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 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.