sible I might gain your affection Give me leave, I say, Madam, to attribute some part of my un¦happiness to Fortune, and not all to your aversion. For matter of aversion, replies Lindamira, I have not any for Themistus, on the contrary, I ingeni∣ously declare that I esteem you, and that I have a tender, solid, and sincere friendship for you. But with this declaration I must also tell you, that I nei∣ther have, or ever shall have any love for you. But Madam, replies Themistus, are you so particularly acquainted with what is to come? I am, replied she, for it is my perswasion, that when one is to entertain love, it is never ushered in by friendship. Besides, my Humor and my Reason, are two such faithful sentinels about my heart, that I do not fear they will ever betray it, either to your Merit or your Love, and it is out of that confidence, that I speak to you as I do, that is without indigna∣tion or severity. I therefore tell you once more, that I have a very great friendship for you; that I shall never love you otherwise, than according to that, and that you cannot put a greater obliga∣tion upon me, than by resolutely strugling with the passion now so predominant in your soul. If it be true, Madam, added he, that you cannot have ought beyond a friendship for the unfortunate Themistus, grant him one favour I beseech you. If it be a favour that may stand with friendship, re∣plies Lindamira,, I promise it you. Alas, Madam, said he, what I desire is so considerable, that you must be very unjust to denie it. For all my request at the present, to remit the tor∣ment I feel, is only to intreat you to make use of one word for another, though the sence be e∣ven in your intention the very same. For instance, Madam, continued this afflicted Lover, it will be an extream satisfaction to me, if, instead of say∣ing you have a friendship for me, you would be pleased to make use of certain words, which, be∣cause they are sometimes employed to express sen∣timents that speak more tenderness, have, I know not what that is more satisfactory, more inviting, and more proper to keep up the spirits of an un∣fortunate man, than such as are particular to friend∣ship: Your wits are at such a loss, replies Linda∣mira, that I pity you much more than I would do. For, in fine, what pleasure do you take in ma∣king your self unhappy, when all things seem to contribute to your felicity. Nature hath furnished you with all she could, that is, a high birth, and a proper person; you want neither gallantry nor understanding, and you have no reason at all to complain of her: Fortune for her part hath done all she could for you: your valour hath been for∣tunate, the State is obliged to you, your Master owes you his life, you are upon the establishment of the greatness of your House, and all the world loves you—you only excepted, Madam, interrupt∣ed he, Nay, on the contrary, replied Linda∣mira, I have told you already that I am your friend, and that I will be ever so, provided you promise me, and that sincerely, you will do all that lies in your power, not to own any thing towards me but friendship. I shall do so, Madam, replied he, if you in like manner will do me the honor to pro∣mise, that, for your part, you will do what you can, not to have an affection for me, for it were a great presumption to say it, but only to be perswa∣ded to entertain my passion, in case I cannot over∣come it. 'Twere very pleasant indeed, replies Lin∣damira (who would not alwaies speak in good ear∣nest of Themistus's love) if it happened that when you should have subdued your passion, I, at the same time, were resolved to admit it. It were much better I should not resist my sentiments, and that you should only endeavour to reform yours.

Besides this, Themistus had abundance of other passionate discourse with Lindamira: but at last he promised her sincerely to do all he could, to subdue his passion, conditionally she would also do what lay in her power, to resolve to continue her friendship to him, in case he could not forbear loving her. For she had one day threatened to deprive him even of that, if instead of being her lover, he became not her friend. Since that, Themistus did really all he could to reform his sentiments; for there were so many things to perswade him, that Lindamira would never have any thing but a bare friendship for him, that he, in a manner, despair'd of ever exalting it into love. And yet, as the most unfor∣tunate do most easily derive comfort from inconsi∣derable things, because they cannot hope for any greater consolations; Themistus was so sensi∣ble of those expressions of friendship he received from Lindamira, that there wanted not some inter∣vals, wherein he was ready to entertain joy, though he was satisfied Lindamira had no love for him, and still wished that he had no more for her. Nay, when Lindamira freely spoke to him of any con∣cernment of her own, he felt somewhat, that it is impossible to express; if he were indisposed, and that she sent to see how he did, he was extreamly satisfied; and that so far, that he never received any expression of esteem or friendship from her, but he was as glad of ••t, as another Lover would have been, of what they call signal favours. Not but that assoon as he was out of Lindamira's fight,

he was troubled at the same things whereat he had rejoyced before, out of the very consideration that Lindamira had only a friendship for him. But after all, when he found her kind and obliging, he suspended his grief, and love ensnaring his rea∣son, made him forget that Lindamira had only a friendship for him, and find unconceivable plea∣sures in the least kindnesses he received from her.

In the mean time, from the first day they treated together, Lindamira asked him ever and anon, what progress he had made towards friendship, and Themi∣stus asked her on the other side, what progress she had made towards Love, and yet Lindamira had still the cruelty to tell him very often, and very seri∣ously, that he should take heed he were not de∣ceived by appearances, and not look on those kind∣nesses she had for him, as proceeding from any thing but friendship. And indeed, Themistus was so far satisfied, that Lindamira had nothing else for him in her heart; that she knew it not better her self.

While things stood thus, the Prince of Messena, addressed himself openly to this Princess, who having neither inclination nor aversion for him, treated him with a civility sutable to a person of his quality and merit. For Demarata, her soul was still persecuted with the same secret passion, which added to the aversion she had for Perianthus. So that she was forced eternally to stifle two sentiments the hardest in the world to be dissembled. Yet did she in time overcome them, for it was believed about the Court, that she did not treat Themistus well, but out of a meer reflection that he was the Princes favorite; and the Prince, who sometimes discovered some light indifference in her, imagined it was to put a sharper edge on the love he had for her. Themistus on the other side, minding only his ambition, as what should further his love, neg∣lected nothing that contributed ought to the ag∣grandization of his fortune, so that being at the same time to obey both a Master and a Mistress, he wanted no employment.

Things being in this posture, it happened that Lindamira being a little indisposed; Demarata came to give her a visit, and met there the Prince of Messena, Meriander, and Themistus. For the La∣dies that came in, I shall not name them, for it were to no purpose, because the entertainment I am to give you an account of, passed principally be∣tween the fair Melisera, Meriander, and Themistus, having been begun by Demarata after the manner you shall hear. This Princess being come into Lin∣damira's Chamber, told her in a flattering way, as having naturally no great affection for her, that it was not possible she could be sick, and that she had too fair a complexion, and too much sprightliness in her eyes, to denote any want of sleep. Linda∣mira answerd this flattery with another; whereup∣on every one being seated, they began to abuse Meriander, for talking something more than ordina∣ry with a handsome Court Lady, that had gotten such a reputation of being incapable of love, that she never ran the hazard of the least suspition of being guilty of any. So that Lindamira seeing they fell so foul upon Meriander, told him very free∣ly, that he must expect to find it a very difficult en∣terprise if it were true, that he was in love with that person. For my part says the fair Melisera, I do not think Meriander is in love, with her you speak of, or if he be, it is come to no great height. For I find him so sensible of the trivial expressions of friendship that he receives from her, that I can∣not believe he would value them so much if he were in love. But do you consider well what you say, replyes Demarata, when you speak in that manner? I do Madam; replies Melisera; and if you will but take the pains carefully to examine what I say, you will find that I have reason to ima∣gine that a Lover cannot receive with so much sa∣tisfaction simple expressions of friendship. For my part, says Meriander, I must confess I am not in love with her you hit me in the teeth with, but if I were, I believe I should entertain the expressions of her friend ship with much more joy than I do; for it is the property of love to make the sentiments more lively, and to multiply the value of things that come from the person beloved. This doubtless is the judgment of all the World, (added Themistus, who was too much concerned in this question not to say somthing thereto) and whoever hath a sen∣sible heart, will never speak as the fair Melisera does. On the contrary, replyed she, whoever will take the pains to sift more narrowly things of this nature, shall easily conceive what I say. For my part, says the Princess Lindamira, I must confess my thoughts are so distracted between these two opinions, that I do not well perceive the difference there is between them, so as to give you my judg∣ment of them.

And yet I affirm, says Melisera, that a man that is servant to a woman, in whom he finds nothing but a bare friendship for him, whence he may infer he will never be otherwise loved by her, can never have any real joy when he receives any expressions of that friendship and that if he hath, it is an infal∣lible argument of the indifference of his passion. And for my part, replyes angerly Themistus, I maintain that the greatest and most unquestionable mark of a great passion is to see a Lover, that not∣withstanding all his sufferings, receives with joy the least expression of friendship that his Mistriss can give him. What Themistus says, is so ratio∣nal, replyes Meriander, that I think the fair Melise∣ra, with all her wit, will find her self at a loss to maintain her opinion. For what concerns me. said she, I find no such difficulty in it: you will then so much more oblige the company, replies De∣marata, to instruct us in a business which is very particular, and which haply hath not been yet well understood. Yet is the understanding of it not very hard, replyes Melisera, , for if you reflect on the manner wherein love is spoken of, me thinks I very well conceive what it is, so as to comprehend that the more one loves, the more one desires to be loved; that the highest degree of a Lovers fe∣licity, is the love of his Mistress; and his greatest misfortune, the assurance that he can never make her heart sensible of the same passion that possesses his.

I farther conceive, that the desire to be loved, is the source of all other desires, if I may so express it, and that that desire never forsakes him, but fills his heart with perpetual disturbance, which increases and becomes insupportable, when ever his Mistriss does any thing that gives him occasion to be∣lieve he shall never be loved, in the manner he would be lov'd. I grant what you say, replyes Themistus, and affirm with you, that the desire of

being loved, grows proportionably to the love, and cannot dye but with it, even though a lover should love without hope: for it often happens, that love which scorns and slights reason, maks a man de∣sire things impossible. But since you agree to what I say, replyes Melisera, acknowledge withall that I have reason to speak as I do. For is there not, added she, some reason to think that a lover does not love over-earnestly, when he entertains with joy, simple expressions of friendship, which he should receive with dissatisfaction if his love were violent, there being no disposition that stands at such a distance from love, as friendship; and there's an easier passage from indifference to love, than from friendship to passion. So that when a lover that hath a tender and delicate soul, receives an expression of friendship from his Mistriss, and that with a consideration that that friendship will grow up into love, he should be extreamly troubled at it, extreamly disturbed, and account himself most unhappy and uncapable of the joy I speak of, or it may be inferred, that that lover desires nothing far∣ther. For in my judgment, there is but the hope, or the fruition of what a man desires, that either ought, or can afford him any joy. And for my own particular, I think if I were a lover, and that my Mistriss to requite my love, should afford me only some bare expressions of friendship. I should be extreamly troubled, nay, much more than if I were to endure her severity, cruelty, indignation, unkindness, and inconstancy.

Were you but well acquainted and well read in love, replyes Themistus, you will soon find him to be an humorsome capricious thing, that is some∣times appeased with a trifle, and even at the same time it covets all things, is fatisfied in a manner with nothing; and were it my business to give an infallible mark whereby to know a great passion, I should say it is when a Lover in spight of his reason, notwithstanding the impetuosity of his defires, and the violence of his passion, feels his affliction be∣calmed by the bare sight of the person he loves. Whence you may judge what that Lover should feel, who sees in the fair eye of the person he adores a certain kindness, passion, and goodness for him. If he there find, that passion, mildness, and goodness, together with a hope that affection may change its nature, replyed Melisera, I very well conceive that lover may entertain joy; but I presuppose he hath not that hope, and that he never can have it. Ah! Madam, cryes out Meriander, you presuppose a thing absolutely impossible. For though a Lover should affect a person that had an extream aversion for him, and had haply a reason to abhor him up∣on some interest of family, he must hope whether he would or no, because hope increases with love, and dies not but with it. For my part, replyes cold∣ly Themistus, I believe it possible to love without hope of ever being favored. I grant it, added, Meriander, but not without a hope of being loved. Nay, I am perswaded that hope hides it self from him that hath it, and that there are certain lovers that hope, though they think not so much. For when all's done, it is impossible to love without desires and without hope. So that as probability in love is not inconsistent with impossibility, how would you have a poor Lover, who discovers in the eyes of his Mistress, a certain kindness and ••nderness for him; not hope that that affection may change its nature; nay sometimes imagine, that though his Mistress know it not, she hath something beyond friendship for him. For it is so natural to love, when it is great, to flatter and deceive those that have it, that I think it impos∣sible a lover should receive expressions of friend∣ship without pleasure. For my part says Melisera, I thought fear as great an argument of love, as hope. It is so, replyes Themistus, but their objects are different; for hope is sometime the issue of an excess of love, amidst the greatest occasions of despair; and fear on the contrary, through the same excess of love, seises a Lovers heart, notwithstand∣ing all the assurances a Mistriss can give him. So that to return to the present business, it is easie to comprehend that a Lover cannot give a greater demonstration of his love, then when, notwith∣standing the affliction it is to him, that he cannot be loved as he would, he must needs express his resentment of the kindnesses of his Mistress. Not but that those kindnesses are insupportable to him, when she is once out of his sight, but I think it so far impossible, when one loves passionately, to see a Mistress without pleasure, especially when she is kind, that I could desie all the lovers in the world, to maintain they have no pleasure when they re∣ceive an expression of friendship.

But to make it yet more clear, that a Lover, who is capable of that joy which the fair Melisera, attributes to the indifference of his affection, loves more eagerly than another that were insensible of the expressions of friendship he should receive; We are to consider love in its own nature, and grant, that the most perfect love is that which is most passio∣nate and most permanent, and that the Lover, who desiring much, is yet capable of loving eternally, though he obtains in a manner nothing of what he desires, is much more accomplished than he, that through the impatience of his constitution, rather than any excess of passion, says alwayes he will ei∣ther have all or none, and who is over ready to break his chains, if he be not over burthened with favors, that scorns those trivial things, which bal∣lance the great afflictions of those who know how to love and enable them to prosecute their loves without being happy.

I could never have believed, says the Prince of Messena, that an insensible man could have dis∣coursed of love so well. There is certainly abun∣dance of wit in what he says, replyes Melisera, but it is easily perceived that he does not speak out of any experience, since he is perswaded that a man may be guilty of a great deal of love, and be sa∣tisfied with a simple expression of friendship. I beseech you Madam, replyes Themistus with a little precipitation, alter not the sense of my words, for I do not say, that a Lover is satisfied, when he receives only expressions of friendship, but only, that he cannot forbear, be he never so unhappy, feeling a certain ease; nay, a joy at the instant that he receives that demonstration of friendship: and I hold that a man must be insensible, if he can re∣ceive any kindness from his Mistriss without plea∣sure. And I hold, on the contrary, replyes Meli∣sera, that a very lukewarm lover, that entertains a kindness of that nature without affliction; since that in my opinion, there is not any thing one should be more troubled at, when you receive that you desire not, and are ever denyed that which

you do. It is very evident, Madam, replyes The∣mistus, that you care for no more than only to raise love, without receiving any, nay that you have not permitted any one of your Lovers to en∣tertain you with the sentiments you have put into their hearts: for if any had had that priviledge, you would have found, as I have already told you, that Love is sometimes content with so little, that it may be said he is content with any thing. 'Tis out of all question, added Meriander, that a Lo∣ver desires the fruition of his Mistriss, and yet it is an inexpressible joy to him, if he can get but her picture, even though it were taken by stealth. Will any one say that this joy is an argument of the in∣differency of his affection? Why therefore will you not allow an unfortunate lover to look on the friend∣ship his Mistriss hath for him, as an imperfect draught of the love he desires from her? To be short, add but one degree of heat to tender friend∣ship, and you will raise it up to a love: so that I hold the picture of a person that one loves, when it is not bestowed by her, ought not to cause so much joy as the friendship of a person that one adores; for you may have that Picture without any part of her heart whom it represents, but for friend∣ship, a lover looks on it as a greater favor than it is, if he be deeply in love. He is at least confident that he is esteemed, and that he is loved, which hath ever something of satisfaction in it. Not but I acknowledge, that the greatest friendship in the world cannot afford a pleasure and satisfaction equal to that which proceeds from the most incon∣siderable expression of love, that can be imagined. But after all, whoever loves well, cannot but be infinitely sensible of whatever comes from the per∣son be adores, and which seems not to be the ef∣fects of hatred and aversion. Nor indeed does the greatness of love ever discover it self better than when a man hath some happy intervals in the midst of his torments, and other unhappy ones even at that time when he lies in the fairest way to happi∣ness. For it is the property of love so to order things, that lovers should never be without plea∣sure, nor ever without affliction.

Of a person that is insensible, says the Prince of Messena, once more, you speak so well of this pas∣sion, that it is impossible you should have been so always. Themistus hearing what his Rival said, pre∣tended he had not heard him, as being not able to affirm before the Princess of Himera, that he was free from love; and unwilling on the other side to acknowledge it, for fear of dipleasing her, and prejudicing himself. For Demarata, the se∣cret passion she had within prevailing upon her, she imagined that Themistus was certainly in love, and that she was haply the object of that passion, for he was not engaged to any Lady in the Court, and constantly visited none but the Princess of Hi∣mera and her self; so that inferring from the dis∣course that had passed, that Themistus could not be in love with Lindamira, because she perceived he was sensible of those expressions of esteem he re∣ceived from her, she was very glad of it, not but that the opinion of Meriander and Themistus was the more maintainable: but being not consonant to her desires, she thought fitter to follow the senti∣ments of Melisera, though she at first opposed them. She went away therefore from Lindamira's very well satisfied: but with Themistus, it was otherwise, for not being able to forbear the discoveries of his joy, when Lindamira honored him with any marks of the friendship she had for him, he was afraid he had not sufficienly persuaded her, and that she should imagine his love was too light. And this certainly was without some reason, for the Prin∣cess of Himera, made an hundred reflections upon that meeting, speaking of it the same evening to my Sister.

She at first told her, she was glad, it was part of her persuasion, that, acccording to what Melisera, had said, Themistus was not so much in love, as he pretended. But Madam, replyed Mericia, I con∣ceive the tenant of Meriander and Themistus to be more probable than that of the fair Melisera's, whose main business certainly was to shew the greatness of her wit. Though it were so, replyed Lindamira you would have obliged me not to have said it, for at the present, I should be very glad Themistus loved me not. For in fine, added she, Meriander hath so well proved that love cannot be without hope, that I am in a manner fully satisfied that The∣mistus flatters himself, and imagines I shall one day love him. Believe me Madam, replyes Mericia smiling, I think it would not be amiss, if you did imagine it as well as he, for to be free with you, I think that when a woman hath a very tender friendship for a highly virtuous man, struggling with a very violent passion, which destroys not her friendship whom he loves, it is easily inferred, that in process of time, that friendship will become a little more passionate. Ah, Mericia replyes Linda∣mira did you speak seriously, I should have a strange quarrel to you. I never spoke more earnest∣ly, Madam, replyed she, and time will haply con∣vince you, that what I say, is true. If that mis∣fortune ever happen to me, replyed the Princess, 'tis more than you shall ever know, or Themistus either. It may be we shall know it before you, answered Mericia laughing, for if we measure things by your humor, you must be even extravagant in love, be∣fore you believe your self to be in any at all; but in a word, Madam, the sentiments that a virtuous love inspires, are so much like those that proceed from a tender friendship, that when one will be de∣ceived, it is easie to be so. But Mericia, replyed she, I will not be deceived, you do not believe it, replyes my Sister, yet it happens otherwise.

Lindamira made no reply, and Mericia leaving her to her own thoughts, began seriously to believe that the friendship she had in her soul, might at last be enflamed into a love. And indeed, from that day Lindamira carried her self otherwise towards Themistus, she was distrustful of her self, and to her own sorrow, she thought that Themistus loved her not so much as he pretended. But what trou∣bled her most of all, was that, whether she would or no, she took it not well that Themistus should love her less than she had thought. And yet she concealed her sentiments from him with abundance of care, and gave him no other answer for a long time, but that she had not, nor could not have any love for him. Themistus on the other side ever told her that he was, and ever would be, the most amo∣rous of men. But she, instead of telling him, as she had done before, that she was sorry he should be so, and that she intreated him to endeavor the conquest of his sentiments, would now tell him, that he loved her not so well as he conceived, and

that certainly he knew not what transactions passed in his own heart. But she at the same time avoi∣ded him, was so melancholly, and treated him so ill for some days, that Themistus was like to dye of meer grief. At last he fell into such a deep melan∣cholly, and grew so sick, that the ablest Physitians were doubtful of his recovery.

The Prince, who had an extraordinary tender∣ness for him, was excessively troubled to see him in that condition; Demarata conceiving that the se∣cret passion he had for her, had brought him to that extremity, groan'd under an affliction that had discovered her secret thoughts, had she not been a great Mistriss in the Art of dissimulation; and Lindamira being then fully satisfied that she was the cause of the danger Themistus was in, was so sensibly moved thereat, that she was forced to keep her chamber, and to pretend her self indisposed, so to conceal her grief; for I had forgot to tell you, that the day immediately before that wherein The∣mistus fell so very ill, Lindamira had said some things to him, which he resented so deeply, that she her self was sorry for it a quarter of an hour after he had left her. So that looking on her self as in a manner the murtheress of the most virtuous man about the Court, and one for whom she had so tender a friendship, one whom the Prince and the State were so much obliged to; nay one to whom she her self was, whether she considered him as her servant, or as her friend, she accused her self, though she knew not precisely what she charg∣ed her self withal.

In the mean time Perianthus visited Themistus every day; the Prince of Messena did the like, nay, Demarata came to see him, and was so troubled at the sad condition she found him in, that she had almost been overcome by the violence of her af∣fliction, after she had opposed her passion so long, and given some assurance of her love to Themistus, whom she thought reduc'd to that condition, meer∣ly because he durst not acquaint her with his affecti∣on, as well out of the respect he bore her, and the saith he would observe to the Prince his Master. So that Demarata was almost tempted to tell him, that he was much more happy than he thought himself, but at last she was content only to give him thousands of expressions of esteem and friendship, by the grief she discoverd, both in her eyes and words. The sick Lover seeing himself bemoaned and visited by all, and not seeing the Princess Lin∣damira, knew not what to think of her carriage towards him. She indeed sent to see how he did, but since Demarata had been to visit him, he thought she might very well have born her company. So that being unwilling to dye till he knew what Lindamira thought of his death, he did himself an extream violence to write three or four lines, which he trusted to my conveyance. He made me seal the Letter which I was to carry to Lindi∣mira, whom I found alone. She blushed when I told her that Themistus had written it to her, whereupon opening the Letter hastily, yet with a certain fear, she found therein these words.

THEMISTUS to the Princess LINDAMIRA.

I Have not been able to obey your command, that I should not love you any longer, but I shall do it if you command me to die. Be plea∣sed then, Madam, to lay your commands upon me, that I may have some satisfaction when I dye, and deny not this fatal favor to the most wretched, yet the most amorous of men.

Lindamira read it twice over, but not without tears in her eyes. Yet did she what lay in her pow∣er to hinder me from seeing them; and having re∣covered her self a little, she asked me whether it were true that Themistus was so ill as it was re∣ported, and he pretended himself. Madam, said I, Themistus is so ill and weak, that if you will favor him with any answer, you must do it immediate∣ly. At these words, Lindamira going into her Closet, left me in her Chamber, and a few mi∣nutes after, brought me her answer; desiring me with the tears in her eyes if Themistus at my re∣turn were not in a condition to read it, to restore her the Letter, without ever making the least mention thereof to any one. I promised to do what she desired, and so returned to my sick friend, to whom I delivered Lindamira's Letter, and whose spirits I very much rais'd, when I told him she had read his with tears in her eyes. He thereup∣on opened the Princesse's, and set himself to read it, though with much trouble, because of the ex∣traordinary weakness he was in. But love multi∣plying his strength, he at last made a shift to read these words.

LINDAMIRA to THE∣MISTUS.

I Ive Themistus, live, and if there needs no more to oblige you thereto, than to pro∣mise you that I will not forbid you to love me. I shall resolve to do so, to save that Man's life, who of all the world is the dearest to me.

Themistus was so over-joyed at this Letter, that a kind of Lethargy which accompanied the fever he was in, and that seemed an inevitable symp∣tom of death to the Physitians, began to be dis∣persed, and as if his sickness had proceeded from enchantment, he recovered in an instant, insomuch, that those who had him under cure, being come to see him that night, were in some hope of his amend∣ment. So that sending this news immediately to the Prince, Demarata, who had visited Themistus that morning, and had said so many kind things to him, thought that her visit had cur'd him, and thereupon loved him much more passionately than ever she had done before. For Lindamira, she had reason to believe that she had restored Themistus to life; but she almost repented her of it, when she came to consider the consequences which what

she had done might have. But after all, having a greater love for him than she thought to have had, she kindly received another Letter that Themistus writ, the next day when he was a little recover'd. It was but short and to this effect.

THEMISTUS to the Princess LINDAMIRA.

I Shall live, Madam, since it is your pleasure I should, but I beseech you, let it never out of your memory what you have promised me, unless you would have me to loose the life which you have preserved, and which I value not but out of a consideration that you have bestowed it on me to adore you eternally.

What was most remarkable, Madam, was, that when Themistus was fully recovered, Lindamira would not be perswaded to see him. Upon that account was it that she went into the Countrey for fifteen days, nor could she be brought to speak to him till the very minute of her departure. But not able to avoid him at her return, Themistus saw her at her own Palace, and that alone. I shall not give you a punctual account of the entertainment happened between them; for I have so many things of greater consequence to acquaint you withall, that I shall pass by that. But at last, Themistus spoke so passionately to Lindamira, that that fair Princess, whose heart is naturally very tender, and who had been enraged in love through friendship, confirmed the permission she had given him, and so did as good as encourage him to believe, that the tenderness she had for him, amounted to some∣thing beyond ordinary friendship: but she withall, laid her absolute commands upon him, never to re∣quire any other demonstrations of it than simple as∣surances, and not by any means pretend to ought but the glory to know that she preferred him be∣fore all men in the world. Themistus, who was much more happy than he expected to be, promi∣sed to do all she desired, and was so well satisfied with the change of his fortune, that he soon re∣covered his perfect health.

Demarata in the mean time, was more and more perswaded that she had prov'd the Doctress, and restored him to it; for he growing a little better the very day she came to visit him, told her, at the first visit he made her, by way of complement, that he came to make his acknowledgments for that the honors she had done him, had saved his life. So that taking this positively as he said it, she was afraid she had told him too much, for she had as yet some remainders of modesty in her, and her love was not grown too strong for her reason. How∣ever she behaved her self with so much discretion, that Themistus did not so much as imagine what she had within her, so that the satisfaction it was to him to be in good terms with Lindamira, was not clouded with any thing but the love of the Prince of Messena, as also by the small likelihood there was he could ever be absolutely happy. For this Princess scattered not so much as a word, whence he might gather the least hope that she would ever be perswaded to marry him; so that knowing her virtue, and the disposition of her soul, his happiness was still in some hazard.

But this hindred him not from believing him∣self the most fortunate lover in the world, because he valued the least favor he received from Linda∣mira, beyond all the kindnesses that others could receive. 'Twas then he understood the difference there is between the greatest expressions of friend∣ship, and the most inconsiderable assurances of love; for though he had sometime been satisfied, when Lindamira had put a thousand obligations up∣on him, which convinced him that she had a friend∣ship for him,, it signified nothing in comparison of what he felt when he but met with Lindami∣ra's eyes, and saw in them certain languishing glances, that assur'd him she approved his flames, and desired the continuance of them. The Prince of Messena was still in love, and his addresses were equally troublesome to the Princess Lindamira and Themistus, who to get him off handsomely, made the Prince of Syracuse, press the execution of the treaty of Peace, that the young Prince, who lay there as a Hostage, might be obliged to return home.

On the contrary, the old Prince of Messena, while his Son was at Syracuse, endeavored nothing so much as to find out delays, for having concluded the peace meerly out of necessity, he spent that time meerly to find out occasion to renew the war. And indeed, thinking he had found them, he sent a secret Messenger to the Prince his Son, to ad∣vise him to leave Syracuse, writing to him (though there were no such thing) that he knew he was to be secured there. This young Prince, who knew that the policy of the Prince his Father, proceeded rather from a Fox-like craft than any true pru∣dence, credited not what was said to him; be∣sides that, bearing a noble mind, he would rather expose himself to be secured by injustice, than to be suspected by a breach of his parole, to endea∣vor an escape. Besides that, being infinitely in love with Lindamira, he thought nothing more horrid than to get away from her, by doing a base action which might occasion a war between him and the Prince her Brother. He therefore never disputed the business, and taking advantage of this occasion to discover his passion, he came to Lindamira, he shewed her the Letter from the Prince his Father, he assured her he would not obey it, and that he had rather be a slave at Sya∣cuse, than free at Messena. Being a Gentleman of very handsome parts, he said this in an extream obliging way, so that Lindamira not interpreting what he had said, to have any relation to his love, as a thing that had any real being, answered him only as to the generosity that appeared in his pro∣ceedings; assuring him that the Prince her Brother had no design to secure him; and that she should not fail to give him an account of his generous car∣riage towards him. Upon which Perianthus being come into the room, attended by Themistus, Lin∣damira, not hearkning to the entreaty of the Prince of Messena, which was that she should not say any thing of what he had acquainted her with, briefly told the Prince her Brother, what that Prince had discovered to her, adding that he had made choice of her to give him notice of it. The∣mistus was at first troubled a little to see Lindami∣ra acquainting Perianthus so hastily, with so gene∣rous

an action of his Rival; but coming to con∣sider that it might prove an occasion of renewing the War, he found it was more to his advantage than he thought, and was more prejudicial to his Rival, than haply he imagin'd: So that his thoughts being absolutely becalm'd, he commend∣ed the Prince of Messena's action, to whom he spoke with abundance of generosity. Where∣upon Perianthus, to convince him that he had not the least intention to secure him, assur'd him he would take no advantage of this discovery; for, said he to him, there's nothing so clear, as that the Prince your Father endeavours to renew the War. And yet I now declare, that if he break the Trea∣ty, I will set you at liberty to go and maintain his unjustice. To these words the Prince of Messena made answer, That if the Prince his Father were so unworthy as to break the Articles, he would remain at Syracuse as a prisoner of War.

Upon that Themistus came into the discourse, which was concluded with protestations of friend∣ship between Perianthus and the Prince of Messena, who made answer to the Prince his Father, that he was mis-inform'd, if he thought the Prince of Syracuse had any design to secure him. That con∣sequently, since there was no such thing, he intreat∣ed him not to take it ill that he stayed at Syracuse till the Articles of Peace were fully put in execu∣tion. So that this old Politician, seeing he could not get away his Son, carried himself more cir∣cumspectly, and seeking out pretences apparent enough to delay the execution he had promis'd, he ordered the War to be begun by the Prince of Heraclea, with whom he held a secret intelligence, that had not been discovered at the Court of Sy∣racuse. So that it was no small surprisal, to hear that the Prince of Heraclea had made an irruption into the frontiers of this State.

Themistus, making all things contribute to his love and ambition, presently look'd on it as his work, to put a glorious period to this War also; and though it were a great affliction to him to be far from Lindamira, and to leave his Rival near her; yet as things stood, it was not to be dispu∣ted, whether it should be so or no; that he must of necessity command the Army in person, and that Fame would speak much more advantageously of him to Lindamira, than the Prince of Messena could for himself. He therefore issu'd out all ne∣cessary orders by the Authority of Perianthus, and having gotten together some of those Troops that had serv'd in the War of Messena, he prepar'd for his departure. His Army was not very considera∣ble, because he thought it no prudence to weaken the Frontiers towards Messena; So that Demarata, and Lindamira had each of them their particular fears, that Themistus would not haply be so victo∣rious in this second War, as he had been in the first. Nay, the Prince himself was in some doubt that the success of this enterprize would not prove fortu∣nate, and there was only Themistus himself, who was as confident of Victory now, as he had been before.

Accordingly, when he came to take his leave of Lindamira, and that he perceiv'd she was in some fear this expedition might prove unfortunate to him; No, no, Madam, said he to her, fear not for Themistus, for since he was able to overcome the enemies of his Prince, when he was in a man∣ner indifferent to you, he cannot now be overcome himself, that he is in some hope of your addresses to Heaven for him. But, Madam, while I shall be employ'd to defeat the enemies of the State, be not you surpriz'd by the love of my Rival, for if I am once forc'd out of your heart, I am conquerable every where, Were it the pleasure of the gods, replied Lindamira, that my fears were as ground∣less as yours, and that I were as confident to see you return a Conqueror, as you ought to be, that no man shall displace you out of my heart. The∣mistus hearing these obliging words from the mouth of his Princess, return'd her whatever the tender∣est love can do, that is most respectful, and most passionate, so that this adieu was infinitely full of passion. And indeed it happened in a place fit to speak obliging things in. For Demarata and Lin∣damira, being gone to the Rendezvous of the Troops with Perianthus, lodg'd that night at a fair House of Meriander's, within eight miles of Syra∣cuse. So that it was in one of the Walks of that pleasant Wilderness, that Themistus took his last leave of that excellent Princess.

For Demarata, in regard she had a great influ∣ence over Perianthus, Themistus, to lay yet greater obligations on her, entertain'd her with abundance of affection and respect as he took leave of her; so that the Princess, confirm'd in the opinion she was of, that he lov'd her, though he durst not dis∣cover it, felt the passion she had for him doubled, out of the consideration of the hazards he whom she lov'd was to be exposed to: but at last Themi∣stus departed, and went to find out his enemies. After his departure, the Princess of Himera, desi∣rous to avoid the Prince of Messena's entertain∣ments, and to conceal part of the affliction she was in, by reason of Themistus's absence, went very often into the Countrey: but in regard she could not go to any of her own houses, because they lay on that quarter where the seat of the War was, she was forc'd to borrow one of Meriander's, which he, being a generous, obliging, and gallant soul, furnish'd her with, and that with such satisfaction. that he caus'd an Arbor that lay in one corner of his Garden, then not wholly painted, to be finish'd for the greater diversion of her solitary entertain∣ments. And indeed Lindamira, was much more pleas'd with that place than any other, repairing thither often without any other company, than that of her Women, and my Sister, whom she made the Privy Counsellor to all her secrets.

But to shorten this relation as much as may be, it was no sooner heard that Themistus was upon the Frontiers, but news was brought that he had routed the enemy, and forc'd them to flie into their Countrey. This first advantage gained by this fortunate Lover, filled all hearts with hope, and that of Lindamira's with joy, who received withal a Letter from Themistus. But Madam, I had forgot to tell you, that they had agreed be∣fore hand to write under a feigned name, that Themistus was to go under that of Daphnis, and Lindamira under that of Iris, that if the Letters should miscarry, it might not be discovered whom they were directed to. It was also resolved be∣tween them, that there should be nothing in those Letters, whence might be inferred the inequality of their conditions: So that Themistus being at li∣berty to write as passionately as he pleased himself, writ to his Princess in these terms,

DAPHNIS to IRIS.

GIve me leave, most fair and accomplished Iris, to give you thanks for the advan∣tage I have gained, for I am not obliged for it so much to Fortune, as to the desire I have had to please you. Be you therefore pleased to accept the honour of my Victory, and assure your self, I shall do all that lies in my power, to conquer with the greater expedition, that I may come and ask you whether you have de∣fended your heart against my Rivals, as well as I have done the frontiers of this State, a∣gainst the enemies of my Prince. Farewel in∣comparable Iris, bestow now and then a thought on the unfortunate Daphnis, if I may so call a man, for whom you have sent those addresses and vows to Heaven, that have gained him an advantage he durst never hope from his own courage.

Lindamira, having received this Letter by a faithful Slave, who delivered it my Sister, and who knew not it was directed to the Princess, answer∣ed by the same way, as you shall hear.

IRIS to DAPHNIS.

YOu do not certainly owe your Victory to any thing but your own courage; but my dear Daphnis, you are in my debt some∣thing, you ought to be infinitely more sensible of, since you owe me thousands of fears, thou∣sands of afflictions, thousands of disturbances, that your absence, and the hazard you are in, put me into. Hasten therefore your Conquest, but I would not have you to purchase Victory with too much danger to your life, which is dearer to me than my own.

You may judge what pleasant entertainment a correspondence so full of affection, afforded the persons between whom it was, and what great satisfaction Demarata conceived at the Victory gained by Themistus, one she so passionately loved, and who she thought had a secret affection for her. For Perianthus his joy was extraordinary, to see that the designs of his enemies proved so abortive; nay, the Prince of Messena was glad of Themistus's good success, out of hope, that the Prince of Heraclea being worsted, his Father would at last be induced to execute the Treaty, and not renew the War So that the joy was universal, yet not so, but that it met with some affliction and disquiet in Lindamira: for Love, of all things, cannot brook absence, especially, when one knows well how to love. Accordingly, she was never better pleased than when she was alone, or had only Mericia with her, with whom he might discourse of Themistus.

And as this Princess is indeed a great Wit, so does she sometimes write Verses, such as Themistus (who, for a person of his quality, is excellent good at it) might not blush to own. So that it be∣ing impossible to be in love; and to be able to write Verses, and not to do it. Lindamira and Mericia made it sometimes their employment to do some∣thing of that nature; when they were at Me∣riander's fair house in the Countrey. Nay, it is imagin'd that he had from this Princess certain ver∣ses, which he hath set up in an Arbor, whereof I shall have something to tell you. In the mean time I will give you a great demonstration of my Sisters Fidelity. You are then to know, that when the Princess writ any Verses, wherein there was any reflection on the love of Themistus, she caused Mericia to write them over, as being out of pru∣dence, unwilling they should be seen under her own hand. Being therefore gone one day a walk∣ing together, in a Walk where she had sometimes seen Themistus; she in a quarter of an hour made three Couplets of a Song, to an Air which my Si∣ster sung excellently well; so that she repeated them to her, purposely to oblige her to sing them. But since it is hard for one to sing well, that is not very perfect in the words, Mericia writ down the three Couplets the Princess had made, which though they are not highly witty, are yet wor∣thy the recital, because there is something in them that is very passionate. They are these.

SONG.

1.

I Labour to resist in vain, The woes that would my heart devour, Caus'd by the absence I sustain. Who, Love, would think under thy power we should endure such pain, When we both love, and are belov'd again?

2.

Perpetual fears my Soul invade, To see the person I adore Amidst a thousand hazards laid; Who, Love, would think under thy power, we should endure such pain, When we both love, and are belov'd again?

3.

I often fear, but am too blame, (Unjust to's Love can I be more?) Another may his heart inflame; Who, Love, would think under thy power, we should endure such pain, When we both love, and are belov'd again?

Mericia having written these three Couplets, sang them to the Princess, who in the mean time had her thoughts filled with all the satisfaction, that a person, who fears not to discover her most secret sentiments to a true friend, can have. My Sister by this means, got the Song so perfect, that the next day being returned to Syracuse, she sung it, not thinking of any thing, before the Prince of Messena, who asked her from whom she had it.

Mericia remembring her self, blushed, and made no direct answer, so that the Prince wes still at her to know, and knowing, she was able to do a∣ny thing of that nature, told her that he was very happy, for whom she had made that Song. Mericia perceiving that the Prince of Messena's suspicion was far from the truth, suffered him to believe what he pleased, and craftily confirmed him in the jealousie he was in, choosing rather to be sus∣pected of a thing that was not, than to give any occasion to suspect the Princess of Himera, of a thing that was: for considering the extraordina∣ry friendship that Lindamira had for Mericia, as also that they came up out of the Countrey toge∣ther, and that there were few Women at Syra∣cuse that could write such a Song, it might at last have been thought to come from the Princess of Himera, if my Sister had not discreetly started the occasion of suspecting, that she had made those ver∣ses. Not that Lindamira does any way pretend to be a Wit, but it is nevertheless known that she can do what she hath a mind to, and so it might have been imagined, as I have already told her, that she had made that Song, if my Sister, who could not affirm she had it from her, had not suf∣fered people to believe that she, for diversion sake, had written it her self. But what made the Princess Himera the more obliged to her, was, that the whole Court concluded these Couplets, were made for one in the Army, that was very deeply in love with Mericia. He wanted not friends to send them, insomuch, that he was so far perswaded they were directed to him, that he writ a very obliging Letter to my Sister, to know whether he ought to return her his thanks for such a Fa∣vour.

This adventure, no question, troubled Mericia very much, but such was the affection she had for Lindamira, that she willingly suffered for her sake. So that this endeared her so much the more to the Princess, who still preferring solitude before the Court, during the absence of Themistus, returned to Meriander's house, taking my Sister along with her. While she was there, news came that The∣mistus had given the enemy another overthrow, and that the Prince of Heraclea had desired a ces∣sation of twenty daies, so that Lindamira looking on this cessation as a thing that would retard The∣mistus's return, if it produced not a Peace, was so melancholly, and cast down at it, that she could not endure any to be near her but Mericia. Nay, there were some intervals, wherein she would rather walk without her than with her, and wherein she went and sate in the pleasant Arbor which Merian∣der had caused to be made up a little before. One while she spent the time in thinking, another in reading Themistus's Letters, and sometimes desirous to stay some of her thoughts, she took her Table∣book and writ something in it. Sometimes taking her Black-lead which she always carried about her, she would design something, or write some gal∣lant, yet passionate expression upon the squares of White and Red Marble, that were in divers parts of the Closet, but dash'd out all immediately, if she did not forget to do it. When she had done, she gave my Sister an account of all she had either done or thought, as if she had been return'd after a long journey, though commonly she had not been an hour alone. For, Madam, I dare assure you, that there never was any affection so passion∣ate. and withal so innocent; as what Lindamira had for Themistus; who yet loves beyond what he is lov'd, if it be allowable to make comparisons be∣tween two things that are extream.

This fortunate Favorite, in the mean time ma∣king his advantage of the cessation, and pretending out of policy to come and advise with the Prince about the Articles of the Peace, if any were made, left the Army to be commanded by his Lieutenant-General, and came for Syracuse. But understand∣ing that Lindamira was at Meriander's house, he would needs surprise her with a visit. He left four men that came along with him, being all the reti∣nue he had, at a little Village, and attended only by a Slave, he alighted at a house where Merian∣der's Gardner lived, that is a Cottage which lies without the Park, within which the house is. This fellow being simple and necessitous, it was the ea∣sier for Themistus to oblige him, by Presents, to do what he pleased. But he desired no more of him, than that, taking no notice of his being there, he would let him into the Garden where the Princess of Himera was wont to walk. The Sun was a∣bout an hour high, so that he might easily hide himself where he pleased in the Garden, so as to discover himself of a sudden to Lindamira, who was not yet stirring: For besides that, it was as yet early day for a Lady to get up, the Princess of Himera had walked so late by the Moon-light the night before, that she could not rise very betimes. However, the Gardner assured Themistus, that she would take a walk before dinner, and therefore saies the poor fellow, out of his natural simplicity, if you would see the Garden, do it before she comes, for she is no sooner dressed, but she comes and sits in an Arbor, where my Master hath caused abundance of things to be written on Marble, which are past my understanding. Themistus was extream∣ly taken with the simplicity of this Gardner, who knew him not, though he had been divers times before in the Garden, and the reason was, that he had only minded the Prince and the Princesses, with whom Themistus came, so that he bid him leave him to himself, and go to his work.

The Gardiner accordingly, who was very busie about a hedge of Myrtles, whereof there were a∣bundance in the Garden, as also a many Orange∣trees, left him, and went about his work. The∣mistus was no sooner come to the midst of the Garden, and saw the windows of the Chamber where his Princess lay yet asleep, but he felt a strange agitation in his heart. He was transported with joy, and, not able to master his own thoughts, he made a thousand contradictory wishes: for he would fain see her asleep, he would fain speak to her, and he would see in her eyes the demonstrati∣ons of love. But the Gardener having told him, that when the Princess of Himera had taken her walk, she commonly went, and rested her self in a magnificent Arbor, which I told you Meriander had caused to be finished since his departure thence, which is no question, very noble, and excellently well fancied, so as to deserve to be the treasury of Lindamira's thoughts.

For you are to know, that at the end of a spa∣cious pav'd Walk, very pleasant to look on, lies this great quadrangular Arbor, whereof the Ar∣chitecture is very exact, The roof of it is upheld

by sixteen Columnes of White Marble, whereof the Bases and Chapters are of Red Marble. There are four large bow-windows, breast-high, with Curtains within, which may be drawn of any side, to avoid either the Sun or the Wind? The door of it is made Grate-wise, and the Frizes on the out-side have a certain Imagery upon them, where may be seen divers little Loves, that make chains of Roses, and intangle one another in them, as pleasantly as may be. For the inside, the Frize, which is of Marble as without, hath divers in∣scriptions, that is, so many amorous Maxims put there by Meriander's order.

But though he be excellent good at a copy of Verses, yet is it much suspected that the Princess of Himera had made those that are in this Arbor, which hath all about it, very convenient and hand∣some seats. For the upper part of the roof, there is very ingeniously represented a Heaven, whence a many little Loves seem to shoot Arrows, to cast Flowers, or shew their Torches. But I had forgot to tell you, that on the top of the covering with∣out,, there is a Figure of Cupid, the noblest in the World, who having loos'd his fillet, which seemed to be tossed by the Wind, looks, or seems to look to∣wards the spacious paved Walk, as if he would not have any one to enter into that place, till he had wounded him. And to that end, having his Bow in his left hand, and an Arrow in the right, his intention may be perceived by his actions, and in his eies, where it is so admirably represented, that it is impossible any thing can be better; Themistus approaching this Arbor, perceives a large Oval re∣versed in the middle of the Frize, under the Cor∣nish, and just above the Door, wherein these two Verses were engraven'd in Golden Letters.

Who Love's commanding Scepter does not fear, Let him not enter here.

Themistus surprized at this Inscription, read it with much satisfaction, and saying to himself, that he had a priviledge to come into that Arbor, since that there needed only Love to give one entrance, opened the door, and went in hastily. He was no sooner in, but he finds over against him engraved upon the Frize, in an Oval-Emboss'd Work, these two other Verses.

'Tis vain for to resist Love's mighty sway, Who does not love, a time will come he may.

Then Themistus turning to the right hand, finds these two other Verses.

When Lovers pleasures undisturb'd shall be, The Spring shall neither Flowers, nor Zephyrs see

Then turning to the left he found these two.

A Lover and Content, must ne'r be friends, But who loves not unhappiness attends.

Then at last, turning to the door, he finds over it the two Verses I am going to repeat to you.

While there is hope, be sure you do not yield, For soon or late a Lover wins the field.

Themistus having given over reading these In∣scriptions, was extreamly pleased with them, and had a secret satisfaction, to find that his Mistriss came so much to a place, where the very Marbles, if I may so express it, entertained her with Love, and where he thought she could not be without thinking on him. Nay, he thought she must needs be the Author of the Verses he was much taken with, and began to bethink him what he should say to her when she came into the Arbor, In the mean time being extreamly well pleased with those Love-Maxims, he learnt these eight Verses imme∣diately by heart, and going to repeat them over, to see if he had them perfect, he looked another way downwards; but as he looked, he casually e∣spied something written with black Lead on a white Marble Table, which I had forgot to tell you was in the midst of the Arbor. So that being de∣sirous to see what it was, he came nearer, and knew it to be the writing of his Princess. Reading it over hastily, he found the eight Verses I shall repeat to you, which the Princess of Himera had made; and, having written them there, had forgot to dash them out.

Fair Grove, to thee alone I do impart The secret sufferings of my wounded heart Receive my amorous sighs, and let them not, Be mix'd with winds, the waving Air to cut Preserve the sad expressions of my Love, Till Daphnis coming to your shades may prove, By your assurances, I die here for grief, While all your pleasures find me no relief.

You may easily imagine, Madam, what joy it was to Themistus, to find Verses so amorous writ∣ten by the hand of his Princess, and which he could not doubt but were made for him, Nay indeed, he was so transported with joy, that the disturbance it raised in his thoughts, hindred him for some time, from reading them the second time. 'Tis true, he found it no hard matter to remember them, for they made so strong an impression in him, that he found he had them by heart when he went to read them again. He could have wished it possible to take those precious characters out of the Table on which they were drawn; yet durst he not so much as kiss them in the transport of his passion, for fear of blotting them, and he knew not in a manner what he did, such a pleasant agitation were his thoughts in.

But knowing the Princess to be a considerate and discreet person, he easily imagined that it must be her forgetfulness that those Verses, he was so much pleased with, were not dashed out, and he thought himself so much obliged to her for that act of oblivion, which he attributed to the great∣ness of her affection, that he would have thought himself happy to die a thousand times for her sake. Whereupon, the same sentiment of Love which made him afraid to blot out those Verses, put him also into a fear they should be seen by any other than himself. But at last, considering that the Princess had but few people about her, and there coming into his thoughts a fancy that pleased him, he recollected himself for a quarter of an hour, and taking the Lead which Lindamira had left upon the Table, whereon she had written the eight Verses I

have repeated to you, he writ under them these I am now to repeat,

Vain Laurels, wrack no more my labouring mind May I my only fame in Iris find. Might I, without all noise from dangers free, Under these Orange-trees and Myrtles be, With am'rous Myrtles crown'd to pass away, As if one minute were the longest day; To hear th'incomparable Iris sigh, To crown desire with true felicity, To live with Iris on perpetual joy, And what e'r else the world affords, defie.

Themistus having written these Verses, which certainly speak abundance of passion, went out of the Arbor, and hid himself behind a hedge of Myrtles, that lay on the right hand of that place, to see when the Princess came: resolved; if any other came thither, to discover himself, that none might see the Verses he had written; and to dash them out if it were requisite.

It was not long e'r Lindamira came, for having called to mind, as she awoke, that she had writ∣ten certain Verses upon the Table in the Arbor, and had not dashed them out, she was so extreamly troubled at it, that she rose up in haste, pretend∣ing that she would take the Air before the Sun were too hot. She dressed her self therefore after a negli∣gent manner, that she might the sooner have done, and went to the Arbor, followed by my Sister, whi∣ther she was no sooner come, but she went to wipe out what she had written. She did it in such haste, that she had almost done the like, unknown to her, to the Verses Themistus had made; but perceiving of a suddain, something written under those she had already half blotted, she blushed, and was strangely troubled to find, that some body must needs have come into the Arbor, and consequently that her verses had been seen. But presently after, knowing the writing to be Themistus's, her trou∣ble was turned into joy. Yet could she not avoid a certain slight confusion, that he should see the verses she had made for him. And yet, all consi∣dered, she was so glad, that none but Themistus had seen these eight Verses; she was so well pleas∣ed with those she had made, and she conceived so much pleasure in the hope of seeing him suddainly, that not able to conceal it from Mericia, she caused her to read what she had read her self before, com∣mending particularly, as what she could not forbear, the passion expressed in the two last Verses. Where∣upon, speaking to her, you may easily perceive, said she, that he who hath written what you have read, must needs be in the Garden. He is indeed Madam, (answered Themistus, coming into the Arbor, and saluting her very submissively) and is come hither to assure you with all truth and since∣rity; that what he hath taken the boldness to write under those admirable Verses you have made, expresses the pure sentiments of his heart. But Madam, may I believe that what you have written is equally real? I beseech you, added he, tell me not any thing that may disanull what I have read. You know, replied she, smiling, that some∣times the cadence of a Verse, makes one say some∣what more than he would; but, in fine, you may be safely confident, that some are very glad to see you, that you have been very much wished here, that we concern our selves in your Fame and in your Life, and that we desire your happiness. I am happy, divine Princess, replied Themistus, if I have your affection, and I shall defie fortune to contribute any thing to my felicity, since it is im∣possible I should be happy, if you will not have me to be such. For, Madam, if I seek after Fame, I do it only to deserve you: if I seem ambitious, it is not so much to raise my self to the rank my Fa∣thers have lived in, as to come nearer that you are in; for without that, I swear to you by all that is most sacred, that I should be content if I could but while I live,

Hear the incomparable Iris sigh, And crown desire with true felicity, To live with Iris in perpetual joy, And what e'r else the world affords, defie.

Themistus repeated these Verses, with an accent so full of passion, that Lindamira thought them much better in his mouth, than they were when she had read them. Whereupon, desirous to fall upon some other discourse, she spoke of his good successes in the War. But whatever she said, he some way or other brought it about to Love: he asked her whether the Prince of Messena had done him any injury in his absence, looking on Mericia, as if he were to read in her eyes, whether the Princess spoke truth or no,

From that they came to other discourses, and so to other, till at last he began to abuse my Sister about the Song she had sent to the Army, as con∣ceiving it to be hers, which engaged him in two quarrels instead of one. For the Princess took it not well he should not have discovered that she had made it; and Mericia took it very ill he should be∣lieve that she had made it for the person, to whom he thought it directed. However, this little con∣testation was concluded with a very affectionate accommodation between Lindamira and Themistus; but, after all, though he were loved, yet was he not without some disturbance, out of a certain dissidence, that he should never be absolutely hap∣py; and so his own happiness contributed some∣what to his sufferings.

In the mean time, the Princess being a very discreet person, would not have Themistus's visit, to have been thought gotten by stealth; he there∣fore walked with her all day, in the presence of those who were about that Princess, and in the evening, took his leave to go to those that came with him (for he brought thither but one slave with him) and so to reach Syracuse, which he did before the Prince was abed He saw also Dema∣rata, for Perianthus was in her chamber when he came to the Palace, where he was received by both, with the greatest expressions of joy imagina∣ble. Now Themistus, carrying in his face all the sa∣tisfaction that a person equally favoured by Mars and Venus, could have, never appeared so lovely to Demarata before. Besides, he spoke so well, that the secret passion she had within her, encreas∣ed after so strange a manner, that, three daies after, she could not forbear disburthening her thoughts to her, to whom she made privy to all her secret

sentiments. What made them the more lively was, that she doubted not but Themistus loved her, though he durst not discover it. She had some time thought it a great satisfaction to know that he loved her, but according to the present posture of her soul, that was not enough. So that making her complaint to Amerintha, that Lady told her she could not apprehend what her design should be. For in fine, Madam, said she to her, you have told me heretofore that you would not have The∣mistus know that you loved him. 'Tis very true, replyes Demarata, but at that time, I thought he had not loved me; but now that I imagine he does; I am in such, a fear he should cease loving me, that I should not be haply very much troubled he should be thus far confident that it were not haply impossible he should not be hated; and if I may presume to acquaint you with the strange fan∣tastickness of my thoughts, I almost wish he had discovered somewhat of his passion to me, though I am resolved if he mention it to me, to forbid him ever to speak of it again. I know this is a proceeding which speaks not much reason, but whoever is in love, is not troubled with much of the other. Besides, were I guilty of nothing but love, I should be less miserable, but there is in me a remainder of glory, which makes me absolute∣ly unhappy, and that is neither strong enough to overcome my passion, nor so weak as wholly to yield to it. So that I must, in spight of my teeth, bethink me of some fantastick consolation amidst the torments I endure, and to that end I shall hap∣ly my self, give Themistus some occasion to disco∣ver the love he hath for me, though I am resolved, as I told you, to lay my commands never to speak of it more. For in fine, what love soever may pos∣sess my heart, I had rather dye than be infamous. And though the aversion I have for Perianthus be very strong, yet I will not be chargeable with any thing farther, but since it is the pleasure of my fate, that my heart be not for Perianthus, it does not concern him much, whether I keep it to my self, or bestow it on Themistus, provided my soul be free from those horrid sentiments, that are not the infallible demonstrations of a real love.

Demarata had a many other things to entertain Amerintha with, till word was brought that The∣mistus was at the door, desirous to know whether he might wait on her. She looked upon Amerin∣tha, without saying ought to her, during which time thousands of several sentiments passing through her heart, she seemed unresolved and unquiet, then at last determining of a sudden, she commanded he might have admittance. Themistus, not sus∣pecting any thing of what Demarata was disturb∣ed at, came out of civility to wait on her, as wife to his Master, and consequently one for whom he was glad to have all the complaisance in the world, out of considerations of love and ambiti∣on. Lindamira had that very day advised him to use all the endeavors he could to preserve himself in the good thoughts of Demarata, for she was returned that morning from Meriander's House. So that he went into this Princesse's Closet, as a per∣son whose design was to humor her. He was no sooner in, but Amerintha withdrew to the other side of the Closet, which was a very large one, to give Demarata and Themistus the liberty of private discourse.

At first the War, the reputation he had gain∣ed, and the cessation were the subject of their dis∣course, Themistus all the while never perceiving the Princess to be in any disturbance, so excellent is she in the art of dissimulation. Nay she did her work so handsomly, that without discovering any thing of affectation, or design in what she said, she insensibly brought him into a discourse wherein he was extreamly put to it. For after a many in∣different things, she asked whether he had visited many Ladies. Themistus, not knowing to what end she put that question to him, made answer, that he had seen only the Princess Lindamira, the fair Me∣lisera, and two others that he nam'd. Then chang∣ing the discourse, she asked him whether he still minded the advice she had sometime given him. I have so great a respect for you, that I can never forget any thing you say to me; and that you may know what memory I have for your Counsels, I am only to tell you that your absolute commands were, that I should not entertain any love, if ever I pretended to be favorite to the Prince. And yet I know one, replyed she, who thinks you are very much in love with a Woman of high quality, nay conceives you somewhat in her favor. Themistus hearing Demarata speak so home, was a little sur∣prised at it, for a Lover that loves truly, ever thinks he is discovered, or at the least fears he should be. But at last, having done himself a little violence, Methinks Madam, said he to her, I see so few La∣dies out of your Palace, and presence, that I cannot imagine who should bring you such a piece of news. Demarata perceiving Themistus moved at what she said, was confirmed in the imagination she had that he was in love with her. So that to bring about her design the sooner, believe me Themistus, said she, a man should make it no miracle that peo∣ple know what is, and speak what is not, for all may be discovered, and all may be feigned. But in a word, I have heard for certain, that you love a Woman of the highest quality, one all the World thinks handsome enough; one that hath raised love in others, that hath a great Wit, loves you, and that you would not have it known that you are in love. And to shew you, continued she blushing, that I am not misinformed, you have seen her this day.

Themistus surprised at what Demarata said, was almost out of all doubt that his love to Lindamira was discovered, for all she had said might very well be meant of that Princess; she ws of high quality, handsome, had a servant of the Prince of Messena, had a great wit, he loved her, she affect∣ed him, he was unwilling it should be known he had any affection for her, and he had seen her that very day, and of the Ladies he had seen none but her and Demarata, whom he could not imagine con∣cern'd in this discourse, though it were the secret drift of her that spoke it; so that he was at such a loss, that he knew not what to do. Demarata on the other side, seeing the uncertain posture he was in, had a secret joy to imagine that she was not mistaken. In the mean time Themistus, running over a hundred things in an instant, told her that he could not devise who might have brought her this news, nor who they could imagine he should be in love with—And if it should happen to be my self, said she somewhat hastily, looking on him ve∣ry earnestly, though with some disturbance—Then

I should say, Madam, (replyed he, not sus∣pecting as yet any thing of the truth) that these peo∣ple were a little at a distance with their wits, for though you are one of the noblest Princesses in the World, and the fittest to raise love, yet is there not any thing so far from probability as this Story; for knowing what you are, and what I am my self, if the respect I owe you had not hindered me from presuming upon your affection, I should have left Sicily at the very instant, and the meer fear of doing you any injury by loving you, and of betraying my Master by pretending to be his Rival, would have persuaded me to prefer exile and death before all things else. But farther, Ma∣dam, added this Lover, who would now be curious out of design, I would fain know who could be guilty of the presumption to tell you a thing of this nature. Demarata perceiving that Themistus, avoided the opportunity she had given him, entertained on the sudden other imaginations, and considering the countenance wherewith Themistus answered her, was satisfied he had no affection for her. So that inclining to indignation, she immediately applyed her self to the art of dissimulation which she was so well versed in; and putting on another counte∣nance, how, said she to him, with a strange con∣fidence, can you make a serious answer to what I have said, you do not perceive that I had not spoken as I have, but to discover the progress of am∣bition in your heart, which it seems, is such that you imagine it possible that people should report that you love me and I you. Ah Themistus, added she, of an understanding man as you are, have you not answered me well, nay I could not conceive you should have made me that answer, but for your punishment, know, that no body hath said any thing to me, that I do not think any one loves you, or that you love any thing but greatness and glory.

This put Themistus into another disorder, but all considered, he was not a little glad to see that Demarata knew nothing of the affection he had for Lindamira; he therefore made Demarata the best answer he could, telling her, that never presume∣ing to make the least doubt of what she said, she was the occasion of his confidence, or to say bet∣ter, his simplicity, he craved her pardon, and so got off as well as he could out of so troublesome a bu∣siness: but though Demarata were sufficiently Mi∣stress of her self, when she was resolved to dis∣guise her thoughts, yet could she not in the se∣quel of the discourse, avoid divers things whence Themistus might take occasion to suspect some∣thing. He was more satisfied as to that point an hour after, for diverse Ladies being come to the Princess, among whom came also the Prince of Messena, (who detained Themistus there, though he were desirous to be gone) they fell into a discourse of generosity, honesty and love; and it was put to the question, whether a person that were tender of his honor, might without ceasing to be such, re∣ceive any expressions of affection from the wife of a man whom he loved, and by whom he was loved. At first it was generally thought there could not be any thing so unworthy, or so opposite to honesty. But after a while, Demarata took occasion to make it a question whether it ought to be so generally affirmed; for in fine, said she, I know not when a woman begins to love a man, and gives him occa∣sion to imagine as much, whether that man be not more obliged to that Lady for her love, than to his friend for his friendship, and consequently whe∣ther that circumstance would not take off much of his crime, and make him less blameable, than if he began to love first, and should make it his main business to cajoll his friends wife. No question but he were less censurable, replyes Themistus, though yet a virtuous man would think himself ve∣ry unhappy to be in so dangerous an adventure; but when all's done, added Lindamira, he were still blameable enough, and must needs pass for a base and perfidious person in their judgments who are acquainted with the true rules of honesty, for a man must not upon any pretence whatsoever, ei∣ther betray or be ungrateful.

Themistus having accidentally met the eyes of Demarata, discovered in them a certain disturbance, wherein he thought might be read love, indigna∣tion, and shame; nor indeed was he mistaken, for Demarata, notwithstanding her natural dissimula∣tion, could not hinder Themistus from perceiving that she had within her, whatever those three sentiments can inspire that is most cruel; and to make her affliction the more insupportable, she imagined she saw something in the eyes of The∣mistus, that signified he understood well enough what hers meant, and that he would make no answer thereto. So that night being come, she was extreamly afflicted: How said she, am I so un∣happy as to love, yet not to be loved again; nay I am so unfortunate, as to be in a manner satisfied, that the ungrateful man who loves me not, knows my weakness, and will not bear any part thereof. No, no, I am not able to bear with this injury, and let people say what they will, I am perswaded that the most horrid of all crimes, is that whereby a man makes no return to a womans affection, being in such a condition as I am in. Let me then tear from my heart the un∣just passion that tyrannises there; but alas! added she presently, I have loved Themistus from my infan∣cy, 'tis a natural inclination which I cannot over∣come, nay, which I cannot find so far guilty, as that it deserves to be condemned; for all I desire is, only to love and to be loved, without either gi∣ving or entertaining any criminal expressions there∣of. In the mean time, the ambitious Themistus, who prefers his Masters favor before any Mistress, tri∣umphs over my weakness, and slights me as much as I love him. But though I should die for it, I must do my self an extraordinary violence, and not thinking it enough to pass from love to indif∣ference, I must know no mean between love and detestation, and be revenged on him that makes me unhappy, because he minds not his own hap∣piness. Had he loved me, and afterwards betray∣ed me, I should not be so much incensed as I am, now that knowing I love him, he makes no return to my affection. This resentment is haply some∣what unjust, but I know not how to remedy it. Love is it self the reason of all the imaginations that proceed from it, and revenge is so natural to love, that I should not think it much to be par∣doned, though people came to know the cause why I now do, or hereafter may hate Themistus. He must certainly have a horrid aversion for me, that he makes no return to the tenderness I have for him; he is ambitious, and I am of a quality to satisfie his ambition; I am young, I am not

unhandsome, I dispose of his Masters heart, I can ruine him when I please, and all this notwithstand∣ing, he guesses at my sentiments, and pretends he understands them not. No, no, Demarata, this in∣jury is insupportable, and thou must banish The∣mistus thy heart, or at last thrust him out of the Court.

These, Madam, were the sentiments of Dema∣rata, whilst Themistus was sufficiently troubled on the other side, for he had but too well observed whatever Demarata had either done or said, and was absolutely satisfied that she loved him. Then reflecting on the inclination she had for him even in her infancy, and a hundred things she had done since his return, he was convinced of the truth, so that he was extreamly afflicted, for it was easie for him to foresee that the consequences thereof might prove very fatal, as well in relation to his fortune as his love. He knew the Princess to be violent, passionate, and bold, and that she had a great influence over the Prince of Syracuse who still was as fond of her as on the day he married her. However, he thought it discretion not to acquaint the Princess of Himera that he thought himself loved by Demarata, nor any way endeavored to make her party good against her with the Prince, but only to avoid the opportunities of having any private discourse with her. But what he thought he did with prudence, proved prejudicial to him; for Demarata looking very narrowly into his acti∣ons, took notice of his carriage, and was more offended at it than before. For Themistus, he thought the best course he could take, was to dispose things in order to his return to the Army, either to prosecute the War when the cessation were expired, or to conclude a Peace with the Prince of Heraclea. But there being many rubs in his way, he was forced to have patience for some time.

In the mean time, Demarata made it her busi∣ness to insinuate into Perianthus more than she had ever done, and dissembled so well, that only The∣mistus could look into her soul. Thence he inferr'd, that Demarata's love would soon be turned into ha∣tred, and was the more confirmed in it, by a dis∣course whereof I have gave him an account, as having made one in it. I doubt not but you remem∣ber that Themistus is very excellent at a paper of Verses, since I have repeated some of his to you, you are now to imagine that Demarata being with some few about her in her Closet, they fell to dis∣course about Musick, and thence they fell to talk of Painting and Verses, every one commending Poesie, Painting, or Musick, according to their se∣veral inclinations. For my part says Demarata, I look on these three things as such as contribute much to the entertainments of all virtuous persons, but that they are so far from being requisite in a person of quality, that he may be infinitely such, though he can neither sing, draw, or write verses. 'Tis true, Madam, replyed I, these three excellent qualities are not so necessary in a person of honor, but they are requisite to make a man pleasant com∣pany, especially Musick and Poesie, and that above all things in what relates to matter of gal∣lantry. I must needs confess replyed she, that love in Musick, and love in Verse is a gallant thing, but it is very hard for a person of quality to be ve∣ry excellent at either of these two qualities. Besides, as to singing, I see no great difficulty in it, but for a person of great quality, to play the publick Poet, it shews him commonly a very strange kind of man. There is indeed Madam, replied I, abun∣dance of difference between a person of worth, that writes Verses well, and a meer Poet. Believe me said she, there's more danger than is imagined for a man to expose himself to such an adventure, for if he makes ill Verses, 'tis a pittiful thing, if good, he shews them, is much pleased to be com∣mended, and in a trice he becomes a Poet by pro∣fession; then you are desired to repeat your Ver∣ses, people beg copies of them; nay they give you Subjects on which you must make others you must take it as an honor you are desired to do it, and at last you are treated as a person to whom men may not well presume to speak in Prose. It must therefore needs be a troublesome thing for a person of quality to be exposed to such odd inconvenien∣ces. I grant Madam, said I, that there must be judgment to make good use of a Talent so preci∣ous, as that of Poesie, but it is not only requisite in that, but indeed in all things, for a Hector that should ever be talking of combats and quarrels would be yet much more troublesome than a great repeater of Verses. For that matter, cryes out the divertive Melisera, I am of a different opini∣on, for I assure you there is not any thing more im∣portunate than those people that make ill Verses and know not so much, yet thinking others take as much pleasure in them as they do themselves when they recite what they have done, persecute you with perpetual repetitions. For my part added she, an humor came on me the other day, to go to one of those troublesome people, to ask him whether he had not that pretty Song which had raised so much talk of Mericia; but I think I paid for it, I no sooner asked but he gave it me, but afterwards without any intreaty, he gave me another of his own, as ill as the other was handsome. That done, he repeated another, and so falling insensi∣bly, whether I would or no, from one repetition to another, and from one paper of Verses to another, after he had begun with a Song, he concluded with a large serious work of above a thousand Verses, which he told me he had made an imitation of He∣siod, if my memory fails me not, and to recom∣mend the work the more, he assured me that he had shewn it to very knowing persons, who had recommended it extreamly. But his comparisons signified little with me, for I only gave it an am∣biguous commendation, nothing at all to his ad∣vantage, if he would have understood it aright, for I was never so tired out with any thing in my life.

He you speak of, replied I, must certainly be ve∣ry importunate, for he is in a word, one of those who ever lie lieger to be the first to make Verses up∣on any accident, and who belabor themselves with equal violence upon all subjects. Give them a battel to write upon, they are ready to celebrate the Conqueror; if a City be taken, they shall do no less for him that hath taken it. If a person of any consideration die, they furnish him with Epi∣taphs; if a Beauty, she carries away, if you be∣lieve them, love and the graces along with her into the Tomb, though they were never acquaint∣ed with her. If some young Prince be born, they presently erect a Poetical Scheam of his Nativity,

which promises him Conquests and Victories, whereof there will never happen any thing. If there be a marriage, they provide Epithalamium's, though not so much as invited to the wedding. If some great Ladies dog chance to dye, they pro∣mise him immortality; nay, so busie are these mer∣ceuary Poetasters, that they take it very ill there should any thing more than ordinary happen in their time, on which they should not exercise their foolery in verse. But Madam, when I speak of Poesie as a thing worthy commendation, nay neces∣sary for the absolute accomplishment of a gallant person, I would not say that such as I have now described ought to sit on Mount Parnassus, no, these are only the weeds and excrescencies of a fair and fruitful Garden. There they have their growth and nourishment with the fair flowers, but to no other end but that they may be plucked up as soon as they are perceived; so that I conclude, Madam, that as far as civility permits, we should banish from the society of persons of worth and virtue, all these troublesome Poetasters, who take pains only to their own shame, and to importune those, who know them whether they will or no. I would have also banished such Poets as are over-satyrical, that write by the inspirations of envy and detracti∣on, and cannot commend any thing but what all the World blames, that is, when they commend their own works.

But however, says Demarata, before you tell us how you imagine a person of quality make may his advantage of Poesie, grant before hand, that there are divers who do very handsome things, who yet are not fit for a Court-conversation. I grant it, Madam, replyed I, for there are some excellent men that are framed only to study, insomuch that have∣ing no great acquaintance with the world, their works are many times more acceptable than they themselves. However, I hold that there ought to be a respect for such as have worth in them, and men should laugh at their ignorance of punctilioes of complyments and fashions, instead of commend∣ing them for doing these things very well that they undertake, and are versed in. But after all, it is not thus that I expect a person of quality should make verses. Would you have it done as a person of my acquaintance does, says Melisera, who though he be satisfied that what he does is very handsome, makes as if he believed it little worth, and cares not what is said of it. However, something he does and communicates it, but after a slight manner, as if it were but a trifle, never speaking of it but by way of raillery. He that you speak of replyed I, must certainly be a person of much worth, but this is not yet the way wherein I would have Poe∣sie treated when a man will meddle with it; for a man should never make sport with what he hath done himself. Would you then have it, says a La∣dy that was in the company, as a certain person of very much worth, known to all the world, one that does very excellent things, and yet is so far from giving them away, that he will hardly shew them, not even to a small number of persons; nay 'tis with abundance of trouble that he is persuaded to it. But what end is there in doing those things, if they are not seen, replyes Demarata?—For my part, Madam said I, I would have a person of honor do it for his own satisfaction, or for his Love, and that he should not think when he is about them, that he labors for the multitude. Nay, I would not have him make any publick pro∣fession of what he does, and I would have him at first hardly persuaded to acknowledge it; but after∣wards when it is known, he should not make it so much a secret: and when a man hath friends that understand things of that nature, he may make these part of his diversion with them, without any affectation either to shew or conceal them, but above all things, he must have a great care not to communicate them to a sort of young men, that are ignorant and obstinate, and think that a Poet and a Fool are the same thing; for with such people a man must be short; nay sometimes unci∣vil, but for such as have found understandings, and know the world well, a man needs not be so reserv∣ed, he must not only shew, but bestow such things on them. For good verses are not made that they should not be seen, and persons of quality were ve∣ry unfortunate, if it were not allowable in them to have wit and to discover it, when they can do it with judgment.

However, says Demarata, I would not allow in a Courtier any other species of Poetry than what they call the Gallant. It is indeed of all the most pro∣per for him, replyed I, but Madam, since Poesie is a natural inclination, we are not to pitch on any species but what nature leads us to, for we should never do well in it. It is enough therefore only to affirm, that a person of quality should not trouble himself with the making of Verses, if he be not naturally inclined thereto, and if he be not fortu∣nate therein; and it is the poorest excuse in the world for a person of quality, to say that it is not his profession; for if it be excusable not to make any verses at all, it is not so if a man pretends to do it, and cannot do it well. But must not a man make bad ones, replyes Demarata, before he comes to make good ones? right Madam, replyed I, but those who shall one day be excellent at it, have I know not what, something that is ingenious and handsome amidst their imperfections, which is an infallible argument of the future excellency of him that hath made them; for which reason we must not discourage those that begin to write, provi∣ded there be more good than ill in what they do: but when all is done, it were very hard to give precise rules whereby a person of quality should make Verses, and I shall sooner have done, by say∣ing that if he make them as Themistus does, he will acquit himself as a person of worth. For he is not the first person that speaks of them, when his friends say any thing of them, he is neither troubled nor over-pleased; he neither blushes at what he does, nor places his greatest honor in it: he looks on Poetry as an inviting and pleasant di∣version, that heightens the gallantry, love; nay the reputation of those that are excellent at it. He discourses thereof with such as are well read in it when reason requires; he never mentions it to those that are unacquainted therewith; he neither commends nor censures what he hath done, and looks on the Talent of Poesie, as a handsome pre∣sent from nature, which he thinks he ought to im∣prove, and such as makes him a more lovely and more accomplish'd person.

No question but Themistus makes excellent good verses, replyes hastily Demarata, but I know not how he makes a shift to find them, for I am of

opinion, that it is Love that teaches the art of ma∣king them well, that ambition contributes not much thereto, and that Themistus does what is very extra∣ordinary, that he can make so good ones, and be so little in love as he is. Demarata blushed as she said this, and notwithstanding her art of dissimulation, I perceived some secret quarrel against Themistus. So that being come away, I went and told him what I had observed; but he guiding all his actions by discretion. would not tell me any thing of the occasion of Demarata's quarrel against him. How∣ever, methought he was very much troubled at what I had told him; but I thought, looking on Demarata, as predominant over Perianthus, the concernment of his fortunes made him be troubled at what I had told him.

In the mean time Demarata, whose heart was big with desires of revenge, and who looked on the Prince her Husband, as the only man, by whose means she might compass her design, omitted no∣thing, as I have already told you, to bring him more absolutely to her devotion; but to say truth, it was impossible that she should do more than she had, for his affection for her, was as violent as ever it had been, so that she was in a capacity to per∣swade him to any thing she desired. Insomuch that Themistus, not ignorant of her power, was ex∣treamly disturbed at it. However, he imagined that the same passion that inclin'd her to ruine him, might divert her from from it, and hoped that the services he had done the State, those he was now doing, and those he might do, would give check to her violence, though he were still satisfied, that there is nothing more dangerous than a Woman who loves, and is not loved, when she hath given any expressions of affection, to one that makes no return thereto. So that, do what he could. The∣mistus was still melancholly; nay, he divers times avoided waiting on the Prince to Demarata's, and he pressed his departure, as much as lay in his pow∣er, though to be far from Lindamira was the great∣est affliction in the world to him: And in fine, he gave Perianthus so many reasons, that he received his last Orders to depart betimes the next morn∣ing. But having a design to visit the Princess of Himera, after he had done all his business at Syra∣cuse, it was very late e'r he got away.

As he went he met the Prince of Messena co∣ming thence, he staid him for some discourse in the spacious place of the Achradina, somewhat near the Altar of Concord, that stands in the midst of it. The Moon shined very bright, and having each of them but two slaves apiece with them, they took two turns about the place; for though Themistus had no great affection for the Prince of Messena, yet durst he not discover his jealousie, for fear of betraying his love. As they were walk∣ing, three men that were also there upon the same account, having cryed out very earnestly, 'Tis the Prince, 'tis he, drew their swords, and came to seize on the Prince of Messena. Themistus, being not to consider what he had to do upon such an occa∣sion, rescued his Rival, no less than if he had been his best friend.

Their slaves in the mean time, having no Arms, cried out that Themistus was murthered, hoping that at that name, two several knots of people that were walking upon the place, would come to the relief of those that were set upon; but in stead of doing that, they joyned with those that had given the assault. 'Tis true, they did not be∣have themselves as such, as would have kill'd the Prince of Messena, but only as people that would have carried him away; for the former who had drawn their swords, had done it only to secure themselves from him they would have taken, and to hinder Themistus from crossing their design. But my friend not able to guess at the intentions of those he saw, fought with incredible valour, it being not in his power at that time, to observe that the Prince was set upon as he was. Upon this, the slaves that belonged to him, seeing what danger he was in, went with all speed to the Pa∣lace, whence there came so many men in Arms, that those who had made it their business to carry away the Prince of Messena, seeing they could not compass their design, quitted the place, and cast themselves into a Bark that waited for them in the Ports. Themistus, and the Prince of Messena pur∣suing them, followed by those that were come to their relief, Themistus advanc'd 15 paces before the rest, to seize upon one that fled. But co∣ming near the Port, those that were in the Bark, that entertained such as were forced to fly, shot divers Arrows, whereof one unfortunately took Themistus quite through the Arm, and another gave him such a wound in the Leg, that he fell down. This accident so much surpriz'd those that saw it, that they that had hurt him, had by that means an opportunity to save themselves; for rowing away with all diligence, before order was given for their pursuit, and that order put in execution, they were so far, that they could not be overtaken.

There were divers judgements of this adventure, but the most common opinion was, that the old Prince of Messena would have gotten his Son away, that he might renew the War, by joyning with the Prince of Heraclea, who to that end, had demand∣ed the cessation, which was not then expired. How∣e'r it was, this adventure made a great noise in the Court; it was at first reported at the Palace, that Themistus was dead, insomuch that Perianthus was so troubled at it, that he came to the place where the accident happened. For Demarata, the ha∣tred which her love had bred, ceas'd at that in∣stant, and she entertained that false alarm with such grief, that it happened very well for her, that there was none but Amerintha by, when the news was brought. But what was most strange, was, that being presently after undeceiv'd, she felt no great joy; nay, she was not far from desiring that The∣mistus had been dead, at least, she accused her self of unworthiness, for being afflicted.

In the mean time Themistus being carried home, whither the Prince went along with him, the Chy∣rurgions affirmed, that if nothing happened ex∣traordinary, his wounds were not dangerous, but that in all likelihood the cure would be tedious. The Prince of Messena spoke with abundance of ob∣ligation to this illustrious wounded person, and to Perianthus, and they both answered him with no less generosity, though Themistus could not do it without some trouble. For Lindamira she was ex∣treamly cast down at this misfortune; yet was it some comfort to her, to understand that Themi∣stus's wounds were not very dangerous: but the noise of such accidents being very swift, the Prince of Heraclea hearing that Themistus, whose valour

was the fear of all the enemies of the Prince of Sy∣racuse, was not in a condition to reassume the com∣mand of the Army, gave over all thoughts of peace, So that news came to Perianthus, that he intended nothing but War, and that he would take advantage of Themistus's absence, assoon as the cessation were expired.

While things stood thus, there was a certain se∣ditious humor gotten into the people of Syracuse, whereby the presence of the Prince was thought but necessary. Perianthus was somewhat at a loss to find a man to supply Themistus's place, for fear of raising any discontent, for there was no small division in the Court. But the Prince of Messena being a person of a gallant and generous nature, came to Perianthus to tell him, that having been the occasion of Themistus's not being in a capacity to serve him in so dangerous a conjuncture, he desi∣red leave to expose his life in his service. I am far, said he, from desiring the command of the Army; for being Son to a Prince, that gives you many occasions to believe, that he is not sincerely reconciled to you, I think it not just it should be given me. All I desire, is the permission to go and fight for your service, for I declare it to you, that excepting the Prince my Father, all your enemies are mine.

Perianthus very generously entertained what this young Prince said to him, and assured him, he had so great an esteem for him, that he would put all things into his hands, and that he thought it impossible he should betray him. But, added he, do you not fear the Prince your Father might be incensed against you? Ah, my Lord, replied the young Prince, when, what I do is contrary neither to the Laws of Honor, nor to those of Nature, I fear nothing, and I ever do what reason and glory advise me to. However, Perianthus made him no positive answer at that time, though he thought that expedient the best to avoid the grumblings of those who expected to be chosen; for the quality of Prince of Messena took away all matter of contestation. Neither would he for that day; speak any thing of business to Themistus, for that having had an ill night, because of the affliction it was to him, that he could not return to the Army, those that waited upon him, per∣mitted not any to discourse with him. So that till such time as he might acquaint him with his de∣sign, he communicated it to the ablest of his Coun∣cil, who, knowing the Lieutenant-General of the Army, to be an able and trusty person, told Peri∣anthus, that they could not imagine there was any danger to give the command of it to a young Prince, who having no interest in the Army, could not abuse the command he might have thereof; that by that means he would smother the com∣plaints of the male-contents of his Court, with∣out exposing himself to any danger; besides the improbability there was, that a Prince in love with Lindamira should betray him, and that the Prince of Messena, having the reputation of a gallant man, would doubtless do him very good service, he be∣ing so much concern'd to do it, Perianthus being thus confirm'd in his design; communicated it that night to Demarata, who being very glad, that the command of the Army was bestow'd on a man from whom they durst not take it away, while the War lasted, because he was of a higher quality than to obey Themistus, fortifi'd him in the design. So that coming the next morning to acquaint The∣mistus therewith, he spoke of it, as a thing already resolv'd, asking him only, whether he did think the Prince of Messena would do him faithful service. Here Themistus was extreamly at a loss, for on the one side, he saw that it concern'd the Prince his Ma∣ster, as things then stood, that the Prince of Mes∣sena should command the Army. On the other side he saw it very much concern'd his Love, that this occasion should not make his Rival famous, and gain such credit with the Prince, that at his re∣turn, he might get the Princess of Himera. How∣ever, being perswaded of the virtue of his Rival, he sticked not at what he was to answer, and so generously told Perianthus, that he was very much satisfied, that if the Prince of Messena accepted of the employment, he would acquit himself with faith and courage; but that nevertheless, there might be some danger to bestow it on him, telling Perianthus all that policy could suggest to disswade him. But the Prince on the other side alledging what he could to take off his reasons, added, that the business having already taken air, and the ces∣sation being ready to expire, there was no other way to be resolved on. So that Themistus seeing there was no remedy for this inconvenience, stood out no longer, but gave Perianthus way.

This Prince having given that of Messena all ne∣cessary Orders, he prepared for his departure; but as he took his leave, he intreated Perianthus to promise him, that if he returned with conquest, he would do him all the service he could, in a business where∣in he was infinitely concern'd. Perianthus promised him what he desired, without diving into his in∣tentions, and brought him to take his leave of De∣marata, who wished him all the glory War could give him. That being done, he came to take his leave of Themistus, who was extreamly afflicted, that the respect he had for the Princess, permitted him not to tell the Prince of Messena, that he was his Rival, and not his friend as he thought. I know well, saies the Prince of Messena, embracing him in his bed, that I expose my self to be, haply, as unfor∣tunate in War, as I have been in Love; but though I should not overcome those that you have, I shall think it no dishonor, for there are many degrees of glory, below that of Themistus. My Lord, replies he, that the Arms of the Prince of Syracuse, have heen fortunate in my hands, I am obliged to Fortune; but if they prove such in yours, you will be obliged only to your valour and your conduct, Upon this, the Prince of Messena went out of his Chamber, to go to the Princess of Himera, who knew not well how to keep her countenance; for looking on him as a Prince that had been the innocent cause of Themi∣stus's wounds, she could not avoid a little trouble to see him, especially out of a fear she was in, that, if he should prove fortunate in the War, he might, at his return, make his Victory advantageous for his passion. However, she took leave of him with much civility: about an hour after he was gone, she received a Letter from Themistus, who, sick as he was, could not forbear writing to her in these terms.

THEMISTUS to the Prin∣cess LINDAMIRA.

I Beseech you, Madam, make not the same obliging wishes for the Prince of Messena, as you did for me, when I took my leave of you to go to the Army: for as I am perswaded, that I had not been fortunate, had not it been your desire it should be so, it may well be pardoned me, if I fear he should be more fortunate than I have been; not that I wish he may be over∣come, but only that I would have him owe his victory to Fortune, and not to you.

Lindamira having read this Letter, made him this answer thereto.

LINDAMIRA to THEMISTUS.

IT is clear that my wishes are fruitless to those for whom I make them, since you have been wounded; for I assure you, I wish not any thing with so much earnestness, as to see the State engaged to you for part of her glory; and to be truly free with you, I at the present send up so many addresses to heaven for your health and recovery, that you ought not to fear I have any left for other things.

This Letter dissolved much of Themistus's me∣lancholly, but after all, when it came into his thoughts, that his Rival had a very fair opportunity to render himself famous; it was such an affliction to him, as he was not well able to buckle with. It must needs be acknowledged that I am very un∣fortunate (said he to himself, as he hath told me since) for I have defeated the enemy to no other end, but that the Prince of Messena may the more easily subdue them, and that he should haply en∣joy the fruits of my labours. I have further, the unhappiness to be more loved by Demarata than I would be, who having so much power with the Prince as she hath, will infallibly do me all the ill offices she can, and make me as unfortunate in am∣bition as in love. 'Tis true, I have this happiness, that I am not slighted by the person I love; but alas what will be the effect of the affection she hath for me, but to make me more miserable than I am? For when all is done, she confines the ex∣pressions of her affection to such narrow limits, that I dare not so much as hope ever to see my self ab∣solutely happy. She still is guided by considerati∣ons of Prudence, State, and Glory, and because I am no Prince, and that I have sometimes been un∣fortunate, my Birth, Love, and Services shall signi∣fie nothing, and there's a necessity I should ever be the object of misfortune. However, since the in∣comparable Lindamira ordains it should be so, I must submit, nay, admire and reverence the vir∣tue that makes me miserable.

You see Madam, how Themistus entertained himself, while Demarata was examining what re∣solution to take, for she could not be at rest any where. Nay, she made it her complaint, that ever since Themistus's return, she past not an hour, but she heard some discourse or other of him. While he was in the Army, the reputation of his great actions, was the general discourse; while he was in health at Syracuse, either she could not, or haply would not be without his visits; and now that he lay hurt, Perianthus spoke to her of him perpetually, nay, all that came to her, thinking they did well, were constantly bemoaning him. How, said she one morning to Amerintha, being violent∣ly transported by that exasperated passion that made her abhor what she loved, if I may so ex∣press my self, Shall Demarata, in whom the world finds something that may raise love, undergo the shame of loving, without being loved again; nay, be so base as to be troubled of a suddain at the pre∣tended death of him who does her this affront? Must I ever see him dividing Perianthus's heart with me, and being the object of all his friend∣ship? No, no, said she, it were too rigorous a pu∣nishment, and the best course I can take, is to ba∣nish him my presence, since I cannot my heart, who will not entertain me into his. But this must be done by circumvention, I must calumniate and impose false crimes upon Themistus, and I must cease to be what I have ever been.

But Madam, said Amerintha to her, how shall this be effected, in case you are resolved to do it, for you cannot persuade the Prince, that he holds any correspondence with the enemy, since he hath defeated him. You cannot accuse him of having inriched himself prejudicially to the Prince, from whom he many times refuses new favours, be∣cause of all men he is the most dis-interessed. So that I see not what you can probably charge The∣mistus with, That he loves me, replies Demarata, blushing. This no doubt, is the highest suppositi∣on in the world, added this revengeful Princess, but the easiest thing in the world for me to make Perianthus believe, if I but undertake it; and since it is the only way to remove Themistus from my presence, and to be revenged of his insensibi∣lity, I must needs embrace it, Nor shall my re∣venge be cruel, since he shall lose no more than what fortune would not haply have bestowed on him without me. For had not I confirmed the Prince in the friendship he had for Themistus, he would not have affected him so much. But, Ma∣dam, replied Amerintha, if Perianthus ever disco∣vers the Truth, you would ruine your self, by en∣deavouring to ruine Themistus, How, said she, do you imagine Friendship more powerful than Love? That Perianthus can avoid jealousie, whom I would have to be jealous, and that imagining Themistus in love with me, he can do it to my pre∣judice? No, no, Amerintha, that were to invert the order of things; indeed it is impossible it should be so. Besides, the resolution I take, is haply much more innocent than you conceive, for if I should not banish Themistus my presence, I could not forbear loving him, as insensible as he is, nay, haply I should not be able to conceal my affection from him. I must therefore so husband the hatred I have for him, as to make it contribute to my re∣putation. No question but I hate him at the pre∣sent,

but I am not confident I shall do as much when I see him; I must therefore, while he is a prisoner to his wounds, and cannot come to see me, make the best use I can of such precious mi∣nutes. I must flatter Perianthus, I must invent, I must forget all honesty, and I must do all that is re∣quisite to punish an insensible person, that so I may no longer love a man, that neither does, or ever can love me.

Accordingly, Madam, Demarata being at that time absolutely resolved to have Themistus banish∣ed, bethought her of what ever might further her design. She therefore took very great care ne∣ver to speak first of Themistus, especially before Perianthus, and to answer very coldly, when ever he spoke of him to her. She never sent to know how he did, and avoided saying, or doing any thing, whence it might be inferr'd, he was in any favour with her. For some daies Perianthus mind∣ed not this change, but Themistus recovering, and very fit to admit discourse, Perianthus perceived that Demarata concerned not her self so much in Themistus's welfare, as she had done some time be∣fore, when Themistus was like to die. However, he would not at first say any thing to her of it, for being still extreamly fond of her, he was afraid of having any contestation with a person that had all the power over him that Love could give her. So that having observed this coldness for some daies. without being able to discover whence it proceeded, or knowing that Demarata had not sent to see how Themistus did, he asked Themistus himself, who was very much surprised at the que∣stion, and therefore answered not precisely there∣to; for being the most reserved man in the world, he would have dyed, e're he had told Perianthus the true cause of Demarata's change. He therefore told him, he knew not but that he was in her fa∣vour; that if he were not, it proceeded from some artifice of those who envied his good fortune; but this he told him with such an accent, that the Prince could not but judge there was something more in his mind, than he was willing to discover. He for some time pressed him to speak sincerely, but seeing Themistus would say no more, and loath to prejudice his health, by too much importunity, he left him, and went to the Princess Himera, to see if she knew of any thing that had happened between Demarata and Themistus, for having an ex∣traordinary affection for those two persons, he was extreamly troubled to see any thing of discord hap∣pened between them. But Lindamira not know∣ing any thing, and that the love of Demarata was the only secret Themistus had concealed from her, she assured him that she knew nothing that had pas∣sed between them: so that Perianthus returned to the Palace infinitely afflicted.

As he came along, news was brought that the Prince of Messena was no sooner got to the Army, but he understood that the enemies were over∣joyed at the accident had happened to Themistus, whose valour they stood in fear of, and that, not desirous to hear of peace, out of the hope they were in, to be more fortunate in the War than they had been; they slighted the propositions thereof, and broke the cessation assoon as ever it was expired. That thereupon two parties meeting, that of the enemy had been defeated, so that Pe∣rianthus, who could entertain nothing of joy which he did not communicate to Demarata, went and acquainted her with what he had heard. It seems then, (said she in a scoffing way, to prosecute the secret design she had) Victory is not the absolute slave of Themistus, since she sometimes waits on the Prince of Messena. This was so maliciously spoken, that Perianthus was absolutely satisfied, that she had entertained other thoughts of Themistus, insomuch, that this putting his thoughts into a strange disturbance, he would needs guess at what it should be; but the more he thought of it, the farther he was from the truth. Being therefore no longer able to brook this uncertainty, the first time he was alone with Demarata, he conjured her to promise to tell him sincerely, one thing he should ask of her. Provided it do not concern Themistus, replied she, I promise you the knowledge of any thing I know, ask what you will. Ah, Madam, said Perianthus that is it I desire, 'tis concerning The∣mistus that I would know something, and there∣fore I beseech you, Madam, answer me not ambi∣biguously, but tell me truly whence it comes, that your thoughts are not the same they were towards him. You have so great an affection for Themistus, replyed the Princess, and I owe you so much re∣spect, that to do rationally, I ought to disobey you. Perianthus's curiosity increasing at this, he pressed her more than he had done, and whate∣ver the most violent and passionate Love can sug∣gest, or speak, Perianthus made use of to obtain from her what he desired.

But the Princess seeing her self upon the point of executing the design of revenge, she had car∣ried on so craftily, felt in her heart an extraordina∣ry agitation. Love, that had seduced her Virtue, did all that lay in its power to divert her from committing the crime, and she seemed to Perian∣thus to be so much at a loss, though she dissembled as much as she could her irresolution, that his cu∣riosity was much increased thereby. So that urging her still more and more, she found her self in a great disturbance, and felt a certain horror to ruine the only man in the world that she could love. The desire of revenge encouraged her, and she was in so many minds, that she knew not what to re∣solve on. But at last imagining, that as things then stood, if she did not ruine Themistus, he might ruine her, ambition siding with indignation, against that little remainder of affection that ballanced the business within her, she absolutely determined and made it her main business to effect the unjust design which a violent passion had bred in her.

However, if she would not presently yield to Perianthus, the more to enflame the desire he had to be satisfied. For heavens sake, my Lord, said she to him, force me not to tell you what I know of Themistus: you love him, you think the State cannot be without him, and it is my duty to have that consideration of you, as not to acquaint you with any thing that may trouble you. Be pleased then to give me leave to disobey you, and ask me no more what Themistus hath done. It shall suf∣fice, added she, if, when he is recovered, you lay your commands on him, never to see me but in your presence. But I beseech you, replied Perianthus, very much surprised, tell me what Themistus may have done, that should oblige you to cease loving him. Once more, I beseech you, my Lord, said she, ask me no more, nor indeed are you at the

present (added the incensed Princess) in the con∣dition you should be in to think him guilty, for you have so great a friendship for him, that though you were told he would deprive you of the sove∣reign power, you would not believe it. I must needs confess, said he, that I should not lightly believe Themistus guilty of an unworthy action, and would therefore intreat you to examine well, whether those who accuse him are well informed; Urge me then no more, my Lord, replied she, and ask me no more what Themistus's crime may be, since I am only she that of all your State, can both accuse and convince him.

Perianthus was extreamly astonished at these words, for from what she had said, it might be inferred, that Themistus had done Demarata some affront. So that as jealousie soon takes root in the heart of an amorous man, especially that of a Hus∣band, that is still in love, so he reflected on that which Demarata would have had him; insomuch, that his colour changing, and he looking earnestly upon her, I beseech you, Madam, said he, put me once out of pain, and tell me clearly what you have but hinted at. And the more to oblige you to do it, added he, I will tell you the present posture of my thoughts. Know then that if Themistus hath laid any plot against the State, I flud in my self Love enough to pardon it, if he repent him of it; but if he have wanted the respect he ought to have for you, I will never see him again. Prepare your self, then replied the Princess, never to see him while you live, for assure your self that Themistus is the most presumptuous man in the world. But, my Lord, added she, you shall never know his crime more precisely, if you promise me not to make that advantage thereof that I would have you. I promise any thing, replied he, provided you tell me what I would know. I shall do it, my Lord, answered she, but you shall promise me be∣fore hand, that you will not disclose what I shall tell you, that you will not speak of it even to The∣mistus; that, to prevent that, you will banish him without seeing him, and without giving him any reason why, in case you think I have cause never to desire his sight again, and that if you have just occasion to banish him.

Perianthus, who had a curiosity as great as friend∣ship, love, and jealousie could give him, promised Demarata what she would have: whereupon, this subtle Princess assuming the discourse, I know not my Lord, said she to him, whether you can re∣member, that while I was yet a child, a certain Aunt of Themistus's had the care of my education, and if your memory fails you not, Themistus, as young as he was, was at that time continually with me. I remember it very well, replies Perianthus, but see not what this may add to his charge. On the contrary, replied this crafty Princess, I tell you this, to let you understand, that I shall not make Themistus's crime worse than it is: for to be free with you, I believe that though I was then but ten years of age, and he but seventeen, he had at that time a violent inclination for me, nay, so great, that he would make me apprehend as well as I could, that the only reason of his departure, was to avoid the increase thereof. Howe'r it be, you know, my Lord, in what a gallant manner he re∣turned to Court. For my part, I little thought to make any provision against his madness, I enter∣tained him with abundance of kindess, particu∣larly, because he was presented to me by your self. Since that, perceiving that you loved him, I would not be disconformable to your sentiments, and by way of excuse said, that I had thousands of kind∣nesses for him, which have haply encouraged him in his boldness and extravagance. 'Tis indeed, very strange to think that an ambitious man, who was infinitely obliged to you, and was nothing without you, should be at the same time ungrate∣ful, temerarious, and indiscreet. And yet I had so much goodness for him, that I gave him advice how to preserve your friendship; for perceiving your inclinations for him, and withal, that he was advantageous to you, I thought I could not do any thing better, than to fasten him as much as might be to you, and I remember, one day above all the rest, I spent two hours to perswade him, that it was not fit, that a person who had a Master to humour, should engage himself in love, encoura∣ging him, as much as lay in my power, not to suffer himself to be drawn into love, for fear it might cause him to neglect your service; but to my un∣happiness and his own, he made no great advan∣tage of my advice. Nay, I remember, he made me a very ambiguous answer, which might very well give me occasion to suspect he was in love with me, if my mind had not been bent upon something else. But I would know, (saies Perian∣thus, who heard this relation with a strange impati∣ence) at what time it was that Themistus had the impudence to give you any expressions of his af∣fection. I am haply in some fault, my Lord, re∣plies Demarata, with a faint mildness, that I did not give you notice from the first minute that I dis∣covered Themistus's extravagance, but to deal tru∣ly with you, 'tis a thing cannot be easily express'd. Besides, that while Themistus spoke nothing of it, and that I only guessed at his thoughts, I was in hope he would o'rcome himself, Nay, I know not whether I thought my self somewhat obliged to him for the affliction I saw he suffered, and have accordingly had some pitty for him. But I am sure, my thoughts all along were that I should cause a great deal of trouble, if I discovered any thing, and haply should not have been believed. But at last desirous to reduce Themistus to himself, and to prevent him from having the boldness to acquaint me with the sentiments I saw he had, as having done a thousand things, wherein I easily discovered them, I prudently avoided, without any bodies taking notice of it, the opportunities of speaking with him alone. Which he observing, was sad and melancholly, as you may well remem∣ber, and at last fell sick, whereat you were ex∣treamly troubled. You know, my Lord, added she, that being very sick indeed, you would needs have me to see him, wherein I was content to obey you, though with much ado, and you are not ig∣norant how that he grew better that very day, and sent me word that my visit had cured him, and that he came afterwards to give me thanks, as a person whose life I had saved. I remember it ve∣ry well, saies Perianthus, but if Themistus never mentioned his love to you, I will banish him, yet without hating him. How my Lord, replies the Princess, do you think me one that should, upon such groundless conjectures, accuse a person so dear to you, and so considerable to the State? No, no,

Demarata is more discreet, and less revengeful than you imagine; for were it no otherwise, I should have prudently avoided the conversation of The∣mistus, without ever troubling you with it while I lived: but my Lord, the case is much otherwise and I cannot doubt, but he hath in his heart, for me, whatever the most violent passion that is, can make that man think, who knows no other reason or interest, than that of his love, and that thinks virtue and generosity too weak to resist it. For, my Lord, as to his coming hither during the ces∣sation, he had certainly no other end in it, than to continue the expressions of his extravagance to∣wards me, had I given him any occasion For you may very well judge, there was no great necessity he should leave the Army, and that a man, ambi∣tious as he is, would not have come thence, but that some secret reason obliged him thereto.

Perianthus, hearing Demarata discourse in this manner, under-went such a conflict of grief and indignation, as he had not known before. What added to his disturbance was, that he could not doubt of the truth of what Demarata said; she never had discovered the least ill-will towards The∣mistus; he could not imagine she should have any affection for him; he thought her a good and virtuous Woman; all the things she said, had cer∣tain appearances of truth; it was not known that Themistus was in love with any Lady about the Court, and Perianthus was still so much in love with Demarata, that it was easie for me to ima∣gine, that another might be in love with her also. Had Themistus been charged with any intelligence with the enemies of his State, he would not have believed it, but he could not doubt of what Dema∣rata said, as being one he could not think guilty of such a piece of sycophancy. So that jealousie gaining ground in his heart, and there meeting with indignation, he gave over pressing Demarata to discover any more, and so easily granted the re∣quest she had made, that Themistus should be ba∣nished his Court, and he did it the sooner, for her saying, that if he did not banish him, she would leave it immediately. She also intreated him not to tell why he removed him; but my Lord, ad∣ded she, that it may be done with more secresie, a course must be taken, that the audacious Themi∣stus may not tell why you banish him; for there is something that is not handsome in a report of this nature: nay, it will be easie, continued she, to as¦sign some other cause of banishment, in the pre∣sent conjuncture of affairs, for it will be thought it is for something relating to the Army, whereof he hath no longer the command.

Perianthus aproving what Demarata said, sent immediately order to Themistus, to cause himself to be carried out of Syracuse the next morning, and convey himself within a set number of days to a cer∣tain place that was at a great distance, as it was as∣sign'd him, and to continue there till further or∣der, for this unfortunate Lover was not yet able to stand, by reason of the wounds he had received in his Leg. Yet could not Perianthus but feel an extraordinary disturbance in himself, as he issued out this Order. He had an infinite love and esteem for Themistus, ho ought him his life, and the great∣est part of his fame; and if Love had not dash'd out of his heart, all the obligations he had cast up∣on him, he would not have been so hasty in a de∣sign of that importance. But the same things which might plead for Themistus, were those al∣so that incensed him the more, for that the more he had loved Themistus, the more he should have been loved by him, and accordingly the more rea∣son he had to hate him.

In the mean time Themistus submitted to the Order, with a courage as great as his affliction. He did well comprehend that his disgrace might some way reflect on Demarata, but he was far from imagining she had had the unjust presumption to impose a crime upon him, which for his own sa∣tisfaction, he was but too far from being guilty of. Besides that, having had for some time, a many that envied him about the Court, he was not over∣confident that Demarata contributed ought to his banishment, for if the bottom of his heart were examined, he thought himself obliged to her, for the affection she had for him, and at the same time that she caused him to be banished, he would have ventured his life for her, if there had been any oc∣casion, though he loved only Lindamira, and could not possibly love any other. But considering him∣self as a Lover, and an ambitious man, and that all his designs, as well of Love as Ambition, were equally ruin'd by his disgrace, the Order he had received, troubled him extreamly. However, he spoke very generously to him that brought it. You may tell the Prince, said he, that I shall obey him, but as soon as I shall be able to stand on my legs, I will come and ask him, as a recompence of all my services, only the honour to let me know what crime I am charg'd with. In the mean time, as∣sure him, that what nature soever it may be of, I am absolutely innocent, and shall ever be his most faithful subject.

This done, Themistus, who knew Perianthus's humour to be such, as that he was never sooner appeas'd, than when it met with compliance, made preparations how he might be carried to the place assigned him, without making any stay about Sy∣racuse. But e're he went, he writ to Lindamira, for he was not in a condition to see her. You may judge, Madam, how this Princess was surprised, and what affliction she must needs conceive at that unhappy adventure, whereof she could not ima∣gine the cause. She was no better satisfied the next day, for Perianthus being unwilling to tell her, took her up a little roundly, when she would press him to discover it to her: insomuch that he grew so untoward, that he could not be quiet any where. Only while he was with Demarata, he was a little better, for she was so full of kindness and insinu∣ation, and seemed to be so much troubled, that she caused him the loss of a person he loved, that he endeavour'd nothing so much as to forget Themistus, who then suffered more than ever any Lover did; and had he not met, about the place of his abode, persons of a transcendent virtue, who took a care to comfort him in his disgrace, the great heart of Themistus might have haply put him upon some violent resolution. But, among others, a gene∣rous friend of the virtuous Amalthaea, contributed much to smother the resentment of a man, who might look on his Master as an ungrateful Prince.

For my part, saies Plotina very pleasantly, inter∣rupting Meleagenes, I cannot suffer a friend of A∣malthaea's to pass by, and not make acquaintance with him; Tell us then, if the company be pleased

to give way, who that friend is that hath such a remedy against ambition. For my part, saies Clelia, I shall be very glad your curiosity were satisfi'd, I say as much, replies Valeria: I leave it to you to think, says Herminius, whether I can refuse the acquaintance of a wise man; and you may judge your self, saies Amilcar to Meleagenes, whether, having an extraordinary veneration for Timantes, and all his illustrious friends (for I know, 'tis of them that you intend to speak) I shall oppose what is desired of you. On the contrary, I make it my request, that you would acquaint the Audience, with what you know of those illustrious Solitaries, among whom Themistus met with, what incoura∣ged his virtue in so dangerous a conjuncture. The whole company approving Amilcar's proposition, and pressing Meleagenes to do what was desired of him, he re-assumed the discourse in these terms.

'Tis not without reason that you have the curi∣osity to know, what kind of life is led by these il∣lustrious Solitaries of whom Amilcar hath made mention. I shall therefore endeavour to satisfie it, for it were not possible for me to acquaint you with all that I have yet to tell you, if I should entertain you, from the beginning, with the virtue of those admirable men of whom you would have me to speak to you; yet must I needs give you a short description of the place they have made choice of for their retirement, that you may the better comprehend what a pleasant life they lead. Know then, that not far from the Sea, between Ericium and Panorma, there rises up a fertile mountain, which is cut steep down of all sides, and by rea∣son of its extraordinary scituation, passes for one of the noblest parts of our Island, which is one of the noblest in the world. But what is most remarkable, is, that when you come to the highest part thereof, you discover a pleasant Plain of twelve miles com∣pass, which takes up the whole height thereof: and to make this place yet more extraordinary, there is an eminency in the midst of this Plain, which serves for a Cittadel to all the rest; for you may dis∣cover thence the three waies by which people come up to the mountain, which is compassed with Rocks and Precipices, as well towards the Land as Sea, that it is easie to keep the space that lies be∣tween both. There are accordingly but three waies to go to this pleasant Solitude, whereof two are very troublesome and difficult. The place is nevertheless furnished with Springs, and there is a very fair Ha∣ven at the foot of this famous Mountain, which hath a priviledge, that there was never seen upon it any venemous creature or wild beast: and the ex∣cellency of the place is such, that because men could never find out a name excellent enough for it, it hath not any one in partcular; and the Haven it hath, distinguishes it from the other mountains.

This then is the place where is retired a small number of wise men, who having experienc'd the vanities of the world, will needs disengage them∣selves from it. But among others, Timantes, a particu∣lar friend of the virtuous Amalthaea, is an an incom∣parable person. He is tall, and of a good counte∣nance, and hath a noble Physiognomy, such as so well discovers the freedom and sincerity of his heart, that it may be almost said, he is known be∣fore a man hath the leisure to know him. All his actions are so many expressions of the vigor and vivacity of his spirit, for he ever acts with force and agility; insomuch, that the caresses he honors his friends with, are arguments of the earnestness of his disposition. Timantes, hath doubtless a very vast understanding, and besides the great ad∣vantages he hath made of study, as to what is re∣quisite to make a man both wise and acceptable, he is born to a great genius in Poetry, and makes such Verses as Hesiod and Homer would not be ashamed to own, were they alive again.

But I shall not make what is within him, the main subject of my commendation of him, though he have such an admirable wit, that hath such fire and lustre, that he cannot but discover it upon some occasions, wherein he would not make it ap∣pear. His heart, of all that is within him, is the most noble part, as what hath such an extraordina∣ry freedom and openness, that it might be said, that he had never so much as heard it said, there was such a thing as dissimulation in the World He speaks truth, without any fear or evasion, he main∣taineth it with courage, and makes use of anger to defend justice, when he cannot do it otherwise, and he hath a goodness that favors of the innocen∣cy of the first age,

For his humor, it is divertive enough, but with∣al so natural, that he finds himself employment out of things most inconsiderable. He hath also a par∣ticular gift of inspiring his friends with a certain innocent joy, and teaching them the art of divert∣ing themselves, without any prejudice to others. Timantes is farther a man, that of all the world is the most sensibly moved at the works of others, when they are excellent, and loves very much to do justice, where there is desert. In a word, he hates nothing so much, as what is opposite to this great virtue, and the freedom of his disposition is so contrary to all manner of Tyrannie, that he sometimes saies merrily, that he deserves no great honor for shaking off the yoke of all the passi∣ons, because it is much more easie to obey reason, than to be led away by the fantastick humors of five or six frantick passions, who would be impli∣citely obeyed, and yet many times require things contradictory. Timantes therefore having only that one Mistriss to wait on, is never from her, but consults her in all things. Yet it might be said, he thinks not on her, but that though the agitation of his humor makes his body often change place, his mind is ever quiet; and that fire which enflames and animates it, makes it more active, yet not more unquiet. Farther, having got the mastery of his passions, he hath distilled them all into one, which is to him instead of all, and which he will never part with. He maintains, that friendship, in his heart, is incomparably a more violent passion than love is in other men's: and he is perswaded that no Lover loves his Mistriss so well as he does his friends. Nay, he confidently holds, that Love is a defective affection, such as is to be numbred a∣mong the enjoyments of infancy, and consequent∣ly to be discarded as soon as reason takes place: whereas, on the contrary, friendship is an abso∣lutely perfect affection, equally consistent with Virtue and Reason, and should last as long as life does. So that being fully perswaded of the per∣fection of friendship, he is the most earnest, and most accomplished friend in the world. Nay, though he stands dis-engaged from all things that obliged him to that, yet the obligation to his friends is ef∣fectual, and stands firm by indissoluble ties. What

makes his friendship most acceptable, is, that have∣ing a sincere heart, and loving without interest, he serves his friends without any fear of hazarding any thing for them; and that being naturally mer∣rily disposed, his virtue hath nothing in it that is savage, nothing harsh, nor any thing that hinders him from having an innocent compliance for those he loves. He makes them more sensible of the ten∣derness of his friendship by small things, than di∣vers others can do by great services. For not only his countenance, the accent of his speech, and the things he says demonstrate the joy he conceives to see his friends, when he hath been some time from them, but even all his actions, though he mind it not, are expressions of his affection. I shall never forget one day, that he came to a place where he was expected by ten or twelve persons whom he affected much, and they him no less; for though it sems impossible a man should in an instant acquit himself of all that civility and friend∣ship required of him upon such an occasion, yet he came off admirably well, and what by his acti∣ons, what by his words, what by his caresses, what by his obliging earnestness, and what by his joy, he made them all understand that he was very much obliged to them, that he was glad to see them, that he loved them, that he had a hun∣dred things to tell them, and in a word, that he had for them all the sentiments they could wish he should have. He spoke a word to one, a word to another, embraced two or three together, he reach∣ed his hand to one Lady, whispered to another, spoke aloud to them all, and it may be almost said, that he went and came without changing place, so much did he endeavor to give all that were about him satisfaction.

Thus have you a Character of Timantes, who for friends in his retirement, had some few virtuous men, equally excellent with himself, such as have∣ing been well acquainted with the World, had for∣saken it as a place, where it was hard, as well for those that had gotten Wisdom to preserve it, as for those that had not to get it. They are there∣fore resolved to separate themselves from the com∣merce of other men, and have chosen this Moun∣tain, which is as it were a lesser World divided from the greater, where they live innocently, and in a miraculous tranquillity. Not that they admit idleness, for amidst this great quiet, they all labor both in body and mind. For their mora∣lity, tis no doubt severe enough, yet it is with∣all full of humanity, for they have cull'd out what ever was most excellent in the Philosophers that went before them, digesting it into the Laws they now observe.

Vice hath not the least footing among them; they have among them neither Masters nor slaves; strict justice is their rule; envy they are unacquainted with; peace is their perpetual friend; and their continual imployments make them glad that they have not the leisure to be idle. Some stu∣dy things purely celestial, others Morality, others Poetry, and all, together things virtuous and pro∣fitable. Now these particular studies soon become general; for meeting every day at certain hours to confer together, they gave an account of all they have learnt, as also of the reflections they have made on the things they read. So that what any one hath studied, turns to the advantage of the Society,; and by that innocent contribution of Science, they become the learnedst men of their time, and withall the most virtuous; for one of their greatest Maxims, is, that men should not en∣deavor the attainment of those things that make them acceptable, till they have found out what∣ever may make them better. Besides, they profess equality among themselves, as life and death puts among all men. So that they are all skilled in some Art necessary to the society. Timantes for his part, is so admirably well seen in all the secrets of Agri∣culture, especially whatever contributes to the beauty and goodness of Orchards, that he hath found out the way to reduce into one Garden, all the excellent fruits that all the several parts of the World affords. So that Africk and Asia have not any, which he does not make grow and ripen in that excellent part of Europe.

He knows which require only the Sun-rising, which his strongest rayes at noon, he knows which require a fat soyl, which a drie; he knows how to plant, and to water them seasonably; nay he corrects the nature of some fruits, by trans∣planting them after such a manner as that they grow milder; in a word, it might be said that the Sun hath taught them all the several degrees of heat whereby he produces indifferent Climates, fruits that are accordingly different, so to know how to make them grow and ripen in the same place, and that the same raies that nourish Orange∣trees in Sicily, and make Palm-trees grow in Asia, may produce these several effects in the same ground.

Timantes hath moreover this advantage in his re∣tirement, that no man can charge him with choo∣sing that kind of life, because he was not able to manage great affairs; for while he was yet young, he was put into glorious and difficult employments, wherein he made equal discoveries of prudence and integrity. Whence coming to learn the incon∣stancy and fickleness of Fortune, and the tumultu∣ousness of Courts, he was more fit than any other to comfort and keep up the spirits of an illustrious though unfortunate person, whom Fortune seem∣ed desirous to forsake. He accordingly visited The∣mistus several times, during the first days of his ba∣nishment, and my illustrious friend hath told me since, that he thinks, that if Timantes had been acquainted with all his affliction, he had haply re∣covered him as well of the griping afflictions of his heart, as he did those of his mind. But know∣ing nothing of his love, all the remedies he gave him, were only against ambition, I beseech you, said he to him one day, be not so extreamly cast down at the exchange of your fortune; there needs no more than to be content to be unhappy, to be so no more, submit your will to that of the Gods, and you shall be beyond all pity. Were you banished for having betrayed your Country or your Master, I should advise you to be troubled at it while you live, but since you are innocent, you gain more than you have lost by losing your fortune, your misfortunes will raise pity, whereas being in favor you were the object of envy, and were you wise you would comfort your self for the loss of a happiness, which depending always upon another, was never truly yours. Believe me Themistus, it ar∣gues weakness in any man to build his happiness upon his interest with great ones, and it speaks

injustice in him to think himself unhappy, when he is so well reconciled to himself, that he is not chargeable with any crime. Solitude hath its sa∣tisfactions as well as the Court, and though peace and innocence make no great noise, these undi∣sturbed pleasures are incomparably beyond those which a man must divide with an infinite number of people whom he would not be like. I know well you have a great and noble soul, but it sometimes speaks as much glory to contemn honor, as to court it. All the world is satisfied that you can conquer others, but it is not yet known whether you can overcome your self. It is no less known that you exercised moderation in your good for∣tune, but it is yet doubtful whether you can un∣dergo a bad one with constancy. Make it there∣fore your endeavor to convince your enemies, that you deserve not your disgrace, and that notwith∣standing their envy and malice, you can find your self those pleasures which they cannot disturb. For in a word, all the power of those that banish you, and all the spight of those that persecute you, cannot hinder your complyance with reason and virtue. They can never while they only force you into the Countrey, added he smiling, hinder our Gardens from affording you their flowers and fruits, our Brooks from murmuring, our Birds from singing, nor you from quietly enjoying all these innocent entertainments of solitude. And therefore, Themistus, since they cannot deprive you of what a wise man is satisfied with, repine not if they only take away from you a many things which can never satisfie an ambitious man.

But generous Timantęs, replyed Themistus, do you account it nothing to be divested of the power of obliging thousands of people, to whom now I am grown unprofitable? I must needs, replyed he, have a great esteem for that inclination of well-doing, whereby you made good use of the fa∣vor you were in, but it rather concerns those that have lost you, than it does your self, to be trou∣bled at your disgrace. For in fine, true wisdom consists in an absolute resignation of our selves to the disposal of the Gods; and in acting with equal virtue what condition soever we are in. While you were a favorite to your Prince, you were obliged to be a Patron of the unfortunate, to be liberal, and to do virtue justice; but now that you are out of favor, you are dispensed from part of those things, and all you have to do, to be glori∣ous is to be constant. Be so then, Themistus, if you value my advice; for a man suffers less, when he is resolved to suffer, than when he endeavors to struggle out of a misfortune which he must of neces∣sity endure.

This Madam, was the effect of Timantes's dis∣course with Themistus, whose great heart digested it to such advantage, that he seemed not to be the least troubled at his disgrace. But to say truth, when I went to see him, and that he could speak to me without any body by, the passion whereof he complained not, persecuted him after a strange manner. His ambition was easily chain'd up by the good counsel of those wise and virtuous men; and so he minded not the raising of a faction in the State, or making a division in the Army, as he might have done if he had endeavored it, but the love he had within him, which he made the greatest secret in the World to all but to me, afforded him not one minutes rest. When he considered that his disgrace removed him both from the pre∣sence and rank of Lindamira, he could not master his own thoughts, and had he not been comforted by the Leters he received from that Princess, he had certainly been overwhelmed by the excess of his affliction. What was yet very remarkable in the change of Themistus's fortune, was, that even those that were the occasion of it, were as unfor∣tunate as himself, for Perianthus was so troubled about it, that he could not endure to be spoken to of any thing; and for Demarata, she had need of all her dissimulation to smother the horrid grief she conceived thereat, as soon as the design, she had with so much policy carried on, was put in execu∣tion. Nay, she had no sooner heard that Themistus had obeyed, but Love, reassuming all its force, made her to consider him as a person without whom she could not live.

In the mean time, she saw not any way how she could propose to Perianthus, that he might be re∣called, nor indeed could imagine how the Prince could consent thereto, if the necessity of his af∣fairs did not force him to it, so that her present desires being contrary to what they were former∣ly she wished the Prince of Messena overcome, that there might be a necessity of having recourse to the valor of Themistus, to the end she might but see him again.

Things being in this posture, Themistus recovers of his wounds, so that being fully resolved to speak to the Prince, he came secretly near Syracuse, and lay hid at a friends house, where having un∣derstood that the Prince was to go a hunting on a certain day, with very few about him, he resol∣ved to speak to him, though the Prince had deny∣ed all Themistus's friends the liberty so much as to see him once. He therefore got on horseback, and followed only by one slave, he went to a place where he thought the Game would come, as in∣deed it afterwards did, and was so fortunate, that the Prince hunting that day more to give his thoughts a little liberty, than for any pleasure, got, purposely from his company, and passed near by the place where Themistus expected him. The Game being by that time quite out of sight, and he coming to a fresh shady place, alighted; so that Themistus who yet lay behind the bushes, alighted also, and came with an action full of respect and confidence together, towards Perianthus, whose thoughts were so employed, that he perceived him not, till such time as he could not avoid speak∣ing to him. I beg your pardon, my Lord, said he to him, for presuming to take the liberty, to ask you what crime I have committed, for I protest to you, that I have never done, said, nor thought any thing that you can reproach me with. It argues indeed a great presumption in you to see me, re∣plyed Perianthus, and withall to speak as you do, Let it suffice, added he, that the services you have done me have secured your life. but pretend not to persuade me you are innocent. I see my Lord, replyes Themistus, that the services I have had the happiness to do you, have made no great im∣pression in your heart, since you deny me the fa∣vor of accusing me. I neither desire to be pardon∣ed, nor yet to be recalled, but only to know what I am charged with: for I profess to you, I cannot imagine what it may be, and cannot com∣prehend

how you can thus persecute a man that suffers the unjustice you have for me, with the same patience as if it were impossible he could do any thing but suffer. And yet, my Lord, I assure you, that if I would have hearkened to the pro∣positions have been made to me, I might have made my self guilty, and deserved my disgrace. And to shew you, my Lord, that I entertain you with no fiction, you may see by the Letters which I put into your hands, what proffers the Prince of He∣raclea, and the old Prince of Messena have made to me I had forgot to tell you, that it was indeed true that Themistus had refused to side with either of these two Princes.) Perianthus surprised at what Themistus said to him, looked on him and said no∣thing: so that not perceiving in his eyes that con∣fusion which he thought he should have found there, he was very much at a loss about it, so that though he had promised Demarata not to tell The∣mistus why he had banished him, yet could he not forbear endeavouring to convince him of perfidi∣ousness; how said he to him, you imagine then, because you have held no correspondance with my enemies, that you are innocent? And you think you have done nothing contrary to the respect you owe me by entertaining in your heart a mad and presumptuous passion. Themistus was very much amazed to hear Perianthus speak in that manner, for he never reflected that he could be charged with loving Demarata, and thought only that Perian∣thus had discovered the affection he had for the Princess his Sister, and was offended at it. Not knowing therefore what answer to make, he seem∣ed to be much at a loss, for he knew not whether he should deny or acknowledge his passion. So that Perianthus attributing the trouble of his mind, to the confusion it was to him to see his crime dis∣covered, looked on him very earnestly, and assume∣ing the discourse; you see said he to him, that it is much more easie for me to accuse you than you imagined. Alass, my Lord, replyed Themistus, you should not think it strange to find me surprised, for without telling you whether I am in love or not, I can only truly swear, that my heart ne∣ver entertained any thing at which you might take any offence; for if I love any thing, I do it with so much respect, such purity and innocence, that it were a horrid piece of injustice to charge me with a passion that is at so great a distance from all manner of crime. How, interrupted Perianthus, you think, because I owe you my life, that it is lawful for you to dishonour a person whose concern∣ments I must needs make my own? Not but that when I well consider your crime, I must needs have some pitty for you, since it cannot otherwise be than that your passion was much stronger than your reason, when it made you forget your re∣spects towards me. For to be short, Themistus, I de∣clare it to you, that though I am your Sovereign, had you loved any person, I would have dyed e're I had been your Rival, and if you had had a wife, I would never have looked on her, if I had thought it could not be done, but I must have lov'd her. But for your, your virtue and friendship have not been so scrupulous, and you have thought it law∣ful for you to love Demarata, and she must take no exceptions at it. You say, my Lord, replyed round∣ly Themistus, that I have had the boldness to love Demarata. I do, replyed Perianthus, and you have in a manner confessed it your self. Ah my Lord, replyes Themistus, if I have any love for the Prin∣cess, I am content you should put me to all tor∣ments imaginable. Ah Themistus, replyed Perian∣thus, add not falshood to your presumption, ac∣knowledge your weakness, repent you of it, and go and seek cure for your extravagancy in some place so far from Sicily, that the name of Deniarata may not entertain so much as in your heart the mad passion that hath seized it.

This put Themistus to a very sad extremity, for his own generosity would not permit him to tell the Prince that he was himself loved by Demarata, besides that, if he had, he would not have been credited. Nor durst he, on the other side, discover the true passion he had in his soul, which would have justified him, for fear of displeasing Lin∣damira. However, he resolved to say he was in love, the better to persuade Perianthus that he did not love Demarata. Could I be persuaded, My Lord, said he, to acquaint you with the only se∣cret which I never yet have, you would soon find, that I am far from loving Demarata For, My Lord, I must confess, that I have for an admira∣ble person, so violent a passion in my soul, that it affords me not one minutes rest, and which so fills it, that all other beauties in the world move me not. But for Demarata, My Lord, I swear by what ever is most sacred, that if I had surprised in my heart any sentiment too passionate for her, I should have plucked it out, rather than run the hazard of deserving the title of a perfidious and ungrateful person. But Themistus, replyed Peri∣anthus, whence comes it then, that Demarata thinks you love her? Ah, my Lord, replied he, it is impossible she should believe any such thing; she so far believes it, replyes Perianthus very in∣nocently, that she would never be quiet till I had banished you. I am therefore as unfortunate as innocent, replyes Themistus, for there is not any thing at such a vast distance from truth; and if there be any one that can affirm, I have either said or done any thing, whence it might be infer∣red I had any love for Demarata, I would have you look on me no otherwise than as the basest of your subjects. So that my Lord, added Themistus, the Princess must needs proceed upon some light imaginations that I loved her, and misinterpret my actions, or I must think, that for some rea∣son unknown to me, it hath been her design to ruine me in your thoughts. Might it please the Gods, replyed Perianthus, that you were inno∣cent, and that an over-scrupulous virtue had ob∣liged Demarata to think you had forgot the respect you ought to her. For in a word, Themistus, De∣marata, excepted, I have not had so great an affecti∣on for any one as I have had for you, and I also owe you as many obligations as a Prince can do a subject. For if my first favors have preceded your services, your services have since very much ex∣ceeded my favors; and therefore I would give half my state that you were innocent. If you speak truly, added he, you may easily in some sort justifie your self, since you have no more to do than to tell me whom you are in love with; but be sure you tell me no lie, for if you do I shall easily dis∣cover it, I shall conclude you guilty, and shall never pardon you.

I must needs confess my Lord, replyed Themistus, that I am in a very great distraction, for I have con∣fessed unawares that I was in love, and I shall not retract it. But my Lord, to tell you with whom, is a thing I cannot do, and I beseech you com∣mand me not to do it. No, no, replyes hotly Peri∣anthus, there is no mean, you must either speak sin∣cerely, or be found guilty in my judgment, and leave my Dominions immediately. This put The∣mistus into an expressible disturbance; for to leave Sicily so as never to return thither, and never to see Lindamira more, he thought the most insup∣portable thing in the World. Thence he felt a temptation to tell Perianthus the truth, but con∣sidering the thing well, he saw he should not be credited; yet as wretched as his condition was, he could not affirm that Demarata loved him, much less discover the affection he had for the Princess of Himera, not only for fear of provoking him, but out of a fear he would not be much less blame∣able, as to Perianthus, for Lindamira than for De∣marata. He therefore fell to intreaties, that the Prince would be satisfied with the assurances he gave him of his innocence, not to force him to dis∣cover whom he loved, and to grant him the favor to go and dye in his service; for though I have had the honor to command your Army, yet will I now fight as a private Souldier, conditionally you give me encouragement to hope that you will hearken to what ever may tend to my justification. The way I propose is so easie, says Perianthus, that if you will not be tryed by it, you must be guilty. For I promise you an inviolable fidelity, if you tell me whom you are in love with. In a word, do but con∣vince me you are in love, and I shall not imagine that you have so much as thought on Demarata; for the posture of your fortune considered, it was not a thing to be pretended. If therefore you are innocent, be not so obstinate against your own interests. I have already told you, that I would observe an inviolable fidelity towards you, and I tell you so again. Ah, My Lord, replyed Themistus transported with grief, all this is not enough, for though I love not the Princess, yet haply am I nevertheless criminal. Ah Themistus, provided you do not love Demarata, I pardon you all other affections, even though you should love my Sister. Pardon me then, my Lord (said he, overcome with his affliction) for there is nothing so true, as that since my return into Sicily, I have had, whether I would or no, the most violent, the most pure, and the most eager passion for her that ever any man had. This my Lord, is the great secret which I beseech you to preserve such, so as not to com∣municate it to the Princess Demarata, or the Prin∣cess of Himera; unless you would have me dye with despair. That done, my Lord, punish me as a presumptuous person, I am content; but I beseech you look not on me as a base and perfi∣dious man.

Perianthus was so glad to understand by The∣mistus's manner of expressing himself, that he re∣ally had no love for Demarata, that he easily ex∣cused him for being in love with the Princess of Hi∣mera. He therefore very kindly embraced him; I know, said he to him, that there is a great dis∣proportion between my Sister and you, but The∣mistus, your merit equals you with all the world, and your desires are at liberty for any thing but the affection of Demarata. But you have a Rival in the head of my Army, and he made a request to me at his departure, which certainly will much trouble me: but however, I am so overjoyed, that I can afford you my friendship again; that nothing can henceforth cause me any disturbance. And yet, added he, I must return, I must humor Demarata, and undeceive her, by assuring her that you love her not, and that she is mastaken, upon such con∣jectures as an over-scrupulous virtue hath caused her to misinterpret. Themistus who knew the se∣cret of Demarata's heart, easily perceived that this would not reconcile her to him; but not knowing what to oppose to what Perianthus said to him, he recommended all to fortune. So the Prince having left him, he returned to the place of his re∣tirement, whence Perianthus assured him he should soon be sent for.

Now this interview of the Prince and Themistus, seeming very strange to those that accompanyed him a hunting, one of them came and told the Princess of it, before Perianthus had seen her, so that her mind was in a strange distraction, out of the fear she was in that Themistus had told Perian∣thus the naked truth. But when she saw him come into the Chamber with an undisturbed, free, and flattering countenance towards her, her fear was dispersed, and she was convinced that The∣mistus had been so generous as not to accuse her. So that being ashamed of her crime, she repent∣ed her self so much the more, that she had been the occasion of his banishment. In the mean time assoon as he was at liberty to speak to her looking on her very kindly, my hunting to day hath proved more fortunate to me, said he to her, than I expect∣ed, since it hath proved the occasion of my meeting Themistus, nay Themistus innocent. For he hath told me so many things, whence I infer that you have been mistaken, that I have undertaken to be his intercessor to you, and to oblige you to give me leave to send for him again. Demarata, whose sentiments were such at that time, that she was glad Themistus might be recalled, carried her self very craftily, that is, my Lord, replyes she, The∣mistus's love is cured by his ambition; and seeing his fortunes over-turned, he repents, or seems to repent him of his extravagance. And yet, added she, having observed you so much troubled at his ab∣sence, I am absolutely resolved not to meddle with any thing that concerns him, and therefore do what you please with him. Demarata spoke this with a certain coldness, and withal somewhat of anger, that Perianthus thought she was troubled at the return of Themistus, and therefore thinking he did very well in order to a reconciliation between them; he told her, that upon promise of secrefie, he would immediately convince her, that Themistus loved her not; for in fine (continued he after she had promised him what he desired) I know whom Themistus hath been infinitely in love with, ever since his return into Sicily. Demarata surprised at what Perianthus said, felt a great tempest within her. However, endeavoring what she could to dis∣semble her sentiments, she pretended she could not believe what Perianthus said, whereupon im∣portuning him to tell what he knew, he told her at last that he was in love with Lindamira.

To tell you Madam, what she felt at that instant when she heard that Themistus, who she thought,

had never known any love, was so much in it, were impossible for me: insomuch, that jealousie combin∣ing with the trouble already within her, she had much ado to dissemble it. But it being not in her power to forbear considering that Themistus had not accused her, she stifled her thoughts, and notwith∣standing the distraction within her, she betrayed no disturbance in her countenance, and durst not change sentiments while she spoke to Perianthus, lest he should at length discover what was in her soul. So that not saying ought positively, she stood to her former resolution, which was not to meddle with ought that concerned Themistus, adding with∣all, that if he would oblige her, he should not be recalled for some days. Perianthus perceiving Demarata inclining to peace, was very glad of it, for it confirmed him in the opinion he was of that she was angry without cause, and that conscious of it, she would comply by degrees.

He therefore left her, to go and send Themistus word, that he should be recalled within a few days; but Demarata being alone with Amerintha, and ha∣ving related to her what had happened between Perianthus and Themistus, and between Perianthus and her self, what did she not say in the extre∣mity of her affliction? It must now be granted, said she to her, that I am very unfortunate; for it is not enough to incur the shame of loving, and not being loved again; but I must withall have the misery to understand that Themistus is in love with another, and to know that it is impossible but he must have an aversion for me. For looking on me now as the occasion of his disgrace, he must of necessity hate me. And yet it is the pleasure of my destiny, that I should be exposed to see Themistus whom I cannot but affect; nay to see him in love with Lindamira, and favorite to the Prince, whom he may tell when he pleases, that I love him, and that I have given him some expressions thereof. But what troubles me most of all, is, that in all probability he will triumph over my weakness when he speaks with Lindamira, for since he loves, 'tis infallible he is belov'd.

But Madam, says Amerintha to her, since he hath been so discreet as not to tell it the Prince, he will keep it from the Princess of Himera. Ah, Ame∣rintha, replyed she, a Man tells his Mistriss what he would not his Master: but as I have begun with imposture, so I must end with it; and if it be pos∣sible, raise a jealousie in Lindamira, since I cannot love in Themistus. Accordingly Demarata went the next morning to visit Lindamira, with whom she desired some private discourse. She no sooner saw her, but all the melancholly of her heart rose up into her face, so that Lindamira asking her the reason of it, Demarata behaved her self so sub∣tilly, that she was forced to be intreated diverse times to tell what it was that troubled her. Woe is me, said she, when I came hither, it was my intention to disburthen my heart to you; but now that I am come I have not the power. Lindamira renewing her intreaties thereupon, Demarata, the better to compass her proposed end, told her as a great secret a meer fiction. She told her, that The∣mistus had loved her from her infancy, that at his return into Sicily, he had given her divers expres∣sion•• of his love, but that she had flighted them so far that he durst not continue them. And he hath told me since, added this subtil Princess, that he did all that lay in his power to fall in love with you, and that he had given you occasion to think he love∣ed you. How, Madam, replyes Lindamira, blush∣ing, hath Themistus told you that he had given me any cause to think him in love with me. Methinks you may easily see, replyes Demarata, that I could not have invented what I tell you, nor yet imagin∣ed it.

But this is not all I have to tell you, added she, for you are to know, that Themistus forgetting the respect he ought me, I, not able to endure the sight of him, prevailed with the Prince to put him out of favor. Now meeting him yesterday as he was a hunting, and speaking to him, Themistus hath made his peace, and persuaded him he never had any love for me: So that he hath made you the excuse of his extravagance, and therefore I am very glad, I have had the occasion to give you notice of it, that if the Prince speak to you of any such thing, you may know what answer to make him. But to deal freely with you, might I have my will, the presumptuous Themistus should never see the Court again. However, I beseech you, do not expose me at the same time to the in∣dignation of the Prince and his favorite, and there∣fore let them not know any thing of what I have told you; and lest a long discourse in private may raise any suspicion of me, I shall leave you assoon as you have told me how you will have me to be∣have my self. Your own prudence is such, Madam, replied Lindamira very much amaz'd, that it is not for me to give you advice. Demarata perceive∣ing the Princess of Himera would not discover her self to her, departed with some light satisfaction; but she was no sooner gone, but Lindamira re∣ceived a Letter from Themistus, wherein were these words.

THEMISTUS to the Princess LINDAMIRA.

IT will not be long e're fortune give me leave to wait on you; I shall haply seem somewhat blameable to you, but I have still the confi∣dence, that if I am guilty, it proceeds meerly from the excess of my love.

Lindamira summing up Demarata's discourse, and Themistus's Letter together, knew not what to think of the discretion and fidelity of her Lover. She could not absolutely convince him of infidelity, but she thought there was some reason to charge him with indiscretion. She had not spent a quarter of an hour in reflecting on this troublesome adven∣ture, but jealousie disturbing her reason, she con∣cluded him both indiscreet and unfaithful; for Themistus haveing not acquainted her with any thing had past between Demarata and him; and that she never had observed any signs of aversion for him in the carriage of that Princess, she could not ap∣prehend why she should impose a crime of that nature upon him. So that not knowing Themistus to be naturally ambitious, she began to suspect, that he loved in general, whatever was above himself. You may judge, Madam, how she was netled at it; Mericia, whom she acquainted with

her affliction, would oblige her not to condemn Themistus before she had heard him; but she could not forbear writing to him in a manner disoblig∣ing enough, for she only sent him these words.

IF you are as guilty as you seem to be to my apprehension, you are for ever banished the heart of Lindamira.

Themistus receiving this Letter, was extreamly troubled, and withall much surprised at it; for the Prince had promised to be faithful to him, nor in∣deed had Perianthus said any thing of what Themist∣us had trusted him with to Lindamira, and thought that to tell it Demarata was to tell it no body. At last this Prince, being extreamly impatient to see Themistus, sent for him to Court. And having to that end written to Timantes, and all those illustri∣ous Solitaries whom I have spoken to you of, they were troubled at his return, to a place where it was hard to preserve honor, and advised him by their Letters to reassume it, so as that he might loose it again, and to look on fortune as a fan∣tastick Deity, whom a virtuous person honored by submitting to her. Themistus whose heart was bur∣thened with a secret grief which he could not master, was in a manner as sad at his return to the Court, as he had been at his departure thence. At last he got thither, and resolved to overcome all obstacles that should hinder his design, or die. The Prince entertained him with the greatest kindness that could be; he met with all those Sycophants, that had forsaken him in his disgrace. Perianthus brought him to make a short visit to Demarata, out of a fear that if he did it not, the cause might haply be guessed at. That Princess received him with a certain cold civility, admirably suitable to all she had done before. That done, Themistus fol∣lowed the Prince to his lodgings, who perceive∣ing some disturbance in him, took him aside, and spoke to him with a very obliging countenance; I see, said he to him, that you are extreamly troub∣led at what you made me privy to, and that you are in doubt whether I should take it well that you see my Sister. But Themistus, I am so glad that you do not love Demarata, that I leave you to your self; besides that, to be free with you, I am so well satisfied of my sisters virtue, that I am not troubled at it at all. Nor have I told her any thing of what I had from you, nor shall ever, till you think it convenient.

Themistus thinking himself infinitely obliged by this obliging carriage of the Prince towards him, gave him millions of thanks, and protested to him, his soul had never been guilty of an unworthy thought; whereupon he went to Lindamira, whom he found half-indisposed. At first, this Princess en∣tertained him with an extream coldness, which soon after turned into anger, till at last she made a thousand reproaches to him of perfidiousness, in∣constancy and indiscretion. So that Themistus was so astonished, that one would have said, he had been guilty. How Madam, said he to her, when she had given over speaking? Is it thus you re∣ceive an unfortunate man that expected no joy by his return to the Court, than what proceeded from the hope of finding you the same person he had left you. To find me such as I was, replyes Lin∣damira, you should not have come hither unfaith∣ful, and indiscreet. Ah Madam, replyed he, you charge me with too much rigor; for if I were un∣faithful, you would not charge me with infidelity. What you say is so obscure, answered she, that it is apparent you are guilty, and that you have no good plea to make for your self. But to begin with your indiscretion, is it not true, that you have told the Prince my Brother, what you never ought to have told any one, which if you might have done, Perianthus should have been the last of all the World to hear it. Themistus was much surprised to see his Master had not kept his word with him, but at length recovering himself a little, Alass! Madam, said he to her, had you been in my place, you had said what I have; for I was in such an unfortunate posture of affairs, that I must have lost you for ever; nay exposed my self, to the reputation of an unfaithful person in your judgment, had you known the cause of my banish∣ment. While you only tell me things I understand not, replyed she roundly, I shall not be friends with you: but in few words (added she, not give∣ing him the leisure to speak) the truth of the bu∣siness is this, that you made it no great difficul∣ty to expose me, so to conceal your true passion, and made it your only means to keep the Prince my Bro∣ther from discovering your love to Demarata. You had said more truly Madam, had you said believing instead of discovering, for it is true, I would not have the Prince to think me an unworthy and un∣grateful person. But I protest to you Madam, that when I confessed to him the affection I had for you, so to hinder him from conceiving I loved Dema∣rata, I did it principally out of a consideration of providing, that you should not one day suspect me to have been unfaithful: for if the Prince had be∣lieved it, he would have told you as much, and you would haply have thought I had been really such, Besides that, the Prince having said he would pardon me all things, conditionally I were not in love with Demarata, I must confess, I thought it concerned me very much, he should know I had taken the boldness to direct my affections to you. But Madam, I have not told him I had the happi∣ness of any favor from you. You have done bet∣ter than you imagine, replyed she, for I do not think at the present ever to do you any. But Ma∣dam, what have I done that I should be so lost to your affection, replyes Themistus, am I unworthy of it, because I am unfortunate, and unjustly per∣secuted? You deserve all the aversion and all the revenge I can have for you, replyed she, for pre∣tending to love me when you loved Demarata. Do I love Demarata, replyed he hastily, from whom have you it? from Demarata her self, answers Lindamira, who hates you as much as I would hate you. Ah Madam, replyed he, Demarata is unworthy the discretion I have had for her, and since she is bent every way to ruine me, I must at lest endeavor the preservation of your affection, which is the only happiness I look after, and with∣out which I could not live. But Madam, you must hear me without prejudice, nay, you must hear me with a certain goodness; for I have concealed one thing from you, which I shall now have much ado to acquaint you withall, though my justi∣fication depends on it, and that I am only to im∣peach a person that endeavors my ruine. But all

considered, Madam, I think I have not offended much against the love I have for you, in not tel∣ling you that I had taken notice that Demarata had some inclinations towards me; nor do I think I of∣fend much against honour by acknowledging it now, since she hath endeavoured to destroy me in your thoughts. But Themistus, replied she, could Demarata have loved you, if you had not loved her? Alas, Madam, can you put that question to me, when you know that I have loved you a long time, without being loved? You, who cannot be ignorant that you are the absolute Mistress of my heart; you, who know well enough that I am neither base nor perfidious, and who should, me∣thinks, be satisfied that I look not upon any thing on earth but your self? But why have you not told me before, what you do now, replies Lindamira? Out of a conceit, Madam, replied he, that a per∣son of honour should never speak any thing against a woman, by whom he is loved, even though he had the greatest a version that could be for her. So that to forbear doing what might prejudice De∣marata, and withal cause you to esteem me the less, I have concealed the weakness of that Princess from you, which I might rationally think she had overcome.

Lindamira somewhat appeased at this, was de∣sirous to know all that had passed between Dema∣rata and Themistus, so that he gave her an account of the conversation he had heretofore had with that Princess, when it was her design to engage him to tell her that he was in love with her; and thence fell upon a hundred little passages he had observed at several times, to the conference he had had with the Prince the day he had met with him a hunting. Themistus discovered such a sincerity through all this relation, and entertained Lindamira with so many passionate things, that she concluded him to be innocent. But they at the same time per∣ceived they were both equally unfortunate, in that they were exposed to the fury of a jealous and ex∣asperated Woman, of whom Perianthus was still very fond. However, this reconciliation was not concluded without much kindness; yet with this resolution, that they would see one another pri∣vately as seldom as might be, the less to incense the jealous Demarata, whose sufferings were great∣er than can well be imagined.

Things standing thus, news came that the Prince of Messena had gained a battel, which cost Themi∣stus the displeasure of being forced publickly to rejoyce at the glory of his Rival. But for Dema∣rata she was extreamly satisfied at it; not out of any reflection on the advantage of the State thereby; but a conceit, that after that service done, it was impossible Perianthus should deny the Prin∣cess of Himera to the Prince of Messena; and in∣deed, the end of the Campagne approaching, he returns to Syracuse, where he was no sooner arri∣ved, but Demarata furthering his interests, and giving him advice, he demanded Lindamira of the Prince of Syracuse. He satisfied him, that the Prince his Father would consent thereto, and pressed the business so much, that Perianthus was sufficiently troubled with him. However, he told the Prince of Messena, that Lindamira was at liberty to dis∣pose of her self, and that for his consent he might assure himself of it, provided he gained hers.

Themistus durst not all this while discover his re∣sentments, out of the respects he had for his master; but withal resolved, if he perceived Lindamira at a loss, as to what she should do, to perish himself, or dispatch his Rival out of the way. Insomuch that the Princess of Himera perceiving in him those inclinations to hatred towards the Prince of Messe∣na, which he had much ado to smother, resolved to take another way, which proved effectual. Look∣ing therefore on the Prince of Messena, as a person of much reason and generosity, she took him one day in a private discourse. I know, my Lord said she to him, that the marriages of persons of your condition and mine, are commonly concluded with∣out affection; but since you would have me be∣lieve that you have some for me, you were certain∣ly unhappy not to be loved again: and therefore I beseech you, be no longer obstinate, for I have cer∣tain particular reasons, for which I shall never love you in the manner you would have me. So that you would make me unhappy, without being hap∣py your self, even though I were forced to marry you, which it were not easie to do. To this the Prince of Messena answered her, with what ever the love he had within him could suggest, that were most likely to prevail with her, but not doing any good, he left her with abundance of affliction, seeming to be resolved to obey her, and to return home; for the Prince his Father had at length ex∣ecuted the Treaty, seeing the War of Heraclea proved so unsuccessful. But being that night at the Palace very sad, Demarata, whose jealousie and indignation daily increased, asked him privately what troubled him. Whereupon the Prince ha∣ving acquainted her with what had passed between the Princess of Himera and him, and the resolution he had taken, she was so troubled at it, that, to divert him from quitting his design, she told him she should not do so, and that Themistus was not a person to contest with him, for the affection of Lindamira. The Prince of Messena was much sur∣prised at what Demarata said, for he had never suspected any thing of the love of Themistus. On the contrary, 'Twas he that had given him the name of the Insensible Courtier; but reflecting on things past, he remembred that Themistus had ever avoided his company, when he would have enter∣tained him with his affection for Lindamira, so that he thence drew those consequences, which ob∣liged him to credit what Demarata said, who seeming to concern her self in his interests, told him she should not so give over, adding, that The∣mistus was a presumptuous person, that had more ambition in him than love. Demarata in the mean time never considered that she created a jealousie in a Lovers heart, whereof she could not hinder the consequences. In a word, from that day, the Prince of Messena had so much ado to endure The∣mistus, that Themistus perceived it: for a Rival that hates, soon discovers the hatred of his enemy. So that feeling within him, something of cruelty which he could not hinder from breaking forth, he out of prudence avoided his company. But as chance would have it, meeting alone, with their slaves, upon the Achradina, where Themistus had hazarded his life for the Prince of Messena, they took a turn about, without saying ought to one another. Which done, the Prince of Messena speaking first, and falling immediately to the business, will you do me the favour Themistus, said he, as to answer

me sincerely to what I ask. I engage my self, re∣plies Themistus, to tell you that I cannot answer you, if you ask me a thing, which I would not, or ought not to tell you. Tell me then, replies the Prince of Messena, whether it be true, that a man that cannot be happy himself, doth not offend in hindring another to be so? What you say is so general, replies Themistus, that I cannot answer thereto; because sometimes there are those parti∣cular circumstances, which hinder the most gene∣ral Rules that are to be such. Since you would have me to explain my self, replies the Prince of Messena, I am content, nor indeed, should I go otherwise than in plain terms, when I speak to a man upon the very place, where he had hazarded his life upon my account. I am therefore to con∣fess, that I know of your being in love with the Princess of Himera; but since she will not in all likelihood, ever marry you, methinks I may, with∣out being thought ungrateful, intreat you to tell me, whether you are loved by her: for if she loves you, I will absolutely quit my design upon her, and will be gone to morrow towards Messena; if she does not, I will prosecute it as I can, to bring it to some period. Since you know that I love Linda∣mira, replies Themistus, I shall not disavow it; but to tell you I am loved by her, is that you shall never know from me: for if I am, I were in∣discreet, and unworthy to tell it without her per∣mission; and if I am not, I should not very easily afford you the joy to know so much, since you are my Rival. But my Lord, since you deal very ob∣ligingly with me, I will tell you ingeniously, that, for Lindamira's satisfaction, you should give over all thoughts of wedding her, for I am so well ac∣quainted with her intentions, as to that point, that I can assure you, she will never make you happy? And where you say, my Lord, I can never be such, I know not what you ground your assertion upon; for Love and Fortune are wont to do things more extraordinary. Certain it is I am no Prince, ad∣ded he, but my birth is noble enough to encourage me to aspire to any thing, and whoever hath such a heart as I have, thinks few things above him. Nay then, Themistus, saies the Prince of Messena, you are lov'd, and I have no more to do, but to think of my departure, since honor will not suffer me to be ungrateful, and that the Princess Linda∣mira loves you I have not told you she does, re∣plies Themistus, but only that she cannot make you happy. But if I one day understand, that you have been loved by her, replied this Prince angrily, I shall have a quarrel against you. You may make what quarrel you please of it, replies Themistus coldly, for I am ever in a capacity to satisfie those that have any quarrel against me.

The Prince of Messena, confirmed hereby, that Themistus was loved by Lindamira, had immedi∣ately the greatest hatred in the world for him: so that this discourse which had been begun kindly enough, grew so bitter, that the Prince of Messe∣na and Themistus came at last to blows. The latter generously did all that lay in his power, to avoid coming to that extremity, as fore-seeing the sad consequences of that unhappy business; but the Prince of Messena having drawn his sword, the other could do no less than defend himself. 'Tis true, he did it with that courage, that, how va∣liant soever the Prince of Messena might be, he made a shift to receive two great wounds, and to be disarmed, before those whom their slaves went to the Palace for, were come to separate them. You may imagine what a noise this Duel made in the Court, and what advantage Demarata made of it, in order to her revenge.

The news was no sooner come, but she went to the Prince, and confidently asked him, whether he would still suffer that presumptuous person in his Court, whose temerity was now come to the high∣est pitch. For in fine, added she, the business is out of all controversie, because if Themistus be in love with Lindamira, he further affronts you, for he ought no more to pretend to your Sister; than your Wife. In the interim, you see he fights with a Prince, as if their contestation were, who should marry Lindamira. But, Madam, replied Periantbus, the Prince of Messena drew first upon Themistus. 'Tis true, continued she; but it is as certain that Themistus affronted the Prince of Messena, whom you are obliged to for a great victory, as well as to the other.

While they were thus engaged, Themistus, who was lightly wounded in the left arm, sent to the Prince to excuse what had past; and the Prince of Messena sent also to him, to crave pardon that he had engaged against a person he loved: so that not minding much what Demarata said, he visited them both; but being a little exasperated by her speeches, he spoke not to Themistus with his ordi∣nary kindness, for after divers things said, concern∣ing his fighting with the Prince of Messena: how∣e'r it may be, saies the Prince to him, you are too blame, for you know that you are not to entertain any thoughts of marrying my Sister. I know my Lord, replyed he, I am not worthy that honor, but I know much better, that you had the good∣ness to pardon me the love I have for her, and that you have not forbidden me to have any. I have neither forbidden you, nor permitted you, replied Perianthus, and have only pardoned you a passion, which I thought your reason would have advised you to dis-ingage. It hath so long advised me to it ineffectually, replied Themistus, that it hath at last given over. Since it is so, replies Perianthus, I must needs command you to do it. Ah, my Lord, replies Themistus, when men command things impossible, it argues they would not be obey∣ed. Are you, my Lord, able to cease loving Dema∣rata, if there were any one in the world had a right to lay that unjust command upon you? Howe'r it be, saies the Prince, I begin to find out, that Demarata knows you better than I do, since your ambition hath no limits. For I now see clearly, that you pretend to marry Lindamira, and must needs believe, that the friendship you express to∣wards me, and the love to her, are only the effects of an insatiable ambition, whence you equally de∣rive your friendship, your love, nay, your valour too.

As you are my Master, replies Themistus, I am to suffer any thing at your hands; but if you would consider it well, you would find that the love you bear Demarata, will soon stifle the friend∣ship you have had for Themistus. And if you do it, my Lord, added he, you will be more unjust than you conceive your self: for in fine, Demarata hates me without any cause. Be it so or not, think no more on Lindamira, saies Perianthus, if you would preserve my affection.

Having said so, Perianthus went out and left The∣mistus in a strange affliction. A little after the Prince was gone, I came in, and saw the first eruptions of it. Now, my dear Meleagenes, said he to me, what think you of my cross fortune? All that I think to do for my self ruines me; all the services I do, raise up ungrateful persons to persecute me, my victories serve only, either to make my Rival victorious, or to strengthen the power of an un∣grateful Master, who would rather hearken to a perfidious Woman, than to a faithful subject that hath saved his life; so that to make my misery full weight, there needs no more than that Linda∣mira disclaim me. The Prince is now gone in to her, replied I, and no doubt but he will speak to her against you. Nay, I believe, continued I, that the Princess will not have the confidence to tell him that she loves you, and that she will ever continue it, though I am perswaded she is resolved to be faithful to you. What resolution the Prince will take, I know not, replies Themistus, but I find in my self, that if he forget the services I have done him, and will force Lindamira to marry my Rival, I shall forbear no extremity to make him under∣stand himself, and to hinder Lindamira to be taken away from me. But why did you not let him know what Demarata was? said I to him (for then he had told me the truth:) Alas Meleagenes, re∣plied he, do you think he could have believed me, having no proofs to give him. No, no, that had been to no purpose, but if I engage with his ene∣mies, I shall haply make victory change sides. Yet could I not do that without much difficulty, but Love and Ambition may force an unfortunate man whom all are bent to ruine, to do strange things.

To contract therefore my relation, Madam, which is already but too long, we had no sooner heard, that Perianthus was gone from Lindamira's, but I went to her on the behalf of Themistus. I found her extreamly troubled, for the Prince had not on∣ly seemed very much incens'd against Themistus, but he had said many things to her, whence she feared he would force her to marry the Prince of Messena. Which she opposing as much as she could, he had ask'd her whether she would have Themistus, adding, That Favourites may be made of all sorts of persons, but that she should not make him a Bro∣ther-in-law, but of a person of his rank and qua∣lity. So that Lindamira being unwilling to make him a punctual answer, had only intreated him not to believe all that Demarata should say to him, be∣cause she might be pre-possessed, But the Prince being pre-possessed himself, Lindamira did only in∣cense him the more, and so he returned to the Pa∣lace, where he found Demarata in a kind and flat∣tering humour, such as won him so much, that she put him upon what resolutions she pleased. She perswaded him, that it extreamly concerned him, as things stood, to do an action of Authority, that it might appear, Themistus governed not him as he pleased. That there was a fair opportunity to do it, since that bestowing Lindamira on the Prince of Messena, he would hinder that Princess from committing any folly; he would recompence a Prince that had done him good service, he would pull down the pride of Themistus, and bring him so much under for ever after, that he should never fasten on any new pretence of extravagance.

Demarata seconded this with whatever a person of a great and subtil wit, experienc'd and mali∣cious could say, that manages a revenge proceed∣ing from Love. So that Perianthus, whose only imperfection was his facility for those he loved, thought of nothing but the execution of it. To that end, he had an extraordinary care of the Prince of Messena, little or none for Themistus; he went himself, and brought Lindamira to be lodged in the Palace, upon pretence of some design he had heard there was to carry her away; so that The∣mistus was deprived of the comfort of seeing her; for besides that, he had a slight hurt, the Prince sent him word he should not come into the Palace, till he had sent him order to that purpose. Thus was Themistus the most unfortunate man in the World, and Demarata entertained so great a joy at it, that she discovered it in all her actions. So that Perianthus observing it, and perceiving that she hated Themistus, began to be jealous again, and to be almost perswaded, that what she had said to him before was true, because he saw no other apparent occasion of her hatred. He did not therefore only do what he did violently, but also without prudence, or any reflection on the influ∣ence Themistus had over the Soldiery: he spoke bitterly of him, even in publique, and saying open∣ly, that he would make it a match between the Prince of Messena and Lindamira, assoon as he was recoverd of his wound; he sent Themistus order to leave Syracuse. Nay, my friend had notice gi∣ven him, that he was to be secured assoon as he were out of the City, where they durst not take him, as being much the darling of the people. Being in this condition, this desperate Lover would fain have taken leave of his Princess, and he had been confident enough, and haply cunning enough to find out the means to do it, but fear∣ing she might forbid him the execution of any such design, he was content only to send her this Let∣ter.

The unfortunate THEMI∣STUS to the Princess LINDAMIRA.

I Depart, Madam, and I depart the most miserable of all men, to tell you whether I am going, I am not able, and yet I questi∣on not but I shall find out the ways to deliver you and revenge my self. I shall haply do those things which at first sight you may blame me for; but if you prove not unconstant, the event will convince you, that I shall do no∣thing contrary to reason. Be constant there∣fore, Madam, so to prevent my resentments, from reaching so far, as otherwise they might; for if I lose you, there is not any thing which I shall not endeavour to deprive them of, who should be the occasion of so great a misfortune to me.

This Letter being delivered to my Sister, who still had the liberty to see Lindamira, though she was kept very close, Themistus departed, and I

stayed at Syracuse to give him an account of what passed there. But instead of returning to the place where he had been before, he went to the Army, and did there against Syracuse, what Bru∣tus did for Rome in Tarquin's Army; that is, made himself the Master of it, so far, that it was at his choice, either to bring it up against Perianthus, or against the Prince of Heraclea. 'Tis true, this Prince was so far unfurnished with Horse, that he was not in a condition to keep the field. Whence it came, that he sent to Themistus as soon as he un∣derstood how things went, to treat with him; but my friend, without either making any breach, or yet treating, put him off with delaies, and be∣gan his march towards Syracuse. That which furthered the execution of his design, was, that there was no Officer but held his place from The∣mistus; for the former War having been very bloudy, all the Officery in a manner was changed. Besides that, being of a very liberal and gallant dis∣position, the hearts of the Soldiery was at his command, and that the excessive affection Perian∣thus had for Demarata, was prejudicial to that Prince, and advantageous to Themistus.

The report of the revolt of the Army was no sooner come to Syracuse, but Demarata insulted over Themistus after a strange manner. Nay, she perswaded Perianthus, that it was fit Lindamira should be secured, and accordingly she was put into a Tower, on the quarter of the Hexapila, out of a fear, that if she remained on the Achradina side, some design might be laid to carry her away by the advantage of the Sea. However, she was attended with abundance of respect, but she was withal kept very close, and strong guards about her. The Prince of Messena, who lay still under cure, was extreamly afflicted that he had been the occasion of so much disorder, yet was it some comfort to him, that Themistus was not at the Court; but Perianthus was at his wits end almost. Not but that he is a very gallant person, but ha∣ving only his guards about him, that he could trust himself to, he knew not what to resolve on: the people of Syracuse were discontented, and would not arm, to defend themselves against a man that had brought them peace, and whose valour was their terror; a great number of the grandees charg∣ed Demarata with imprudence, and Perianthus with facility, so that all the Prince could do, was to secure the Gates of the City. For Lindamira, though she well knew that Themistus did not what he did, but out of the affection he had for her, yet could she not forbear being very much exasperated against him, to have brought things to that extre∣mity, without making her acquainted with his designes. 'Twas to no great purpose that I se∣cretly gave her notice, that Themistus's design was only to deliver her, and to prevent her marriage with the Prince of Messena, she was never the more appeased, and sent me word she would never love Themistus, while he was in Arms against her Bro∣ther and his Countrey. But this I thought not fit precisely to communicate to Themistus, for it had afflicted him beyond measure; but at last, to shew he would be no Usurper, he sent me a Declaration, which I got handsomely scattered up and down Syracuse, wherein he declared, that if they would send the Prince of Messena back into his Countrey, set the Princess of Himera at liber∣ty, and permit her absolutely to dispose of her self as she pleased, he would lay down Arms, as soon as Lindamira should have expressed her Will, in such place, where she might say she was free. The people being not at all concerned in this affair, thought there had been no way but to grant The∣mistus all he desired, and divers persons stirred up by me, cried out aloud, that it were better to bestow the Princess of Himera on Themistus, than on the Prince of Messena. However, Perianthus stood out and refused all that was demanded, so that Themistus marched still on towards Syracuse. The Prince of Messena had sent to the Prince his Father, but he was not too hasty to succour Perian∣thus, with whom he had still rather have been in War than Alliance, though he had been forced to do otherwise. So that Perianthus and Demarata were at an extream loss what to do. Yet could not this revengeful Woman, repent her of any thing she had done; insomuch, that Amerintha desirous to tell her something one morning, she was so incensed against her, that she sent her away, so that this Woman exasperated at her being pack'd out of doors, for finding fault with a design that had been so unfortunate, acquainted some persons with all I have already told you, of the sentiments of Demarata, and among others, my Sister.

Themistus all this time drew nearer and nearer, keeping his Troops in very good order, pretend∣ing as if he would besiege Syracuse, if they grant∣ed him not what he desired. Lindamira seeing her Countrey in so much danger, desired a confe∣rence with the Prince. Perianthus came to her, and understood that her desire was, that she might have the liberty to speak to Themistus, e'r he used any hostility against the City, promising she would do all that lay in her power to make him change his resolution. Perianthus, who saw that all his force consisted in a raw undisciplin'd people, and not very forward to endure a Siege, granted her what she desired, for the Army was in sight. Yet was he once minded to recal the permission he had given, when he had seen Demarata, for that jea∣lous Princess was almost out of her self at this in∣terview. But Perianthus having suffered the thing already to take air, could not hinder it. Some were therefore sent to Themistus, to propose a conference between him and Lindamira, which, though he doubted not but she would tell him such things, as should extreamly trouble him, he could not but grant. Nay, on the contrary, he conceived it would be no small satisfaction to him to see her, so that he granted all was desired of him. It was therefore resolved, that Themi∣stus in the head of two hundred Horse, should come within a flight shot of the Walls, and that the Princess being in a Chariot, attended by a like number of Horse, should come with two of her Women, to a little Hill, surrounded with a Wood, which lay at the distance aforesaid from the Walls of the City; and that there the Horse of both parties, should stand at an equal distance from the Hill, where Themistus might entertain Lindamira, whose women were to stay some few paces behind, for Themistus would not grant that interview, if he might not have the liberty to speak to the Prin∣cess of Himera without witnesses.

Thus was the business carried, much to the grief of Demarata, and the Prince of Messena, whose

wounds were still in a very sad posture. Linda∣mira attended by two Gentlewomen, came to the place where she was to meet Themistus, having dressed her self after a very negligent manner, yet may it be said, she never looked handsomer in her life. As she passed through the streets, all the people cried out to her to make up a peace, and that with the tears in their eies; the Walls of the City were full of people, of all qualities and sexes; nay, Demarata her self saw her pass by through the window of her Closet, the Prince of Messena caused himself to be brought to that of his Cham∣ber, to the same end, and Perianthus conducted her to the City Gate, entreating her most affecti∣onately, to rescue her Countrey from destruction. In this posture went Lindamira to the Hill, where Themistus expected her. As soon as he saw her Chariot stop he alighted, and went to help her out, but Lindamira coldly putting him off from her, No, no, Themistus, said she to him, you are not in a condition to do me that inconsiderable service, and to oblige me to accept of that, you must do me one that is much greater. Whereupon, leaning upon one of her Gentlewomen, she got out of the Chariot, and going up into the little Hill, sur∣rounded with a Wood, she rested her self against a Tree, her Women set themselves at the foot of another, at some distance, and Themistus placing himself over against her, looked on her with so much love, that she was forced to look towards the ground. Well Madam, saies he to her, with a very submissive action, what commands do you lay upon me? I would now see by experience, said she, whether it be true that you love me, for if you do, and consequently are tender of my life, my quiet, and my reputation, you will do as I shall advise you. Provided, you do not command me to cease loving you, replied he, that you forbid me not to endeavour your deliverance, and to destroy my Rival, I shall do any thing you desire. But Themistus, replied the Princess of Himera, cannot you conceive there are some just things, which yet ought never to be done, because they cannot be but by unjust means. I grant, added she, that my deliverance is a just action, and that it is na∣tural for a man to wish the destruction of his Ri∣val; but to do these two things, is it lawful for him to revolt against his Prince, to ruine his Coun∣trey, and to incurr the displeasure of his Mistriss, by endeavouring to serve her? Ah, Madam, replies Themistus, I should be very unfortunate, if I should meet with hatred, when I do all I can to deserve Love. 'Tis no question your case at the present, replied she, for, to be short Themistus, I shall not flatter you, but acquaint you with the true state of my soul, without concealing, even that which you may be offended at, no more than what may humour you. I must confess then that I have lo∣ved you, and that I may be still in a capacity to love you—Ah, Madam, interrupted Themistus, while you tell me of the past and future, I beseech you, let me not be ignorant of my present condition, in your inclinations. It is such, replied she, as that of a man I can either love or hate, either love be∣yond my life, or hate worse than death. How Madam, replied he, stepping back a little, is it possible you can hate me? It is Themistus, replied she, for if you obey me not, I must needs hate you. What then must I do to obey you, replied he? You must not ruine Syracuse, replied she; you must be no longer an enemy to the Prince my Brother; you must put the Army into his hands, and give over all thoughts of War. I apprehend you, Madam, said he, that is, you would have me wander up and down the world, as an unfortunate exile, while you in the mean time marry the Prince of Messena. On the contrary, replied Lindamira, I shall love you eternally, and it is out of that respect, that I would not have you do a thing which would put me into a capacity, of not presuming to love you when I would; for if you conquer my Brother, and prove the destroyer of your Countrey, you may well judge, that having a respect for glory, I shall never endure to see you. Nay, I shall, on the other side, look on you as an ambitious per∣son, that never had any affection for me, and one that is in love with his own greatness.

But Madam, replies Themistus, you consider not that your generosity blinds you; for as things stand now, what would you have me to be? Can I ever repose any confidence in the Princess? Can I re∣sign you to the Prince of Messena, and can I hope that Perianthus will forget what I do, while he loves Demarata, that is, one that hath made him forget all my services? No, no, Madam, you con∣sider not well what you propose to me, But that you may not imagine I have the least inclination to usurp the Supream power, I declare to you, that if I take Syracuse, as I hope to do, though I have no Fleet, I will send thence my Rival, I will un∣deceive Perianthus, as to what concerns Demarata, I will restore him his Estate, and will demand no∣thing but Lindamira, and that of her self. This, Madam, is the design that seems to you so crimi∣nal. But if it be true, that you are not a Love∣less, ambitious man, replied she, why can you not do a greater action than that? You may save your Countrey instead of conquering it; you may still be a friend to your Master, and if I may presume to say it, Huband to your Mistriss: Ah, Madam, to be what you say, I would run the hazard of a hundred Battels. You need only let Syracuse be in peace, replied she: but if you do not, assure your self, that what aversion soever I may have for the Prince of Messena, I will marry him as soon as I come into the City. Ah, Madam, said he, your cruelty is now excessive, that you give words so indigestible, and I know not whether they should not rather incline me to set Syracuse on fire, than to do what you would have me. I beseech you, Ma∣dam, use no such menace to perswade me to your Will, for if I thought it possible you could do what you say, there should not be any thing that I would stick at. But, Themistus, replied the Prin∣cess, what would you have a person to say, that fears nothing so much as to lose you for ever, if you put your design in execution; so that both my fear and my hope are engaged in your safety. You had said more truly if you had said, my destruction. But in fine, Madam, you never have loved me, nor ever will; for were you constant to me, instead of advising me to my ruine, you would presently go into the Army I command, whether I would bring you safely, notwithstanding your Convoy, and when you are once there, you shall dispose of Syracuse as you please. Ah, Themistus, replies Lin∣damira, I will never come into a rebellious Army. But, Madam, replied he, this Army is rebellious on∣ly

in order to your deliverance. Let it then cease to be such, replied she, since I am resolved not to be delivered, to the destruction of my Coun∣trey; for I tell you once more, that if there be any Siege laid before Syracuse, I will never see you again: and on the contrary I promise you, that if you restore it to peace, as I desire you, I shall forget my own condition, to make an inseparable union between your fortunes and mine. How Themistus, (continued she, looking on him with an extraordinary affection, seeing he made no answer) can you deliberate on what you should answer me? and when a choice is propo∣sed to you of being either loved or hated, can you be indifferent as to any resolution? Nay, if it be so, Themistus, and that neither my words nor tears can prevail any thing upon you, hear from hence the groans and complaints of a great people, that hath sometime sent up its addresses to Heaven for you, when the end of your fight∣ing was peace. Force it not to send up impre∣cations against their antient Protector; and if you are wise; do not exasperate it too much, and so engage it to set Syracuse on fire, rather than deliver it into your hands. Do but see from hence, added she, all ye would destroy; if it be that magnificent City, it hath given you birth; if it be the inhabitants of it, you are haply obliged, as I told you, for one part of your Victories, to the vows they have made for you; if it be your Rival, he is unfortunate and wounded; is not that enough to satisfie you? If it be the Prince my Brother, he is your sovereign, and you owe him your fortune; if it be Demarata, she does not hate you, but because she loves you; and if it be Lindamira, she hath deserved you should sacrifice all things for her sake, since she hath lov'd you beyond her own glory, which advi∣sed her not to love any thing.

While the Princess of Himera spoke thus, The∣mistus hearkened very attentively, and looked on her, without having the least power to interrupt her, such an agitation were his thoughts in; so that the Princess perceiving him to be in some disturbance, I beseech you Themistus, said she, reaching forth her hand to him, stand out no longer, I know your heart is on my side, that it acknowledges its antient Mistriss, and that it is no rebell as you are. Submit Themistus, sub∣mit, and refuse not the glory, it is to subdue your self. A man is sufficiently revenged, when he gives his enemies peace, when they are not in a condition to maintain a War against him, and it would be less satisfaction to you, to see Syracuse destroyed, than to obey the lawful Prince of it. Ah, Madam, (said he, kissing her hand very submissively, which she immediately snatch∣ed from him) there need not so many arguments to convince me, since that if I should hearken to Reason, I should not mind them. But, Ma∣dam, you have an absolute power over me, and you know it so well, that if I durst say it without derogating from the respect I owe you, you make use of it with unjustice. For is it just, Ma∣dam, I should quit an Army where I have found refuge? No, saies Lindamira, but you may com∣mand it, till you have reduced the Prince of He∣raclea, and by a fresh victory blot out the Cha∣racters of your revolt and his, out of the spirit of your Master, For I tell you once more, that if you do not as I would have you, I will never see you while I live again. Resolve therefore im∣mediately, consider that I am to leave you, and that the first words I shall hear from you, will either separate us for ever, or unite us for ever. Well, Madam, said he to her, transported by his love, what must be done to satisfie you? must I cast my self into a prison at Syracuse, and deliver my self to the revengeful Demarata? I will do it if you would have me, for, added he, lifting up his eies to Heaven, can a man re∣sist the person he loves, and that when she is the most accomplish'd in the world, and he the most amorous of men? No, replyed Lindamira, you shall not do any thing of what you say, and you shall only trust your self to me, and resign your interests to my management of them. I will do so since you command it, replied he, but I shall be mistaken, if you do not one day re∣pent it.

Upon this did Lindamira entertain Themistus, with what ever gratitude or tenderness of af∣fection could imagine, that were most obliging; but for fear he should repent him of it, she left him, with an absolute command to remove the Army three or four miles at the present, to give the people a certain omen of peace, and an as∣surance, that the next day she would send him such Articles in order thereto, as he could not but accept. Themistus answered her with a thou∣sand things, the most passionate that could be, yet with such a sadness as sufficiently discovered he did himself an extream violence in obeying her; but at last he continued firm in the resolution, which love had made him take, so much to the pre∣judice of his ambition; and when Lindamira took her leave, he gave her his hand, he salu∣ted her, without being able to say any thing, but with his eies; as her Chariot began to stir, he got on horseback, and looked after her as long as he could perceive her, and at last re∣turned to the Army, but so sad, that it was easie to judge that the Princesses tears had over∣come him. He accordingly dislodged the Ar∣my immediately, and took up his quarters four miles thence. In the mean time the Princess Lindamira, doing her self some violence, disco∣vered more joy than she had; for though she was extreamly well satisfied with the absolute power she had over Themistus, yet could she not but stand in fear of a thousand things where∣at she was afflicted. But at last, desirous to gain credit among the people, she put on a cheer∣ful countenance, and told them as she came in, that she promised them peace, and that Themistus would immediately remove his Army. So that this report being scattered up and down the City, you could hear nothing but the name of Lindamira, and it was with much ado that her Chariot could pass through the streets, by reason of the throng.

This considered, it was not to be supposed, that she should be carried to the Tower from whence she was brought. for the people were resolved on the contrary; so that she was con∣ducted to her own house, whether Perianthus came to her. For Demarata, she was also desi∣rous to go thither. But I having cunningly scat∣tered

liverse things against her among the people, they openly threatned to cast her into the Sea, If she withstood the peace, insomuch that she was forced to remain in the Palace, and to go and comfort her self the best she could with the Prince of Messena, who was in no less trouble than her self. Perianthus was no sooner come to Lindamira's, but I gave notice to all the well∣affected of any quality, to come thither also; and among others, Anaxander and Meriander came.

I shall not, Madam, give you a particular ac∣count of what Lindamira said to Perianthus, for it were impossible for me to do, it being cer∣tain that never any one spoke with so much Art as she did. She very discreetly excused The∣mistus; she said she had perswaded him without any trouble, and very prudently making the Ar∣ticles her self, without seeming to do any thing, she brought the business to such a posture, that it might be said Perianthus was very much obli∣ged to her, for that she would condescend to be the Victim, to appease that exasperated ambi∣tious person. Not to abuse your patience any longer, Madam, Meriander being chosen to ne∣gotiate the Peace, the Articles were made and communicated to the Prince of Messena. He at first opposed them what he could, as did also Demarata; but the people coming to hear it, threatned to put them into a vessel without Oars, Pilot, or Mariners, and to expose them to the mercy of the Sea and winds; so that they were forced to submit to what they could not hinder.

Meriander was hereupon sent to Themistus, to whom Lindamira writ a Letter, to tell him that he must condescend to what was offered. Yet were there divers things proposed to him which he was very much troubled at, insomuch that Meriander spent three daies in journeys between Syracuse and the Camp, and had he not carri'd himself very discreetly and sincerely, this pre∣tended peace had not been concluded. For De∣marata did all she could to oppose it; the Prince of Messena was dissatisfi'd with it, and Themi∣stus would have been glad Lindamira had not pres∣sed him to it. But at last, it was concluded, that all should be forgotten on both sides; that The∣mistus should command the Army, till the War of Heraclea were expired; that the Princess Lin∣damira should remain, if she so pleas'd, at a strong house of her own with a sufficient guard, and that there she might marry to whom she pleased within the space of one year; That in case the War with the Prince of Heraclea were soon end∣ed, as it was likely it would be; Themistus should for the space of one year, not only keep out of Syracuse, but out of Sicily, so the better to work a faithful confidence between the Prince and him. That no Officer of the Army should lose his place if he committed not some new fault that deserved it. That the Prince of Messena should be en∣treated to return to Messena, assoon as he were recovered; That Themistus should not, during his absence, be deprived of any of the employments and estate he had received from the Prince. Be∣sides all which, Perianthus engaged to consent to Lindamira's marriage with him, in case that Princess should be willing after the year were ex∣pir'd. This last Article was it that Themistus boggl'd at most, as being unwilling his happiness should remain in such uncertainty. In the mean time Demarata endeavoured what she could to perswade Perianthus it should be so; besides that, Lindamira conceiving it would be the better for Themistus, that Demarata should not see him of a long time, purposely to cure her of her passion, commanded Themistus not to oppose it So that after a many negotiations, the Treaty was con∣cluded and executed; the Princess of Himera went to Himera, whether Themistus sent certain Soldiers for her guard. The Prince of Messena, sick as he was, caused himself to be caried out of Syracuse, threatning, that he should haply return thither one day, to demand the recom∣pence of his services; and Themistus remained at the head of the Army against the Enemy, who having rallied together some few Troops, was defeated by him; whereupon he was forced to embrace a peace, though much against his will. But the Prince of Heraclea propos'd it with such advantage, that it could not be refus'd. This done, Themistus would needs oblige Lin∣damira to change her resolution, but ineffectu∣ally, for she would have him perform what he had promised, that he might not give ill exam∣ple to the Prince, by being the first breaker of his word. So that he was forced to leave Hi∣mera, to depart Sicily, and to come and live here till the year be expired. For Demarata, I cannot well tell you what she said, during all these transactions, for Amerintha being not with her, she would not certainly confide in any other, and all I know of her is, that when we left Si∣cily, it was told us for certain, that her beauty was extreamly decayed, that she was grown so froward, that she could endure no company, and that Perianthus's love towards her began already to remit. In the mean time Themistus, through the excess of his love, is as unquiet, and as sad when he is alone, as if he had not reason to think himself happy, though I am perswaded Lin∣damira will be faithful to him, and that he will one day meet with the recompence he deserves, This, Madam, is the History of Themistus, who hath chosen Rome rather than any other place for his refuge, for that if Demarata persecute him too violently, after he hath married Lindamira, if he be so happy as to have her, Rome is the only place of all the world, which he would fa∣sten on for a long retirement.

Meleagenes having finished his relation, the principal accidents of this History, were their entertainment for the rest of the day. Well then, saies Amilcar, speaking to Herminius, will you still commend obstinacy to the prejudice of in∣constancy? for if Demarata had been one of those fantastick Women, that jump out of one act of Gallantry into another, without fastning upon any Gallant, all those people had not been put to so much trouble, If Perianthus had not lo∣ved his Wife so long, and that his love, accord∣ing to the custom, had died eight daies after his marriage, he had been capable of more diver∣sion; if Themistus and Lindamira had loved less, they had been more happy. You are very much too blame, to charge Constancy with so many mis∣chiefs, replied Herminius, they are chargeable on∣ly upon Fortune, who is ever an enemy to Virtue.

But you consider not, that you commend incon∣stancy, before the amiable Plotina. Assure your self, replies that excellent Lady, I should be ve∣ry much troubled if Amilcar were not uncon∣stant; for in the first place, if he had not been such, I should not have been his Mistriss: And, Secondly, if he were not so still, we should be weary one of another, in one daies conversation. Seriously replied Amilcar, I love you infinitely beyond what I did before, for speaking as you do, and the first time I shall commend you to any one, when I have told that-any-one, that she is handsome, excellent good company, hugely witty, divertive, and gallant, and that she hath a thousand other admirable qualities, I shall se∣riously add, and what I am infinitely more ta∣ken with, she is almost as unconstant as my self, The whole company having laughed at the plea∣sant humour of Amilcar, they separated. Clelia went home, Plotina went to Caesonia's, whither she was conducted by Amilcar; Meleagenes went to find out Themistus, and Herminius to find out Bru∣tus, whose thoughts were still wholly taken up with the revenge of Lucretia, and the liberty of Rome.

The end of the second Book of the third Part.

CLELIA. A Romane History. The Third Part. BOOK III.

HErminius being come to Bru∣tus, do you not admire says he, at the strange humor∣someness of Fortune? Tar∣quin, that had been King of Rome for so many years, meets not with any Romans that will be of his party; and yet, though he is unfortunate, wicked, an exile, with∣out wealth, he elsewhere meets with refuge and assistance, and hath got together an Army much more numerous than ours; this considered, what would you have me expect for the future? All great enterprises, replyed Herminius, are ever difficult, and if they were not they were less glorious. It is indeed something strange, replyes Brutus, to see wicked designs sometimes so easily prosper, and good ones to meet with so many hindrances. How∣ever it be, replyes Herminius, it is better be unfor∣tunate with good intentions, than happy with ill ones. Besides, methinks I have often observed it, happiness is divided, as I may so say, between the enterprise and him that undertakes it, when it is just and heroick; for though the Heroe be unfor∣tunate, as to his person, yet his enterprise may ne∣vertheless be happy. On the contrary, it is often seen, that though such as are unjust, are fortunate, yet all the pains they have taken, is lost as soon as they cease to be; so that I conclude, that though you should ever be unfortunate, your de∣sign would be carried on after your death, if Rome s••ould be so unhappy as to lose you. It were too ••••st, and too great to hope for any other success ••f it; we must hope, that notwithstanding the ••••••ces of Tarquin, we shall overcome him, since ••hat upon such an occasion as this, we must ac∣count one Roman as good as two Veientines, or ••wo Tarquinians. For there is a remarkable diffe∣rence between those that fight for the preservati∣on of their liberty, and the defence of their City, ••ives, and Children; and those who only assist a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that is hated even by those who have the greatest esteem for whatever in him that is good; and therefore I am incouraged into a confidence, that Rome will never be reduced to slavery again. Did I not hope it, replyes Brutus, all I should have to do were to dye, but since to overcome, there is a necessity of fighting, and that to fight with good success, a man must be assured of the Army he commands, we must within three days have a Rendezvous in the field of Mars; Valerius and I, are already agreed upon it, and I tell you so much, to the end you may prepare your self for it But I beseech you, my dear Herminius, added he, give me leave to beg this favor at your hands, that you will promise me to fight as violently to revenge Lucretia, as for the liberty of Rome, when we shall come to the work; for I am not confident of my own valor, when I am to revenge that unfortunate fair one, whose virtue was yet beyond her beauty, though this were infinitely beyond that of all others. I shall be glad to do what you would have me, replyed Herminius, since I had as much friend∣ship for Lucretia, as you had love for her. As they were thus discoursing, comes in Valerius, who told them that news was brought him, that the enemy would soon be upon their march; so that making what hast they could, the Muster was ordered to be the next day. Orders were issued out, that all the Centurions should have notice thereof, and that both Officers and Souldiers should be ready. And in effect the love of the Country uniting all both friends and enemies, you might see Herminius, Mutius and Spurius, act with equal zeal, as being embarked in the same interest; as also Horatius and Octavius, equally promoting the publick good. I put Octavius in a manner into the same rank with the rest, for though he was no more to be conside∣red as Rival to Horatius, yet had he still an aversi∣on for him, and not reflecting on his virtue, he could not avoid hating him, whenever he thought it was not impossible but he might Marry Clelia, for Aronces, he being one for whom he sometime had a very great friendship, and besides, was ob∣liged

to, he felt that friendship growing stronger within him. To which may be added, that look∣ing on him as at a great distance from happiness, he could not entertain any envy against him. Nay, on the contrary, he became his Protector, as to Clelius, Sulpicia and Clelia. Yet had he as little dis∣course as he could with his admirable Sister, who also for her part avoided all conversation as much as civility permitted, by reason of the melan∣cholly she was in, that she could not hear from her dearest Aronces, who at that time was kept so close a Prisoner, that he had not the liberty to write. Celeres was also equally ill-treated, and the Prince of Pomstia, and Prince Titus, were no longer in a capacity to do him any good office, which troubled them very much. For they were themselves at a loss, as to all opportunity of writ∣ing to Hermilia and Collatina, whom they both loved, and were beloved by. For Aronces, he en∣dured all that an unfortunate Lover could endure. He was a Prisoner to a Prince that was his Rival; he thought he had two Rivals about his Mistress, for he knew not that the pretended Prince of Nu∣midia was her Brother; he thought in all probabi∣lity, that Porsenna would engage in the interests of Tarquin; Celeres was a Prisoner; he could not see the Princes that were wont to comfort him, and he could hear no tidings from Clelia, so that he had only the assistance of his own courage to op∣pose so many misfortunes. What added to his affliction, was, to understand by those that guard∣ed him, that Tarquin had a considerable Army, and that within a few days, in all likelihood, the fate of Rome would be decided by a Battel, be∣fore Porsenna had the time to declare. For had he been at liberty, he would with incredible joy have fought for his friends, for a just cause, for his Mistress, and for to smother the valor of his Rivals, by the greatness of his own. But seeing no hope of liberty, he was extreamly cast down, though he seemed resolute enough to those whom Tarquin had set to look after him.

But for this Tyrant, and the cruel Tullia, they were extreamly well satisfied to see they had an Army, for as it is ordinary with those, who at∣tribute nothing to the conduct of a superiour pow∣er, to be easily persuaded that injustice may be ever prosperous, they made no question but to see Rome once more under their Tyranny; and when they were alone together, they debated the punish∣ments should be inflicted on Brutus, Valerius, Cle∣lia, Lucretia's father, Herminius, Horatius, Mutius, and divers others who expressed a particular zeal for her liberty. For Amilcar, for his great wit sake, they were content only to forbid him any abode in Rome, as they would also serve Artemidorus and Zenocrates. Thence they fell to dispose of the Estates of all the best Families, they promised rewards to those that served them, at their charge, who were not engaged in their interests. They proposed not only to purge the Senate, but to abolish it; and there is not any thing so tyrannical, which the desire of revenge suggested not unto them. But as for Clelia, they said nothing one to another of her, their designs being so different as to what concerned her, that they could not be communi∣cated; for Tullia's intention was to have her put to death, so to disburthen Tarquin's heart of her, and Tarquin's to make her Queen, if he could dispatch Tullia out of the way. In the mean time, having nothing to expect from Rome, and imagin∣ing they should never reduce it but by force, they sent for Sextus, on whom Tarquin bestowed the chief command of his Army next himself.

But while this Prince made it his only business to re-establish his Tyranny, Brutus, Valerius, and all their illustrious friends, minded nothing so much as how to oppose it. To this end, the Legi∣ons were reviewed with all the accustomed Cere∣monies. The Consuls made a kind of particular sa∣crifice in the field of Mars, in order to the War, wherein were offered three several Victims con∣secrated to Mars, for it happened that the season which is by the Romans called Lustrum, was expi∣red, and for that reason, it was requisite accord∣ing to their custom, to purify the Army by that sacrifice, purposely instituted to make a review of the Soldiery from five years to five years, and to inspire them with new courage. But this being not for a simple review, only to know the num∣ber of the Soldiery, but looked on as concerning liberty and publick safety, it inspired the whole people of Rome with an universal curiosity, all the Ladies were present at the ceremony, which was performed in the best order in the world. Never were the Chiefs seen more magnificent, nor the Souldiers better armed. Even Brutus himself, notwithstanding his melancholly, conceiving it ne∣cessary to gain the respect and vows of the people by magnificent objects put on Coat-armor, such as for lustre the world could not afford the like. Yet were there some marks of mourning in his equi∣page; for his horse was black, his Feather black, and he had divers black twists amidst the gold, wherewith his magnificent Coat shined. All the other Chiefs were also very richly armed, and all the Soldiers had taken so much pains to make their Arms bright and clean, that the least agita∣tion of these several bodies, making all objects shine again, the lustre was so great as could hard∣ly be endured. And as there was not any Roman-Souldier, who made it not his design to gain re∣putation in this War, and to be remarkable, so had they all particular Badges, some distinguished by their several Feathers, some by the skins of stout beasts which they fastned on their Shoulders, as those of Lyons, Wolves, Tygers, and Panthers some by what they had about their heads, as bur∣nished Leather, glittering steel, some by their large Bucklers, wherof the edges were very dif∣ferent. Those that had any particular inclination to some beauty, and withall somthing to express the posture of their thoughts and fortune. But besides the ordinary ensigns, Brutus had caused to be fastned under every one of them a streamer, wherein, in some of them were found these words in the vulgar language.

CONQUER OR DYE.

And in some others,

For GLORY and LIBERTY.

So to acquaint the Souldiers both with the occa∣sion of the War and their duty.

But besides all the several Troops whereof these Legions consisted which made up the Army, there

was a Body of those that came from Ardaea, to which the Voluntiers were that day joined, such as Themistus, Meleagenes, Amilcar, and divers others. For Octavius, though he had not passed through the several offices he should have done, ac∣cording to the Roman Discipline, as having not been brought up at Rome, yet was he ranked among persons of quality of his age, such as Horatius, Mutius, Spurius, Herminius, and divers others of the same condition, who were in the Catalogue of those that might be chosen for Commanders. This review was performed with so many expres∣sions of joy in the Souldiery, that the people drew a happy presage thence, and the Army seemed so terrible when it was drawn up, that it was not easie to fear it should be vanquished. In the mean time, the two Consuls going from Band to Band, with the Lictors, and the Fasces before them, put a certain respect upon all those that saw them; and this War being extraordinary, they did one cere∣mony that was beyond all custom, for they made all the Army take a publick oath never to lay down Arms till Rome were absolutely free. So that at a certain signal given by a military harmony, which was in use in those days, all both Commanders and Souldiers drawing their Swords, and lifting them up to Heaven with a menacing action, every Centurion promised for all that were under his com∣mand, that they should dye a thousand times ra∣ther than suffer Rome to be enslaved again.

Having proceeded thus far, the two Consuls went to the head of the Army, while in the inte∣••im all the Ladies of quality, were in magnificent Chariots, disposed in a manner of a half moon before the Troops, in one whereof were Clelia, Valeria, Caesonia, and Plotina. While all were thus busied, there appeared these three men on horse∣back admirably graceful, conducted by a fourth, who was also a very proper person. The former was armed like a Roman, the other three after the Grecian mode. Their Horses were of a dark co∣lour, their Plumes black, and all their equipage mourning. There was upon their Bucklers without any figure these sad words,

WE COURT DEATH.

But of these three, there was one whose me∣lancholly was much more visible, than that of the other two, though they all seemed to be sad enough. He that followed them, seemed also to be very pensive; so that this mournful company drawing all eyes after it, and raising their curiosity, it took up the thoughts of the people, the Army, the La∣dies, and the two Consuls. Nay, Clelia whose heart was never filled with any thing but her dear Aron∣ces, looked very attentively on these Strangers, not knowing but that he had made an escape out of prison, and might be among those she saw, though she could not apprehend why he should put himself into that mournful equipage, if some groundless jealousie should not put him into the humor. Valeria also who sate next her, looked on them no less; but passing close by the Chariot wherein she was to go towards the Consuls who expected them, she perceived that the Roman who conducted the three strangers, was Aemilius, so that her colour changed at it. Herminius on the other side, being in the head of the Army, knew him to be his friend, and withall his Rival, when he was come up to the Consuls. Spurius and Mu∣tius knew him also, and Valerius no sooner saw him, but he knew it to be him, to whom he had promised Valeria, when he thought Hermini∣us dead.

Aemilius coming up to the Consuls, bowed very submissively, and speaking to them, My Lords, said he, the love of my Country having brought me to Rome, whence another passion had banish∣ed me, I thought it good service to persuade these three illustrious, but unfortunate persons to come along with me; for since they desire nothing so much as to dye gloriously, I thought the great∣est happiness they could arrive at, was to expose their lives for the safety of Rome. Receive them my Lords, as persons whose birth is very noble, whose valor extraordinary, and whose fortune de∣plorable. But since they seek neither protection nor service, but only a glorious occasion to dye, I demand on their behalf, the favor immediately to be put into the rank of those that are to fight. If your illustrious friends (replyed Brutus, with a kind of a forced smile) only sought death, they should have gone to the Enemies Army for it, but since they also court glory in it, and that it is not impossible to find them together in a victorious Army, we receive them with joy, but with this hope, that the glory they shall gain by saving Rome, will take off part of their disgraces, and encourage them to live. However, added he, speaking to Valerius, that they may be put into a rank suitable to their quality, do you not think fit they should be put with Themistus, Meleagenes, and Amilcar? Valerius approving what Brutus said, and the three Strangers by an action of condescention approving what Aemilius had said of them, they were conducted whither Brutus had disposed them. For Aemilius, though he were a Roman, yet he desired he might not be separated from his friends, so that he was placed with them, but as he went to his place he saw Valeria, whom he saluted ve∣ry submissively. Herminius, who still followed him with his eyes, had observed that Valerius and Aemi∣lius had had no private discourse, but thought that Valeria had saluted his Rival with a little too much courtesie, so that it put him into a disturbance, which lasted till the Muster was over.

On the other side Valerius felt an affliction grow∣ing upon him that troubled him not a little, for he loved Aemilius as well as he did Herminius, and had promised his daughter to both. However, he omit∣ed nothing he should have done with Brutus, that related to the review of the Army. Mutius for his part was not well pleased to see another Rival in his way, and only Spurius out of his revengful humor, took a certain pleasure in this distraction. For Vale∣ria, she gave over looking at any thing, so much was she afflicted at Aemilius's return. But says Clelia to her, seeing what trouble she was in, I can∣not conceive how you ever hated Aemilius. On the contrary, replyed she, I have ever had a friend∣ship for him, and have still, and thence proceeds my disturbance, for it being impossible Herminius and he should be good friends, if his thoughts be not otherwise than they were towards me, I see my self exposed to unhappy adventures.

While Clelia and Valeria discoursed thus, and that Caesonia and Plotina hearken to them, all the

other Ladies had a curiosity for these three strang∣ers in mourning, who were so handsome, and withall seemed to be so melancholly. Nor was this curiosity particular to the Ladies, for all the men were equally desirous to know them, and amongst the rest Amilcar, who was placed just be∣fore one of these strangers. But military discipline not permitting discourse upon such occasions, he was forced to be silent, and to forbear asking who they were, that he was so desirous to be acquaint∣ed withall. At the last, the review being over, and that great body wasted away by companies and parties, Amilcar, to whom Aemilius had been named, came up to these strangers, spoke to them, and notwithstanding their melancholly, forced some little discourse out of them. I imagine (said he, to get somewhat out of them) that you are friends, and that some concernment of ambition hath made you equally unfortunate. On the contrary, replies one of the Strangers, we are Rivals, we have been a long time enemies, and nothing unites us but the equality of our misfortune, and the desire of death. If love, said he to them, furnished a man with no more pleasant desires then that, I should never either desire or obtain any thing. It is not love re∣plyes another of the Strangers, that makes us de∣sire death, but despair. You may add some hatred to it, says the third, who had not yet spoken, for I abhor my self so much, because I cannot hate that which hath not loved me, that I cannot en∣dure my self. For my part, says Amilcar I am much more happy then you are, for when one loves me, I am extreamly pleased, and when I am not loved I give over loving, and laugh at the Woman that would not love me.

These Strangers perceiving the good humor Amilcar was in, were troubled the more, and en∣vyed his disposition, as a wretched minded man would the treasures of a rich man. But Aemilius taking them to his house, they left Amilcar, who went to Themistus, with whom he spent the rest of the day at Sulpicia's, where they found Clelia, Valerius, Caesonia, and Plotina. In the mean time, Valeria, preferring the publick interest before the private, what disturbance soever he conceived at Aemilius's return, left not Brutus, till he had done all those things which according to his place he ought to have done. Besides, knowing the pru∣dence of Herminius, that of Aemilius, and their ancient Friendship, he was in hope there would not any thing amiss happen till he had spoken to them. On the other side, Aemilius was in a strange distraction, for having not spoken with any one since his coming to Rome, because of the Review of the Army, nor since his departure heard any news thence, he knew not whether Herminius were Married to Valeria or not. So that not able to con∣tinue in that cruel uncertainty, he went abroad as soon as he had brought his three Friends to his House. For having found there but one old slave, that looked to it, whom he could not ask any thing, for that as soon as he had perceived him, and opened him the Gate, he went, without say∣ing ought to him to acquaint his friends with his return, he was forced to go to one of his ancient friends to satisfie his curiosity. But he had scarce gone twenty paces, but he met Herminius, he had no sooner eyed him, but he felt an extraordinary emotion within him; Herminius for his part was not very quiet within; love it seems and friend∣ship raising in their hearts an equal agitation. They saluted one the other civilly enough, besides, that having not any thing to reproach one another with∣all, they were persons of a greater command of them∣selves, than to be carried away by the impetuosi∣ty of their sentiments, in a procedure wherein love had not caused them to do any thing that might rationally injure their friendship. But at last after salutations, Aemilius looking attentively on Herminius, I was going said he to him, to inform my self of the condition of your fortune and my own, but since I have met you, it were better I asked your self, whether you are happy, and I miserable. If you are still in love with Valeria, re∣plyes Herminius, you are still unhappy, for I do not doubt but she will be so constant as to preserve her first affection. But if absence and reason have recovered you, you are happy, since it is certain she hath abundance of friendship for you, and that I am still your friend. Ah Herminius, cries out Aemilius, were you Married to Valeria, I might haply still act as your friend, but since you are not, I must needs tell you, that I am still your Ri∣val, and that neither time, absence, nor reason have cured me. And yet when I came to Rome, it was with intention if you were married to Va∣leria, not to say any thing to her of my passion, nor yet to your self, but only to find out death in the defence of my Countrey; but since it is not so, and that Valerius hath kept his word with me, you must needs do me that favor to promise me that you will entertain no thoughts of Marry∣ing Valeria, till the end of the War. I know you have a greater interest in her, than I have, but when all's done, I may be able to love her with∣out any injury to you; it is impossible I should for∣bear loving her, and I cannot forget that I had some place in her affections when you returned, which if you had not, I had been happy. The War will haply take me out of your way, added Aemilius, deny me not what I desire; and if you would con∣vince me that you be my friend, you will oblige Valeria to give me leave to wait on her. To deal sincerely with you, replyes Herminius, I will tell you, that Valerius hath no intention to marry his Daughter while the War lasts; and since I am no Tyrant over my Mistriss, she shall see you if she thinks fit. But if you would take my advice, you would not desire it; for Valeria is still handsome, still amiable, still constant. How ere she may be, re∣plyes Aemilius, I once more desire what I did be∣fore. And I make you the same answer I did be∣fore, replyes Herminius; so that it is of Valeria that you are to desire the liberty to see her, and not of me. Satisfie your self that I do not oppose it, and assure your self that all a Lover can do, I shall ever do for you, as long as Valeria shall not love you, but if she come to affect you to my prejudice, no doubt but I shall do what ever an unfortunate Rival can do to Revenge himself. It seems then re∣plyed Aemilius, according to your Maxims, I am to look on you as mine enemy? By no means re∣plyed Herminius, for I have done nothing against you. Ah cruel friend, replyes Aemilius, why should honor and friendship oblige me to forbear hating you?

As they were at this pass, Valerius passing by, em∣braced Aemilius, and carried these two Rivals to

his house, and there spoke to them with such pru∣dence, that he obliged them to continue friends, while the War lasted. And yet he advised Aemili∣us to give over all thoughts of Valeria, and pressed it so much upon him, that that unfortunate Lover desired no other comfort than a promise from Vale∣rius, that he might see Valeria whilst the War last∣ed, assuring him, that if he could not be happy when that were ended, nothing should hinder him from dying an exile. But for a final favor, he would needs have Herminius tell him, that in case he dy∣ed, he would give his consent that Valeria should marry him. So that not able to deny an unfortu∣nate friend a comfort that could do him no pre∣judice, he promised him his intreaties to Valeria to that purpose. Accordingly when she was return∣ed from Sulpicia's, and that Valerius had com∣manded her to entertain Aemilius, as a person she had made unfortunate, and whom to recover, she should imploy all her reason, Herminius gave her an account of what had past between Valerius Aemi∣lius and himself. She being a discreet Lady, made not at that time any discovery of the agitation of her heart, but certain it is, that through an ex∣cess of affection, she took it ill that Herminius had consented, in case he dyed, his Rival should marry her. For Aemilius, she received him very civilly, yet in such a manner as gave not that unfortunate Lover any shadow of hope, so that he went away first; insomuch that some coming in that took up Valerius and Sulpicia, Herminius had a quarter of an hours private discourse with Valeria. Well, Ma∣dam said he to her, ought I not to fear that Ae∣milius's return may not prove as unfortunate to me, as mine was to him, and that though I neither dye nor prove unconstant, I may be forgotten or pu∣nished as if I were one of them. It were no easie matter to forget you, replyed she, for you have but just now put me into such an indignation, that I know not whether I shall ever forget the spight you have done me. I beseech you, Madam, replyed he, let me immediately know my crime, that I may repent me of it, and do you satisfaction; for I assure you, I apprehend it not. How replyed she, do you think you have done me no injury by con∣senting, that if you dyed in the War, Aemilius should marry me? Ah, Herminius, you think you love, but do not, or at best, tis very weakly, since you might conceive it impossible I should ever be any others. And truly I need not wonder at it, for since you do not believe that I love you, so far as that I should never marry, even though you dyed, it is not strange your love to me should be so weak. But Madam, replyed Herminius, methinks I have only guessed at the future by what is past, for since you were content to marry Aemilius, when you thought me dead, why should I think it impossible you might, a second time, take the same resolution? Ah, Herminius, replyed she, had I not thought you unconstant, I had never taken it, and you know well that you told me then, that if I had had a strong affection for you, I could never have endured Aemilius. But I tell you now with much more reason, that if you loved me, you could not have said that to your Rival which you have.

For in fine, I must confess it to my own con∣fusion, I have that tenderness for you which will not suffer me to think you could ever be any ones but mine; and could I look on any woman in the world, as such as you might love, though I were not in being, I think I should not be able to for∣bear hating her almost as much as I should do you. There is so much obligation in your anger, replyed Herminius, and it makes you guilty of so much kindness, that I have much ado to repent me that I have been the occasion of it. But all considered Madam, I must needs justifie my self, and give you an account of my sentiments. In the first place, I declare, that I have not promised Aemilius that you should marry him; nay, that I have not so much as imagined you could marry him; all the promise I made him was, to intreat you to do it. And indeed Madam, were it possible you could marry any one, I would rather it should be Aemilius than any other, for he deserves you, he loves you, and would speak to you of me as a person for whom he hath a friendship, notwithstanding his love. It must certainly be Herminius cryes out Valeria, that you know not well how to love; you are haply acquainted with an ordinary friendship, or haply an affectionate friendship; but for love, you know not the humors of it. Howe're it may be, added she, you have vexed me, and I perceive I shall not be reconciled with you this day. Valeria was not as good as her word, for Herminius entertain∣ed her with things so full of passion, that she par∣doned him.

In the mean time, all the talk in Rome was about Aemilius's return, and the arrival of the three stran∣gers, whereof one was called Lysydas, another Ca∣liantes, and the third Alcimides. But for their ad∣ventures, there was no more known at that time, than that Love put them upon desires of death, for the business of the War took up all mens thoughts so much, that people were not very for∣ward to look after such as avoided society. For Mutius and Spurius, they were always together; yet did not this latter look on Aemilius as an ene∣my, for that considering him as a Rival to Hermi∣nius, and one that might do him a prejudice, he thought him a person ingaged in his interests.

In this interim came news, that Artemidorus and Zenocrates had been kindly received by the Princess of Leontum, that she had not discovered them to be what they were, for some reasons that con∣cerned her self; and that they had prevailed so far with her, that Porsenna would not declare till there had happened a battel between the Roman Army and that of Tarquin. Brutus understood at the same time, that the Prince was advantageously posted near the Forrest of Arssa between Veiae and the Tiber; so that desirous to prevent him, and to fight him beyond the River, it was resolved they should depart within two days. Then was it, that there might have been seen in Rome, what had not even from its foundation. For the Wars that are undertaken for liberty, are carried on with much more zeal, than those whose end is conquest or de∣fence. There you might see Fathers encouraging their Children, when they took their leaves of them: Mothers praying for their Sons, Sisters for their Brothers, slaves for their Masters; nor did Mistresses escape those sad sentiments which love inspired them with. But among others, Hermilia was so afflicted, that it was impossible any one could be more; for knowing the courage of Brutus, and the Prince of Pometia, and reflecting on their

quality, she could not forbear imagining that she saw them with their swords drawn one against another, and fearing thereupon all the fatal effects that are the necessary consequences of battails; for she had a tender affection both for her Brother and her Servant. Collatina was also very sad, for the concernment she had in Prince Titus. Caesonia was no less for Persander, Valeria for her Father and Herminius; the virtuous Sivelia, for her illustrious Son; Ra••ilia for Brutus, Plotina for Amilcar, and all the persons of quality of his acquaintance; and Clelia for her illustrious Brother Herminius, Brutus, and so many honorable persons that went to expose their lives for the publick safety. All the comfort she had, was, to consider that her dear Aronces would not be in the fight, and that her Father was to remain in Rome with Lucretius, to take order for all things during the absence of the Con∣suls. For they had a great influence over the new elected Senate, since Tarquin's departure from Rome.

But at last, the day of their departure being come, there was nothing to be seen from the break of day till noon, but the preparations of War, and the baggage of particular persons that left Rome. But when Brutus and Valerius went out, there could nothing be heard through all the streets, but the Prayers of the people, that they might gain the Victory. They were both excellently well mounted, their Arms were very magnificent, and they were followed by all of the highest quality. Those were Octavius, Herminius, Aemilius, Spurius, Persander, Mutius, Amilcar, the three strangers in Mourning, and a many others. For Horatius he went away last, because he would needs take his leave of Clelia, who had avoided him as much as lay in her power; but at last she was forced to af∣ford him one minutes private discourse; for he had been so cautious as to bring one of his friends with him, who entertained Sulpicia, while he spoke to Clelia. I am not so presumptuous, Madam, said he to her, as to imagine you should make it your desire that I might not perish in the War, but knowing you to be too good a Roman not to put up your addresses to heaven for the Victory, all the favor I beg is, that it may be without exception; for if I am comprehended among that multitude, for whom you make vows, I shall hope the ho∣nour to see you again, and haply the glory of ha∣ving merited, by some action of mine your esteem. Since you are a person of much gallantry, reply∣ed she, since I love my Country, and am neither cruel nor unjust, assure your self, that when I shall put up my Prayers for the Victory, you shall be included in them; but at the same time that I shall pray to the gods for the peace of Rome, I shall do the same for its Protectors, and consequently for you. Alas Madam, replyed he, my peace de∣pends so absolutely upon you, that the gods, om∣nipotent as they are, cannot give it me, without you. I beseech you interrupted Clelia force me not to torment you, by desiring of me more than I can do, for sadness is not a disposition for Victory. Be gone then Horatius, be gone, and behave your self so, that at your return your heart may know no other love than that of your Country. Rome does better deserve your affection than I do, since I can never afford you mine. I apprehend you Ma∣dam, I apprehend you, replyes hastily Horatius, you encourage me to Victory, because when she is sought, a man often meets with death; but know unmerciful as you are, that this will be more fa∣vorable to me than you are, and that I shall find incomparably much more satisfaction in dying than in living, without being beloved by the only per∣son whom I can love.

Upon this Horatius left Clelia, and made after the Army which was now upon its march. Bru∣tus and Valerius, who would not have any thing omitted which they ought in prudence to do, had not forgotten to send out military Tribunes with a body of Horse for their guard, to assure them∣selves of the Post which they had resolved to take, and to prepare it for castrametation. The Tribunes, secured by the Horse, marked out the compass of the Camp, by the help of the Pioneers they had brought with them. They took up such a tract of ground, as might conveniently receive all the Legions, taking great heed that the Caval∣ry should not be disposed on that side where it could not easily meet with those things that were necessary for it, and where all the Troops might not remain in order and safety. To take away all expression of Superiority, Brutus, established that custom, which hath in a manner been observed ever since, which is, that when there were two Consuls in one Army, it might be said there were two Camps in one, for either of the Consuls had under his particular command, all the Troops that belonged to him, as if there had been no other Troops, though the general extent of the Camp included all the Legions. According to this order the military Tribunes made two spacious squares, compassed by the same Trench. In the midst of that which lay next the enemy, was Bru∣tus's Tent raised at the distance of a hundred foot from any other Tent. That done, making spa∣cious and long streets proportionable to the num∣ber of the Officers and Souldiers, they so dispo∣sed them, that the avenues looked towards the Consuls tent, that at his first orders all might be immediately, ready to wait on him. They placed the Cavalry on the two sides opposite one to ano∣ther, and the Infantry in like manner, the Cen∣turions at the head of those they commanded, and the Tents of the Tribunes at one of the ranks which looked towards that of the Consul, that they might be ready to receive the several orders that were sent them; for some had the charge of the Magazins of the Army, others of the place where Military justice was executed, and others of the great place where all necessaries for the Souldiers were fold. They also assigned a place for the Baggage, and the Chariots, and put the Camp into such order, that every one knew presently where he was to quarter. To that end they put a particular mark at the first Tent of every street, which giving direction for whom it was assigned, the Souldiers immediately knew where there Tents were in the Camp, as well as they knew where there Houses were in Rome. To be short, they so disposed of all things, that the Camp was equally defensible every where, and could not be surpri∣sed by any external force, nor was subject to any confusion within, so excellent were they in the Art of encamping. There was a particular Post as∣signed for the Stranger-forces; that so there might happen no dissention between those of Ardea, and

those of Rome. The same order being observed in Valerius's Quarters as was in Brutus's, between these two Quarters lay the Magazines of the Ar∣my I mentioned before, the place where all Mili∣tary necssaries were sold, and that where justice was one. The several Troops were also so dis∣posed, that the Cavalry might every way relieve the Infantery, so that whether you consider de∣fence, order, accommodations, or the convenience of the Camp, nothing was omitted. So that when the Army was come up, it went into the Camp as into a City, and it came so seasonably, that Tarquin, who had some intentions to hinder their incamping, was forced to alter his design, and to mind only the fortification of the Post he was in himself. Insomuch, that Brutus, upon his arrival to the Camp, hearing there had been a little skirmish between the Horse he had sent to secure those that drew out the lines of the Trench, and a party of Tarquin's, would needs give a hap∣py presage to his Army by the beginning of a Victo∣ry, and so sent the Cavalry of Ardaea, command∣ed by Persander, to relieve those that were engag∣ed. So that Aemilius, the three lovers in Mourning, and Amilcar, were in this first engagement, which proved wholly advantageous to the Romans. For they pursued the enemy to their Trenches, kil∣led many, and brought no small number Priso∣ners.

But among others, the three Lovers in Mourn∣ing, gave such signal expressions of their courage, that all that saw them, acknowledged they had never seen people behave themselves so gallantly. Insomuch, that when Amilcar was returned to the Camp, and found Brutus examining the Prisoners, to find out what posture the Enemies Army was in, he gave them such extraordinary commendations, that it added much to the curiosity which some had to have an account of their adventures. For my part (says Amilcar to Brutus, speaking of these Strangers, before all that were about him) I can assure you, that these Gentlemen, who have put upon their Bucklers, that they court Death, know better how to bestow it on others, and consequent∣ly overcome, than you can well imagine; and if they always defend their lives so well, it will be long ere they meet with what they so much court. Since it is very hard replyes Brutus, to know well how to give death, without running at the same time the hazard of receiving it, it may not haply be so long ere these excellent unfortunate men may find it, But it being a pitty that such gallant per∣sons should miscarry, be it your charge, who are so great a lover of Life, to win them into a love of it; and who are guilty of so much joy, to comfort them in their misfortunes, if so be they be capable of it.

Brutus could but in a manner figh out these words, by reason of the cruel reflection he made on such misfortunes as were inconsolable, and out of a consideration that the death of Lucretia, was by him to be numbred among those unhappinesses which Time cannot alleviate, nor admit any peri∣od but that of life. But Revenge being the only satisfaction he was capable of, his thoughts were wholly taken up with those things which are to be considered when a man hath a powerful enemy to overcome. To this end he went in person about the Camp, he appointed guards, gave orders to the Tribunes, that they might derive the same to the Centurions; and they to others, and according to custom, he sent every one a dart, to the three Lovers in mourning, who had done so valiantly; and a little before day, he went, forgetting the dig∣nity of Consul, to take a view of the enemies Camp, which he perceived it was very difficult to assault. Yet had he some intentions to set upon them the next day, so to prevent them from farther fortifi∣cation. But there fell such extraordinary rain for two days together, that he was forced to give over all thoughts of it; for besides that, the Soul∣diers would have been over-wearied to fight, he must have made his assault on a side, that lay up∣on a Fenne, which had been very inconvenient. So that it was impossible to do any thing, and the wea∣ther proved so ill, that the two Armies were equal∣ly forced to keep within their Trenches, without any act of hostility of either side. So that those who were not ingaged in the chiefest places of com∣mand had no more to do but to entertain them∣selves in their Tents. Accordingly, while Brutus and Valerius took order for all things, Octavius, Herminius, Horatius, and Persander were gotten in∣to Amilcar's Tent, whither Aemilius coming a lit∣tle after, they all set upon him to relate the adven∣tures of those unfortunate Lovers he had brought with him to Rome, whose valor had raised so much admiration, and whose melancholly so much pitty and curiosity. Aemilius, would at first have excused himself, but they importuned him so far, that he was forced to comply with their desires. Having therefore given order they should not be disturbed, but in case Brutus asked for them, he began his story thus.

The History of ARTELISA, MELICRATES, LISIDAS, CALIANTES, and ALCIMEDES

WEre I to relate the History of my il∣lustrious friends, to persons unac∣quainted with Love, I might haply fear I should not raise compassiom in their hearts; but being to speak to such as have loved, do still love, and will love, haply while they live, I hope my relation will win your pitty for those whose adventures I am to give you an account of: But that you may apprehend them the better, and be satisfied with what I shall tell you, You are to know, that since I made my self a voluntary ex∣ile, I never stirred from Eryx, but resided there ever since. For, it being a place where there is a great resort of strangers, because of the famous Temple of Venus that is there, I thought I might more easily remain obscure there, than in any other place, Nay, I was in hope, that a place consecra∣ted to the Mother of Love, would prove more for∣tunate to me than any other, and that the very sight of so many Lovers that came thither from all parts, would be some comfort to me, in that I thence inferr'd that I was not the only wretch∣ed man in the world. I must confess also, that an humour took me, to see whether the conversation of persons of worth and virtue, might give me any ease, and whether the sight of the most accom∣plished beauties of all Sicily could recover me. But that you may know what remedies I have found ineffectual, to the end you may afford me some of your pitty, as well as my friends; I will describe the place of my banishment, and give you a representation of the principal persons that inhabit it; it being in some sort necessary you were acquainted with the Court, where the Hi∣story, I am to relate to you, was acted.

Eryx is a Mountain of Sicily, which admits none higher than it self, but that of Aetna, and which is as famous for the magnificent Temple of Venus, that is upon the top of it, as the other for the flames it breaths out. This Mountain looks to∣wards the Sea, on the side of Italy; it is scituated between Drepanum and Panormus, but nearer Pa∣normus than Drepanum. Upon the top of this Mountain there is a pleasant Plain, on which is built the famous Temple of Venus, whereof I shall in the sequel of my discourse, give you a par∣ticular account. Towards the midst of this Moun∣tain, there is a great City of the same name where∣of the avenues are certainly very difficult, but the prospect so pleasant, that there is hardly a house in the City, whence you have not an admirable sight of the Countrey, For, stand where you will, you see the Sea, Brooks, Springs, Meadows, Gardens, Towns at a distance, and divers other pleasant ob∣jects: The Prince who at the present, governs that little State, hath had two Sons, whereof the elder died, after he had married an admirable per∣son, whereof I will give you a description, that you may the better judge of this little Court; and the younger is a very noble well made Prince, who is fallen in love at Agrigentum with a very excellent person, named Berelisa. But in regard he staied but a little while at Eryx, while I was there, I shall give you no account of him.

That then which brings so much gallantry to this Court, is, that from Greece, Africk, and Italy, there come continually persons of all qua∣lities and Sexes, bringing offerings to Venus Ery∣cina. Hence is it that the Temple of that God∣dess is richer than all other Temples of Sicily; for according to the popular opinion, Venus re∣ceives more favourably the addresses that are made to her in that place, than even in Cyprus it self, where she first landed after her birth. Accordingly are there to be continually seen, the sacrifices of fortunate and unfortunate Lovers, who come ei∣ther to acknowledge, or implore the assistance of the Goddess. Nay, there you may find some peo∣ple without love, who fearing Venus should be in∣cens'd at their insensibility, and might order her Son to punish them for it, come and offer sacrifice to appease her, intreating her to remember, that Adonis had been insensible, so to win her to par∣don their insensibility. Upon some such account was it, that when I left Eryx, they expected there the Princess of Elida, who is called Elismunda, who they said, was one of the most beautiful, and most amiable persons upon earth, who was co∣ming to the Temple of Venus Erycina, to beg her pardon for having raised love in so many, with∣out taking any her self, and to entreat her, that she might spend her whole life in captivating of hearts, without ever engaging her own.

For Heavens sake; replied Amilcar, interrupt∣ing him, write to Eryx, to know whether the prayers of this unjust Beauty are granted, as also to know what kind of person she is, for I think it a rational curiosity in me, to be a little better ac∣quainted with a Princess, who would all her life time raise love in others, without entertaining any her self.

It will not be longe'r you be satisfied, replied Emilius, since that one of the best-humored men in the world, that I left at Eryx, will be at Rome within fifteen daies, so that he will be able to give you a pleasant Character of her. For my own part, I have heard some say, who are well seen in things of that nature, that this Princess is un∣deniably one of the most accomplished persons that eye can see. But till he I speak of come to give you a draught of her, I am only to tell you, that it is not hard for you to imagine, that this great re∣sort of strangers of both Sexes, who come to Eryx, meerly upon the account of Love, hath insensibly added very much to the Gallantry of the Court. And thence it comes, that the news

which that place affords, relate for the most part to their adventures, who come to Venus's Temple, whereof the magnificence is extraordinary. For besides, that it is built altogether of Marble, and that the Architecture of it is very noble; there are Pictures that represent Venus, in an hundred several postures. There is both above and below these large Pictures, embossed Imagery, wherein are represented all the famous victories of her Son; that is, Jupiter in the form of a Bull, carry∣ing away Europa; Apollo running after Daphne; Hercules spinning with Deiania; Pluto carrying a∣way Proserpina; Neptune in love with Thetis; and divers other illustrious Lovers. What's yet fur∣ther remarkable, is, That this Temple is in the midst of a spacious place, whereof the four sides are built with houses, for the entertainment of those that come thither, such as are furnish'd di∣versly, according to the qualities of the Lodgers. for there are some very magnificent, others but or∣dinary, but none that are not convenient, and where the perfumes do not purifie the air, for a more pleasant respiration. There is further in this Temple, continual Musick; so that it is not the least part of their care who keep it, by pleasant objects, admirable scents, ravishing consorts, to en∣tertain most tender and affectionate dispositions in their hearts, who are come to sacrifice, and to raise them in those that have them not.

But to return to the Prince of Eryx, though he be not young, yet is he not so far gone in years, as that he may be called old, so that being natural∣ly noble, his whole Court derives from his hu∣mour, but to speak truly, the Princess Clarinta, Widow to his eldest Son, is that which makes this little Court the most neat, the most divertive, and the most sprightly of any in the world. Nor in∣deed does the Princess of Eryx want that particu∣lar gift of inspiring wit into those that come near her, that it might be said, a man durst not be stu∣pid where she is. I beseech you, interrupted Amil∣car, be pleased to take the pains to give us a de∣scription of her Beauty, Wit, and Humor. What you desire, replied Aemilius, is doutless a harder task than you imagine, since there is something that is so delicate and so particular in the Beauty and worth of the Princess of Clarinta, that I think I shall not be able to find expressions pro∣per enough to make you apprehend it. For should I tell you in general, that she is of a good stature, well made, handsome, that she hath a good countenance, and is infinitely witty, you might compare her to divers others of her sex, who might challenge much in all those quali∣ties.

To distinguish her therefore from other Beau∣ties, I am to acquaint you with what is particular in this admirable Woman. Know then, that she is of that comely stature, which, being much a∣bove the mean, is not yet excessive; Besides, she hath that freedom of air, an action so natural, and a deportment so noble, that a man must at first sight, conclude her to be of high birth, that she hath spent her whole life among people, that she is of a cheerful disposition, and inclined to dan∣cing. She is fair-hair'd, yet of that fairness, that hath nothing of faintness, but suits well with beau∣ty. For her complexion, it is so admirable, that it is not in the power of thesharpest winters, to derogate from that fair Damask, which makes her so beautiful, and gives such a lustre to her admira∣ble whiteness, that it ever displaies such a fresh∣ness, as is never seen, but, at the uprising of Au∣rora, upon the fairest Roses of the Spring. Clarinta hath moreover this advantage, that the agitations of her mind never appear, to the disadvantage of her complexion. Melancholly never makes her look yellow, anger does but add a little to the da∣mask of her Cheeks, modesty heightens her Beau∣ty, and joy shadows her Face with a certain sere∣nity, which becalms the disturbances even of those that come near her. For her Lips, she hath them of the noblest colour in the world, an excellent compass of Face, eyes Sky-coloured, and full of Spirit, and the cheeks so inviting, that she never smiles, but she discovers something that's inex∣pressible, yet not the most inconsiderable part of what is most taking in her. For her Breast, it is impossible to have one better made, or whiter, and to tell you all in few words, there cannot be seen an handsomer person, nor one that can with so much ease conquer hearts.

For her Wit, I am in doubt whether I shall be able to make you understand it, but am certain, there never was any more pleasant, more clear, more subtil, or more delicate She hath a lively imaginati∣on, and the whole carriage of her person is so gallant. so neat, and so full of charm, that a man cannot without shame see her, and not fall in love with her. And yet she confesses her self to be subject to certain groundless vexations, which cause her to make a truce with joy, only for three or four hours. But these vexations are so inconsiderable, and so transient, that hardly any but her self is sen∣sible of them. Her conversation is familiar, di∣vertive, and natural; she speaks pertinently and well, nay, sometimes she hath some natural and sprightly expressions that are infinitely taking: and though she be not of those immoveable Beau∣ties, that are guilty of no action, yet do not the pretty gestures she uses, proceed from any affecta∣tion, but are only the effects of her vivacity of spirit, liveliness of disposition, her divertive hu∣mour, and her natural inclination to do alwaies that which is handsome. To be short, she dances ad∣mirably well, so that she ravishes the eyes and hearts of all that see her, for she so accurately ob∣serves time and measure, and carries her self with that eveuness, and hath I know not what, that a man connot make intelligible, which gives her that gallantry and pleasantness of air, that all others have not.

Besides all this, Clarinta is very much given to reading, and what is best of all, is, that without pretending to much knowledge, she is excellently well acquainted with all that is noble, as to Sci∣ence. She hath learnt the African language, with a miraculous facility, for there being great com∣merce between Africa and Sicily, the Ladies that are of any worth, are desirous to learn it. Add to all, that this Princess hath a very sweet and ex∣cellent voice; and what is yet more commendable, is, that though she sings in a passionate way, and that it may be justly said that she sings well, yet doth she it like a person of quality; that is without en∣gaging her honour upon it, without intreaty, or af∣fectation, but so gallantly, that it makes her more amiable, especially when she sings certain little

African Songs, which she is more taken with, than those of her own Countrey, because they are more passionate. Clarinta is also a lover of all excellent things, and all innocent pleasures, but she loves glory above her self, and what makes for her ad∣vantage, she hath so great a judgement, that she hath found out the way, without being severe, sa∣vage, or solitary, to preserve the noblest reputa∣tion in the world, and that in a great Court, where all persons of worth have access to her, and where she raises love in all those that are capable of it. 'Tis true, she never raised hope in any one of those that love her, but is so highly deserving, that de∣spair, the most infallible remedy of that passion, does not cure those that sigh for her. In the mean time, Clarinta looks not on them as her Adorers, and that very sprightliness of humour which becomes her so well, and which diverts her self while she diverts others, is further serviceable to her, in that it pleasantly makes a many pass for friends, who would, if they durst, be accounted Lovers. In fine, she behaves her self with such prudence, that detraction it self hath a respect for her virtue, and hath not charged her with the least gallantry, though the world affords not a person equally gal∣lant. Hence is it that she sometimes merrily saies, that she was never in love with any thing but her own glory, and that she is so with that, even to jealousie.

What is further admirable in this person, is, that at the age she is now of, she manages the affairs of her house, with as much prudence, as if she had all the experience that time can give to a great understanding, and what I more admire, is, that when there is a necessity, she can slight com∣pany and the Court, and divert her self in the Countrey, with as much enjoyment as if she had been born in the woods. And she returns thence as fair, as cheerful, and as neat, as if she had not stirr'd from Eryx. I had forgot to tell you that she writes as she speaks; that is, in the most pleasant and gallant-like manner that may be. Nay, what is yet further remarkable in this Princess, is, that her charms are so great, and so unavoidable, that contrary to custom, she gains the hearts of the La∣dies, as well as those of the men, and that she knows as well how to inspire others with friend∣ship as with love. Hence may it be affirmed, she hath equally subdued envy and detraction, since she is lov'd by all the beauties, and all the gallants of the Court where she is. In fine, that person only whom I love excepted, I have never seen so many attractions together, so much sprightliness, so much gallantry, so much entertainment, so much inno∣cence, and so much virtue, and there was never any other that so well understood the art of being ever decent without affectation, subject to railery without malice, to mirth without imprudence, to glory without pride, and to virtue without feve∣rity.

Clarinta hath yet one thing very extraordinary in persons of her age and humour, for she is soon won to submit to the advice of her friends, and to believe them sometimes in things that are con∣trary to her own sentiments. 'Tis true she hath one, that hath known her from her infancy, a per∣son of very great worth, so much understanding, judgement, knowledge, virtue, politeness, and who understands the world so well, that it is not strange she should choose him from the beginning, to be the chiefest of her friends; from all which you may judge, whether such a Princess may not derive wit to the whole Court where she is. And indeed I can assure you, there is hardly any place in the world, where, proportionably to its great∣ness, there are so many persons of worth, as may be seen at Eryx. But since I cannot at the pre∣sent trouble you with the descriptions of them all, I shall only tell you, that there is in that place a person of quality, called Artelisa, whose worth you must needs imagine to be very great, since she hath ever had a higher place in the esteem and friendship of Clarinta, than any other. This per∣son is black-hair'd, hath a white and lively com∣plexion, hath a brown eye, yet full of Beauty, and languishing, an Air mixt with gallantry and mode∣sty, and is excellently well made; For her Wit, she hath certainly that which pleases, which charms, and that especially which can enchant hearts, by a certain sweetness that hath something in it that's fierce, which makes in her disposition such a mixture of mirth, melancholly, fierceness, and complaisance, that it is hard to forbear loving her, if a man once sees her. Accordingly hath she been more lov'd, than any other beauty ever could be, but particularly by four men, all persons of more than ordinary worth. I am confident you will agree to what I say, when I have told you that the three unfortunate persons I brought with me to Rome, and whose valour you have in so; much admiration, are the slaves of the accomplish'd Ar∣telisa, and are not miserable, but upon the account of her love. 'Tis true, you have not heard them speak enough to understand what they are, but you I must needs think them persons of very much worth, when I have told you that they have an under∣standing equal to their courage. Calianthes is doubtless infinitely well furnished, but what I yet more, admire in him, is, that he is generous, liberal, magnificent, and generally obliging: For Al∣cimedes, he is commendable, not only for his cou∣rage and his wit, but because he is an eager lover, an eager friend, and a great enemy to people that are lukewarm and indifferent. Thence it is that he is of opinion, a man should earnestly desire what ever he desires, from the most inconsidera∣ble things, even to the greatest, maintaining that a staggering Will is ever an argument of medi∣ocrity of understanding. For this reason was Alci∣medes in love with life, and the pleasures thereof, more than any one before this misfortune happen∣ed: and he was one that of all the world, spent his time the most pleasantly.

For Lisydas I can assure you, that before he fell into misfortune, there was not a pleasanter person than he; yet had he ever some little inclination to melancholly, but it was a melancholly that had in it so much sweetness, was so far from froward∣ness, and so fit for society, that he seemed to be sad, but only out of an over-tenderness of heart, and that he was of a more divertive disposition; it being certain that those that are professedly mer∣ry, do not many times please so much as those that are of another humour, who yet speak things that are pleasant. So I may without flattery say of Ly∣sydas, that a man could not be more amiable than he was.

For Melicrates, since you have not seen him, I must needs describe him to you more particularly, for he is so much concern'd in this History, that it is but fit you knew what kind of person he is. Yet I shall only tell you in two words, that he hath a good face, that he is well made, and that he wants not any thing that might please in an instant, and had whatever might render a man acceptable while he lived. For wit, he hath as much as may be had; for valour no less than his Rivals; he is of a compliant and taking humour; he speaks well, writes gallant-like, and what more precisely di∣stinguishes him from all other persons of worth, is, that he loves glory be, ond what can be imagin∣ed; that he hath the most passionate soul that may be, and that he attributes more to the power of love, than most Lovers do. For he says that when a man loves a person by whom he is loved, it is not lawful for him to love any thing else but for her sake; that he must renounce all, and live only for her whom he adores; that he must submit his Will to hers; that he must consider his Mistriss, as a per∣son that hath a right to command all; and he must never consult prudence or reason, when he is to obey her.

Thus have you the sentiments of Artelisa's four Lovers: by all whom, she hath been so excessive∣ly belov'd, that the like was never seen. But to give you some account of the original of their loves with some order, you are to know, that Li∣sydas hath loved her, even from the Cradle, and continued it all his life with some hope: they were of equal quality, their Estates sutable thereto, and sufficient to maintain them honourably together; there was no difference between their Families; and Artelisa, when she had reason, was not too vio∣lently set against his love: So that it could not be but that Lisydas must be in some hope. Artelisa had lost her Father at four years of age, and her Mother being infinitely fond of her, and having not so much wit as her Daughter, it may be said that Artelisa was at her own disposal. Nor did she declare any less to all the world, than that she had absolutely resolved, not to hearken to any pro∣position of marriage, till she were twenty years of age, not thinking, as she said, any thing more un∣just, than that Maids should marry before they had judgement enough to know what they ought ei∣ther to love or hate. So that Artelisa being but se∣venteen years of age when she spoke thus, Lisydas as extreamly amorous as he was, could do no more than serve her and hope; she in the mean time, not admitting him so much as to speak to her of his love. 'Twas to little purpose for him to tell her, that she had her full weight of reason at seventeen, for she had made so strong a resolution, not to marry too soon, that nothing could make her change her mind.

About this time, Melicrates, who was gone to travel into Greece, return'd to Eryx, and brought Caliantes along with him, whom he had made ac∣quaintance with at Elida, of which Countrey he was. But being a person that was very rich, free, and young, he at his arrival at Eryx, sought out only the occasions of expence and entertainment. For Melicrates he was so taken with Greece, that to forget it what he could, he returned with an intention to engage himself in some love at Eryx. In this humour went Caliantes and he to the Prin∣cess Clarinta, the next day after their arrival; yet did they not see her, because she was somewhat indispos'd; but they saw Artelisa, who having a particular priviledge there, came out of the Prin∣cesses chamber, when they were going away. Being grown very much handsomer since Melicrates's de∣parture from Eryx, for he had been away three years, and Caliantes having never seen her, they were in a manner equally surpriz'd; nay so farr, that their hearts were sufficiently engaged from that first sight, for to go and wait on the Princess of Eryx the next day without any danger. Melicra∣tes had no sooner perceived her, but he went to her, and told her, that he durst not presume to see her, till he had waited on the Princess, and so presented Caliantes to her, telling her, his inten∣tion was to do it at her own house. At last, the discourse came so about, that Artelisa having ac∣quainted them, that she was to return home, they conducted her to her Chamber door; she present∣ed them to her Mother, who knew, and had a great esteem for Melicrates; so that they staid till night with Artelisa, and two Ladies of her friends that came to see her. Insomuch that she having an extra∣ordinary wit, they went a way both with a certain∣emotion, which might haply already be called Love. Nor did they keep this new passion secret from one another; on the contrary, Melicrates told Ca∣liantes, that he was very much afraid Artelisa might engage him; and Caliantes made answer, that for his part he was engag'd already. But, added he, laughing, since I am not of Eryx, and that I in∣tend to make no long stay here, I shall be no great hindrance to you, and therefore think it not much to afford me this pleasant entertainment while I am here. But do you take love, says Melicrates, to be a jesting matter? For any hurt he hath done me yet, replies Caliantes, laughing still, I would much rather jest with him than with a young Li∣on, whose claws I should stand in greater fear of, than all the darts of that Love you think so ter∣rible. Yet as I am a person naturally very curious, I should not be much troubled to have a violent passion, were it but to see whether there be so much pleasure, and so much pain in love, as all those pretend there is who speak of love. And therefore I once more intreat you not to take it amiss, if I endeavour to raise my self to a love of Artelisa; but I mean a violent one, for as to a Gallant's love, I have it already. But if we be∣come Rivals, replies Melicrates, we shall not hap∣ly be any longer friends. To avoid that inconve∣nience, replies Caliantes, let us now mutually promise not to fall out, though we should both fall in love in good earnest. Believe me, answered Melicrates, we should do better to promise not to love Artelisa at all, or cast lots who shall serve her. For my part, replies Caliantes, I will serve her, and cannot avoid it: and for my part, replies Me∣licrates, I serve her already; for in my judgement, it is a good office done her, to endeavour to hinder a stranger, so great a gallant as you are, from at∣tempting to conquer her heart.

This brought upon the stage amany other things, after which, they seriously promised not to fall out, if they became Rivals. But Caliantes loving to do all things with abundance of noise, was ve∣ry glad of this occasion to discover his liberality, and to make a publique Declaration of Love, such

such as no man had ever made. To this end he of∣fered a sacrifice to Venus Erycina, such as for the nobleness of it, might have become a Prince; for his offering was the most magnificent that could be. So that it being requisite that a man tell publiquely why he sacrifices; Caliantes said, he gave the god∣dess thanks, for that she had caus'd the first beau∣tiful person he had spoken to in Eryx, to raise love in him; adding, that being come only to desire it, he thought himself obliged to give the Goddess thanks, that had prevented his desires. So that the so extraordinary occasion of so gallant a sacri∣fice, being soon known, it was afterwards easi∣ly found out, that Artelisa was she that Caliantes had first spoken to; which she had often cast in her dish, especially at the Princess Clarinta's, where the entertainments were always infinitely diver∣tive: but being look'd on as the gallantry of a magnificent person, who was no great believer of Venus, since he would scoff at the sacrifice he had offered her, Artelisa was not troubled at it, for she understood the business of raillery, as well as another.

Lisydas at first conceived no jealousie of it, nay, even Melicrates did not think himself obliged for that, to smother the violent inclination he had for Artelisa; so that he saw her as often as he could, and fell so deeply in love with her, that it was impossible for him to oppose his passion when he pleas'd himself. Nay, he flatter'd himself with happy success in his design, for he imagin'd that Artelisa having always seen Lisydas, could not pos∣sibly have any more than an indifferent affection for him; that Caliantes being an only Son, would soon be sent for by his friends, and that Artelisa would haply be sensible of the tenderness of his love; being with all this, perswaded that he knew how to love better than all other men, and that love was of greater consequence in order to be lov'd, than any thing else.

About the same time came Alcimedes from He∣raclea to Eryx, for there being a very rich Uncle of his in that Countrey, that resolved to make him his Heir, he thought it not amiss to confirm him by his presence in a design so advantageous to him. He being of an humour that would not permit him to be long in Eryx, e'r he had seen whatever were most considerable there, he went to the ac∣complish'd Clarinta's, the very next day after his arrival, where he found a many excellent Ladies, and not a few men, persons of worth and quality. For besides Caliantes, Lisydas, and Melicrates, there was also one called Teramus, a person questi∣onless of extraordinary merit, who proved partly the occasion of Alcimedes's love to Artelisa, because it was through his means, that this fair Lady said something that encouraged him to serve her. But since you cannot have the whole pleasure of that days conversation, without being well acquainted with Teramus, give me leave to describe him to you, for I am confident the description will please you, and you will acknowledge that I have had reason to be so desirous to give it you.

Teramus is a person of high birth, not only of an extraordinary merit, but of a merit particular to himself; a lover of honour, honesty, and Phi∣losophy, but the gallant-like Philosophy which banishes all the unciviliz'd virtues; who hath the art of reconciling Wisdom and Pleasures, and does not believe but that prudence ought to be employ∣ed as well in the choice of pleasures, as in the ma∣nagement of the affairs of greatest consequence. For his person, he is somewhat above the ordina∣ry stature; his action is negligent enough, yet such as becomes a person of quality; his hair is incli∣ning to fair; his complexion palish, eyes black, sparkling, and full of spirit; and what's remark∣able, is, that the Phisiognomie, which is a thing one would imagine should never change, changes in him, according to the humour he is in, and the persons he is in company with; For if he happen accidentally into a company that is troublesome and unpleasant, he puts on a cold, cloudy, melan∣cholly, and thoughtful countenance. On the con∣trary, when he is among persons that please him, the sprightliness of his imagination changes the air of his face, and his eyes betray an insinuating, crafty, pleasant, and lively smile, which multi∣plies the pleasure of all the ingenious extravagan∣cies which his imagination furnishes him with, up∣on whatever subject is offered. He hath certainly a very clear understanding, and there are few things excellent in point of knowledge, which he is not acquainted with. But though he hath made him∣self master of whatever is most excellent in books, yet may it be affirmed he hath made the world in general, especially persons of worth and gallantry, his particular study: for it is certain that he is so well acquainted with all the insinuations which love hath inspired, either into men or women; that, in point of gallantry, he might over-reach any one, and not be over-reach'd by any. He hath a sprightly imagination, a lively and delicate wit, and is exquisite in the discernment of things. He loves all persons of worth, and he writes things that have a Character so natural, so gallant, and so ingeniously pleasant, that though it be impossi∣ble to say what he says, yet cannot a man but he astonished that he hath not thought what he thinks; so that he does what is very hard to do; that is, to write things natural, yet infinitely taking.

Add to this, That Teramus is a person above Ambition, though he be extreamly sensible of what is most nobly glorious. Not but that in the beginning of his life, the greatness of his Soul in∣clin'd him to make some approaches towards For∣tune; but having discovered that she avoided him, he hath prudently slighted her, and would not put himself upon fruitless attempts for a thing his vir∣tue could be without. So that looking on Ambi∣tion as a passion full of desquiet, he hath kept it from all entrance into his heart. Nor would he ever admit love there, with all those torments that attend it in the hearts of other Lovers; On the contrary, he makes use of joy in all things; 'tis out of joy that he falls in love, 'tis joy that ap∣peases his passion, nay, 'tis joy that is his remedy against his passion; for if it happens that he must either renounce his joy, or quit a Mistress, he can sometimes without any great difficulty, be induced to do the latter.

Teramus is further sensible of all pleasures in ge∣neral, and his unsatisfied soul hath endeavoured to try what there is most pleasant in all the passions. For Musick, he is so much taken with it, that he makes it a remedy against his indispositions; for he loves harmony in all its kinds, though he prefets an excellent voice before all the other charms of

Musick. For conversation, he seems to be so cut out for it when he pleases, and he is so perfect in the art of heightning the enjoyments of it when he thinks fit, that it is not the most inconsiderable of his perfections. In a word, he makes such pleasant reflections on things, that there's nothing so seri∣ous, which he makes not divertive when he un∣dertakes it. Yet is not his temperament altoge∣ther free from melancholly, but it is such as is suit∣able with greatness of mind, and not that which betrays any frowardness. 'Tis of that kind which makes a man in love with the noblest touches of Musick, that makes a man write things infinitely taking, that can unite pleasure and faintness, and makes the soul passionate and the heart susceptible of Love. Accordingly is it the predominant pas∣sion of Teramus, and by which he hath dress'd up an amorous morality, which is the pleasant thing in the world,

For heavens's sake, saies Amilcar, what are the Maxims of it?

In the first place replies Aemilius, he maintains, that pleasure is the soul of Love; that sights; tears, afflictions, torments, and despair, are only fit for Songs. That there is nothing so dangerous, as to go and importune with continual complaints; and that to gain her love, a man must make it his main business to divert her, and to make her think of him whether she will or no. Yet would he not have it done by being ridiculous; for there is a vast difference between a person that makes sport without being esteemed, and him who is respect∣ed and diverts. He also maintains that a man should never make profession of being unconstant, though he ought not to be faithful to obstinacy. He acknowledges a man should be alwaies discreet, and that he should never resign up his Mistriss to another, but for long and tedious loves they are without his acquaintance, and absolutely contrary to his inclination. But what is yet further parti∣cular, is, that he only deserves the praise of the satisfaction he gives her whom he loves; for he is not of those Lovers who cannot please, but by a hundred things they can make no claim to them∣selves. On the contrary, he pleases of himself, and that by a certain Art he hath, while he di∣verts the person he loves, to prejudice some others which he conceives she might love. Hence is it, that if he observe, there are some pretenders that might gain any thing upon the affections of his Mistriss, he cunningly dresses up some ingenious Satyr against them, yet without discovering him∣self to be their Rival, so to work in her mind a contempt of those he would ruine, before he en∣deavour to establish himself: and this he does so subtilly, and so pleasantly, that he forces that wo∣man into a confidence with him, as to what relates to the imperfections of his Rivals. So that ma∣king her sport with their defects, he destroys them, and pleases her he would be in favour with; he diverts her, and establishes himself upon the ruines of those he hath destroyed. You see what a per∣son the amiable Teramus is; but that you may be the better acquainted with his humour, and better apprehend wha•• I am to tell you, I must needs shew you what he sent one day to a friend of his, who had jeastingly intreated him to instruct him in his Amorous Morality, which is what you desired before.

The Amorous MORALITY of TERAMUS.

THose who have affirm'd, that to be loved, it was necessary one should love, were certainly perswa∣ded that Justice and Love ever held a good corre∣spondence. But to speak without flattery, they ne∣ver understood the humour of Women in general, nor yet the nature of Love in particlar; since it is un∣questionable, that it is more ordinary for us, to love those that seem amiable to us, than to love those that love us. So that to speak rationally, at least in my judgement, to be in favour among the Ladies, it is more necessary for a man to be much a Gallant, than to be very amorous. For as great passions are ever attended by afflictions, so it is hard, they should work the effect which a Lover expects from them, since that for the most part, Love is more easily bred in joy than in grief. And indeed there is such a consonancy be∣tween Joy and Love, that it is only by it that a man can be loved, and only for it that a man should love. Thence it is, that many times these mourning and me∣lancholly Lovers, who persecute their Mistresses with their afflictions, advantage their Rivals more than they do themselves, if so be the others have any thing of a divertive disposition. I therefore maintain, that the ensuing Maximes ought to be exactly followed, as such as I have found so much advantage by, as to ad∣vise you to make use of them. You have in them what I have discovered, by a long experience to be most certain.

I. A man ought to love whatever seems amiable to him, provided there be some probability to find more pleasure than trouble in the conquest he proposes to himself.

II. A man ought to have a very great care, among wo∣men, not to profess himself an unconstant man; yet ought he not on the other side, to be over-scrupulously constant; for it were much better to have a thousand loves, than to have but one that should last a man's whole life.

III. Further, though a man must make no scruple to change a Mistriss, assoon as the trouble exceeds the pleasure; yet should he not be guilty of any indiscreti∣on towards any; for not only honour and generosity advise the contrary, but there is also something of in∣terest that will not permit it, there being nothing so likely to make a man lose a thousand favours, as one act of indiscretion.

IV. A Lover must, above all things, make it his busi∣ness to divert and to please; but to please upon his own account, and to divert, without being himself ridiculous; for though he do not speak openly of Love to the Lady he serves, yet, if it come to be necessary for his pleasure, he puts her into a condition to be easi∣ly perswaded.

V. A man should never acquaint his Mistriss with his real secrets; for since a man that is well acquainted with the world, should never have any Mistress, un∣less he forsee that he shall give over loving within a short time, he ought to make his confidences among his friends of either Sex, and only direct his services, his wit, and his Songs to his Mistresses. For secrets of no consideration, when a man hath not any, he must invent some; for it is not amiss, to accustom Ladies to speak low, though you entertain them with things never so trivial.

VI. A man must do all that lies in his power, so to put himself into a condition of pleasing, as not to ruine himself, and should be so well skilled in the choice of those he loves, that they shall be satisfied to find him di∣vertive, that he hath a good wit, and is good company; for it is not glorious for any man to owe the conquest of a Ladies heart, onely to the multitude of his slaves.

VII. A man should take especial care he be not betrayed into the hands of his Rivals, but must, on the contra∣ry, behave himself so circumspectly, that they may be discovered to him.

VIII. It were also good that the Lady one loves did be∣lieve, that your heart is not so much at her devotion, but that it is possible she may lose it, if she slight you; and that she be withal perswaded, that if she refuse it, some other would accept of it.

IX. A man must further endeavour what in him lies, to make himself perfect in all the Gallantries of the place where he is; for a fair Lady is many times as easily perswaded by examples, as by arguments.

X. For jealousie, a man must by all means avoid ha∣ving too much of it, or keeping it long; for it is much better he should hate his Mistress, than make it his bu∣siness to hate his Rivals to no purpose.

XI. A man should not make it a profession to speak kind things to all beauties; but there is no great danger for him so to behave himself towards hand∣som women, as to give them occasion to think, that if he loves them not, 'tis not impossible he may.

XII. It were not also amiss, for a man to be guilty of a certain subtil••y, such as may make him dreadful to those that may prejudice him; and to know how to make use of a kind of ingenious railery, which may oblige his Mistress, by way of concurrence, to laugh at them with him.

XIII. A man must by all means, avoid an implicite obe∣dience, which is good for nothing but to put a poor Lo∣ver to inconveniencies, and he may well think he does his duty in obeying exactly, when she commands things that are pleasant, where there is nothing fantastick, no∣thing of tyrannie or injustice.

XIV. But above all things, a man must remember, that if it be good to instruct while he diverts, it is much bet∣ter for him to divert himself while he perswades; for there is nothing more unjust, than for a man to profess love to make himself unhappy, and to love so violently, as to cease to be amiable, and to be incapable of ever raising love in another.

From what I have said, it is not hard to infer, that Teramus is a person that is infinite good com∣pany, and that accordingly being at the Princess of Eryx's, with all those other persons of worth I have spoken of, the day that Alcimedes came thither first, the conversation that happened there, must needs be very divertive: Nor wanted there a par∣ticular subject to make it such; for the fair Artelisa, who had seen the Amorous Morality of Teramus, told him, that a person of quality of her acquaint∣ance had answered him. I am confident, replies Clarinta, it must be some illustrious friend of the solitary Merigenes, who makes it his particular profession, to be able to love perfectly. For my part saies Teramus, could I imagine he would per∣swade me, I should be far from the curiosity of seeing his answer; but since I fear no such thing▪ and am fully perswaded that my reasons are the true reasons of gallantry, I would intreat the fair Artelisa to shew me this answer. If the Princess be so pleased, replied Artelisa, I am ready to satis∣fie you, for I have the greatest desire in the world to convert you. How witty soever this friend of Merigenes may be, (replied Teramus with a low voice) fair eyes, such as yours, are much more likely to cure me of inconstancy, than fair words, and therefore, if you would make me a Proselyte, you need no more than to look favourably on me. Had favourable looks that effect, replies Artelisa, you had been converted long since, and therefore let us see, whether the reasons of your friend will not make you change your opinion. Whereupon Artelisa takes out her Table-Book, and read out of it what you shall hear, by way of answer, Article for Article, to what Teramus had said.

Maximes contrary to those of TERAMUS.

THose who never knew how to love well, make no great enquiry into the nature of Love. For which reason, Teramus, a person otherwise infinitely excel∣lent, hath been mistaken in the opinion he maintains, that a man, to be loved, ought rather to be a Gallant than Amorous, since it is certain, that if he had ne∣ver perswaded his Mistriss of the greatness of his passion, all his merit, how extraordinary soever, should never have done it: But it proceeds certainly hence that having a great wit, and such as is capable of any thing he pleases, he hath found out the art of being ex∣empted from sighs, complaints, and tears, and would employ in their stead, the graces, enjoyments, and laughters, to perswade his passion. But, when all it done, he hath said that he was in love, or pretends it, before he is loved, and is content to wound hearts, without any consideration, because he would never do any thing but lend his own, instead of bestowing

it. It is certainly madness for a man to have any love, unless he have as much as he is capable of; for the me∣diocrity of this passion, produces but a mediocrity of pleasures, and it is not very proper to effect illustri∣ous conquests. No question but a man should divert the person he loves, but it is not enough to please her, if it have not some influence on her heart; so that to act rationally, he must dispose and make it plyant by joy, but he must move it by grief, and know how to make his advantages of certain occasions, wherein two or three sighs seasonably breathed out, may be more effectu∣al than all the Songs in the World.

I. For the multitude of Mistresses, 'tis a thing not to be endured, for to speak truly, whoever hath two, hath not any at all.

II. For constancy, whoever would banish it out of the empire of love, destroys love it self; for it no sooner comes into a mans imagination, that a time may come wherein he shall love no more, but he ceases to love at the very instant, or to say better, hath already given ever all thoughts of love, it being impossible that a heart truly amorous should imagine that it can give over loving that which to it seems the only amiable thing upon earth. On the contrary, to say truth, one of the greatest satisfactions of this passion is to imagine an eternity of love, if a man may so express himself, and to see in futurition a multitude of pleasures where∣of he is not confident.

III. For discretion, both the constant and unconstant, that are persons of quality are agreed it ought to be ob∣served; and therefore I have not any thing to say of it, save that it is no easie matter to be always discreet, when a man is engaged in so many seve∣ral interests.

IV. No doubt but a man ought to please and divert, as I have already said, but it cannot be said it ought pre∣cisely to be done by way of raillery; for the general rule is, that a man should accommodate himself to the humor of the person beloved.

V. Whoever can conceal what he thinks most secret from his Mistriss, hath not given her his heart; for it is so far impossible for a man to love any one and not acquaint her with all even to his least thoughts, that it may be affirmed that a man does himself a certain vi∣olence when he conceals any of his sentiments from the person he loves, and deprives himself of the most sen∣sible pleasure of love, by being uncapable of that ex∣change of secrets, wherein there is so much satisfacti∣on. For indeed, what are they but the mutual hostages of that eternal peace which ought to be between two amorous hearts, and infallible arguments of the love a man hath in his soul, and which he will ever con∣tinue there. For those little secrets which signifie ••••bing, he needs not be put to his invention for them, who loves passionately, for they spring at every moment, in their minds who know how to love.

VI. For excessive magnificence, it ought always to be blamed when it ruines him that is addicted thereto, yet it is certain, that nothing makes it more excusable than love, nay I durst maintain that he was the invent∣or of it. But when all's done, I agree with my ad∣versary in this, that he who is magnificent, either as to retinue or cloaths, ought to make no account of it; and should endeavor to raise himself into the love of his Mistriss without any assistance from such things as be∣long not to him.

VII. When a man hath Rivals, the surest way to do them any prejudice, and to be better esteemed than they, is to exceed them in worth, gallantry, and love; and if after all that, the Lady be unjust, and makes an ill choice, a man may change if he please, without in∣curring the censure of inconstancy.

VIII. It is certainly no small advantage that the Lady whom a man loves, should believe that the person she affects may be loved by her; but this perswasion must proceed from the great merit of him that serves her, and not from his insinuations to make her believe so much.

IX. For the news that's abroad in the World, I questi∣on whether a person that is very amorous, can take the pains to inform himself exactly thereof, for a sin∣cere love finds a man so much business, that it takes up his whole heart.

X. For jealousie, it is so far impossible to love, and not be guilty of it, that whoever can regulate it in his heart, is master of his own affection, and consequently hath no great love for his Mistriss.

XI. It is also my judgment, that a man ought not to make it his profession to entertain all beauties with kind things; for when a man loves but one, he must have the less civility for all the rest. He must at last so re∣gulate it, that it be not excessive, nor yet dangerously interpreted by the person he loves.

XII. As for that gallant-like subtilty which some are so much taken with, and is so much feared by others, it is so hard to pitch upon a mediocrity between a dan∣gerous raillery and simple mirth, that I would not advise those to meddle with it, on whom nature hath not bestowed, as on Teramus, that gift of insinuati∣on, which at the same time causes a love and a fear of of him that hath it.

XIII. For obedience, if you deprive love of it, you take away his Empire; for he that can disobey the person he loves; loves her not, and deserves not the name of Lover.

XIV. For the last Article, I confess that he who thinks he may be always happy in loving, deserves to be ac∣counted a mad man, if he be not one; but love being not a thing voluntary, the torments that attend it are of the same nature; Whence I infer, that Teramus

hath only made it his business to instruct a pleasing Gal∣lant, and not a real Lover.

Though Merigenes's friends and I, interrupted Amilcar, are not of the same sect, since I agree with pleasant Teramus, yet I cannot but think him a person that is very understanding, and would sain know what manner of man he is. For my part replyes Herminius, though I am not of your opinion, yet do I agree with you in that desire: and for my part, added Octavius, though I should have wished not to be of Merigenes's sect, yet shall I be glad to be acquainted with him. For my part says Personder, I am so much taken with an ardent affection, that I love all those that are of my opinion. For what concerns me, says Horati∣us, I must attribute all my unhappiness to Con∣stancy, so far, that if I would, I should wish not to be constant; but when all's done, since it is some comfort to find persons of worth of our judgment, I shall be glad to know whether this Protector of Constancy be so excellent a person as I believe him.

Since you are all resolved replyes Aemilius, I will describe Merigines to you, he being a person so much concerned in the close of this History, that I think it some obligation to give you an account of him. Know then, that Merigines is an Asian, of very noble birth, and virtuous inclinations. He is tall, of a good complexion, all the linearnents of his face are very well made; he is brown hair'd, hath eyes full of spirit, a noble air, teeth admirably fair, a pleasant smile, and a fortunate and pru∣dent Physiognomy. He hath a clear understanding, considers things as he should do, and his wit and judgment hold such a correspondence, that they ne∣ver act one without another. Sincerity discovers it self in all his actions; and there is a perfect sym∣pathy between his words and thoughts. In a word, he is a great professor of honor, integrity, and generosity; he is a faithful friend, and an ear∣nest lover; goodness he affects and professes; he is eminent for politeness, sweetness and complaisance, his conversation is familiar and pleasant; he argues smartly, is a great lover of Books, and is as well acquainted with them as a person of quality, who doth not make it his profession, should be.

For Morality, he is very exact in it, and if he be ask'd whence it comes that he is so excellent in it, he answers, that he is obliged for whatever there is of good in him to love. That without him, he would not be what he is, and that if he be qua∣lified as a person of worth, he is the more obli∣ged to a beauty, who hath raised in his heart the desire of pleasing, and the design of deserving her affection. He makes all the pleasures of humane life to consist in friendship and love; but when he loves, his love is as great as it can be. He is farther of the opinion that love smothers reason, and that a Lover ought to do, without any exception whatever the person he loves would have him.

In the mean time, though he be somewhat in∣clined to a tumultuous life, yet hath Philosophy raised in him a love of solitude, and he often retires into a little wilderness that he hath made himself, though there be not any thing that obliges him to that distance from the Court. 'Tis true, he hath an illustrious friend in his neighborhood, in whom he may find whatever the World thinks desirable, since he is one that possesses all the virtues, and whose politeness and wit are sutable to his genero∣sity. And for the place where Merigenes lives, it is so pleasant and delightful, that solitude was ne∣ver so taking in any other place upon earth; at least it might be said, he hath an Arbor that is worth a Palace, as I shall convince you anon. So that with the assistance of a little conversation, a few Books, and abundance of love for virtue and liberty, Merigenes is the happiest Solitary that ever was, when he leaves the Court to go to his wil∣derness; besides all this, he is loved by many per∣sons of honor, insomuch that who should judge of him meerly by his friends, would be soon sen∣sible of part of his worth. He is of a sweet and compliant disposition, and there is in his humor such a just mixture of gladness and melanchoily, that there issues from thence a very pleasant Tempert∣ment. For courage, Merigenes is so well furnish∣ed as man can be, and if his prudence did not check his ambition, he would not be so great a lo∣ver of sollitude; but he makes it so much his bu∣siness to master himself, that, unless it be when love pleases, he never obeys any thing but his rea∣son.

This premised, I am now to return to the fair Clarinta's, where Teramus had no sooner under∣stood the answer of Merigenes's friend, but having commended his wit, he set himself to oppose his Maxims, but in such a pleasant manner, that Cali∣antes, Lisydas, and Melicrates, who pretended all to the glory of being accounted constant to Arti∣lisa, could not but be extreamly pleased with it. For Clarinta, she did not much discover her self, but spoke in the praise of Constancy, yet without blaming a gallant inconstancy. For Alcimedes, his inclination leading him to be extreamly earnest in any thing he desired; he sided with Merigenes. For my part, says Teramus, I am persuaded, that as we have been taught that there is a Venus that is wholly serious, called Venus Urania, and that there is another that is absolutely amorous, which is she that landed at the Island Cyprus, so do I be∣lieve that there are two Loves, whereof one is a froward child that is troublesome and untoward, ever crying and knows not what he would have, and the other an Infant newly awakened, that plays, laughs, dances and makes sport, and whose darts does but slightly touch their hearts whom he wounds as it were in jest. Seriously, says the Princess of Eryx smiling, I think Teramus in the right, for it were impossible there should be a peo∣ple whose way of loving were so different, if they were wounded by the same God. But all conside∣red, since it is never just to condemn a person that cannot defend himself, my opinion is, that we should go and walk in Merigenes's Wilderness, and conclude our conversation in his Arbor, which hath been represented to me for so excellent a thing.

The Princesse of Eryx's proposal being approv∣ed by the whole company, it was put in executi∣on as soon as so many Chariots could be got ready as were necessary for the Ladies, and horses for the men. But not to give you a general description of the place of Merigenes's retirement, I shall only en∣tertain you with the particular rarities of the en∣chanted Arbor, to the end that you may follow the fair Clarinta thither. You are not to imagine it ex∣traordinary

magnificent, for its greatest beauties are not within it self, and all the commendations can be given it, belong unto it, only because it discovers the noblest objects in nature. It is in∣deed reasonably large, of a quadranguler figure, its height sutable to its largeness, the Architecture simple, yet handsome; the plain ground of it is Ionik, the Tapistry is pleasant, and what ever it is furnished with, very convenient. But what is most admirable in this Arbor, is, that it is open three ways, and that at your entrance you disco∣ver three miraculous and different prospects, where∣of the least were enough to make a Palace most delightful. For, which way soever you cast your eye, you see whatever the Country can afford that is most excellent. The windows that are oppo∣site to the door, present you with the sight of a plea∣sant River, which being strait at that place, as if art had forced it into a large channell, divides a fruitful plain, beyond which are Mountains as if it were Landskip, which seem not to raise them∣selves but imperceptibly, for fear of over-confin∣ing the sight. But that there may be some di∣versity, you see certain Hamlets in the plain, as also a row of Trees, through which you see the River glistering, when either the Sun shines, or the wind blows; besides which, offers it self to the fight, a fair and spacious walk, that goes from the foot of the Mountain, on which is the retire∣ment of Merigenes, to the great River, which makes a most pleasing object on that side. But what is re∣markable is, that on the right and left sides of this Arbor, there are two Knots, which seem purpose∣ly made to divert those that are in it. But not to confound these two Prospects, you see above the Knot on the right hand, a valley infinitely pleasant and whereof the diversity is so great, that nothing can be compared to it, unless it be the Prospect of a place called Carisatis, for you see thence, besides the great River I have spoken of a Brook playing the Serpent among the Meadows and Willows, which is afterwards divided into divers little rivu∣lets, drenching that tract of ground in the most pleasant manner that may be: you see (half cove∣red by the mountain) certain houses scattered up and down the plain, Vineyards, Orchards, Valleys at a farther distance yet, an elbow of the great River, and several other diversities, which to dis∣cover, requires a long abode there. For the left side, you have on one side of the Knot, a magni∣ficent House, and a Country Temple, and above it the same great River, which ceasing to be a chan∣nel, and seeming desirous to shew it self all the ways it could be seen, makes two great turns in the plain, whence it comes that you have a longer sight of it, and then seeming to run a straight line, it shews you the sterns of those Ships, whereof you had before seen the forepart, by its crossing on the right hand, and their sides by its crossing in the middle.

But what is yet very particular, is, that this Ri∣ver having passed through a Village, wherein there is an old Castle, whereof the Towers are but half seen by reason of the hill, seems to lose it self in a Town, which lyes at the end of the Semi-circle which it makes at that place; and beyond this Town may be seen a small corner of a plain, and divers Mountains at a farther distance, sown as it were with Woods, Villages, and Country-houses.

But to re-unite all there several Prospects, Me∣rigenes hath caused to be set on that side which is not open, a great square of several glasses, which receiving the objects of these three miraculous prospects, give you an epitome of all the beau∣ties of nature together. It was then in so noble a place, that one of the noblest Companies in the world, spent one of the fairest days that ever were, for the Sun, seeming to be concerned in point of honor to discover the beauty of this tract of ground, had so purified the air, that the objects that were at great distance, could easily be discerned. When the Princess of Eryx came first into the Arbor, she made a hundred exclamations at the excellency of that admirable Prospect; Artelisa and the other Ladies were no less amazed; Teramus, for his part was much taken with it; Alcimedes, and the rest said no less of it; in fine, all were so pleased that the company had not been above half an hour in the Arbor, ere any one had taken notice of an ex∣cellent Picture there was of a young Heros, which hung upon the right side. But at last Clarinta ta∣king notice of it, asked Merigenes, whether he had caused Adonis to be painted in the Arms of Mars. 'Tis true, replyed Merigenes, the great Prince whose Picture you see, is no less fair than Adoais, and it is as true, that he hath so great a heart, as he ought to have to be justly compared to Mars. I know not, added he, whether the zeal I have for Alcander, whose subject I have the honour to be, deceives me, but I am perswaded you never saw a handsomer man than he. For in fine, (continued he transported by a tenderness he could not for∣bear) have you ever seen a handsomer head, so good eyes, a better form of face, a nose better made, finer lips, a more fortunate and wiser look, a nobler stature, a more majestick air, a freer acti∣on, or so stern a countenance with so much beauty? for commonly, the handsomest men have not the most majestick air. Nay, you cannot perceive all the excellencies of this Prince, for the Painter ha∣ving drawn him no lower than the knee, hath de∣prived you of the handsomest legs that can be seen, Besides this Prince hath received from na∣ture, not only a well-made body, fit for all those exercises, that are either necessary, or contri∣bute to the pleasure of a young Prince, (especially dancing, wherein, as in all the rest, he is inimmuta∣ble) but he hath also a noble soul inclined to passi∣on, humanity, and mildness. His inclinations are wholly noble, and he hath a mind capable of what ever he undertakes. He discovers much integrity and magnificence, as well as sleight in the recreati∣ons he makes use of. He is much more afraid to do those foul play that have the honour to play with him, than to receive any from them, and though he be above the Laws, yet is he, to give a great example of equity, the most willing to submit them, This Prince hath yet one quality ve∣ry requisite to a young Conqueror, for he can bear the weariness of hunting, and the War with an in∣credible vigor, and what is infinitely commenda∣ble, he hath an extraordinary affection for the Queen his Mother; nor indeed does she deserve less, for the many virtues she is Mistriss of: and he hath also much friendship for the Prince his Bro∣ther, who by thousand of excellent qualities, draws the general admiration after him, and is already become the delight of his Court, though he be but

very young. Anaxander, is farther an example of piety, to his whole Court, and for his courage he hath given several heroick expressions of it, as well in the Army, as in other dangerous occasions. For being to go over a bridge in a Chariot, he was nothing daunted though the bridge broke under him. In fine, he speaks as a great Prince ought to speak, that is, with understanding, judgment, and abundance of eloquence, yet without affecta∣tion or trouble; in a word, he is a person so ac∣complished, though he but in the nineteenth year of his age, that I believe he will blast the glo∣ry of all his predecessors. For it may be rational∣ly hoped from the great Victories he hath already gained, that Fortune will not oppose his virtue, and that Mars and Love will be equally favora∣ble to him, since he is as fit to make a gallant as a Heroe, and consequently, what by his prudence, humanity, valor, justice, and understanding, he will ever be the felicity of his people, and the glo∣ry of his time and Country.

Ah Merigenes, interrupted Clarinta, how well skilled must you needs be in loving, and how well would you draw your Mistresses picture, if you undertook it, since you have so exactly done that of your Master! 'Tis true, Madam, replyed he, that I love whatever I ought to love; but all con∣sidered, I am never partial, nor give undeserved praises. That hinders not, but you have a friend, who gives dangerous advice in point of gallantry, as well as Melicrates, replyes Teramus, for were it followed, Loves Empire would consist of none but unfortunate slaves, that should never have any new chains after the first they were put into. Re∣creations, and laughters must be banished it, and a serious kind of fair dealing taking their place, peo∣ple must needs be strangely, tyred. For take away the innocent extravagance that is in love, and you take away all its satisfaction, all its gallantry, and what ever makes it inviting and agreeable. I must confess, replyes Melicrates, that I am an enemy to those indifferent Loves which amuse peo∣ple, and afterward come to nothing; and would have a man that loves to do it in good earnest, or not to meddle with it at all. But I do not acknow∣ledge my self an enemy to laughters and entertain∣ments, on the contrary, I am of opinion, that on∣ly a great passion can give great satisfactions. For these great satisfactions that cost a man many thou∣sands of afflictions, replyes Teramus, I resign them to those that have a mind to them; for those dis∣chequered delights that admit not the least trouble, and am such a sworn enemy to all grief, that there is not any flower so inconsiderable, which I should not rather gather, than the fairest Roses in the world, conditionally it had no prickles. For my part, says Melicrates, I am not of your opinion, for I would gladly endure a thousand afflictions for one single pleasure. Upon this Clarina, Artelisa, Caliantes, Lisydas Alcimedes, and Merigenes coming into play, the con∣versation grew extreamly pleasant. But passing in∣sensibly from one thing to another, without agree∣ing upon any thing, Clarinta told them that she was satisfied it was impossible to terminate in one day a dispute of such consequence as that, but would be glad nevertheless, to have the judgment of the company upon two things. One was, Whether Reason ought to be absolutely subject to Love, the other, Whether obedience ought to be implicite. For mine, says Termanus, it is, that Reason is no slave to Love, and all I should desire from her is, that she should not satyrise at my amorous extravagan∣ces, but mind only the prudent management of my affairs. And for obedience, added he. I would have it limited to those things that are pleasing, without any exception. For my part says Melicra∣tes, I am of a contrary opinion, and maintain, that while reason is in any power, there can be no true Love. But is not reason, replyes Lisydas, re∣quisite so far as to discover the merit of the person one loves? Is it not employed, added Caliantes, to serve her sometimes in things of consequence, and can a man merit her esteem if he do not com∣ply with reason? For me, replyes Alcimedes, I think that if reason be not subject to love, 'tis a feeble passion: and for me, replyes Teramus, I think a Lover without reason subject to all extrava∣gances imaginable, if he be so unhappy as to love a fantastick person. But a person of worth, replyes Merigenes, loves not any thing but what is amia∣ble. According to the Idaea I have of love, added Melicrates, I am persuaded, that when a man loves truly, he hath no other reason than that of the per∣son he loves, and consequently no other will. So that when he obeys her, he does it with as much ease as if he obeyed himself, and followed his own inclinations. For where there is a perfect love, there cannot be a diversity of Wills. Ordina∣ry loves are not of this mettal, for there are diffe∣rent wills and different desires, they obey with a secret repining, nay, sometimes do not obey at all. For which reason, I do not conceive it ought to be called Love, but only simple gallantry, the pure effect of a mans own pleasure. The case is other∣wise with the love I speak of, for it requires a cer∣tain union of sentiments, so indivisible, that a man wills not any thing but in complyance with the person whom he loves, and by whom he is loved. Their hearts admit no difference, the division there is between them is inperceptible, and disobedience can never be found in the heart of a true lover. A man thinks himself born with that affection, so inherent does it seem to be to him that loves perfectly, and thinks he could not live a minute without loving what he loves.

Were it possible, replyed Teramus, there could be any such lover, I should advise his Mistriss, to make tryal of his submission, in an hundred extra∣vagant things, for it were a pleasant thing to see how far this blind obedience would extend. For my part, says Artilesa, were I to bestow my heart on any one, I must confess it should be on the most dutiful of those that should pretend to conquer it, provided he were a person of desert, for I should thence infer him to be the most amorous. He cer∣tainly that takes away obedience from love, says Me∣licrates, robs it of all that distinguishes it from or∣dinary friendship, and gives it the title of a passi∣on. Friendship admits complyance, but requires not absolute submission; a friend considers of what is proposed to him, nay he may contradict and dis∣pute it; but for a Lover, he must ever obey. For my part, replies Alcimedes, had I a Mistress that should command me to hazard my life a thousand times, I should do it with joy. For matter of life, replyes Teramus, though I am not the least lover of it, I should not be much troubled to hazard it either for glory, or for love; but to think I should be

content to do an hundred odd things, that it might come into a womans humour to desire, is what I should never do. For my part, saies Merigenes, I should do all things, I mean without any excep∣tion. But if the person whom I have heard you were sometime in love with, replies the Princess of Eryx, had commanded you to fire the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, or that of Venus at Eryx, had you done it? She would never have laid any such command on me. But in case, added Teramus, it wa•• her absolute Will it should be done—no que∣stion but I had obeyed her, replied he: for as I could not disobey my self, if I earnestly desired any thing, so could I not disobey her, since I re∣lied more on her conduct of me, than my own.

I am so much of Merigenes's opinion, added Melicrates, that I cannot conceive how a man can be of any other. For a man must look on the Will of the person beloved, as his own, and where there is a perfect love, there is an union of interests. Li∣berality must be an useless virtue between two per∣sons united by love; there is nothing to be lent, nor any thing to be given; there is no use of ac∣knowledgements or thanks, because there is no∣thing so difficult which one is not obliged to do for the other. I am satisfied as to the necessity of obe∣dience, replies Lisydas, but cannot imagine it should be so absolute, as to engage a man in crimes, were it only for the reputation of the person he loves, which ought to be as dear to a Lover as his own. When a man loves, as I apprehend it, re∣plied Melicrates, he is not able to conceive there can be any unjustice in the commands of a beloved person; for having a greater esteem for her than all the world besides, a man never disputes what she commands, and minds only the execution of it. But, admitting your own maxime, replies Tera∣mus, Love will be a complice in the most horrid crimes, and greatest extravagances. It follows not, replies Melicrates, for I hold, that a perfect love can never be in the heart of a person that hath not virtue, nay, that a person of an ordinary spi∣rit and virtue, cannot be capable of those Heroick affections that are above the ordinary pitch, and are marked out for the tryals of Time and For∣tune. So that those that are guilty of this sub∣mission of reason which I mean, put their virtue into safer hands than others; for in fine, two di∣screet persons having a perfect love one for the other, would rather commit a fault alone, than ad∣vise one the other to it, and consequently there is no danger to follow my maximes. Though I should grant you what is not, replied Teramus, yet must you still acknowledge, that my way of loving is more divertive than yours. For thy part, saies the Princess Clarinta, I should not take it amiss to be obeyed, but should not much care to obey. And I think, saies Artelisa, that all the satisfacti∣on of Love, as to Women, consists in a little Ty∣rannie. So that, saies Alcimedes, who was very much taken with her already, he who is the best slave would be the happiest Lover. No question of it replies Artelisa, and it is my humour, if I lo∣ved any one, I should put some fantastick com∣mands upon him, purposely for the pleasure of be∣ing obeyed. Seriously, saies the Princess Clarin∣ta, I think you are in the right, and am of opi∣nion, that there is some pleasure in being fantastick out of design. Howe'r it be, saies Teramus, this I am confident of, that as I shall not convert Melicra∣tes, so shall he not convert me; it being haply but requisite there should be a diversity among Lovers, and that men should not be like the Nightingals, that ever wooe in the Spring, and ever almost sing the same note. 'Tis indeed all for the best, there should be some grave Lovers, some fantastick, some serious, some complaisant, some constant, and some unconstant; for were there only sincere Lovers, the world would be too much given to melancholly.

Upon this, Merigenes led this illustrious compa∣ny to that friend of his, whom I have mentioned before, to see his excellent Garden, yet not be∣fore he had entertained them himself with a mag∣nificent Collation. Being come into the Garden, he who was Master of it, being acquainted with the matter in dispute, took part with the juster side; but though he were a very eloquent person, yet could he not convince those that were of opi∣nions contrary to his. So that after a pleasant conversation, every one returned according to the ordinary custom, better setled in his own perswa∣sion than before. For in the heat of dispute, a man sometimes lights on such reasons, as he had not reflected on, whence it often happens, that a man, instead of perswading others, is perswaded himself. In the mean time, Alcimedes whose de∣sires as I told you, were very earnest and violent, beginning to love Artelisa, was as earnest from that day, as if he had loved her all his life. So that Artelisa, at her return to Eryx, had four Lo∣vers in her attendance.

Now Teramus being extreamly prying into such adventures, easily discovered the secret sentiments of all these persons, and made them his sport with Clarinta, whose divertive humour suggested her imagination with a hundred pleasant things upon that diversity of Lovers. He did the same with Artelisa, nay, with all these pretended Lovers se∣verally. For as to the solitary Merigenes, he con∣tinued in his delightful Wilderness, a peaceable and pleasant life, which yet wanted not its charms and satisfactions. But the poor Lisydas, being the most antient servant of Artelisa's, was very much troubled to see his Rivals daily increasing; but he had this comfort withal, to see that Artelisa treat∣ed them with a wonderful equality; for she was neither favourable, nor harsh to any of the four, but had such a general civility for them, that they loved her without hating one another, and ser∣ved her with all diligence imaginable. For all re∣membring they had heard her say at Merigenes's, that if she had any Lover, she should in all likely∣hood bestow her heart on the most obedient, as be∣lieving him the most amorous, they made it their business, not only to do those things she desired of them, but even to obey her very desires, if I may so say, and to guess at them so as to comply with them: so that having observed that she loved all the great Festivals, they were so many assigned daies of divertisement. Yet would she not allow them to speak openly of their passion, though she was not ignorant thereof. Lisydas had discovered his to her all his life time; Caliantes had made a publique declaration of his by a Sacrifice: Melicra∣tes expressed his in all his actions, and made her sensible of it by all his words; and Alcimedes dis∣covered his to so many people, that there were

enough that told Artelisa of it; who being of a mild and easie nature, behaved her self so, that she every day saw all her Lovers, without any bo∣dies taking exception at it, because she treated them as if they had not been such. She also with∣out any trouble received Letters from them, when they had any occasion to write to her; and that you may know they were persons of no ordinary worth, I shall furnish you with some, whence you may judge of the rest, for you are not to expect I should acquaint you with all the little accidents that happened between Artelisa and these four Lovers. This were but requisite when a man hath but the sufferings of one Lover to relate; but to give an account of those of four, were hardly possible. I shall therefore only give you a general Idaea of the be∣ginnings of this adventure, whereof the end will find me work enough, without troubling my self with things of little consequence. I must therefore, to observe my word, tell you, that there was ne∣ver any thing so gallant seen at Eryx, for every day afforded new entertainment; if one Lover was at the charge of a Ball one day, another found Musick the next; the day following the third would take some occasion to give a Collation; and the fourth gave some noble prize for a race, or some other exercise of the body. Nay, Clarinta her self, to make it appear, as she said, that the ve∣ry desire of diverting ones self, was able to cause magnificence and invention as well as Love, made one of the noblest entertainments in the world. 'Tis true, it was to celebrate the feast-day of Venus's birth-day, which is solemnized at Eryx, on one of the first daies of the Spring: yet should I not have mentioned it to you, had it not proved the occasion of a pleasant dispute between Artelisa and her four Lovers, as also of the writing of the Let∣ter I have to shew you.

You are then to imagine, that Clarinta, knowing that the entertainments of the night speak more magnificence than those of the day, summon'd all the Ladies to her Palace, to be there much a∣bout Sun-setting. So that all being come, Cla∣rinta, followed by all the beauties, by the Prince, and most of quality, went and embarked her self in a sumptuous Galley, covered all over with a magnificent Tent, such as when they were once gotten in, they could see neither the Sea nor the City. Yet was it lightsome enough under that proud Tent, for it was enlightned by fifty crystal Lamps. All the Ladies were seated on Cushions in the Stern, the men either stood or kneeled by them; and discourse was at first the only diver∣tisement of that noble Company; for though I have not given you any particular description of the Ladies of that little Court, yet are they as beautiful and as gallant, as in any other place in the world.

In the mean time, it was no small trouble to them to guess what divertisement Clarinta would give them that night. The place they were in, they thought indeed pleasant enough; it was so well perfumed, that it purified the air they breathed; it was light enough, and all that was to be seen was sufficiently inviting, for the Tent was so ordered, that they could not see those that row'd. At first all spake loud enough, till at last all being silent, or speaking very low, there was no other noise heard than that of the Oars, which falling into the wa∣ter by a measur'd motion, made such as were fit only, to cause a pleasant resvery. But at last, ha∣ving gone very slowly for some time, the Gally staid of a suddain; the Tent was taken up of all sides, and there was heard admirable Musick, con∣sisting of several Consorts that answered one the other, and the company was surprised by the no∣blest object in the world. For you are to ima∣gine, that night being now come on, they found the Galley in the midst of a great Circl, of above two hundred Barks, to each of which they had fastened above two hundred Lamps Pyramid-wise. So that that great number of Pyramids of fire, in the midst of the Sea, made the noblest object that can be imagined. Insomuch that the Sea, recei∣ving the impression of so many lights, seemed to be all on fire. Add to this, that the Galley lying opposite to the City, which is built upon the brow of the Mountain, and that the best prospect of Ve∣nus's Temple, is on that side, there was not a win∣dow which had not Torches in it. All the tops of houses were also full all along the Walls of the City, and at all the pillars of the Temple, where∣of the covering was so well furnished, that it vy'd lights with the Stars. So that seeing at the same time that noble City, and that magnificent Temple, all seemingly on fire, and those two hun∣dred Pyramids of Lamps all burning, which made such a circle about the Galley, wherein Clarinta and the whole Court were, it was impossible they should with cries of joy and admiration, express the pleasure they took at so delightful a surpri∣sal.

Yet was not this all, for after the whole Assem∣bly had been entertained awhile, with so excellent an object, they might see all about the Galley, Tritons with Naker-shells; Nereides with their long hair, and to accomplish the magnificence, they both saw and heard Syrens, which silencing all those several consorts that were in those enflam'd Barks, sung such amorous Verses, that the excellency of the words adding to that of the air, and the sweetness of their voices that sung, it raised in all their hearts a tenderness more than ordinary. That done, the Tritons, the Nereides, and the Sy∣rens, (who were men so disguised in little Boats, that lay even with the water) departing, and lost among the Barks, the Consorts begun again, and thereupon the two hundred Pyramids of fire chang∣ed place, and made divers Figures about the Gal∣ley, and then salling into two right lines, and making as it were a spacious passage, the Princess's Galley began to set forward between the Pyramids, to make to the shore, where it landed, at a place that led into a most pleasant Garden. But as the Ladies came to Land, they were entertained at the shore by the Tritons, with baskets full of Na∣ker-shells, branches of Coral, and other maritime curiosities, whereof they all took every one some∣thing.

That done, they went into the Garden, where they found a magnificent Collation in a Banquet∣ing-house that was there, which was admirably enlightened, and compassed by an infinite number of Orange-trees, whose leaves just budding out, perfumed the air. After which, going into a Hall, whose beauty was suitable to the rest of the enter∣tainment, the Ball, and discourse consummated the pleasant passing away of that night.

This puts me into an imagination, interrupted Amilcar, that the four Lovers of Artelisa were very much troubled that they were not the persons concerned in this so magnificent an entertain∣ment.

Their affliction was much greater than you ima∣gine (replied Aemilius, continuing his relation:) for you are to know, that Artelisa being ready to come to the Princess, having dressed her self as one that would not be sorry to preserve the ac∣quests she had made, her Mother fell so extreamly ill, that nature and decency not permitting her to leave her in that condition, she sent one to excuse her to Clarinta, who would not put off the business to another time, what friendship soever she might have for Artelisa, because it was the day appointed for the celebration of the Festival-day of Venus; So that all she could do, was to express agreat regret, that that excellent person partici∣pated not of the divertisement. But as soon as she was come to the Garden I spoke of, she sent to her, and word was brought her, that Artelisa's Mother had had only a sudden qualm, whereof she soon recovered.

In the mean time, these four Lovers beha∣ved themselves differently in this accident; for Melicrates, perceiving that Artelisa was not at the entertainment, forbore going thither, and kept his Chamber all alone; Caliantes was there, and gave thousands of expressions that he was extream∣ly weary of the solemnity: Alcimedes went not, but was with a friend of his, whose house looked towards the Sea; and Lisydas was there, not know∣ing but that Artelisa was there also: for being one of the last, he imagined that she was embarqu'd before him; but perceiving afterward his error, he spoke not one word during the whole solem∣nity. The next morning these four Lovers would needs make Artelisa acquainted with what had pas∣sed in their hearts, out of a design to prejudice one another. Melicratas sent to know how Artelisa's Mother and she did, sending her word that he was loath to wait on her the night before, for fear of importuning her, and that he had stayed all alone at home out of sympathy. Lisydas sent her word that he was extreamly afflicted, that he had been engaged in a place where she was not. Alcimedes, that he had preferred the satisfaction of discoursing of her, with one of his friends, before that of the noblest entertainment in the world; and Caliantes writ her a Letter much to this effect.

CALIANTES to the fair ARTELISA.

I Know not what your meaning may be; you are the most troublesome, the most discourte∣ous, and the most unreasonable person in the world. You hinder a man from taking any pleasure in things, which of themselves would infinitely afford it, and you force others to think it insupportable, to be near the most accom∣plish'd Princess in the world. However, that you may not say you are absoluely deprived of all the pleasure of the entertainment, it shall not be long e'r I come to give you an account of it, for I had no other motive of seeing it, but that I might give you a relation thereof, though I am confident, that if you had been in my place, and that I had been in yours, you would have had the cruelty to divert your self admirably well without me.

Artelisa received this Letter, and made no an∣swer thereto, thinking it enough to send Caliantes word, indifferently enough, that since she was to see him, there was no necessity of any answer. The ordinary hours of visits were no sooner come, but Melicrates came to Artelisa's, whom he found in her Chamber; for though her Mother were well recovered, yet was it not thought fitting she should see any company that day? Insomuch, that she had commanded her Daughter to entertain the Princess in her Lodgings, she having sent her no∣tice in the morning, that she would give her a visit. Assoon as Melicrates was come in, Artelisa told him that she was very sorry for him, that he had not been at the entertainment, but spoke it with a certain obliging expression, whence he per∣ceived that she thought her self beholding to him. He was hardly sate, but Alcimedes enters, who after the first complements passed, told Artelisa, that for his own part, it troubled him not that he had not been with the Princess, but was infinitely sorry, that she was not in a condition to be there; for though I have seen this solemnity only at a window, yet am I confident it deserved to be seen by the fairest eie•• in the world. As Artelisa was going to make him some answer, Lisydas enters, so that Melicrates and Alcimedes combining toge∣ther to prejudice their Rival, told him that he was very happy, to be the first to give Artelisa a per∣fect account of the Princess's magnificence. I must confess, replies Lisydas, that I was at this solem∣nity, but I know some that were not there, can give a better account of it than I; for I was there and saw nothing, whereas I have heard that Al∣cimedes saw it at a distance, out of a friends win∣dow. Ah Lisydas, replies Alcimedes, these things are better seen near than at a distance. I assure you, replyed he, they are better seen at a distance than near, when those that are near, think more of what they do not see, than what they do; and that those who are at a distance, mind what they do see, more than what they do not. For my part, saies Melicrates, who have not seen ought, either near or at a distance, I cannot be reproach∣ed with any thing. As he said this, comes in Ca∣liantes, saying, that he was extreamly troubled that Lisydas had prevented him in giving Artelisa an ac∣count of the solemnity. Assure your self, replied he, that you come time enough to do that your self, for I have neither told her any thing, nor in∣deed am able to tell her ought; for there lay some∣thing so heavy on my heart, that that prodigious number of Lights which enlightned the Sea, could not dispell the darkness of my thoughts.

Lisydas had hardly given over speaking, but Clarinta, led by Teramus, came in, who by an ex∣cess of kindness would needs convince Artelisa, how great an affliction it was to her, that she had not had her part in the divertisement which the

whole Court had received the night before. But indeed, said she, you are obliged to Caliantes, for he told me several times, that he looked on what passed, meerly to the end he might give you a faith∣ful account of it. I beseech you, Madam, replies Artelisa, engage me not to think my self behold∣ing to Caliantes, for the pleasure he only hath had in seeing one of the noblest things in the world; for I think my self more obliged to those that have not seen any thing at all. It must be then prin∣cipally to me, Madam, replies Lisydas; for as to Melicrates, who kept his Chamber, haply more out of policy than affection, it speaks neither any great miracle, nor great obligation, that he saw no∣thing from a place whence he could not see any thing. But for my part, who, because you were not there, have not seen any thing of what I might have seen, and ever thought on what I saw not, there's reason I should apply to my self what you have spoken with so much kindness. I know not, say Alcimedes, whether the fair Artelisa will be unjust, but am confident, I am he whose senti∣ments, as to affection and tenderness, are most out of controversie, for as to Melicrates, who was not at the solemnity, but stayed in his Chamber, it may be questioned whether he were not indis∣posed, or had not some business to dispatch. For Lisydas, there needs no more be said, than that he was, where Artelisa was not, to exclude him from all comparison with me; for as to his affirm∣ing that he saw nothing, believe him who will; and for Caliantes, he was not in a place of diver∣tisement, while Artelisa was afflicted, but made it his main business to take exact notice of all that passed, to have the further pleasure of making a relation thereof. But for my part, I have not been where all the world was, and to make it ap∣pear that I deprived not my self of that pleasure, but for Artelisa's sake, I passed away the night with a friend of mine, with whom I had no discourse but what was of her. All this may be true, says Melicrates, but to bring your expressions of af∣fection and mine, into a just dispute, you should have taken a house that look'd not upon the Sea, and consequently seen nothing of what happened at the solemnity. But is it my fault, replies Alcimedes, if he, with whom I was, hath no Chamber but what looks into the Sea?—There's a Closet at your own Lodging, replies Melicrates, whence you might have seen no more than what I did from mine—'Tis true, replies Alcimedes, but since I could not be with Artelisa, I would needs speak of her. When a man sees so noble an object as that you saw, replies Melicrates, he minds not much what he saies, and for my part, who was resolved to bestow all my thoughts on Artelisa, I took such a place as should afford nothing to divert or distract me.

When a man loves but weakly, replies Lisydas, he speaks as you do, but he that loves as I do, ever thinks earnestly on what he loves, in what place soever he be; and certainly it argues a greater ten∣derness to be ever thinking of Artelisa, amidst the noblest company in the world, and in a place of pleasure, than to think of her alone, when a man cannot do any thing else. But, if what you say be true, saies Caliantes, and that your thoughts were so taken up with Artelisa, that you saw no∣thing of what passed, it was not tedious or weari∣some to you; for no doubt but you thought on something that was very pleasant, and conse∣quently past away the time better than any of the company. For instance, added he smiling, as the imaginations of Lovers are many times as far from reason and probability, as the dreams of other men, so, if you could imagine that Artelisa might prefer you before all your Rivals, and that you might be one day loved by her, you needed no other pleasure; and I here confidently declare, before the Princess, that for such a pleasant ima∣gination as that, I would willingly renounce the sight of the greatest solemnities in the world, though they were as noble as that of yesterday. To speak therefore freely, Artelisa is more engaged to me than all of you, and particularly much more than you; for first, I had not been in that place, had not the Princess laid her commands on me to that purpose; and next, being I could not be near Artelisa, I was near the person, for whom, of any, she hath the greatest affection. But that I might contribute somewhat to the pleasure of the person I love, I took notice of what ever I saw, to give her an account thereof, though I could not observe things without being withal strangely wea∣ried and troubled. Nay, I appeal to the Princess, whether she did not upbraid me with it more than once. I must needs confess I did, saies Clarin∣ta; and for my part, am much at a loss to deter∣mine which of those four unfortunate persons Ar∣telisa is most engaged to. There is certainly, saies Teramus, some difficulty in the business, but since Artelisa is the most concerned in it, she must give the sentence. How, Madam, saies Melicrates, can you stick at any thing in this case? How, added Alcimedes, can this dispute turn to my disadvan∣tage? Alas, Madam, cries out Lisydas, what in∣justice were it in you to condemn me; and how cruel were you, continued Caliantes, should you prefer any one before me?

To reconcile you all, said she to them, smiling, I am inclined to believe, that Melicrates was afraid of the fresh air of the evening; that Alcimedes, knowing haply what was to be seen, imagined he might see it better from a house than out of the Galley; That Lisydas had seen all, and would not acknowledge it; and that Caliantes pretended dis∣content and weariness, though he were very well pleased.

Artelisa had hardly said these words, but these four Lovers combining all against her, made a thousand exceptions against her sentence. For my part, saies Clarinta pleasantly to them, I know not how you understand her, but were I in your condition, I would not have it pronounced by Ar∣telisa. For there must needs be three miserable, and there can be but one happy; since that in friendship there may be many hapy places in the heart of a friend of either sex; but in gallantry, there can be but one good place in the heart of a Lover, or a Mistress. It matters not, saies Meli∣crates, I had rather run the hazard of being con∣demned, than be ignorant of the judgement of Artelisa. For my part, saies Caliantes, if I thought I should be condemned, I had rather continue in my ignorance of her resentmet. For what con∣cerns me, added Lisydas, I should be satisfied, could I but guess it; and for me, saies Alcimedes, I would rather she acquainted me privately with it.

But put the case, (saies Artelisa, smiling on Tera∣mus,) you had been a Lover of mine, what would you have done? I think, said he, I should have done somewhat which none of all these Lo∣vers hath; for without thinking of being upbraid∣ed with a fear of the fair weather, because of the uncertainty of my health, I think I should have passed away the evening with you. But you consider not, saies Melicrates, that there was one sick in the House, and that she was not to be seen. My Mother's indisposition was so soon over, re∣plies Artelisa, that had you sent to know, you might haply have seen me. Whence I conclude, that though Teramus is not to be thought the most constant Lover in the World, yet hath he better imagined what you ought to have done, than all you have been able to do, put together. But in fine, saies Clarinta, you must take things as they are, and since these illustrious unfortunate men will have it so, pronounce their sentence. That it may be a just one, replies Artelisa, I must have better evidence than I have, and therefore I order Meli∣crates to prove that he hath thought on nothing but me, when he had lock'd himself in his Clo∣set; Lisydas, to make it clearly appear that he saw not any thing of what passed in the place where he was; Alcimedes, that his thoughts ran more upon me when he discoursed with his friend, than on what he looked on; and Caliantes, that his weariness proceeded not rather from the tedious∣ness of the solemnity, than from my absence.

For my part, saies Melicrates, I can easily obey you, for I made Verses to express my sentiments, which shall prove what I alledged. I am much short of your happiness, replies Lisydas, for it is not possible for me to prove that I have not seen what I might have seen. Nor is it any easier, for me, replied Alcimedes, to make it appear, that I thought only of Artelisa while I spoke of her, when at the same time I looked on those noble Pyramids of Light, that seemed to set the Sea on fire; and for my part, replies Caliantes, I am as far to seek how to make good proof of what Artelisa would have me prove, though there be not any thing more true. If it be so, saies this Beauty, Meli∣crates is the person that must be declared to have given the greatest expressions of affection, and to punish the rest for their indifference. I condemn Alcimedes, not to speak of me any more, but when he is at leisure to think of me; Lisydas, never to go to a place where he will not take notice of what passes; and Caliantes to give me an exact account of all he hath seen, as soon as the Princess shall be gone hence, that thereby I may be confirmed in the opinion I am of, as to what concerns him.

But since you have inflicted punishments, (saies Teramus, not giving these three slighted Lovers the leisure to say any thing) methinks you should take some order that Melicrates be rewarded, for it belongs to justice as well to recompence as to pu∣nish: nay, it is in a manner as unjust not to recom∣pence as not to punish; Teramus is certainly in the right, added Clarinta, and therefore I condemn you to recompence Melicrates, since you have given sen∣••nce in his favour. Since it is your Will, replied Arte∣lisa, I condemn him to shew the Verses which he says he hath made; for since they must needs be ex∣cellent, he will be fully recompenced. Madam, if they are liked by you, and please Teramus, who is so great a Critick in things of that nature. Me∣licrates made answer, it was no fair dealing, for that if the Verses proved ill, he was not recom∣penced, but punished. But after all excuses he was forced to obey, and to shew his Verses, which were found very amorous, and like a Gallant: so that his Rivals had the affliction to hear them com∣mended, and to think them but indeed too good.

I shall not give you an account of all the plea∣sant entertainments which this proved the occasi∣on of, for I am resolved not to tell you any thing in particular, till I come to the end of the History. I shall only tell you, that Lisydas, who had, from his infancy, an affection of Artelisa, continued it with such assiduity, that it was beyond all exam∣ple; that Alcimedes carried away by the violence of his disposition, did for her all that a violent love could put him upon that were most difficult; for he was no less exact and vigilant than Lisydas, but many times much more jealous, for that at divers times he would needs fight with his Rivals all, one after another. For Caliantes he gave such signal expressions of his Love, that notwithstand∣ing his inclination to magnificence, and the satis∣faction he took in being liberal, he had such an a∣version to leave Eryx, and was so absolutely desi∣rous to marry Artelisa, that he would not by any means hearken to the entreaties of his friends to return into Greece. They indeed thought at first, that there needed no more to bring it home, than to send him any allowance; but he chose rather to lose all than leave Artelisa, insomuch, that at last his Father disinherited him for his disobedi∣ence. So that this magnificent Lover, who had been at such vast expences, was forced to subsist meerly upon the generosity of the Prince of Eryx, who allowed him not enough, either to live ho∣nourably, or rationally to pretend to Artelisa. How∣ever, he continued an earnest affection towards her, and repented him not of a constancy that cost him so dear. He generously told her, that, it be∣ing not in his power to make her happy, he yet loved her without hope.

For Alcimedes, he gave a violent expression of his love to Artelisa, for having one day obliged her to tell him positively, whether he should hope or fear, and she unmercifully telling him before one of his Rivals, that he was to fear all things, and to hope nothing; he, carried away by his vio∣lent sentiments, answered her roundly, that he should find the way to rid himself of all fear, since she deprived him of hope. Whereupon this des∣perate Lover, going out of her Chamber, and passing by a Closet, wherein there were certain Arms that had been his Mistresses Fathers, and finding the door open, goes in, takes a ponyard, and gives himself a stab, that he fell down dead. I leave you to imagine, how much Artelisa was surprised at this accident, and what care she took to save the life of of a man that would die out of excess of Love. Chirurgeons were sent for to dress him, who found him very dangerously wounded. His Lodging being near Artelisa's, he was immediately carried thither, there being less danger to remove him from one place to another at that time, than if they had stayed longer. But when he had recovered himself a little, out of the weakness he was in, by reason of the loss of bloud, and perceived he was in his bed, and dressed, he

would have torn off what they had laid to his wound. 'Tis true, those that looked to him, pre∣vented it, and the better to effect their design, they went to Artilesa's mother, who obliged her daugh∣ter to send Alcimedes a command not to oppose the remedies were used to him, and that it was her Will that he should entertain whatever contributed to his recovery. From which command Alcimedes conceiving some little hope, suffered himself to be dressed, and resolved to live.

Whence it being easie to judge, that Alcimedes would not have killed himself, but because he was slighted: his Rivals rejoyced at it, though they were in some fear, that that great expression of his love might work somewhat upon the heart of Artelisa. For Caliantes, he, being in a very sad po∣sture, as to fortune, was not so glad of it as Lisydas, who never was so much in hope as then, for he knew by the accident that had happened to Alci∣medes, that he was not loved.

Calianta's poverty seemed to him to be an invin∣cible obstacle, as to the compassing of his design; and Melicrates's affection to Artelisa, being of a date much latter than his, he did not fear him much. So that he lived then with a confidence full of satisfaction: For Melicrates, he being one that had much love, was also subject to much fear, as also to much hope, for it is only an indifference of affection, which admits not a vicissitude of hope and fear. He was therefore subject to more fear than Lisydas, lest this extraordinary expression of love in Alcimedes, might have some influence on Artelisa, and accordingly sought some favourable opportunity to entertain her privately, and to dis∣cover unto her the true sentiments of his soul. But this he found a hard work, for besides that, he was perpetually pester'd with Rivals: Artelisa, ever since the accident of Alcimedes, was very shie in rais∣ing any sentiment of jealousie in any of her Lovers, lest it might prove the occasion of some further un∣happy adventure. So that according to the hu∣mour she was in then, she durst not in a manner be either kind or cruel. This found Clarinta and Teramus sport enough when they came to Arteli∣sa's, for they were ever casting into her dish, that she never durst say either yea or nay, to any of her Lovers. For if you answer any one affirmatively, said they, the rest will kill him; and if negatively, he to whom you shall say so, will kill himself.

But not to insist on things of no consequence, that you may the better apprehend what I have yet to tell you, you are to know, that there was a man at Eryx, an antient enemy of the house of Melicrates, and of Melicrates in particular, with whom he could never be brought to any reconci∣liation; for besides that he hated him, he valued him not, and would not admit any composure of the differences between them. Melicrates in the mean time was so taken up with love, that he in a manner minded not the aversion he had for his e∣nemy, though his friends often advised him to look to himself, and not to be abroad in the night with∣out company. This hindred not, but that it came into his mind to fasten on some opportunity to speak to Artelisa in the night, since he could not do it in the day. He knew her chamber lay even with the Garden, that her Mother, because of her in∣disposition, lodg'd in another part of the house; far enough off; that the windows of that Chamber were low, and that Artelisa went to bed very late. He knew further, that she loved to walk in the Moon-shine, so that it being then a season that the Moon shone all night, he corrupted a slave, who pro∣mised to open him a door to the Garden, that went out into a lone-street, which he accordingly did.

But as it ordinarily happens, that when a man hath some secret design, he meets with an hundred rubs he never foresaw, Melicrates was courted that day to spend the evening in divers places; two of his friends came to desire his company at supper; in so much that he had much ado to be rid of all those that came to see him. He indeed dismissed them in such a way, as gave those he denied occa∣sion, to imagine he had some secret design; for though he denied them, yet gave he not any hand∣some account why he did so. Not but that he did all that lay in his power to conceal it, but it seems a Lover is less master of himself than any one. At last having sent all away, even to his own slaves, it was late e'r he came to that door of Artelisa's Garden, which the slave he had corrupted opened to him: which done, getting behind a hedge-row: he expected till the same slave should, with a torch, make him the sign they were agreed upon, to let him know that all were retired but Artelisa, and a maid that waited on her. Accordingly, Melicra∣tes perceiving there was no light any where but in Artelisa's chamber, prepared to go thither, when he perceives that beauty coming out, with a little white vail over her head, and half undress'd, who, according to her custom, desirous of the coolness of the night, and to walk in the Moon-shine, came towards the place where he was, having with her a pretty little dog, that she made extreamly much of. So that this pretty creature skipping up and down among the flowers and borders, and coming at last to the hedge, behind which Melicrates lay hid, stopped of a sudden, as being frightned at the scent of some body there. Nay, he bark'd a little angrily, looking back on his Mistriss, then presently after, knowing Melicrates (who was wont to make much of him, as one that loved any that Artelisa was taken with) he violently jer••∣ed into the hedge-row with all that insinuation and fawning, whereby a creature of that nature is wont to express his services to those he loves. So that Artelisa, who thought her self alone in the Garden, was at first much surpriz'd; yet imagined it might be a young slave of her Mother's that was there. She therefore went about the hedge-row on one side, while Melicrates did the like on the other, to come and meet her, so that she was ve∣ry much amazed to see him. One while she would have turned away from him hastily; another time she would cry out; but Melicrates having stayed her, and her own reason telling her, that if she cryed out, it might cause a great disturbance, which might be ill-interpreted, she thought it the best course to lay a strict command on Melicrates, to go his ways, for she had ever found him so obedi∣ent, that she doubted not but that he would obey her. She therefore stood still, and the rather, that knowing she might be heard from her chamber; she thought she might call people at any time, if need were. It argues a strange confidence in you, Melicrates, said she to him, to come at this hour in∣to the Garden, and your love cannot be great, when you expose my reputation as you do. For if you

were seen either coming in, or shall be seen going out; will it not give people occasion to imagine it was by my appointment to some base end. The street I came in at, replyes Melicrates, is so little frequented, that I neither have been, nor fear I shall be seen, and the slave who hath opened me the door, is the only person that knows any thing of my design, not that I thence conceive my self absolutely innocent; but Madam, that my unhap∣piness is such, that it is not strange I should do something against reason: For, because I have a Ri∣val that would needs kill himself, rather out of in∣dignation than love; I must never speak to you alone again, and consequently must be eternally ig∣norant how I stand in your inclinations. To be free with you Madam, continued he, I am not able to live at this rate, and to prevent me from seeking out extraordinary ways to speak to you, tell me something that is kind, that may allay the tempest my soul is in. I have only two words to say to you, replyed she, while you stay in the Gar∣den, and those two words are, be gone. Ah, Ma∣dam, replyed he, those two words speak too much disdain; not but that as I sometime told you in Merigenes's Arbor, obedience is the greatest and truest mark of a real love, and consequently that I will obey you, but Madam, before I do it, give me leave to tell you, that I love you far beyond any of my Rivals; and intreat you to acknowledge though but by some sign that you believe it. For since you have declared that the greatest affection should prevail with you, I shall think my self hap∣py enough, if you do but believe mine to be great∣er than any other mans whatsoever.

Whereupon, though Artelisa had told Melicrates that she had but two words to say to him, yet did she speak a many to him; yet such as he could not interpret much to his advantage; for she was in so great a disturbance to see him there, and so incen∣s'd against him for his boldness, that she spoke very harshly to him, though she had an infinite esteem for him. Insomuch, that it was to no purpose for him to fall to flatteries and intreaties, but he must needs think of leaving the place. You must needs acknowledge, said she to him, that you have done very indiscreetly, not only in respect of me, but your self; for take it from me, that if ever your boldness comes to be known, I shall never look on you again, and I shall treat you so, that it shall take off all suspicion of your kind entertainment. What troubles me yet farther, added she, is, that the slave who hath let you in, thinks haply that your coming hither is with my consent. Melicrates gave her all the assurance he could that there was no such matter, and would have said divers other things to her, but she laid such an absolute command upon him to be gone, that he left the place im∣mediately. Artelisa made fast the door after him, and returned to her Chamber in a strange distur∣bance. For Melicrates, he was not seen by any, and to prevent his own servants from seeing whence he came, least they might imagine where he had been, he went a great way about, and came to a place where he saw a man, very richly cloathed, aid along on the ground, as if he had been either dead or asleep. He comes up to him, and knowing him to be that enemy of his I told you of, he sound him assassinated. He was much surprised at the sight; so that not desirous to be seen about the dead person, he made what hast he could away, but he had hardly gone twenty paces, ere he meets with one of the principal Magistrates attended by a guard, accompanyed by the friends of the dead party, and conducted by one of his slaves, who seeing Melicrates, told the Magistrate, that he be∣ing at enmity with his Master, had undoubtedly caused him to be Murthered, and was come to see whether he had been quite dead. This the slave said as confidently as if he knew it to be true: so that the friends of the murthered, pressing him that was to do them justice, to lay hold of Melicrates, whose hatred towards the other was sufficiently known, he did it, though he could not imagine him guilty. He asked him from whence he came; but he not willing to tell him, made answer some∣what angrely, that a single person could not well be charged with an assassinate. Ah, my Lord, says the dead persons slave, speaking to the judge, my Master was murthered by six men, and had I had but any thing of arms about me, I would have dyed in his defence. But while I was gone for help, they killed him and fled several ways.

Melicrates, being a person of exemplary virtue, people could not easily suspect him guilty; but he still refusing to tell them whence he came, there was no reason, but that according as it was desi∣red, Melicrates should be secured. To take there∣fore a moderate course in so unhappy an emergen∣cy, he desired he might be put into the hands of a friend of his, whom he named, who should see him forth coming, which was accordingly done. In the mean time, when the charge was drawn up against Melicrates, the circumstances were very pregnant against him, for it was known, that he had refused to go to several places that night, that he would neither entertain, nor be entertained, by some friends of his, that he went out alone; and that he had taken a sword with him, that none of his people knew whether he was gone; and that a woman out of a window had seen him looking on the dead party. So that adding to this the inve∣terate hatred he had had for him, and his obstinacy in refusing to tell where he had been, from the time he had left his own house, till that he had been met in, it could not be expected, that either his virtue, or his reputation, how great soever, should exempt him from a suspicion of that murther. They desired him only to name any one man that could say he had seen him any where; but that he could not do, for he had seen only Artelisa, and the slave that had opened the Garden door to him. So that choosing rather to be unjustly thought guil∣ty of a crime, than to expose the reputation of his Mistress, he answered ambiguously, and did himself more prejudice than all the other conjec∣tures and circumstances could do. Insomuch, that the next day, it was news in all companies, that Melicrates had caused his enemy to be assassinated. At first, all the world were troubled to imagine it could be so; but the circumstances being so preg∣nant, and the conjectures so strong, the best friends that Melicrates had, were drawn into belief, that hatred had had the upper hand of his virtue.

You may easily imagine how strangely Artelisa was surprised to hear that Melicrates was charged with having assassinated his enemy, and that it was told her, that the strongest conjecture they had of it, was, that he would not acknowledge where he

had spent that evening. This put her into an extraor∣dinary disturbance, for having an infinite esteem for Melicrates, and knowing how great an affecti∣on he had for her, she was extreamly afflicted to see him accused with so much injustice, yet could she not on the other side avoid some fear, that, to clear himself he might discover the truth; for it run into her imagination, that if he should say he was alone with her in the Garden at the time the murther happened, her reputation were lost; it being unlikely the world should believe the thing precisely as it was, especially the three Rivals of Melicrates, who would give that adventure the most disadvantageous interpretation they could.

But while she was in this uncertainty, Melicra∣tes, who stood committed to the custody of one of his friends, till something more of the business might be discovered, was not without distur∣bance. For being so great a Lover of Glory as he was, it was an extraordinary affliction to him, to be charged with the doing of a criminal acti∣on.

What shall I do (said he to himself, as he hath acknowledged since?) shall I eternally lye under the suspition of having committed a crime that ar∣gues the greatest baseness that may be, rather than discover a thing that is absolutely innocent? for by acknowledging my self to be an inconsiderate per∣son, that had had the boldness to corrupt a slave of Artelisa's to open me her Garden door, that so I might speak with her privately, I shall say nothing against her. But Alass! added he, can I imagine people will believe it to be as I say? No, no, I must not flatter my self, continued he, and there is no mean between these two things, I must expose either my Mistresses reputation, or my own, I must either be unjustly accused my self, or prove a means that she may be. Ah! the choice is soon decided, I am resolved; I had much rather be ac∣cused, than be the occasion of her being so. I have this confidence at least, that it is impossible she should not be pleas'd with my discretion; let us then be content, continued this unfortunate Lover, that we only know Artelisa to be conscious of our inno∣cence; she amounts to as much with us as all the world beside, nay all the world could not ease us, were she once incensed against us. Let us therefore undergo our misfortune with patience, the Gods are more just than not to discover our innocence by some way which may not prejudice that of Ar∣telisa; and let us endeavor for our part, to do some great action that may justifie us. Where∣upon, Melicrates resolving never to say any thing which might bring Artelisa's virtue into the least dispute, he found an opportunity secretly to write her a Letter, which contained these words.

MELICRATES, to ARTELISA.

I Must confess, Madam, that Caliantes hath loved you beyond Fortune, since he embra∣ces poverty for your sake; and that Alcime∣des loves you beyond his life, since he would have killed himself out of despair. But to do some thing greater than all this, you will find, that I love you beyond Glory, though I am perswaded it ought to be looked on as a thing more precious in the account of a person of ho∣nor, than either fortune or life. In the mean time, give me leave to entertain the comfort of hoping, that while I am looked on as a crimi∣nall by all the world, I shall be accounted in∣nocent by the divine Artelisa, to whom I infal∣libly offer the greatest sacrifice that can be ex∣pected from an amorous heart.

This Letter Artelisa took extream kindly, and accordingly answered it with abundance of ob∣ligations as you shall perceive.

ARTELISA to ME∣LICRATES.

YOur discretion hath made me forget your boldness, and the tender care you have of my innocence, speaks so much obligation, that if I thought your life in danger, I should be so generous as to hazard my reputation for your sake. In the mean time, assure your self, I send up my continual addresses to the gods, that they would be pleased to clear you, without any ne∣cessity I should accuse my self.

But the more they endeavored to discover of this adventure, the more obscure it seemed to be, all the world would have justified Melicrates, ex∣cepting his Rivals, but his silence argued so much against him, that he could not be cleared. Yet was there not evidence enough to condemn him, so that being a person of quality, and much favored by the Prince and Princess, all the friends of the deceased could obtain, was that Melicrates should have the City for his prison, for the space of six Months, during which time they might do what they could to find out more pregnant proofs against him. But Melicrates desirous by doing noble acti∣ons, to make it appear he could not be guilty of base ones, having met with two of his enemies kindred one after another, fought with them, hurt them, and disaxmed them, and had all the repu∣tation he could expect; for he in the midst of victo∣ry, used much humanity, though he fought against such as accused him unjustly.

But as men are very much subject to take all things amiss, and in the worst sense, so did these two great actions instead of justifying Melicrates, very much heighten the suspition that he was guil∣ty of the murther of his enemy, people thinking that it was his design by that means to repair the crime wherein his malice had engaged him. So that Melicrates knowing what men thought of him, would have fallen into despair, had he not had the satisfaction of being somewhat better treated by Artelisa, than he had been before. But it being hard, a Lover should receive any favor from his Mistress, but his Rivals must hear of it, when there is not between him and her one of those indissolvable af∣fections which require a reciprocall secrecy, Lisy∣das, who was glad that Melicrates was under such

a cloud, out of a fear he was in of him above all the rest, came to understand that Melicrates had never been so much in favor with Artelisa, as he was then. So that notable to endure the in∣justice he thought she did him, he sought an op∣portunity to make his complaints to her of it; and accordingly, having one day found her alone in her Chamber, he began to represent unto her the long time that he had been her servant. For it was true, that he loved her assoon as ever she be∣gan to be capable of his love. Whereupon he earnestly entreated her to say something to him that should not afflict him, assuring her that she had not any Lover whose affection was as great as his. For in fine, said he to her, Caliantes loo∣sing his estate for your sake, hath not done any thing which I should not have as gladly done, had any occasion offered it self. For Alcimedes, in being desirous to kill himself out of despair, he hath done less than I should, had you put me out of all hope, for I should dye of grief, without the assistance of a poniard.

And for Melicrates, added he, in an accent ex∣pressing his contempt of him, I do not see why you should be so much persuaded of the greatness of his affection, unless you measure his love by his malice, and that because he knows well how to hate and revenge himself, you imagine he knows as well how to love and serve you. Ah, Lisydas, re∣plyes Artelisa, a little angrily, and withall blush∣ing; if you would not have me blame you, insult not over an unfortunate man whom I cannot be∣lieve any way guilty. I could never have believed it, Madam, replied Lisydas coldly, that to gain your favor, a man must be charged with Assassinates. No, he must be innocent and unfortunate, replyed she, to deserve my protection; and since I conceive Me∣licrates to be both, you should not think it strange if I take his part against you. The apparent cir∣cumstances are very deceitful, Madam, replyed he, if Melicrates be innocent. In fine, Madam, inno∣cent or guilty it matters not; he is too happy to be so much in your favor, and I am very unhap∣py to be so little, after I have spent my whole life in serving you. But when all is done, though I must expect to be more sleighted than I am, yet cannot I forbear telling you, that you are very much to blame for multiplying your favors on Me∣licrates, when all persons of honor have abated him part of their esteem, And therefore give me leave, Madam, to advise you for your reputation sake, to slight him, at least as much as you do me; I am content to be so much more than I have been, conditionally he be no less than I am, for I can∣not endure to hear you blamed, or that you should love him.

Artelisa, perceiving by this discourse, more than by any thing before, how much she was obliged to Melicrates's discretion, was exasperated against Lisydas, and though she was satisfied that she did not well in blaming him so much as she did, yet not thinking it fit to tell him positively, that Melicrates was innocent, she conceived such a dis∣pleasure at it, that she revenged her self on that miserable Lover. She therefore spoke to him dis∣dainfully enough, in answer to which he being still obstinate to press the injury he pretended she did her self, and to entertain her with the greatness of his affection, she forbad him ever to see her again. Be gone, said she to him, be gone, and have nothing to do with my carriage, for you are so little concerned in my affection, that it should be indifferent to you whom I love, and whom I do not: Lisydas, surprised at this sally of disdain, looked on her with amazement, and would have made her some answer, but this incensed beauty forbidding him to speak, and commanding him to leave her Chamber, he was forced to obey her; he therefore went his ways, but clouded with such a deep sadness, that he met certain Ladies upon the stairs whom he saw not, and consequently sa∣luted not, though they were of his acquaintance, so much were his thoughts ore-whelmed with grief.

From Artelisa's, he went to his Chamber, where he spent both that evening and night, without eat∣ing or sleeping, or indeed so much as lying down. One while he walked softly, another very fast; sometimes he leant against the Table, sometimes lifted up his eyes to heaven, sometimes pronoun∣ced certain confused words, amongst which might be heard the names of Artelisa, and Melicrates, and sometimes he was in a deep silence, which was not interrupted but by long and mournful sighs. But in fine, not to trouble you with a description of the excessive grief of Lisydas, I shall only tell you, that he was three days and three nights in so great a disturbance, that a feaver took him, but with such violence, that he lost the use of his reason the very first day. So that not able to make any resistance against the remedies were prescribed him, he re∣covered of the feaver, but a Sister of his, a very lovely Lady, that looked after him, was very much surprised to see that he recovered not his reason with his health. It was not so much wondered at, that while the feaver lasted, he was heard to speak perpetually of Artelisa and Melicrates, and all his other Rivals with a strange confusion, but when he had recovered of the feaver, all were troubled to see such a change happened to a person of great worth and understanding. Yet had his ex∣travagance something advantageous in it; and it was such as made him speak but little. He was very melancholly, said little, and when he spoke it was altogether of Artelisa. But though there were no great sense in what he said of her, nor yet much coherence, yet did all his discourses be∣tray certain expressions of respect; and it was im∣possible to make him do or take any thing, if they did not tell him that it was Artelisa's will he should.

You may easily imagine what noise this acci∣dent made, for at last it was blurted out by a slave of Artelisa's, that the last day that Lisydas had been with her, she had sleighted him extreamly, and the Ladies he had met on the stairs reflected on the alteration they had perceived in his countenance. So that there was no other discourse at Clarinta's but of the fatal consequences that attended those that should love Artelisa. For Caliantes had, upon that account, lost all his Estate, Alcimedes would have killed himself, Lisydas had thereby lost his reason, and Melicrates, though it was then known, had by the same means lost his honor. In the mean time, the accident happened to Lisydas, rai∣sed pitty in all, and particularly in Artelisa, who had been the occasion of it. So that the friends of this unfortunate Lover, having been with Clarin∣ta,

to entreat her to speak to Artelisa to humour him, to see whether it would restore him to his reason, Artelisa was content. She therefore one day gave a visit to the Sister of this unhappy Lo∣ver, who had sent for her Brother to her Chamber. As soon as she came in sight, he would have gone away, remembring that she had forbidden him to see her. But she being come thither purposely to humour him, staid him, and ask'd him why he a∣voided her company. At these words he stay'd, he look'd on her very earnestly, and sigh'd two or three times; after which, he ask'd her with a fee∣ble voice, whether she knew him to be Lisydas. I do said she to him, and I am so troubled for the harshness I used towards you, that I come purpose∣ly hither to entreat you to forget it.

This rais'd Lisydas to a very great joy, yet could he not express it otherwise than by his looks, for it was impossible for him to speak. He fell down on his knees, took her garment and kiss'd it, and out of a miracle of Love, three or four kind words restored his Reason to this unfortunate Lover. Ac∣cordingly from that hour, he had not that melan∣cholly in his countenance, which extravagance puts upon those it possesses; and though he spake not, but only look'd on Artelisa, yet was it thence inferred, that he would recover the freedom of his thoughts. But what was most extraordinary, was, that as grief had been the occasion of his sickness, so this excess of joy, put him into a fit of the Fea∣ver, that lasted a whole day, during which time, Artelisa sent twice to see how he did. 'Tis true, the success of this relapse was much different from that of the first sickness; for this fit, caus'd by the agitation of an excessive joy that had surpriz'd him, dispell'd those melancholly vapors that had cor∣rupted his Reason. In so much, that when the Feaver had left him, his thoughts were absolute∣ly free and dis-engaged. You may easily imagine what entreaties were made to Artelisa, that she should not too suddenly break off her kindness to Lisydas, for fear of a relapse into the same misery. So that upon these inducements, as also the entrea∣ties of the other Rivals, who thought him a per∣son not much to be fear'd; she so sooth'd up Lisy∣das, that in a few daies he became as gallant a man as ever he had been. 'Tis true, having the mis∣fortune to know the accident that had happened to him, it made him so much the more unfortunate; but finding after all, Artelisa very kind to him, it put him into some hopes, that his late extra∣vagance being look'd on by her, as an expression of his affection, it might contribute to his further happiness.

About this time it happened, that Caliantes's Father being dead, he to whom he had given his Estate, when he disinherited his Son, fell sick eight daies after, so dangerously, that he thought it concern'd him to put his affairs into some order. But being a very generous person, he returned to Caliantes all the Estate he had received from his Fa∣ther, and added thereto his own, which was ve∣ry great: so that Caliantes was gotten richer by one halfe, than ever he expected to have been. Upon the first arrival of this news to him, he wrote to Artelisa in these terms.

CALIANTES to AR∣TELISA.

WHen I first directed my affections to you, it was with some hope that pro∣ceeded from a confidence I could make you hap∣py; and when fortune turn'd her back upon me, I quitted my hope without any loss as to my love, out of a consideration, that not willing to make you unfortunate, I conceived I had no longer any reason to hope, without ceasing to be generous, and being guilty of a treason against true love. But now that Fortune hath been pleased to bestow much more upon me, than she had taken away from me, give me leave, Madam, to re-assume that hope, which genero∣sity had obliged to quit, and be so favourable to me, as to believe, that no man ever knew how to love so well as I do.

No doubt but this must needs add very much to the esteem which Artelisa had for Caliantes, whose procedure was so generous: however she thought not fit to answer it otherwise, than by a civility that engaged her not to any thing. In the mean time, she treated Melicrates better than any of the rest, for his reputation being still under a could upon her account, she thought it some ob∣ligation to comfort him: yet durst she not on the other side, be too harsh to Alcimedes, lest he should offer himself any violence a second time; she flat∣tered the poor Lisydas, and she could not treat Ca∣liantes ill, because his generosity had been extra∣ordinary.

Things standing thus, there was a certain man, that had committed a great robbery, taken; and confessed he had been one of those that had assas∣sinated this enemy of Melicrates. At first it was thought he had been a lost man, and that this thief would have nam'd him for the Author of his crime; but the world was strangely surpriz'd, to under∣stand that Melicrates was not at all concerned in it, and that this horrid action had been committed by a jealous and revengeful Husband, who having discovered some familiarity between his wife and that enemy of Melicrates, would needs revenge himself in that manner. Whereupon he that was truly guilty, being taken as he was making his escape, and having confessed all, Melicrates was absolutely cleared, and recovered his former re∣putation, with much more luster than before. However, people were extreamly to seek, why he should be so loath to discover the place he was at when this murther had been committed. But it was not long e'r it came out, for I am to tell you, that Caliantes spending now more highly than ever he had done; the slave, who had some∣time opened the Garden-door to Melicrates, and whom Artelisa had soon after ordered to be sold, having passed through the hands of two other Masters, came at last to Caliantes, and revea'cd that secret to him, whereat this Lover was so surprized, that he could not smother the astonish∣ment

he conceived thereat. For though the slave had told him that Artelisa knew not of his coming into the Garden, yet would he not believe him. So that not content with his own reflections on this adventure, he told it a friend of his, and that friend another. Insomuch that soon after it came to be the general talk of this City, that what had caus'd that great silence of Melicrates, was, that he would not discover a seceet appointment there had been between him and Artelisa. This beau∣ty, hearing at last what was said of her, resolved to tell what really passed, and consequently to make appear the great expression of affection she had re∣ceiv'd from Melicrates. Artelisa spoke this so free∣ly, and Melicrates seconded it with such prudence, that Artelisa being known to be a virtuous person, all her Lovers, except Caliantes, believ'd the thing had passed as she said; nor indeed could it be much doubted of, for the Letters that had passed between Artelisa and Melicrates, were very pregnant proofs of it.

Upon this there arose no small difficulty, viz. to know whether of these four Lovers had made the greatest expression of Love to Artelisa; whether Caliantes, who being of a magnificent and liberal nature, was content to embrace poverty for her sake; or Alcimedes, who being a Lover of life and its enjoyments, would through an excess of love kill himself; or Lisydas, a person of great under∣standing, who had fallen mad through the violence of his passion; or Melicrates, who being a passionate lover of Glory, had consented to the loss of his own, rather than prejudice the reputation of his Mistriss. Artelisa was just then come to the age she would be of e'r she married, for this adventure had lasted to the twentieth year of her age. So that her Mother and the rest of her friends, pressed her to make choice of the person she intended to marry. The Prince of Eryx would also have her to declare, to prevent what misfortune might happen between four persons of equal worth, with any in the world. Add to this, that these Lovers being in∣clin'd to do only what was just, notwithstanding their love, every one thought he had many rea∣sons to alledge to Artelisa, so that their mutual hatred being smother'd by an excess of generosity, the Princess Clarinta, who was to arbitrate this great difference, endeavoured to find out some expedient, whereby this adventure might come to a period without any mischief done. She there fore so manag'd the business, that these four Lovers promised to submit to Artelisa's Will, so as that the unfortunate should not quarrel with him that were chosen, provided that, before hand, in the presence of persons that were able to advise, they might produce their reasons, to prove every one the great∣ness of his affection; for I had forgot to tell you that Artelisa had declar'd, that she would bestow her self on him, from whom she had received the greatest expression of love. But the Princess Cla∣rinta, fearing that if they spoke themselves, they would be exasperated one against another, made them consent every one to choose a friend, to speak their reasons for them, before those that were to advise Artelisa. She also made them swear, that assoon as the choice were over, those that were not chosen should leave Eryx for six moneths, and should not so much as take their leave of Arte∣lisa.

All these Articles being agreed on, the Princess assembled together all those persons whom she thought competent judges in such a case, and the four Lovers made choice of those that were to speak for them. Teramus was one of the first in∣vited to this famous consistory; a person of great worth, called Meriander, who was come from Sy∣racuse to Eryx, was also entreated to be there; the solitary Merigenes quitted his wilderness to the same end; and Clarinta would needs have them stay one day for an illustrious friend of hers, whom I must give you a character of: for having made you acquainted with all the persons of worth at Eryx, it is but just I give you the knowledge of him, I am to speak to you of, since he was one of my friends judges.

Know then that this generous friend of Clarin∣ta's is called Anaximenes, a person of extraordina∣ry merit. He is well born, and comes of a House bless'd with an Estate sufficient to satisfie a wise man, and yet it may be said, it is a thousand times less than he deserves. Anaximenes is tall, hath an Oval countenance, a dark hair, a delicate but pale complexion, somewhat a great mouth, a well pro∣portion'd nose, eyes black, large, and full of fire, Yet is his deportment grave enough, though his eyes do many times betray an obliging smile. For his understanding, it requires more knowledg than I have to define it well. For not to mention the great prodigality of Nature towards him in that particular, he hath improved it strangely. He hath not only learned whatever the Greeks knew, but also whatever the Chaldeans, the Babylonians, and the Egyptians, have communicated to others. So that whatever the most learned, as well antient as modern, knew separately, he hath united in him∣self. Thence is it, that he is consulted upon the most obscure passages of Hesiod and Homer, and what from Greece, where the Disciples of the se∣ven Wise men do yet flourish; what from Crotona and Metapont, where live those of Pythagoras, he constantly receives Letters from those learned per∣sons with whom he holds correspondence. For the Tongues, he hath an admirable command of four, not reckoning his own, and writes Verses in all those four, as well as in his own natural lan∣guage. He hath also writ divers pieces in Prose, full of excellent knowledge; and what ever is no∣ble in Poesie, or curious in point of Letters, he is absolute master of.

But though Anaximenes be a very knowing per∣son, and his company much courted by all the Lo∣vers and professors of Learning; yet is it not to be imagined, that he sees no other people; no, his acquaintance spreads, not only into that of Queens, Princes, Princesses, and Ministers of State, but al∣so into that of all the Gallants about the Court, and all the Beauties without any exception; for to speak freely, he is no less a lover of the Ladies than of the Muses; and what makes for his advan∣tage is, that they have an infinite esteem for him, and that he never had any violent love for any one of them, but she became his very familiar friend. For when he loves he does it with violence, nay, he hath the gift of shedding passionate tears, which all Lovers have not, and he is the most generous Lover in the world. 'Tis true, he cannot endure to love all his life-time to no purpose; and what is most particular in his love, is, that sometimes an

ordinary passion cures him of a great one, that he can afterwards resume his former chains, without breaking his second, that he can cease loving, yet not hate, and that his love is many times changed into friendship.

Anaximenes is not to be numbred among those people that have friends only for themselves, for though he hath a great interest in all those that have any in the Court of Eryx, yet does he not make any advantage of it himself, save that of ser∣ving others. He is perpetually doing good offices for some or other, and the world affords not a per∣son that takes greater pleasure in obliging such of any worth as are unfortunate, than he does. Nor does he think it enough to serve such with his cre∣dit, as he thinks stand in need thereof, but his own estate lies as open to his friends, as himself, and these things he does as freely, as if fortune had gi∣ven him security, he should never want any thing. And for the interest he hath with great ones, he gets it not by base sycophancy; on the contrary, he speaks sincerely, and courageously to those whom he deals with; and discovers a greater heart in giving a faithful advice, than others do in those actions that make most noise. His virtue is not unciviliz'd, or scrupulous, he injures no man, nay, endeavours not the prejudice of his enemies; his behaviour is innocent, all his inclinations gene∣rous; he loves glory, yet does not admit ambiti∣on; and to define him in few words, he hath the knowledge of a Grecian, the heart of a Roman, and a soul as amorous, as if he had been born in Africk.

Anaximenes, being such a person as I represent him to you, was one of those that came to the Prin∣cess Clarinta's, on the day appointed for Artelisa's four Lovers, to give each of them their reasons, to prove the greatness of their affection. But that so great a difference might receive a period with∣out the fear of any unhappy consequence, they caused the four Lovers solemnly to swear that they would exactly observe the engagement that they had made, not to raise any quarrel about the choice after it was once made, and to leave Eryx the same day. For my own par∣ticular, in regard I had been long there, and was a friend to all these Lovers, and much fa∣vour'd by the Princess Clarinta, I was one of those that were to give Artelisa their advice. But at last, the day being set, and Artelisa come to the Prin∣cess Clarinta's Palace, where four very understand∣ing Ladies, chosen by her, with the consent of the four Lovers, being come, Meriander, Teramus, Anaximenes, Merigenes, three others, and my self, met them there. Clarinta would have the business debated in a spacious Closet, wainscotted in the roof, that had all about it many Cabinets, full of things, curious and magnificent. The Princess lay on a little Bed of State, all the Ladies sate on cushions, and the men either stood or half kneel∣ed by the Ladies, upon a large piece of Tapestry which took up half of the Closet. For the four Lovers, they were with the Prince; Clarinta not thinking it fit they should hear what was said a∣gainst them one after another, lest it might exas∣perate them: Nay, they drew lots who should speak first of those that were to plead for them. So it happened, that Alcimedes's friend should begin, Caliantes should be the second, Lisydas's next, and Melicrates's last. Clarinta did further oblige those that were to speak, to address their speech to Ar∣telisa, whose thoughts were then in no small di∣sturbance. When all had taken their places, Alci∣medes's friend, who was to speak for him, was call'd, who having made a low reverence, and re∣ceived Clarinta's order, spoke to the fair Artelisa, in these terms.

ALCIMEDES's Plea.

THe cause I am to defend is so just, Madam, that were I not satisfi'd, that it is impossible for a man to love without hope, I should charge the illustri∣ous persons, whom your merit hath made your servants, with a carriage very irrational. For, Madam, can any of them compare what they have done for the discovery and expression of their affection, with that which Al∣cimedes hath? Caliantes, it must be confess'd, hath done a generous action, in resolving to lose his Estate rather than leave you; but when all is done, Madam, a man may imagine, if he please, his resolution to continue still at Eryx, proceeded from a certain confi∣dence, that his Father could not be so rigorous as to dis∣inherit him, meerly because he was in love with one of the most excellent persons in the world. And when it was done, it was no extraordinary prudence in him to bear his misfortune with constancy, and to oblige you to think he deserved well at your hands. But, be it suppos'd, that he should be willing to lose all for your sake, yet cannot matter of fortune be compared to life, which Alcimedes was content to cast away out of an excess of love. For Lisydas, whom grief depri∣ved of reason, I must confess, I am so much the fur∣ther to seek, why he should presume to contend with Alcimedes, for we never recompence any actions, but the voluntary. And if that be granted, what pre∣tence hath he to stand so much upon the misfortune that is happened to him, when it is evident that it happened to him against his will? Besides, it may hap∣ly be attributed as much to the weakness of his consti∣tution, as to the greatness of his love; But for Alcime∣des, when he gave himself a stab with a Ponyard, it was his desire and set purpose to do it; his Will guided his Hand, and Love forced his Will, so that the me∣rit of his action is out of all controversie. For Meli∣crates, I must acknowledge he hath done a thing very obliging, in being content to be unjustly accused, ra∣ther than to give the least occasion that you should be unjustly suspected. But, all considered, this action, which at first sight seems so, is not so glorious as is ima∣gined; for Melicrates having committed a fault, in coming to your Garden without your knowledge, had it been just in him to prejudice your reputation, or was it any more than fit that he should bear the burthen and punishment of his own crime? Besides, Madam, while he made you this expression of his Love, he wanted not the satisfaction of knowing himself to be innocent, and that thought him no less; nay, he might be guilty of a further perswasion, that in case you ever thought so well of him as to marry him, it would be easie for you one day to vindicate him. But for Alci∣medes, Madam, his very resolution to die, amounts to this, that in you he placed his Estate, his Reason, his Glory, and all things, since you had no sooner for∣bidden him to hope, but he inferr'd he had no longer to live. But it may be objected, that Alcimedes is a person crush'd with the troubles of life, one that looks

on life as a thing indifferent, and is not acquainted with the enjoy¦ments thereof. On the contrary, Ma∣dam, you know him to be a lover of life, a man born to joy, and studies all the entertainments that may be had; and yet four words, disdainfully pronounced, have caused a dissolution of all the engagements he had to cherish life, and forced him to die for your sake, in the most amorous manner that a Lover could be indu∣ced to die in. Had he dyed to do you some service, he might have found some satisfaction in dying; but to be content to dye, without the least hope of being so much as pittied, is the highest expression of affection that can be given: for it must needs be, that Alci∣medes, at the very instant that he was first transport∣ed by despair, was perswaded he could not live with∣out you, that he could never cease loving you, that it was not in the power of time to ease him, that the earth afforded not any thing could satisfie him, and that only death could mitigate the torments love had put him into. Let not then Caliantes make any fur∣ther comparison between what he hath done, and what Alcimedes hath; for a man may slight the goods of Fortune out of a thousand considerations, less forcible than that of love. Let Lisydas quit his claim, since that a simple melancholly vapor, without any cause of affliction, may put a man to the loss of his Reason. And let not Melicrates boast so much of the sacrifice he hath made of his reputation, since he only enga∣ged a thing, which he might one day recover, whereas Alcimedes hath been willing to lose for your sake, what can never be either recovered or recalled again. Let your judgement then, Madam, be given in his fa∣vour, who is the most amorous of those that adore you; and I beseech you to consider how dangerous it were to hazard a second time, the life of a person so conside∣rable as Alcimedes.

When Alcimedes's friend had given over speak∣ing, the whole Company fixed their eyes on Arte∣lisa, to see by her countenance, what impression this discourse had made in her heart. But there being an order made, that none should speak till the four friends of the unfortunate Lovers had gi∣ven in their reasons, no body spoke, only Teramus whispered some pleasant things to Clarinta; which done, he who was to maintain the cause of Cali∣antes, spoke thus,

CALIANTES's Plea.

I Must confess, Madam, that the person who hath spoken for Alcimedes, hath very pertinently urged all that could be said to weaken the pretences of Lisy∣das and Melicrates, insomuch that I have not any thing to add to what he hath said against them. But I must withal make it appear to you, that he hath not spoken with the same force against Caliantes; and that he hath not so much proved the right of Alcimedes, as discovered the unjust pretences of two of his Rivals. To discover this truth, I am to let you understand, that to judge aright of the merit of an action, a man ought sometimes to consider all those that have preceded it, nay, many times those that follow it. For I lay down this as an infallible rule, that there is no man in the world so wicked, whose life affords not some one action that might give men occasion to think he might be vir∣tuous, if there were no more known of him: as also that there are few people so innocent, in whose lives there may not some action be found, which being strip∣ped of all those circumstances that might render it in∣nocent, or excusable, might not give some occasion to think them less virtuous than they are. Let not there∣fore Alcimedes pretend, that we ought to measure the greatness of his love by one single action of his life, and that, an action proceeding rather from indignation than love; and is more likely to argue the despair of a vo∣luptuous person, exasperated at the loss of his plea∣sures, than a Lover afflicted as the cruelty of his Mi∣striss. I shall not deny, but Alcimedes loves life, and that he discovers no less by his courting of all the enjoy∣ments thereof, but shall not grant that he loves you as much as Caliantes does, whose affliction hath appear∣ed without interest from the first beginning thereof to the end; Alcimedes was willing enough to live for your sake, while he looked on you as a person that might prove the means of his felicity; but it no sooner came into his thoughts, that you had destroyed his pleasures, by eluding his hope, but he abhors himself, and by a violent motion, to which true passion does not contribute any thing, he would needs die, not knowing precisely why he should live no longer. Add to this, that death is not a thing so terrible as it is imagined, and it is evi∣dent from thousands of examples, that Love is not the most ordinary cause thereof, in the hearts of desperate persons. There are some that rush upon it of them∣selves, for fear of receiving if from the hands of their enemies; others to avoid being well treated by them; others to prevent the inconveniencies of old age; others out of a fear of abating any thing of their enjoy∣ments; and others out of an irrational melancholly, which makes them hate life. But for Caliantes, if we consider all he hath done for you, since he fell in love with you; we shall find, that in being content to embrace poverty for your sake, he hath done the great∣est and most heroick action that ever Lover did. For you know, Madam, that when he first directed his affections to you, he was prodigiously rich, and pro∣digiously liberal; and yet rather than want your sight, he suffers all to be taken from him, he hath no further employment for a virtue, wherin he placed his greatest satisfaction; he puts himself into a condition of asking, rather than giving; and while he does this, he declares to you, that he will love you eternally, even without any hope: for you know, that as soon as he fell into mis∣fortune, he plainly told you, he would not be so irrati∣onal, as to be guilty of a wish to see you engaged in his fortunes. Accordingly hath he undergone his mis∣fortune with no less constancy than love, till such time as the gods having bestowed on him more than he had l••st, have put him into a condition to discover his passi∣on to you, by re-admitting hope into his heart. Judge then, Madam, what recompence that man deserves, who hath voluntarily lost his fortune, though he could not lose it, without the loss of all the hopes of happi∣ness, who in his misfortune hath preserved his passion without any interest, and who in his good fortune makes a new sacrifice of his heart to you. You see, Madam, that Caliantes hath done something for you more noble than to kill himself. For grief is a resent∣ment, much more tender than indignation. You also perceive that the loss of reason is not so great an expris∣sion of love, as for a man to have employ'd his reason to do an action that speaks a great generosity, and withal, a great passion; and for what concerns Meli∣crates, the sacrifice he hath made of his reputation, is not so considerable as what Caliantes hath done. For Melicrates hath done nothing against any one, when he was content to be suspected; but Caliantes not on∣ly

loses his fortune, but disobeys a Father, and con∣sequently does an unjust thing, which he never had done, had he not loved you, as much as it is possible to love any one. So that, Madam, if you consider what went before, and what followed Caliantes's action, you will find that he hath expressed more love to you than all his Rivals, and consequently deserves to be prefer∣red before them. Be not therefore dazled with actions seemingly glorious, which truly considered, argue less true love, and less generosity than that of my friend; and I beseech you, bethink your self, whether a mag∣nificent and liberal person, who became poor for your sake, and being grown rich again, would bestow all on you, deserves not your heart before any other.

Caliantes's Advocate had no sooner given over speaking, but he that was to plead for Lisydas, assum'd the discourse in this manner.

LISYDAS's Plea.

I Know not, Madam, whether the friendship I have for Lisydas, makes me partial, but am perswa∣ded that none of his Rivals have so much right to your affection as he. For to speak rationally, the heart of a fair Lady can never be more justly bestow'd, than when it is bestow'd on the most unfortunate, condi∣tionally he be the most amorous, and be otherwise a person that knows how to value her love: for I must confess, that love without desert, gives not any man a lawful right to pretend to the possession of an excellent Ladies heart. This granted, Madam, must it not be withal acknowledged, that Lisydas deserves your af∣fection much beyond any of his Rivals? He hath lo∣ved you ever since you were a fit object of love, that is, ever since you were in the world. Nay, he hath had some ground to hope he should not be slighted; he hath seen the new victories you have gain'd without quitting that hope; and though you have not in a manner done any thing for him, yet hath he serv'd you with extra∣ordinary respect, without any complaints or repining. But when you took away the hope he was in, you took away withal his reason, and through an excess of love, to which nothing can be compared; we find that your power over him, is equal to that of the gods, who only can give and take away their reason from them. In so much, that to make it appear, you were absolute Mistriss of his destiny, You no sooner looked kindly on him, but he recovered the use es his rea∣son; and men have seen again in Lisydas, that great and divertive mind, which hath got him the love and esteem of all that know him. To sit down quietly with the loss of an estate, there needs no more than generosity; for a man to give himself a stab with a Poniard, there needs only a minute of fury, which he repents him of a quarter of an hour after; for a man to expose his reputation, he needs do no more than set himself above what the world can say of him: but for a man to lose his reason, upon the hearing of four scornful words, argues him to be the most amorous of men, and consequently the most worthy to be loved; For all considered, this strange accident could not possibly have happened to Lisydas, any otherwise than through an excessive grief, which could proceed from no other cause, than the passion he hath for you: Be pleas'd then, Madam, to make serious reflections on the power you have over him, and thence, I beseech you, consi∣der, what affliction it must needs be to you, if your cru∣elty should force him to a relapse into that misfortune, out of which you have delivered him by a seeming kindness. For Caliantes, he was able to live with∣out hope while he was poor. Alcimedes being cured of his wound, will not offer to kill himself a second time, and to prevent it, you need do no more than for∣bid him to do so. But for Lisydas, Madam, he must infallibly lose either his reason or his life, if you do him not justice. Make choice then of the most unfortunate, since he is the most amorous, and is a person of that worth, that he deserves you. 'Twere a horrid inju∣stice in you, to reproach him with a misfortune, which you had been the occasion of; and it were as strange a cruelty to expose him to a relapse, after you had once recovered him. For to what end have you restored his reason, if you intend not to make him happy? Think on him, Madam, think on him, but let it be with a mixture of equity and generosity, if you would not run the hazard of being charged at the same time with injustice and inhumanity.

Whereupon Melicrates's friend advancing, and he who had spoke last, resigning his place to him, began his discourse thus;

MELICRATES's Plea.

THose things which happen seldom, Madam, do cer∣tainly require our consideration after a very parti∣cular manner, and what ordinarily happens, never causes much admiration. Hence is it I must confess, that I can without any manner of astonishment, speak of what is happened to Alcimedes, Caliantes, and Lisydas, because there are a many examples of their adventures. Divers Lovers have lost their reason, through aresentment of grief; many have loved with∣out interest, and not a few have endeavoured to die out of despair; but never any Lover besides Melicrates, hath been content to expose his reputation, out of a pure sentiment of Love. I beseech you, Madam, do but imagine you see Melicrates, a person infinitely re∣specting his reputation, full of honor and noble worth, content to be accused of an Assassinate, the basest and most horid of all crimes, rather than give the least ground of suspicion, that you had any kindness for him, and I am confident your own hert will prove his Advo∣cate, and will not be able to resist his Love. For were it just to stick at a thing so easie to be resolved on? for to say something of the several actions of these Lovers, according to ordinary reason, he who sacrifi∣ces his life, does an action that is more difficult, that what he does who only loses an Estate; he who loses his reason out of an excess of Love, seems to pretend to something that is more proper to demonstrate the greatness of his passion, than he that would kill him∣self; but he that is content to lose his honor, does questionless much more than he who loses his estate, than who loses his life, and than he who loses his reason. But what makes the main difference between him and his Rivals, is, that the actions whereby they pretend to discover the greatness of their love, are not purely voluntary, as Caliantes's friend hath well ob∣served; for when the Father of that Lover disi••••e∣rited him, it was far from Caliantes to desire any such thing; Alcimedes giving himself a stab with a Poniard, wanted the freedom of his Will, his fury be∣ing at that time the absolute Mistriss of it, and be knew not haply what he did: and for Lisydas, 'tis

out of all question, he would not have chosen extrava∣gance, to give his Mistress an assurance of his af∣fection, had it depended meerly on his Will. But for Melicrates, he willingly took upon him the shame of a lewd action, out of a scrupulous sentiment of love: for in fine, without doing any thing against the re∣spect he ought you, he might have justified himself since he needed no more than to say, that without your knowledge he is come to your house. But he very well imagining that the world would not have believed the relation he might have made of the business, chose rather, out of an unparallel'd generosity, to suffer him∣self to be accus'd, than to expose you to the suspicion of having given him a meeting. So that, the violent passion he hath ever had for glory, notwithstanding, he was satisfied to have only you, of the world, conscious of his innocence, Nay, he thought it indeed some sa∣tisfaction to make you so great a sacrifice, and one so particular, that I dare affirm there never was the like, as I said before. To be short, if you well consider this action, you will find it much more hard to do, than it seems to be at first sight••. How hard a thing do you conceit it must needs have been to Melicrates, to lose the esteem of his Rivals, had he not infinitely loved you. You are haply surpriz'd at this manner of speaking, yet can I not but account it rational. For it is certain, that whoever hath a great and noble heart, is in a manner no less desirous of the esteem of his Rivals, than of his Mistress, though it proceed∣ed from different sentiments. In a word, Madam, What Melicrares hath done for you, is so great, and so heroick, that it in some sort derogates from the ju∣stice of his cause, to use so many words, so weak as mine are, to maintain it. Be pleas'd then only to re∣member, Madam, that he having lost his reputation for your sake, you will infallibly lose yours, if you preferr any of his Rivals before him.

As soon as he who had pleaded for Melicrates, had given over speaking, the Princess Clarinta commanded him, and the other three who had apologiz'd for the other three Lovers, to with∣draw. Which done, she asked the company what they thought of the business, enjoyning all those that had heard the reasons of the four Lovers, to give Artelisa faithful advice, whose thoughts no doubt were not over-quiet. For Teramus, he de∣clar'd for him who was content to lose his Estate; Meriander for Lisydas, Anaximenes for Alcimedes, Merigenes for Melicrates, for whom I was also my self; there were some others of our side as well as the Ladies; and the business grew so hot, that it begat a new dispute amongst us, much more ear∣nest than the other, for every one would maintain his own opinion. For my part, saies Teramus, at last, smiling, I know but one raional expedient, whereby to detemine this so great a difference, and withal, to give Artelisa good counsel. All thronging together to hear what this expedient should be; 'tis this, said he, that the fair Artelisa discarding these four Lovers, should pitch upon a fifth. This ad∣vice indeed is like your self, replies Clarinta, smi∣ling, but Artelisa, if she will be rul'd by me, will not follow it, and yet I must confess, I am very much troubled what to advise her to, for poor Ca∣liantes, who is so generous I cannot but pitty; Alcimedes, a person of so much worth, and of a dis∣position so violent, raises in me both a compassion and a fear for him; Lisydas I am also extreamly troubled for; Melicrates hath done an action so noble, that I shall have much ado to suffer he should be unfortunate, and if I am not mistaken, Artelisa will be as much to seek in the business as I am. I must confess it, Madam, replied she, but to speak sincerely, I am one of the most unfortu∣nate persons in the world, to be the occasion that so many excellent persons must be unfortunate: But, it were not amiss, saies Anaximenes, after we have examined whether of these four Lovers love Artelisa best, to know of Artelisa which she loves best; for being all four very excellent persons, and pretending an equal claim to her love, I conceive that her inclination ought to be judge of this grand controversie. You speak very well, saies the Prin∣cess Clarinta, and since Artelisa, hath heard all that may fortifie or weaken her inclinations, 'tis only she that can decide this great business.

At this was that excellent Virgin extreamly troubled, she reflected a little while on what she was to do, she blush'd, and discover'd in her countenance all the expressions of a violent disturb∣ance; then at last resolving of a sudden, since I must clearly express my self, said she, and that I find more people of the side my heart is secretly in∣clin'd to, than of any other, I declare, That I shall think my self eternally oblig'd to Caliantes; that it is with abundance of regret I see Alcimedes un∣fortunate; that I am troubled for poor Lisydas; and that I make choice of Melicrates.

This sentence being pronounced, the contesta∣tion vanished, and all that was to be done, was to engage the three unfortunate Lovers to observe their words, that so no quarrel might happen be∣tween the happy and miserable. The Princess Clarinta with her ordinary prudence, went to ac∣quaint the unfortunate with their misfortune, and Melicrates with his happiness; and this she did so ingeniously, that the respect they bore her, hin∣dred them from breaking forth into violence before her. Caliantes seemed to be extreamly afflicted, yet was it a grief that discovered divers expressi∣ons of constancy. Alcimedes betrayed more vio∣lence in his despair; and Lisydas was so o're∣whelm'd by his, that he had not the power to speak one word: however, they desired the favour to take their leave of Artelisa, and to hear their sen∣tence from her mouth; but the Prince and Prin∣cess made them let fall that suit, and obliging to leave Eryx, Clarinta recommended them to Meri∣genes, who the same day took them along with him to his Wilderness. Now to shew that an equa∣lity of misfortune does sometimes unite the most implacable enemies; These three Rivals hated one the other no longer, and Caliantes, who had been an antient friend of Melicrates's, would not see him after he had been chosen by Artelisa.

I shall not make it my business to aggravate the affliction of these three Lovers to you, and shall only tell you, that had it not been for the advice of Merigenes, and his illustrious friend, whom I told you of before, they had taken some more vi∣olent resolution than what they now have. Nor shall I give you any account of the magnificences of Artelisa's Nuptials, or the satisfaction of Meli∣crates; for according to the humor I then was, and still am of, I sought out the miserable rather than the happy, as such whose fortunes were more sutable to my own. I therefore thought it fitter to

embrace affliction with the unfortunate, than to en∣joy my self with the fortunate, whence it came, that these three Lovers were purposely recom∣mended to me and Merigenes, to have a more careful eye over them.

Now as things stood thus, the greatest news that was in Sicily, being of the great action Brutus had done, Tarquin's being forc'd away, Rome's liberty, and the War then breaking forth, I took a resolu∣tion to come and die for my Countrey, and have prevail'd with these three illustrious but unfortu∣nate persons, to come and seek their recovery in serving Rome. They made me answer, that they would never seek after that which they knew they should never find, but were content to come and meet with death in Brutus's Army; and accord∣ingly some few days after, we left the solitary Merigenes in his pleasant Wilderness, and took our way towards Rome, whither we came in the man∣ner you saw

Aemilius concluding his relation, left in the hearts of those that heard it, a violent desire to comfort those three unfortunate Lovers, whose va∣lour had given them so much admiration, and whose misfortune so much pitty. Amilcar said, that he would endeavour their recovery, and that till then he had never met with any melancholly that was incurable. The reason is, replies Octa∣vius, that you have ever had friends of your own humour; but for my part, I am perswaded, there are those afflictions that cannot be cured. Horatius was of the same opinion, as also Herminius and Aemilius; yet all agreed, that there was not any which might not admit some alleviation. Here∣upon it proving fair weather, they went all toge∣ther to Brutus's Tent, to see if there were any Orders for them. They found Valerius there, and that it was to be debated how they should set upon the enemy, according to the account Brutus gave of them, who had taken a view of them: for this generous Consul had put it out of all debate, whether they should be assaulted or not. But as his judgement commonly concluded all consultati∣ons, whatever he propos'd was approved; and he gave out all necessary Orders for the carrying on of the assault that had been agreed upon: and that the Soldiery might be the better prepared, three hours were assigned to rest; and Brutus himself, though with no hope to sleep, yet cast himself on his Bed, his imaginations being then wholly ta∣ken up with the liberty of Rome, the revenge of Lucretia, and an extraordinory desire to over∣come. At first these reflections permitted him not to close his eyes, but at last a weak slumber lay∣ing all his senses asleep, and chaining up his rea∣son, lest only his imagination at liberty. He had hardly closed his eyes, but represented it to him the admirable Lucretia, but so beautiful and so amiable, that he had never seen her so prepar'd to conquer hearts. He thought he was going to∣wards Lucretia, who reaching forth her hand, said these words to him; You shall overcome, Brutus, you shall overcome; Rome shall be free, I shall be revenged, and we shall be eternally together; At which Brutus conceiv'd such an excessive joy, that it awak'd him, and cruelly dispers'd that pleasant Idaea, which a favourable dream had made him see. Then was he troubled his slumber had been so short; yet was not sorry he had enjoy'd, though but for one minute, an object so delightful to him. But though there were hardly a man in Rome that gave less credit than Brutus, to good or ill presa∣ges, yet could he not but entertain some hopes of some over-coming from what had happened to him. Nay, he gave no fatal interpretation to the last words of Lucretia; so that not hoping to sleep any more, he called up his people, put on his Ar∣mor, and issuing out all necessary Orders, the Ar∣my went out of the Camp at the hour appointed for the assault.

But that you may the better comprehend how great an attempt this of Brutus was, you are pre∣cisely to know what kind of post the enemy was in. The Castle of Arsia was situated at the foot of those mountains of the Forrest, whence it hath its name, but extending themselves in a manner equally on both the right and left hand, they made a kind of a Crescent, in the midst whereof was a spacious Plain, which had on the one side high mountains, and on the other a fenny Wood, which made it almost inaccessible. Yet was there one place, through which it was impossible to come to Tarquin's Camp; but it being necessary to pass along the extremity of a Mountain that commands the whole Plain, it was a dangerous course to take; for the Plain was crossed by a little Rivulet, which having made divers turns along the Wood, falls into it, is swallowed up into it of a sudden, and then falls into the neck of a Mountain, which lies on the left hand of a Castle of Arsia.

Tarquin, being posted in a place so well forti∣fi'd by nature, had made all the advantages of it, that a great Captain could: for making Art and Nature combine together, he had added Trenches to a situation so strong of it self. So that a man well versed in matters of War, could not conceive it other than a rash attempt to force him, especi∣ally his Army being as numerous as that of Brutus. Besides, he had dispos'd his Camp along the little Rivulet I spoke of, behind which he had raised a Trench; and had taken such order that his Camp was inaccessible every way, what by the Rivulet that secur'd it, what by the Trench which made that yet more strong, what by the Wood, and what by the Fenn which could not be past through. The only place where they could set upon a post so fortifi'd by Art and Nature, was the high way from Rome to the Castle of Arsia, which was as I told you, pass'd by the foot of the Mountain, which seemed to be inaccessible: yet was there a necessity to master it, before they could so much as approach Tarquin's Camp. Nor had that Prince, who knew the consequence of it, neglected to put it into such a condition, that it could not be forc'd. To that end had he rais'd a Fort upon the descent of the Mountain, which looked towards the Plain, and had placed therein Machines, and people to manage them to defend it. From this Fort had he drawn a Line all along the Wood, up to the top of a Mountain, to a place so strong of it self, that men could not go it up. This Line was further made good by little Forts which he had raised at certain distances; and to make this Post somewhat stronger yet on that side, he fell'd a great number of Trees, which oast confusedly one upon another, and the boughs half cut off, and twining together, made a greater obstacle than a Wall could have done. There was yet another place which afforded

a small passage between two Mountains, but it be∣ing six or seven miles about to go to it, and to do that, there was a necessity of passing through places which Brutus could not possibly have any ac∣quaintance with; and that besides, a great River fortified that place without any farther trouble. Tarquin thought it sufficient to fell down a many Trees to make the access the more difficult. Add to this, that the gross of his Army lying on that side, he never feared being set upon that way. To be short, his Camp lay so advantageously, and be had so well improved what nature had offered him, that it was not without reason that he thought it inexpugnable. But Brutus was absolutely resol∣ved to give him an assault; and to that end would needs in the first place attempt the line that was on the top of the Mountain, leaving the fort on the left hand, to take in the little Forts by which it was made good, for by that means mastering the ascent that commanded the other places, it would have been more easie to take in the Fort, and so come to a Battel in Tarquin's Camp. For Valeri∣us, it was his business to set upon that great forti∣fication of Trees, which secured the valley I told you of. So that Brutus was in hope that these two several assaults would oblige Tarquin to di∣vide his forces, and consequently, that it would be more easie to overcome him; nay, that if he once gave way, it would be hard for him to avoid a total defeat; for that Brutus falling upon him from the Mountain, and Valerius possessing himself of the plain, he could not any way escape.

To put this so great a design in execution, Va∣lerius, with the body under his command, departed earlier than Brutus, because he was to go a great way about, and that having resolved to make the assault at the same time, it was not thought fit Bru∣tus should appear too soon before the enemy. In the mean time, this illustrious Consul issued out such orders as were necessary for those Forces that were to be engaged in the assault he was to make. Octavius with his party was commanded to make the first on-set; and Mutius commanding the same number of men, was ordered to relieve him, Brutus reserving two Battalions to be disposed of as need should require. For the Infantry, it con∣sisted only of six battalions, of the first and se∣cond legion. The noblest souls, who had no par∣ticular command in this assault, were all about Brutus, except Horatius and Spurius, and some others that were with Valerius, for as to Themistus, Meleagenes, Aemilius, Persander, Herminius, Amilcar, Caliantes, Alcimedes and Lisydas, they were all about the first Consull. The place through which they were to go to the fight, was in a man∣ner inaccessible; for there was a necessity of going up through a Vineyard that was digged up in di∣vers places, and had at certain distances walls made Terrass-wise, to keep up the earth in a place so much digged up.

Yet could not all these several obstacles hinder, but the great Brutus was still in hope to overcome, and the image of Lucretia taking up all his thoughts he felt within him a certain assurance which per∣mitted him not to hear any thing that reason sug∣gested of the difficulty of the attempt. He there∣fore gave the first orders for the assault, but with such a noble and majestick countenance, that it might have been said he was confident of victory. So that these forces with incredible violence, began that dangerous assault. They get up the Vine∣yard, though with abundance of difficulty, they courageously and impetuously break through the felled Trees, notwithstanding the darts of the ene∣mies. But not able to do this great action with∣out some disorder, by reason of the Trees, as also that the enemy made good their ground, they had much ado to rally after they had passed the felled Trees. On the other side, Sextus, a person of more gallantry than virtue, who comman∣ded that place, coming up with a Body that had not been broken, gave a check to the forces of Brutus. Yet did they not give back, but quit∣ing the hopes of Victory, they advanced not any farther.

In the mean time, Brutus, who out of the seve∣ral desires of revenge, the liberty of his Countrey, and the love of Glory, would needs have a part in all that related to that dangerous attempt, comes up to see what had been the success of that first assault. But he was much surprised to see that his people had not forced the Trench; that Octavius and Mu∣tius do what they could, were not able to make them advance, and that the meer respect they had for their leaders, hindred them from running away. Brutus much troubled at so unhappy a beginning, took a sudden and gallant resolution; yet was it a thing hard to comprehend how greater matters could be done by an equal number, than the for∣mer forces had been able to do, whereof there was not then any likelihood of making any ad∣vantage. So that looking on them as a sort of people absolutely unserviceable, it could not well be hop'd that they should force such as were stronger than themselves in number, out of so ad∣vantageous a Post. But on the other side, Brutus saw that if he retreated, he forsook the forces that had passed the fell'd Trees; that he lost the glory of the day; that he must expect the shame of have∣ing suffered half his forces to be destroyed with∣out relief; and that this first ill success might hin∣der the revenge of Lucretia, and the liberty of Rome, as such as should dishearten his own Legions, and fill the Forces of Tarquin with hope and cou∣rage. So that love, hatred, revenge, and glory, quickning his resolutions in so pressing an emer∣gency; after he had in an instant seen all I have told you, and well considered the difficulty of the attempt, and the shame of a retreat, he re∣solved on a sudden to take the more glorious way imagining in that extremity, that he could not overcome such great obstacles, but meerly by the greatness of his own courage, and that it concern∣ed his valor rather than his prudence to rescue him out of so great danger.

This resolution fixed upon, he alights, and puts himself in the head of the foot he had left. All the general Officers, all the Soldiers of fortune I have named to you, did the like, whereupon the gene∣rous Lover of Lucretia marched with an heroick violence strait to the enemies Trench. But he came up to it with such a noble confidence, that it made an impression in the hearts of all those that follow∣ed him, and the example of so prodigious a valor, raised so much joy in the forces that observed it, that the fear of death was to be found only among the enemies. All the Soldiery put the Victory out of all dispute, and they looked on those they were

to fight with, as people already overcome. For as soon as they saw Brutus, attended by his illustri∣ous friends, courageously passing through the fell'd Trees with his sword drawn, the only strife was, who should get through first. All made such hast, that it might be said, that some great prize waited for them beyond the Trees, and so running tu¦multuously upon the enemies Trench, their dis∣order and confusion got them the Victory sooner than if they had fought discreetly. The enemy made good their ground very gallantly, but how could they long oppose the valor of a Brutus, at∣tended by so many gallant persons, whom love, jealousie and despair, endued with new valor that made them invincible. So that Tarquin's for∣ces not able to withstand so sharp an encounter gave back, and fought as people frightned, and such as thought their safety consisted in their flight. The night now coming on, being favorable to them, they endeavored to gain the Wood, and secure themselves there, but Brutus understanding that Sextus com∣manded on that side, pursued them with all the vi∣olence he could, and having killed a horseman of the enemies, he took his horse, and drove strait to the place where he thought to find Sextus, who was endeavoring to rally his Infantry; for things were in such a tumult, that no order could be ob∣served. Brutus therefore coming up with his sword drawn towards him he thought Tarquin's eldest Son, he at last perceived he was not mista∣ken. So that fury seizing his thoughts, and the Idaea of dying Lucretia filling his imagination, he set upon him with incredible earnestness. Ah Tray∣tor! cryed he to him, thou must at last be punished for thy crimes, and thy blood shall be the first spilt for the revenge of Lucretia. Sextus discovering by these words, that it was Brutus that spoke to him, put himself in a posture of defence; so that the engagement that happened between them, proved the most obstinate that can be imagined. Nay, at the first, neither of the parties were sen∣sible of it, for Brutus's friends in the heat of the fight, knew not what was become of him; and Sextus's party being defeated, was run away, and had left him to shift for himself. So that he had no other assistance than that of his own valor to oppose that of Brutus, animated by the most just and most violent hatred that ever was. Where∣upon Sextus, notwithstanding his gallantry, was wounded in three places, without so much as touch∣ing his enemy. Being in that condition, and fear∣ing nothing so much as to come alive into the hands of that generous Roman, he did all that lay in his power to avoid it; for passing by to get behind Brutus's Horse, and Brutus endeavoring, the same to him, their swords crossed, and that of Sextus broke: Being so disarmed, he put on his horse with all violence, so to make his escape. Brutus perceiving his design, would needs fol∣low him, but being not so well horsed as Sexius, he could not execute his resolution; besides that, the night being come, and Sextus gotten into the Woods, where he found a party of his own that stood, having rallyed together to make the retreat with the less confusion, Brutus was forced to be content with the sight of his enemies blood, and to have forced him to fly: whereupon he returned to that little Fort which he had so courageously ta∣ken in, and into which he got with the first. But being come thither, he found himself in no less danger after he had overcome, than he had been in before to do it; for the enemy was still master of the Fort which was at the foot of the mountain, all his infantry was broken, what by the first as∣sault which had proved ineffectual, what by that wherein he had the advantage, as having been undertaken upon the pursuit of the enemy, so that if Tarquin had then fallen upon him with all his Forces, the conquered might have beaten the con∣querours.

This generous Roman having all his friends about him, did all a great Captain could do: for though the obscurity of the night, and the horror that attends darkness, made both parties equally afraid of surprises, yet did he not neglect any thing that could be done. To that end he commands, he acts, and with a diligence equal to his prudence and valor, he gets his foot together, makes his Horse repass the fell'd Trees, fortifies the Fort he had taken, and caused a great noise to be made by that military harmony, then in use among the Romans, purposely to let the enemy know, that he was still possessed of the ascents he had gotten, so to put them into the greater fright.

On the other side Valerius, a valiant and prudent man, had made his assault on the side of that for∣tification of Trees which defended the valley, which lay between the mountain which was near the Castle of Arsia, and that whence Brutus had forced away the enemy. But Tarquin never imagining he should be assaulted by that way which Brutus took, his main forces were towards the valley So that Valerius meeting with more opposition than he ex∣pected, it was not possible for him to force the enemy. However, Horatius behaved himself very gallantly, all which notwithstanding, the whole day and part of the night were spent in fighting to no purpose. Valerius no sooner took in any Post, but the enemy forced him out of it again, inso∣much, that there was one that had been gained and lost above three several times during the as∣sault.

In the mean time, Brutus understanding how things stood, prepared with the day to go and fa∣cilitate the enterprise of Valerius, by marching along the mountains to set upon Tarquin in his Camp, hoping to force him to turn all his strength against him, and consequently that being engaged on all sides, he might conceive the less hope of es∣cape. For it was unlikely he should make his party good, being set upon two several ways with advantage when he had not been able to avoid being forced into places that seemed inaccessible. So that Brutus expecting with impatience to see the first rays of the Sun, discoursed of the great hopes he was in with his dear friend Herminius, who might well claim a great share of the glory of that day, as well as Themistus, Meleagenes, Aemi∣lius, Caliantes, Alcimedes, and Lisydas, whom their despair had not yet favored with the death they so much courted. Octavius and Mutius for their parts, did very great things, though the party they commanded did not acquit it self well at first. Persander and Amilcar had done all that gallant men could do, and Brutus having observed the courage of all his friends, conceived so great a hope of the Victory, that he made it unquestio∣nable.

In the mean time Tarquin thought it his safest course to elude the valour of this generous Roman, or at least to defer his misfortune, and so he chang∣ed the place of his defeat. For being in that extre∣mity, and perceiving he would be totally routed, if he gave his enemies the leasure to set upon him in the Post, wherein he then was, he took the advantage of the darkness to change it for ano∣ther. Yet was it not his design to avoid fighting, but only to avoid an assault upon disadvantage. To that end he discamped with incredible diligence, and with such order, and so little noise, that nei∣ther Brutus nor Valerius had any notice of his re∣moval; for he had caus'd a party of his to find Valerius play all the night, the better to elude him, and so made so handsome a retreat, that he left not so much as his baggage behind him. So that at the break of day, Brutus and Valerius were both equally astonished to see Tarquin possest of an emi∣nent place at a distance, in the midst of a Plain, be∣tween two Mountains: Is it possible, O ye gods, protectors of Rome, cries out Brutus, that a Prince so loaden with crimes, should be so prudent and so happy! Whereupon, without losing any further time, he marches on with his forces, finds out Va∣lerius, and, the whole Army being joyn'd, makes towards the enemy, to prevent him from fortify∣ing himself. There lay between both Armies a nar∣row passage, which would admit but one abreast—but Brutus being perswaded that the liberty of Rome depended on a battel, would not give Tarquin the leasure to put himself into such a posture, as that he could not be forc'd to fight. On the other side, Tarquin knowing what importance that nar∣row place was to him, maintained it with a strange obstinacy. The Prince of Pometia and Prince Ti∣tus, though antient friends to the greatest part of their enemies, did things beyond ordinary valour. For Brutus, it cannot be imagined with what ear∣nestness he encouraged his men, as well by words is by example, with what vigor he forced the enemy, and with what courage he was seconded by all the stoutest of his Army. Herminius Aemi∣lius, and Mutius, adding the sentiments of emula∣tion and jealousie, to those of love and glory, did all that Lovers desirous to be recommended by Fame to their Mistriss, could do, nay, all that generous Romans could perform. Horatius, out of love and despair did no less; Amilcar expressed a∣bundance of valour; Octavius, the better to prove his birth, fought like a true Roman; and the three Lovers of Artelisa, did as much as can be imagin∣ed they could. But these fighting without mind∣ing hazard or advantage, the unfortunate Lisydas was killed, as they passed the narrow place, which Tarquin was at last forced to quit: so that the fierce Tyrant perceiving he could not avoid an engage∣ment, chose rather so to act, as if he had been desirous to fight. To be short, while a party of his Horse relieved those that made good the narrow place, he had put his battel in array; so that though Brutus should have forced him, yet was it but necessary he kept his men from being too for∣ward, least that while he pursued those that re∣treated, Tarquin might set upon him in disorder. He therefore had no sooner viewed the counte∣nance of the enemy, but giving order that the Troops should rally as soon as they were passed through, he array'd them in sight of the contrary Army; but he did it with such order, that it could hardly be conceived, that those several bodies had past through the narrow place, after a sharp en∣counter. Now was the fate of Rome in the pow∣er of fortune; the two Armies were in a manner equal as to number, the Commanders valiant, the Sun favour'd neither side, the wind was as impar∣tial, and the day was so clear, that Brutus (such a calm was there in his mind) perceiv'd a man on horse-back upon a little mountain on the left hand, who seemed as if he had been desirous to avoid the contrary Army, and to make what haste he could to come to his: for he shewed him to Herminius, not knowing but that it was some body that was to bring him intelligence, or some Officer of Tarquin's that had deserted his party. Valerius that day commanded the right wing, and Brutus the left; opposite to the former were the Veientines, with Prince Titus in the head of them; for Sextus by reason of his wounds came not into the fight; so that Brutus had to deal with the forces of Tar∣quinia, commanded by the Prince of Pometia. That generous Prince had done all he could to a∣void having to do with the brother of the person he lov'd; but things being dispos'd otherwise, by reason of Sextus's wound, he was forced to come against that man, who of all the world was the dearest to Hermilia, excepting himself. For Brutus his thoughts were so taken up with revenge of Lucretia, and the liberty of Rome, that he looked on whatever was in Tarquin's Army, as what he was obliged to destroy. Nor did he appear other∣wise in the head of his men, than one whose ex∣traordinary forwardness, seemed to presage a victo∣ry to those that looked on him.

The two Armies being thus in a posture of fight∣ing, and so near one the other, that it was impos∣sible but they must come to blows. Brutus, though the weather were very fair, heard a thunder-clap on his left hand, which was a happy presage to his Forces; for, according to the observations of the antient Thuscans, Thunder coming on the left hand of an Army ready to fight, was a sign of victory. Brutus therefore making his advantage of so favou∣rable a disposition, as that he then perceived in his Forces, gave order for the charge, and marched on, and all followed, so that that great body, consist∣ing of so many different parties, being animated by the same spirit, came up without the least dis∣order, within a Darts cast of the enemy. Tarquin on the other side, being in the head of his main battel, advanced towards Brutus, as Brutus did to∣wards him; The first cast of Darts happened at the same time, so that meeting together and crossing, they did less execution than if they had been cast successively. But when that shower of Darts was over, the fight began with the Cavalry, the right wing, which was Valerius's, engag'd with that of Prince Titus, and had at first very much the ad∣vantage; and that of Brutus with the Prince of Pometia's.

But Brutus, desirous to shew by his own ex∣ample, how he should slight death that would car∣ry a victory, advanced twenty paces before with his sword drawn, seeming by a threatning action to challenge him that was in the head of the wing that was opposite to him (though some have in∣terpreted it otherwise.) The Prince of Pometia per∣ceiving the eyes of two great Armies to be upon

him, turns to a friend of his that knew the affecti∣on he bore Hermilia, and listing up his eyes to hea∣ven, May it please the gods, said he to him, that if I cannot overcome without killing Hermilia's Brother, that I may not survive the victory. Whereupon that generous Prince being obliged to do what in point of honour he could not avoid, advanced before his forces, as Brutus did before his. So that they had the glory of exchanging the first blows of that bloody battel. But alas, those blows proved fatal to both, since that by a strange destiny, the wounds they gave one the other, prov'd both mortal; for at the same time that Brutus violently made towards the Prince of Pometia, he came as eagerly towards him, and meeting toge∣ther with equal impetuosity, Brutus, as he run his sword through his enemy, run himself upon his, so that they were both seen to fall together, where∣upon follow'd a most cruel fight, between the Tar∣quinians and the Romans. But to shew how pre∣dominant the love of Lucretia, and that of his Countrey was in Brutus's heart; O ye just gods! cry'd he falling, (as one that was near him hath related since) I die satisfied, so Rome be free, and Lucretia revenged.

Herminius extreamly troubled at this accident, caused the body of his illustrious friend to be brought off, to see whether he were quite dead, which perceiving he was, the indignation he con∣ceived thereat, added very much to his ordinary valour, and made him to do things worthy im∣mortal glory. Aemilius and Mutius did also all that persons of Worth and courage could do; but the soldiery disheartened at the death of Brutus, fought at first but very weakly; insomuch that soon after being unwilling to be commanded by Octavius, Mutius, Herminius, or any of the other Chiefs, they began to give ground, and to run away, and that with such confusion one upon an∣other, that the stoutest were forced to go along with the disordered multitude, who despairing of victory, now that Brutus was dead, would by no means fight it out. It was therefore to no purpose, that Caliantes and Alcimedes endeavoured by their example to rally them again; for having no leader they would confide in, they did only what their fear advised them to.

In the mean time though the enemy had lost a valiant Prince, but not so considerable among the Tarquinians, as Brutus was among the Romans, yet not despairing of Victory, they sought courage∣ously; besides that, Tarquin heaving of the death of his Son, came in person to the place, so that the Roman Forces being frightned, never was there a more horrid spectacle; for the Tarquinians dis∣patched all before them, notwithstanding the op∣position of Brutus's illustrious friends. So that though Valerius had had the advantage over the left wing of the enemy, yet was the battel in a fair way to be lost, as to the Romans, when that Horseman that Brutus had seen on the Mountain on the left hand, and who was come into the Plain, came with his sword drawn among the Roman forces. At first was it not known whether he were a friend or an enemy; but it was soon dis∣covered; for having observed the terror the Ro∣mans were in, and heard a confused report of Bru∣tus's death; whither run you friends, says he to the frightned Souldiers, whither run you? you must be slaves if you turn not upon the enemy, and you shall be free if you revenge Brutus's death; follow me then, and do but what I shall do before you. Some that heard these words, knowing that he that spoke them was Aronces. whom they had seen do such great actions in the Court of Tarquin s Pa∣lace, when he endeavoured the deliverance of Glelia, made a halt, and cried out Aronces, Aron∣ces! Herminius, who strived to rally the Soldiers that run away, turning about at those out-cries, perceived that it was indeed the valiant Aronces, who was putting himself into a posture of fight∣ing. So that crving out with the rest, Aronces, Aronces, the name passed from mouth to mouth, among those scattered forces, who thereupon look∣ing on that Prince as an envoy from heaven, rallied, put themselves in order, and began to fight with a strange earnestness.

Aronces, in the first place killed Helius, with whom he had fought before, near Ardaea, and who was one of the chief Commanders of the enemies Army. What added to his ordinary va∣lour, was, that he saw Octavius do things worthy eternal fame; so that looking on him still as his Rival, he endeavoured to exceed him as much in valour as he thought he did in love. He therefore did things beyond description, because they would seem incredible, for he carried terror with him, wherever he made them feel the weight of his Arm. What was yet further remarkable, was, that his presence might be said to have dissolv'd that enchantment that lay upon the valour of the Romans. For at his arrival all the Soldiers were running away, and all those that were truly va∣liant, endeavoured what they could to rally them together. But Aronces appearing, and dispelling that terror, which the death of Brutus had had them into, there was not a coward lest among the Romans. Alcimedes, for his part, did things worthy his great heart, and his despair, but after he had given many their deaths, he receiv'd his own from two valiant Tarquinians, that set upon him both at the same time. 'Tis true, he was soon revenged, for Aronces coming to the place, killed one of them, and made the other fly. Cali∣antes had near miscarried at the same time, but Mutius killed him that should have killed the o∣ther. For Themistus, he behaved himself very gallantly; Meleagnes did no less; Amilcar made it appear, that his courage was equal to his wit; and Herminius and Aemilius, fought as Rivals that would surpass Mutius, revenge Brutus, and deliver Rome. Tarquin on the other side managing his busi∣ness, as a Prince that wanted neither Prudence nor courage, did all he could to preserve the advan∣tage he had gotten at first over the left wing. So that Aronces met with no small difficulty, though the enemy had lost the greatest part of that confi∣dence, which they had conceived at Brutus's death. Valerius, relieved by the valour of Horatius, Spu∣rius, and divers others, lost nothing of what he had gained, yet could he not so manage his ad∣vantages, but that the Victory was still disputable. There was not any one body of either Army, that had not been engaged, so that all was full of blood, horror, and death, but especially the place where Aronces was, as being the most dangerous, and that where was the greatest number of both sides killed. At last, night coming on, added to the

horror of the day, in regard that neither side be∣ing willing to give over, till the victory were compleated, the fight continued notwithstanding the darkness. Never was there seen any thing more dismal, than the end of that bloody day; for there being no distinction between friends and enemies, there was a fearful confusion in both Ar∣mies. Both good and bad actions were equally ob∣scured by the night, it could be no longer known who fought well, and who did not; and the Ro∣mans, who had been inspired with new courage at the sight of Aronces, lost a part of it when they could no longer discern him, Nor was it to any purpose, that some called him, to see if he would answer, for night being come on, he was not seen after, and the last place his voice had been heard in, was that, where Octavius being still fighting, was very dangerously wounded by a certain man, who being hurt by another, just as he discharged a blow upon him, left his sword. in his Arm; so that neither Herminius, nor Amilcar, nor Persander, nor any of his other friends spoke to him, nor knew what was become of him. All the hope they had was, that he would be found in the Camp, when they had made their retreat, and so fought on still on their side, as Valerius, Horatius, and the rest did on theirs.

But as night naturally brings horror with it, and that the objects that appear, seem to be both mag∣nified and multiplied that confused voices seem more terrible and frightful; and, that no order can be observed, a certain terror equally seized both sides, So that Valerius and Tarquin giving out their several orders for a retreat, the Romans dis-engag'd as they could from the Tarquinians and the Veientes, and they in like manner got off as they could from the Romans. The desire of re∣treating being general in both parties, they both left the field to the dead that covered it, and reti∣red with the fatal imagination of being overcome. For there fell so great a number on both sides, that Victory seemed not to be of either. The Tar∣quinians bewailed the Prince of Pometia, and the Romans Brutus, as the Father of the Countrey. In the mean time Herminius, who had taken a care of his body, had sent it to the Camp by certain Soldiers at the beginning of the fight. For Octa∣vius, he had courageously caused the sword which was run through his Arm, to be drawn out by Amilcar, who changed to be near him; nay, Octa∣vius kept it instead of his own that had been bro∣ken; whereupon retreating with the rest, he got to the Camp, less troubled for his wounds, which yet was very dangerous, than for Brutus's death.

Now was it that the Romans were more fully sensible of the loss they had received; for there was so great a number of empty Tents, that it was easily seen the number of the dead was very great. That also of the wounded was such, that there were not people enough to dress them. Aronces was not to be heard of by any, which raised some suspicion he might be dead; Horatius was also to seek, and the death of Brutus was so considerable an accident, that all put together, the consterna∣tion was general. Valerius, who knew not for certain what posture the enemy was in, was afraid Tarquin might come and set upon him in his Tren∣ches, to compleat the Victory; so that he gave order, that the remainder of his Army, not∣withstanding the weariness and the service of the day before, should be in Arms all night; and to give example to others, he went himself round about the Camp. Brutus's body was all this while in the Tent that was his, when living, attended by the same victors who were wont to accompa∣ny him, and divers of his friends bewailing him. Octavius after he had been dress'd in his Tent, was extreamly surprised to find that the sword Amil∣car had taken out of his Arm, was not unknown to him, for it was one he had formerly presented Clelius with, and he knew had been afterwards bestowed on Aronces. Amilcar knew it also to be the same, and could not tell what to think of that accident. So that being surprised thereat, they talked of it as a thing they made no secret of, not knowing what to conceive of so odd an adven∣ture, as having not heard how Aronces got out of Tarquinia, or whether it was he that had hurt Octavius, or what was become of him; all they knew was, that when Octavius was hurt, Aronces's voice had been heard very near him, and that af∣terwards no body knew whither he was gone. For Horatius, some reported he had been heard after the beginning of the retreat, but of that there was no great certainty, and what was out of all doubt was, that he was not to be heard of any more than Aronces; that Brutus was dead, that Lisydas and Alcimedes were so too, that Octavius was dange∣rously wounded, that a great number, both of the Officery and Soldiery was cut off, and that those that were left were very much disheartened.

In the mean time, the fear the whole Camp was in, made all think it the less difficulty to watch, there being nothing that so much hinders sleeping. Valerius went round the Camp, as I told you, but it was with the greatest affliction he could be ca∣pable of, whether as a generous friend, or true Roman, but by that time he came to that side of the Camp, that look'd towards the Forrest of Arsia, it might be about an hour before day. Then was it the Empire of Silence, and the Sky being clear, the night was fair enough and quiet enough. So that Valerius making a halt on a little ascent that was on that side, he hearkened attentively to hear if there were any noise in the field on the ene∣mies side. But it was not long e'r he heard what his whole Camp, as also that of Tarquin, heard as well as himself, and what all posterity hath won∣dred at since; that is, a miraculous voice, which co∣ming out of the bottom of the Forrest, with a shril noise, uttered these words, very intelligibly to both Armies.

The Romans are victorious, for their enemies have lost one man more than they have, in the bat∣tel.

This voice, which both Armies took for that of the Genius of the place, fill'd their minds with a deep respect, and a sacred astonishment. There was also seen a bright and sudden lightening, issue out of the place whence it came, that enlightned the whole Horison on the side of the Roman Camp, so that that miraculous adventure, heightning the courage of the Roman Army, all the Soldiers were so importunate to return to fight, that at the break of day Valerius quitted the Camp, and marched

straight to the place where he had left the enemy. But he found him not there, for that prodigious voice having startled Tarquin's Soldiers, he had been forced to discamp in all haste, and to leave his baggage behind him. So that the Roman Ar∣my finding the Camp forsaken, enriched it self with the spoils thereof, as victorious Valerius would have pursued the enemy, could he have hoped to overtake him; but thinking it better not to ha∣zard any thing, and to make the advantage of his victory with safety, he forbore all thoughts of it. When therefore the Soldiers had burthened them∣selves with booty, and that he had caused all the considerable Arms to be taken away, and all the Ensigns, to make his return to Rome the more glorious, he gave order for the funerals of those that died in the field, among whom they found neither Aronces nor Horatius. He took also a par∣ticular care for those of Lisydas and Alcimedes, whose bodies Caliantes desired to have, to bestow a Monument on them, wherein he pretended he would be e'r long dispos'd himself.

Valerius being returned to his own Camp, heard that Tarquin was retreated towards Veiae, where∣upon he sent to Rome the news of his Victory, in∣tending to turn thither the next day to re-inforce his Army, and accordingly take new resolutions, as also to bring thither the body of Brutus. He that Valerius sent, being come to Rome, they look∣ed in his countenance, to see whether he brought good news or bad, and when he told them that the Roman Army had overcome, an excessive joy spread it self through all their hearts that heard him; but when he afterwards told them, that the Victory had cost the illustrious Brutus's life, and that he dy'd after he had kill'd the Prince of Po∣metia, the joy was turn'd into grief, and there was such a competition between these two con∣trary sentiments, that it may be said, that never was victory entertained with so many tears. For Brutus was so generally looked on, as the deliver∣er of Rome, that if that miraculous voice, that had declared the Roman Army victorious, had not per∣swaded the people that Brutus would still be their protector after his death, all the satisfacti∣on of the victory would not have appeased them for his loss. The Roman Ladies expressed their particular affliction for his death, for they looked on Brutus, not only as the deliverer of his Countrey, but also as the protector of fe∣minine virtue, because of the revenge he had ta∣ken for the violence Sextus had done to the ad∣mirable Lucretia.

After this Envoy of Valerius was arrived at Rome, came in abundance of wounded men, so that Clelia soon understood that Octavius was hurt, and that, (as it was thought in the Camp) by Aronces, who had been the occasion of the recove∣ry of the battel. She also understood at the same time, that it was not known what became of him after the fight, no more than it was of Horatius; so that she was extreamly troubled at the accident happened to her Brother, as also that it was sus∣pected that Aronces had wounded him, and that Aronces was not to be found, though she could not but take some comfort in the glory he had acqui∣red, and the service he had done: For Clelius and Sulpitia, as they had a tender affection for Octavius: so were they extreamly incensed against Aronces, and would not reflect on any thing that might either clear or excuse him. For the adven∣ture of the sword which Clelius had sometime gi∣ven him, and had now been taken out of Octa∣vius's arm, seem'd to them a circumstance too too pregnant to be avoided, especially since Aronces's voice was heard near Octavius when he was hurt. So that he seemed to be so exasperated against Aronces, that he did all he could to hinder the ser∣vice he had done from being publish'd at Rome, and prevailed so far, that it was neither publiquely mentioned in the Senate, nor did Valerius give the people any account of it.

But though the affliction Clelia conceived at these accidents, were extraordinary, yet was it not comparable to that of Hermilia, when it was told her, that her Lover and her Brother had kill'd one the other, as also what the Prince of Pometia said, as he advanced towards Brutus, for he whom he spoke to, being taken prisoner, had given her an account of it. Valeria was then with her, as al∣so Collatina, who hearing that Herminius and Ti∣tus had escaped, and had acquired great fame, were in a condition to comfort their friend, though they were extreamly troubled for Brutus, and the Prince of Pometia; whom they infinitely esteemed. But neither their ingratitude, their friendship, nor their tears, could appease the cruel affliction of Hermilia. She was at first so surprised at that fa∣tal news, that she could neither weep nor speak. Then she looked like one ready to die for grief: but after her first sighs and first tears had opened a passage for her voice, she uttered so many com∣plaints, and spoke so many passionate things, that it would have wrought upon the most obdurate hearts. How, said she to her friends, can I, with∣out dying, hear that Brutus hath killed the Prince of Pometia,, and that the Prince of Pometia hath killed my Brother? Or can I be Mistriss of my own thoughts, as things now stand, without think∣ing on what is base and unjust; No, no, my dear Valeria, added she, it is impossible it should be so, but since I have lost those two persons, who of all the world were the dearest to me, I must needs lose my glory, and be unjust, ungrateful, and unnatu∣ral. For when I reflect on the Prince of Pome∣tia, and imagine him dead, I hate him that kill'd him, be he what he will. But when I also consi∣der Brutus, and imagine I see him dead, after he had acquired so much Fame, the object of my ha∣tred is changed, and I abhor him by whose means he lost his life. So that hating sometimes the one, sometimes the other, and yet having a passionate affection for both, I suffer an afflicti∣on that cannot be parallell'd. In the mean time I condemn my own tears, and at the same instant, that I think it just to weep away my life, an ima∣gination comes into me, that I ought not to bestow my tears on either. For if I bewail Brutus, I be∣wail him that kill'd the person I had the greatest affection for, and who had no less for me: and if I bestow my tears on that unfortunate Lover, I do it on him that hath deprived me of the most illustrious Brother that ever Sister had, and for whom I had the tenderest friendship that nature and virtue can raise in the heart of a person that can love well. What shall I then do, wretch that

I am? whom shall I blame, whom shall I bemoan, and on whether of the two shall I bestow most tears? You may, in my opinion, saies Valeria, be∣wail them both innocently, for they had an e∣steem and respect for one the other, and fortune having disposed them in the head of two contrary Armies, Honor obliged them to fight as if they had not. So that you must not look on them as the occasions of one anothers death; there is a great difference between Battels and single Com∣bats, a man is not at his choice whom to kill; and therefore the only person to be hated is Sextus, as being the cause of the War, and so you are allowed to bemoan your illustrious Brother and Lover.

Ah! my dear Valeria, reply'd she sighing, 'twere in vain to forbid me, for I find, that if death do not suddenly close these eyes, they will be eter∣nally open to tears. No question, Valeria, but I shall ever bewail both my illustrious Brother, and my illustrious Lover; and that I shall ever feel the saddest sentiments that can proceed from an affectionate friendship, and a passionate love, when one hath lost, in so fatal a manner, the objects of both, and cannot accordingly e∣ver after, hope for so much as one moment of pleasure, or one minute of rest, Nay, added this afflicted Beauty, had I lost them by some other way, as that if Sparius had kill'd the unfortu∣nate Prince of Pometia and Tarquin, the unfor∣tunate Brutus, it were some kind of comfort to me to have a horrid aversion for those that had ta∣ken away their lives. For hatred is a passion that employs and diminishes grief. People send up their imprecations against those that are the cause of it, they endeavour to ruine them, and rejoyce at their death when it happens. But all this is for∣bidden me, and grief and joy cannot be innocently together in my heart. I can neither love nor hate without a secret remorse, which puts me into a confusion, and without feeling my self seiz'd by a certain fury, whereof I dare not search into the bottom of my soul for the cause, for fear I should find it to be a criminal one. In fine, nature, friendship, love and virtue, furnish me with so many several thoughts, that I think it will cost me the loss of my reason.

While Hermilia strugled with sentiments so sad, so passionate, and so disordered, it was resolv'd in the Senate, that Valerius should be received in triumph; as well to do his valour a justice, as to make the victory of the Roman Army the more remarkable, that the partisans of Tarquin might not weaken the relation of it, by those false re∣ports which they scatter'd among the people. Lu∣cretius and Valerius, as the most considerable of the Senate, omitted nothing that might contribute to the honor of Valerius living, or Brutus dead. The Consul, acquainted with the resolution of the Senate, discamp'd, and caus'd his Army to march back into Rome, in the same order that it had left it. The Lictors with the Ax and Fasces went before him, which was the first time they did it; for that honor was proper only to the first Consul; Valerius march'd in the midst of his Forces, a tri∣umphal Chariot before him, whereon was the bo∣dy of Brutus, covered with black Tapistry purfled with Gold. And to do him the greater honor, the Body was set upon the richest spoils of the ene∣my; for there were seen Ensigns starting out on both sides, sumptuous Arms in divers places, and magnificent Bucklers all about. Several prison∣ers chain'd follow'd the Chariot of the illustrious deceas'd, it being Valerius's design to express thereby, that he only deserved the honor of the tri∣umph.

But it being requisite to infuse courage into the people, Valerius had not any thing of mourning, either in his Arms or his Equipage. On the other side, all the people of Rome went as far as they could to meet Valerius; and the high way as he past along, was all bordered with Tables well furnish'd, whence the people took divers things to present to the Soldiers as they passed by, who yet made no stay to receive them. The way was strew'd with flowers, and the Senate, in Body, met Valerius without the City Gates. All the streets were hung with rich Tapistry, and all the Ladies at the windows to see the solemnity pass by. But after all, notwithstanding those great demon∣strations of Victory, the sight of the Chariot, where∣in the body of the illustrious Brutus was, caused more tears of grief than of joy to be shed. In the mean time Valerius, according to the pious custom of the Romans, went to the Temple to offer to the gods, the spoils of the enemy, as it were, to acknowledge victory came from them. Which done, having caused the body of Brutus to be placed under a mourning Canopy, in the midst of the spacious place, that was before Jupi∣ter's Temple and put on a black Robe, such as were then worn in publick Mournings, he went up into the place appointed for those who had some Order to communicate to the people, and by that means, as 'tis thought at least, proved the first institutor at Rome, of that laudable custom of making Elogies on illustrious men deceased, a thing in use long before among the Grecians. Va∣lerius therefore being compassed by the Senate, all the persons of quality in Rome, and an innumera∣ble multitude of people, who by an awful silence seemed to expect what he would say to them, began to speak in these terms.

BRUTUS's Funeral Ora∣tion.

IT were injustice in me, generous Romans, to enjoy the honor of the victory, with∣out acquainting you, that it is to this illustrious deceased Person that you owe it, and putting you in remembrance of all he hath done for you, that so it may never out of your memory; Give me then leave to en∣tertain you with a slight account of his Life, and so let you know after what man∣ner you ought to bewail your Deliverer. I need say nothing to you of his illustrious birth, you know it as well as I do; nor

shall I trouble you with any celebrations of the virtue of his Ancestors, for his own ha∣ving exceeded theirs, it were unjust to de∣rive his praise from the Virtues of another. But I beseech you, Romans, forget not that tedious captivity of Brutus's Reason, which is the cause of your present freedom, and that Rome shall never again be a slave to the Tyrant's Will. Remember how that he devoted his whole life, to work out your safety, that, as soon as that favourable con∣juncture of time, which he had expected for so many years, was come, he employed all his understanding, and all his courage, in order to your liberty, and, without mind∣ing either his Fortune or his Life, all his endeavours have been only to make you hap∣py, to revenge the virtuous Lucretia, to pu∣nish the infamous Sextus, and to knock off those ignominious Fetters of Slavery that we had groaned under for so long time. He hath knocked them off, Romans, and you ought eternally to look on him as your De∣liverer, and have for him the same respect as you have for the illustrious Founder of Rome. Besides, you are not only obliged to him for all he hath done, to turn Tar∣quin out of the Throne he had usurped; all that by his prudence he hath done to unite you, since the Tyrant hath ceased to be your Master; all he hath done in the assault of the enemie's Camp, where he expressed his valour, after so glorious a manner; what he did when he wounded the infamous Sex∣tus, the great actions he was seen to do, when he forced that dangerous narrow pas∣sage, which hindred us from being able to force Tarquin to a Battel; and lastly, what he hath done since in the head of our Forces, and in the sight of both Armies, when he killed one of the most valiant Princes in the world: but you are further obliged to him, for all we have done to gain the victory after his death, since we are only feeble imitators of his Virtue. Nay, Rome it self is obliged to him, for all the greatness, and all the glory which I fore∣see she will arrive to hereafter; and as long as there shall be Romans, there will be un∣grateful men, if they have not such a vene∣ration for Brutus, as, in some sort, comes near that which they have for the immortal gods. In a word, that prodigious voice, that hath declared us Conquerors, is an in∣fallible presage to us of the interest he hath with the gods. Let us therefore bewail our illustrious Deliverer; but, generous Romans, we are not to bewail him as an ordinary person. It is not by fruitless tears that we must express the indignation we are in for his sake, it is by multiplying our aversi∣on against those that are the occasions of his loss; 'tis by taking a resolution to put that design in execution, which he had to exterminate the race of the Tarquins, and to dye a thousand times, rather than enter into slavery again. 'Tis thus, Ro∣mans, that we must express our affliction for the loss of a man that died so gloriously, that his Funeral Solemnity is a Triumph: for a man, I say, who, for the small time, that he durst discover his Reason, hath made it appear, that he was not only free from all Vice, but also that he had a pru∣dence equal to his understanding, was as eminent for his courage, as his moderation; for his mildness, as his constancy; had more Virtue than all the Romans put toge∣ther, and a thousand times more love for his Countrey, than he had for himself.

While Valerius spoke, the people heard him with such an awful silence, that it was easily seen that they were pleased with the praises of Brutus. He had no sooner left off speaking, but, though he had forbidden tears, there were heard so many cries, and so many complaints, and such sobbing and sighing, mixt with the ac∣clamations they gave the actions of that illustrious deceased, and the words of Valerius, that peo∣ple could not distinctly hear one another. But since it was a point of prudence not to soften the hearts of the people too much by so sad an object; they made what haste they conveniently could, to give the illustrious Brutus the last honors he could receive; and by the order of Valerius and the Senate, it was resolved a Statue should be e∣rected to him at the publique charge, the more to immortalize his glory. And to conclude so re∣makable a day, with some expressions of joy, Va∣lerius, according to the custom, entertained the most considerable of the Senate. The next day visited Brutus's Aunt and Sister, where he found all the Roman Ladies in Mourning, which they had engaged themselves not to put off, during the space of one year, so to acknowledge, as they said, the obligation their Sex ought to Brutus, who had so well revenged the virtuous Lucretia. In a word, there was not a woman in Rome, that mourned not for the death of Brutus, as if he had been her Fa∣ther. Valerius went also to visit Clelius, who was very much troubled, because of the danger of Octa∣vius's wound, and was so much the more, if I may so say, out of an imagination that Aronces had hurt him, as conceiving him to be still his Ri∣val. There were indeed no infallible proofs of it, but the circumstances were very pregnant, in so much that Clelius being a man of a violent nature, if Horatius had been then at Rome, would have forced Clelia to have preferred him before Aronces. Great then must needs be the affliction of that ad∣mirable Lady, for she saw her Brother in danger,

she knew not whether Aronces had hurt him, was to learn whether he were living or no; she was troubled even at Horatius's absence, out of a fear, lest he and Aronces might meet together; and no doubt but she suffered all that a person that loves truely, could suffer. Yet was her disquiet encreased three daies after, for not only Octavius grew worse than he had been, but she heard that Ze∣nocrates was newly arrived at Valerius's, and had brought a very sad account of Aronces; so that she felt not only those misfortunes that had al∣ready happened to her but was also sensible of all those that might.

The End of the Third Part of CLELIA.