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 First Part. (Book 1)

BOOK I.

NEver was there a fairer day, then that which should have preceded the Nuptials of the Illustrious Aronces, and the Admirable Clelia; and since the Sun first did crown the Spring with Roses and Lillies, it never cast more pure beams upon the fertile Fields of the deli∣cious Capua, nor display'd more Luminous Radiati∣ons o're the Waves of the famous Vulturnus, which so pleasantly watered one of the fairest Countries in the World: The Heaven was Serene, the River calm, all the Winds were laid asleep in those dark Caverns, whose Intricate Meanders they only were acquainted with, and the gentle Zephyrus could do no more than fan the fair hairs of the Incomparable Clelia, who being now on the point to complete the felicity of the most perfect of Lovers, made it ap∣pear by her Eyes that the Elements enjoy'd no more tranquillity than she had in her Soul. As for Aron∣ces, though he was more joyful then Clelia, love be∣ing more predominant in him, yet was he not with∣out many Inquietudes, which produc'd a certain a∣gitation of Spirit, thinking with himself he should not sufficiently testifie the greatness of his passion, if the only hope of being absolutely happy the next day had entirely satisfied him; he murmured much against the length of the days, though it was one of the first in the Spring, and he now numbred the hours as Ages; This pleasing anxiety proceeding from an amorous Impatience, did nothing dis-com∣pose his usual temper sometimes clouded by most strange Distractions of his Spirit, which perswaded him some doleful accident might intervene whereby his happiness might be retarded as formerly it had been; for e're this he had Espoused his Mistress had not the River on whose Banks was situated a stately House wherein Clelius resolv'd to consummate his Daughters Nuptials, with such a sudden violence exceeded its prefixed limits that 'twas impossible to solemnize any Feast there during this terrible In∣undation, the Waters continually encreas'd for the space of twelve hours, the Wind, Lightning, Thunder, and a dreadful Shower of Rain so multi∣plying the horrour of this fatal Deluge, that there was generally fear'd a total ruine and desolation: the water of the River seem'd to reach the Skies, and conjoyn'd, with that the Heavens pour'd down, agitated by those impetuous Tempests, roar'd as the swelling Billows of an angry Sea, or the falling of the most rapid Torrents: this violent eruption of the River, much disordered this Region of delight; for it demolish'd Buildings both publick and pri∣vate, rooted up Trees, covered the Fields with Sand and Stones, levell'd Hills, furrowed the Plains, and changed the whole face of this little Country, but when it had wholly spent its fury, 'twas evidently seen that this inundation had in some places, unbu∣ried the ruines of divers Tombs, whose Inscriptions were half effaced, and in others it had discovered great Columns of Marble, with many other preci∣ous Materials; so that this place in stead of being deprived of its former beauty, received a more ad∣ditional lustre from those new acquired Ornaments. 'Twas nigh those inestimable ruins that Aronces and Clelia (conducted by Clelius and Sulpicia his Wife attended by a small select train, which should be the next day at the Nuptial Ceremonies of these two Illustrious Lovers) walked with much pleasure and delight. Aronces not now remembring the former Impediments of his Rivals, all things as it were smiling at his approaching happiness, and Clelia so complying with his desires, that it was im∣possible the remaining rigour of his destiny should wholly silence his excessive joy, though 'twas some∣times intermixt, as I have formerly told you with some Inquietudes; therefore to acquaint her with the sweet transportments of his Soul, he led her ten or twelve paces from the agreeable company which followed him, imagining what he said to her when she was alone, would make a deep impression in her mind, but after a general, when he would have pro∣ceeded to a particular Conversation, and turned his head to see whether he could be heard by any but Clelia; he saw appear at the entrance of a little Wood the gallantest of his Rivals called Horatius, accompanied by some of his Friends; this sight without doubt much surprised Aronces, but much more Clelia, who fearing there might happen some sad accident, left Aronces to go to her Father, to ob∣lige him to intercede between Horatius and her Lov∣er, that there might arise no contention between them: scarce had she gone five or six paces, but a terrible Earthquake, which is usual in this Country, began so suddenly with such impetuosity, that the Earth opened between Aronces and Clelia, roaring like the mutinous Waves of the disturbed Ocean;

there issued from it such an horrible flame, that it deprived them from entertaining their eyes with their beloved Object, Aronces only seeing himself surrounded with waving flames, which assuming as many various forms, as are sometimes seen in the Clouds presented to his view the most terrible Ob∣ject any Imagination can fancy, their blew colour in∣terweav'd with red, yellow, and green, winding themselves in many different manners, rendred the sight of those flames so dreadful, that any but Aron∣ces had certainly fainted in such an occasion; for this Abyss which was opened between Aronces and Clelia, and which had so violently separated them, represented such an horrid spectacle, that it cannot be limned by the most exactest Pencil, and a black smoke having darkned the Sun and obscured the Air as if it had been night; there sometimes issued from this Infernal Gulph a great quantity of tumul∣tuous flames, which afterwards dilating themselves in the Air, were carried as Whirl winds of fire by the winds which now rose from all places; but he was more surprised when he heard all places resound both with Celestial and Subterranean Thunders, which by terrible Convulsions of the Earth seemed to shake the Center of the World, and to remit na∣ture to its first Chaos, a thousand burning stones slung from this flaming Gulph were shot into the Air with fearful hissings, and fell again into the Fields, either nigher or further, according to the impetuosity which carried them, or their own weight made them fall, in some places of the Plain flames boyled as springs of fire, and there exhal'd from these fires such a sulphureous Odor, that it almost suffocated all which were nigh them, and in the midst of all these fires from many parts their slowed divers Torrents which in some places extinguished the flame, and ma∣ny others were themselves consumed by the fires which opposed them: And to finish this desolation there issued from that Abyss such a prodigious quan∣tity of burning asnes, that the Earth, Air, and River were either entirely fill'd or cover'd with them. In the mean time as the Earth shook more and more, the house where the Solemnities of Clelia's Nuptials were to be kept, was wholly everted, the Hamlet where it was scituated, buried in its own ruins, many Flocks were destroyed, and many men perish'd, and there was never heard of such a dreadful disorder, for those which were on the Land sought little Boats to put themselves on the River, thinking to be safer there, and those which were on the River speedily landed, imagining there was less peril on the shore; those in the Plains sled to the Mountains, and those in the Mountains descended into the Plains, those which were in the Woods endeavoured to gain the Fields, and those in the Fields to shelter themselves in the Woods, every one imagining that the place where he was not, was safer than that where he was.

In the midst of this horrible Earthquake, of these terrible flames, of these dreadful Thunders both Ce∣lestial and Subterranean, of those terrible flames, of those Impetuous Torrents, of this sulphurous Odor, of those burning Stones, of that Cloud of flaming ashes which destroyed so many men, and so many Flocks where the Earthquake did not Extend; in the midst, I say, of such an eminent Peril, Aronces who saw nothing living but himself, entertained his thoughts on nothing but his amiable Clelia, and fear∣ing more her destruction than his own, he endea∣voured by all means possible to overtake her: but he was not Master of his own Actions, for when he would have gone on one side, the Earthquake cast him on the other, so that he was forced to leave him∣self to the conduct of his fortune, which had freed him from such an Imminent Peril; but when this great storm was o'r-blown, those burning flames ex∣tinct, the Earth re-stated, the noise silenced, the darkness dissipated after it had lasted the remainder of that day, and all the night, Aronces found him∣self when Phoebus rose from his watry Couch on a Mount of Coals and Ashes, from whence he might take an exact survey of this sad Country: but he was much astonish'd when he saw neither the house where he lay, nor the Hamlet where it was, to see a Isle of the Wood quite overturn'd, and all the field spread with men or dead flocks; so that fear now possessing his Soul more then hope, he descended from that Hill of ashes, but as soon as he was de∣scended he saw come forth of one of those Tombs that the over-flowing of the River had discovered, Clelius and Saryna which were retired thither, for by a furtunate Casualty the Earthquake had not de∣stroyed them, at first Aronces much rejoyced to see them, hoping Clelia would have followed them from this Tomb, but when he had seen five of their friends, two men and three Women come out of it, he speedily advanced towards Sulpicia to whom he was nighest; I pray, said he, tell me what is become of Clelia; alas, answered this afflicted Mother, I came to demand the same of you, for I knew nothing but that at the same time as she left them to come to her father, I saw Horatius followed by those which ac∣compained her Majesty towards her, and I saw no∣thing afterwards but Whirl-winds of flames which forced Clelius and I to shelter our selves in those Tombs with those which were the nighest to us, Sulpicia had hardly pronounced those words, when Aronces without looking upon either Clelius, Sulpitia, or those which were with them, sought amongst those great Mountains of ashes without precise knowing what he sought for, Clelius and the rest did the like, to see whether they could find any sign of the life or death of Clelia; but the more they sought the more they encreased their grief, for they found one of Clelia's Maids stiffed under those burning coals which fell upon her, and nigh her Body they saw one of her Lovers which partaked of the same Destiny: This lamentable, though sad Object ob∣liged Aronces to wish the fate of that unhappy Lov∣er, since he had the advantage to finish his dayes by his Mistress. But as these two persons needed not any ones assistance, they did not stay there, after Cle∣lius had ordered two of his Domesticks he acciden∣tally found, to take those bodies from under the the ashes, and to remain there till they heard further from him; whilst they were thus seeking what they could not find, there came many persons from all places, both from the neighbouring woods, from the ruinated houses, and from those new Concaves of the earth, to seek for their friends or kindred, for this Accident had dispersed all Families, some wept for their Fathers, others for their Children, some for their ruinated houses, others for their Flocks, and most for the fear only to have lost what they sought for; for though Earthquakes have been very frequent in this delightful Country, their grief was not the less abated, but amongst so many misfortunes which o'r-spread this unhappy Coun∣try,

none equalled that of the unfortunate Aronces, his affliction was the more powerful because it tied up the Organs of his Speech, and 'twas easie at this time to discern the difference between the grief of a Father, Mother, and a Lover, for though Clelius and Sulpicia were much afflicted for their Daughter, yet Aronces his grief incomparably exceeded theirs; but in fine, seeing their hopes frustrated in not find∣ing what they sought for; they believed Clelia might be escaped by a fortunate Accident as well as they; feeding themselves therefore with this fancy a year, they thought nothing more requisite than to return to Capua, to see whether some one had not brought her thither, and fortune propitious to their designs presented them the means to perform their intended Journey, by supplying them with an empty Chariot, which the Earthquake having only over∣turned, they easily disingaged from the ashes, and finding a man who knew how to guide it, they mounted into it, after the least afflicted of the com∣pany had given order to carry the bodies of those two Lovers to Capua, and obliged the rest to take a short repast at the first convenient Habitation; for 'twas remarkable in this Earthquake, that it extend∣ed but from the Town where the Nuptials of Aron∣ces were to be kept to Nola, and from thence to Ca∣pua; it had only endamaged some places by the fall of the burning Cinders: the grief of Aronces much encreased when he arrived there, and heard no news neither of his dear Clelia nor his Rival, but a little af∣ter he knew Horatius was not dead, being advertised by one of his acquaintance, that an intimate friend of Horatius called Stenius, had read a Letter that morning from him; so that incited both by a curi∣osity and Eyes of passion, he went to his house, where not finding him, but being told he was gone to breath himself in a spacious Field behind Diana's Temple at Capua, he went thither, Stenius as soon as he saw him received him with much civility, though he was his friends Rival, so that Aronces hoping he would not refuse to satisfie his demands, thus civilly saluted him: I am not ignorant Stenius said he to him, that you are more Horatius his friend than mine, neither would I propose you to betray the secret he hath consided to you, but being cer∣tainly informed you have received a Letter from him this day: I come to pray, and earnestly beseech you to tell me whether he doth intimate unto you that Clelia is living. I demand not, said he, whi∣ther he goes, or where he is now, for I know ho∣nour forbids you to tell it me, so it doth not permit me to demand it of you, and I have such a good o∣pinion of you, that I am perswaded if I should re∣quest such a Courtesie of you, you would easily grant it me; but I would not have the grandure of my affection force me to propound any unjust pro∣position; but Stenius all that I desire is, that favour∣ing an afflicted Lover, you only tell me whether Cle∣lia is living, without informing wherein Horatius intends to carry her, and to oblige you thereto: pursued he, if you do not satisfie my desires, I shall rest in the opinion that Clelia is not dead, but re∣tained in my Rivals power; therefore I believe without infringing your fidelity to Horatius you may consent to my propositions: I do not deny, replied Stenius, but I have this day received a Letter from Horatius, and I confess I have it now about me, but I am much surprised at your strange demands, which I ought not to satisfie, and that I believe you would not your self do, if you were in my place; if I demanded any thing which might prejudice your friend, replied Aronces, you would have reason to use the said expressions; but that which I desire of you is to consolate an unhappy Lover, without any way prejudicing his Rival, and if you have ever loved, you would have never refused it me: I know not what I should do as a Lover, replied Stenius ar∣rogantly, but I know as Horatius his friend, I ought not to acquaint you with any thing wherein he is interressed, and I account it an unworthy action of you to ask a thing which I cannot perform without violating the Laws of friendship, because you shall do it honourably, replied Aronces, putting his hand to his Sword, you must as well sustain your fidelity by your valour, as your wilful obstinacy, and you must defend the Letter of Horatius, since he will not tell me whether Clelia is living; at those words Ste∣nius retiring some paces drew his Sword, and be∣fore any would separate them, Aronces had not only disarmed and vanquished Stenius, but had taken from him Horatius his Letter, after which he speedily re∣tired to Clelius house, where he viewed his Rival's Letter, which contained these words.

Horatius to Stenius.

AN Earthquake having put the Rigorous Clelia in my power, I intend to reside at Perusia, where send me all things which he that gives you the Letter requires of you, and to augment my satisfaction, write me what despair possesses my Rival.

The reading of this Letter was so satisfactory to Aronces, as it cannot be expressed: for he not only learn'd that Clelia was living, but he likewise knew that his Rival carried her to a place where both honour and nature obliged him to go, and where he had not, it may be, so soon gone, if he had not been drawn thither by the attractive Loadstone of Love, so that acquainting Clelius and Sulpitia with his intention, he resolved to depart the next day, which he did, with an equipage only proportiona∣ble to Clelius Son-in-Law attended but by three or four Slaves, and obliged an intimate friend, whose amity he had contracted at Capua; to perform this Voyage in whose bosom he emptied his most secret thoughts, that if this Journey should happily suc∣ceed he might share his fortune; This affectionate friend, called Celeres; being then the sole consolati∣on of Aronces, they departed from Capua, after they had left order with Clelius and Sulpitia, to send them by a safe conduct all things which were necessary to accomplish the Voyage and wished success of Aron∣ces; these two friends began and pursued their in∣tended Journey without any Obstacle, though 'twas a tedious way, till arriving one night at the Banks of the Lake of Thrasymene, they stayed to consider its Beauty, and truly it merited the curious obser∣vation of such gallant Spirits as Aronces and Celeres, for as there are three fair and pleasant isles, every one fortified by a strong yet stately Castle, and round about the Lake many Villages and Hamlets which rendred these Islands the fairest in the world; but Aronces and Celeres had searce the time to consi∣der the grandure and beauty of this Lake, when they

saw come from the Point of this Isle two little Barks, in one of which Aronces saw his dear Clelia, and Ho∣ratius with six men with swords in their hands, which defended themselves against ten which were in the other; this Object so surprised him that he could not at first believe his eyes, but Celeres having con∣firmed him, 'twas no deception of his sight, he really believed he saw both his Mistress and his Rival, and it seemed to him that he which was at the prow of the other Bark was the Prince of Numidia whom he dearly loved, Aronces was at this time much perplex∣ed, because there was no Boat nigher than the space of two miles, as the Guide of the Country told him, which should conduct him to Perusia, so that he must resolve to go thither, for as these two Barks fighting with one another went still further from him, as if they would have gone to the second Isle of the Lake, he imagined if he should have enterprized to swim, 'twas impossible his horse to overtake them, Horati∣us causing his men so diligently to ply their Oars; so that seeing no likelyhood to assist his Mistress, unless he went speedily to the place where he was in∣formed he might find many Boats, therefore he spur'd his horse towards part of the Lake which runs into a great Wood, which he must of necessity pass to go to an Habitation where his Guide assured him he might be supplied with Boats, but as he went thither he look'd towards the two Boats which fought, and saw to his great grief that they still went further from him, and that he must loose sight of them before he could come to approach them: as he was now buried in a deep Sea of distracted thoughts, and rode with a swist pace towards that part of the Coast, where he was informed he might procure Boats, his Friend whose spirit was not so possessed as his, heard a noise of Arms and Horses, which made him turn his head to see whether their men followed them, but he saw neither their men nor their Guide; for as Aronces and he had rode very fast, the Wood deprived them of their sight, so that calling to Aron∣ces that he should take care of himself, and not light∣ly engage himself, he told him what he heard, his melancholy not permitting him to hear it; but he had scarce acquainted him with it, when a Slave co∣vered with blood came from amongst the Trees run∣ning towards them, and addressing his Speech to them; I beseech you, said he, whosoever you are, assist the Prince of Perusia which Traitors would as∣sassinate; at these words, Aronces lifted his eyes to Heaven, to demand as it were, what he should do in such an occasion, when so many puissant reasons made him unresolv'd; but he was not long considering of it, for he saw an ancient man of a gallant pre∣sence, whom the Slave told him was Mezentius Prince of Perusia, who retired back, defending himself from six men which pursued him, one of which, which seemed to be the Captain so vigorously assailed him, that he was ready to thrust his Sword through his Body; for though Mezentius was valiant, he was not in a posture to re∣sist these Assailants, being hurt in two places, and having but a Trunchion of his Sword to put by their thrusts, the other part being broken by the weighti∣ness of their blows; such a compassionate Object dispelled the irresolution of Aronces, so that he cast himself with an incredible valour before the Prince of Perusia and his Enemy, who was ready to fix his heart, and Celeres so powerfully seconded Aronces, that at the second blow he gave the Captain of the Assassinats, he dyed his Sword with his blood; Mezentius looking upon these Strangers as Protectors the Gods had sent him, and not knowing they knew who he was, told them for their encouragemen that they served a Prince who knew how to recompence them, but they had not need to be prompted to per∣form Heroick Actions, their valour making it suffi∣ciently evident when they had their Swords in their hands.

In the mean time, as those six men which assaulted Mezentius were very resolute, and the principal of them, one of the valiantest in the World; Aronces and Celeres were at first involved in much danger, but after Aronces had killed one and hurt two, he set so vigorously upon him, which appeared to be Master of the rest, warding all his blows, and not letting slip any advantage, whilst Celeres and their men which were now arrived, fought with the o∣thers that he forced him to ••lie, and so strictly pur∣sued him, that he push'd him against some great Trees the wind had overthrown, so that not having any power to retreat further, he thrust his Sword through his body, and saw him fall dead at his feet: But as he was in this Estate, one of those which fled before Celeres who pursued them, wounded Aronces in the thigh, thinking to pierce his body, but he was chastised for his presumption by him who received it, who discharged such a weighty blow on his head, that he o'rthrew him dead at his feet.

In the mean time Mezentius who was very old, was so weakned by the effusion of his blood from those wounds he had received, that he was constrain∣ed to alight from his Horse, and to lean against a Tree, supported by that faithful Slave, who had spoken to Aronces and Celeres, on the other side the Protector of that Prince not being able longer to endure the agitation of his Horse, because of the hurt in his thigh, was much afflicted, seeing he could not further prosecute his intended Journey, but hoping the service he had rendred this Prince, might claim an acknowledgment and protection from him, he went, though with much difficulty, towards this Prince, who was then accompanied by many men of Quality which were come from divers places of the Wood, when he would have entreated him to send some of his men to help a distressed Virgin of a no∣ble Extraction which was forcibly carried away; this Prince was so suddenly bereaved both of his Sight and Speech, that Aronces not being hearkned to by any, they being all imployed to recover the sainting speech of this Prince, was reduced to a most deplorable condition; so that without considering either his hurt, or the pain thereof, he went on foot followed by his Friend to the Lake, to see whether he could yet see those Barks he had seen, but Night now began to Curtain the whole Hemisphere, and so many thick Mists o'r-spead the Lake, that they could hardly see the Islands which were there, and further from seeing the two little Barks, so that the unhappy Lover wholly immerged in grief, and not regarding his hurt, a man of Quality conducted by Mezentius, his Slave came to him, who told him, that the Prince a little after he had left him, coming to himself, had commanded that they should take as much care of him to whom he owed his life, as of his own person, and 'twas for that reason he sought for him, and Sycanus, for so was this man named; further intreated him that he would be pleased to go into a Boat which was about fifty paces from

them to be transported to the next Island, where he should be accommodated with all necessaries what∣soever, for in sine said Sycanus, as there is but one Chariot to carry the Prince to Perusia, and that 'tis too late for you to ride thither in the condition you are in, you had better to go to the Castle in the Island, where I offer you on the Princes part all that depends on me, it being under my command. Aronces hear∣ing Sycanus his proposition, joyfully accepted of it, but withall desired him that instead of going direct∣ly to the Isle, he would permit him to seek upon the Lake for two Barques which he had seen a little before he had the happiness to lend his assistance to Mezentius, telling him more easily to induce him thereto, that he was obliged to suc∣cour a Noble Virgin which was in one of those Barques, but Sycanus answered him, that he being not in a condition to go himself, whilst he went to the Island, he would go with his Friend in another Boat to endeavour to satisfie his desires, though with little hope of success, because of the greatness of the Lake, the time that was clapsed, since he saw the two Barques, the thickness of the mists and the approaching night; Aronces answered that he had been told by Marriners, that they could see more clear in the night upon the water when there were mists, then when there was none, and that he would go himself, so that not being able to be di∣verted from his Intentions, he caused the Boat wherein he was to be rowed more than three hours upon the Lake before he would consent to be land∣ed at the Island, to have his hurts drest; but in the end knowing that which his love prompted him to was irrational, and Celeres having whispered to him, that if he would think to live, to deliver Clelia, and to revenge himself of his Rival, he should permit Sycanus to command his men to land them at the Willow Island; for by that name 'twas called to distinguish it from two others which are in the Lake of Thrasimene. As Sycanus was accomplish'd with all Noble Qualities, and was link'd in marriage with a Lady whose virtue and merit far surpassed those of her Sex, Aronces and Celeres were received into this Castle with as much Civility as Magnifi∣cence, Aronces being as well attended there as if he had been at Perusia, for as this Isle had many In∣habitants, and Sycanus usually resided there, it was furnish'd with very expert Chirurgions, and all things else both necessary and delicious; the apart∣ment of Aronces was most magnificent; for as Pe∣rusia was then one of the richest Cities in Italy, ex∣cept those on the Sea Coast, and Sycanus being des∣cended from one of the greatest and most Opulent houses of Perusia: this Castle was not only plea∣santly scituated, but richly adorned: the Chamber where Aronces was lodged, was in that Isle which nigh superview'd all the Lake, and from whence he might see the place where he had seen Clelia, though he could not bless his eyes with a sight of her, but he was not the only person which found assistance in this Island, for his wound was hardly drest when one advertised Sycanus that there was a Barque landed, in which there was a man of a gallant Deportment, who was much hurt, and who demanded the favour of him to pass the Night in one of the Fisher's Ca∣bins, that his hurts might be look'd too: but as Sycanus was too generous not to assist those which were unhappy when it lay in his power, he went himself to offer to this unknown all the assistance he required, and he so freely offered it him that he ac∣cepted of it, and was conducted to the Castle, and lodged in the Apartment far enough from Aronces; so that Celeres being with him to endeavour to con∣solate him, he did not know till the next morning; about three hours after the Sun was risen, that there was arrived an hurt Stranger at the Castle, he heard it from Sycanus his Wife which was called Aurelia, and who demanded of him when she gave him a Visit, if he was accommodated in the Apartment they had given him, because it look'd over a little Port where there was alway some noyse, for in fine, said she ob∣ligingly to him, as the Protector of the Prince; Mezentius may command some priviledge, if you are disturbed in that place where you are, we will give you another Lodging when we dislodge the o∣ther Stranger the gods have sent hither to be suc∣coured as well as you: what, Madam, replied Aron∣ces, is there arrived any more unhappy than I; yes Generous unknown, replied Aurelia, and he is more unhappy than you, because his hurts are more dange∣rous; O, Madam, replied Aronces, he may be more hurt than I, but he cannot be more unhappy: as A∣ronces had thus said, Celeres came into his Chamber to tell him that the Prince of Numidia was in the Castle, and that he had heard by one of his men that he was wounded fighting against Horatius, who had stollen away Clelia: I beseech you (Madam) said A∣ronces addressing his Speech to Aurelia, permit me, I pray, you to deprive my self of the honour of your presence, that I may go to the Prince of Numidia's Chamber, to whom I am very much obliged, and from whom I may happily learn something which imports me more than you can imagine, you are in such a bad condition to go, replied Aurelia, that I believe you ought not to enterprise it, without the permission of your Chirurgeons; O, Madam, re∣plied Aronces, if you knew the Interest I have to see the Prince of Numidia, you would then be assured that I ought to consult none but my heart in this in∣counter, after that Aurelia affectively hearing that Aronces would go to the Prince of Numidia's Lodg∣ing, went to that of the Princess of the Leontines, whom divers Interests did at this time retain in that Castle, but she went not thither before she had told Celeres that it was for him to perswade Aronces not to destroy the cure she had resolved to have for the welfare of a man which had saved the life of the Prince Mezentius, and who merited if no reason had invited us thereto, that we should interess our selves both in his safety and recovery.

Celeres according to her directions would have induced Aronces to have sent him to the Numidian Prince who was named Adherball, to demand of him what he knew of Clelia, but 'twas impossible for him to divert his intended resolution, for after he was drest, and had advertised the Prince of his coming, he went thither leaning on two Slaves, he was scarce come into the Prince his Chamber, when he said to him pardon me, Sir, if the ardent desire I have to be satisfied by you what is become of Clelia, and her Ravisher against whom I saw you yesterday fight on the Lake, hinders me from giving you new de∣monstrations of that friendship we contracted at Carthage? Alas, my dear Aronces, replied Adherball, sighing, the Ravisher of Clelia after he had reduced me to the estate in which you now see me, caused his men to row so diligently that I soon lost sight of him, for my men seeing me hurt would not obey

me, when I commanded them to follow Horatius with all the speed they could possible, and they took more care for the preservation of my life, than the per∣formance of my commands, though they have expo∣sed my life it may be to more danger by not obeying them; for in fine, my dear Aronces, now that I am in a place where no reasons oblige me to disguise my thoughts; I have loved Clelia since I first saw her at Carthage, and the commencement of our friendship proceeded from my love to her, imagining that if I should acquire your esteem, it might much conduce to the furtherance of my affection: Aronces was sur∣prised at Adherbal's expressions, and finding him to be his Rival whom he only supposed his friend, he changed colour on a sudden, which Adherball who did not know that Aronces loved Clelia, attributed to his friendship, not any way suspecting his love, so that obligingly resuming his discourse, I must in∣genuously confess, said he, that after I had the hap∣piness to be acquainted with you, if I had not loved Clelia, I should have esteemed Aronces, whose great merits command respect from all those which know him; it appears by your words, replied Aronces, that you do not well know me, and I am per∣swaded if you knew me better you would be of a con∣trary opinion; but as we are both in a condition not to give any great testimonies either of love or ha∣tred, what thoughts soever sways our Soul, I think I had best leave you in repose and retire my self, and after Aronces had saluted Adherball with a more re∣served Civility than before; he returned to his Chamber, in such a despair as evidenced the great∣ness of his affliction; he was no sooner in his bed but Sycanus brought him a Noble man called Cilicies, whom Mezentius had sent to him with Complements both from himself and the Princess Aretale his Wife, so that Aronces being necessarily obliged to conceal his grief both from Sycanus and Cilicies, desired them to inform him who were those which would have assassinated Mezentius; though you are a Stranger, replied he which was sent from the Perusian Prince, it is not possible but you have heard ere you arrived at the Thrasymenean Lake, that Porsenna King of Chusuim, and the Queen his Wife, have been retain∣ed Prisoners there these three and twenty years, by the Prince Mezentius his Father-in-Law: therefore without particularizing the cause of their long Im∣prisonment, I shall tell you in few words, that a No∣ble man called Thrachon, Native Subject of that un∣happy King, being perswaded that it was lawful to act all manner of Crimes to deliver an Innocent Prince, had laid an Ambuscado in the Wood, where he obliged Mezentius to hunt, leading him from his men till he was to come to the place where he had set those which should assail Mezentius, who was strangly surprised when he saw him which he thought would defend him, put himself at the head of those Assassinats and assault him; and Mezentius now believes contrary to the opinion of all, that Porsenna was acquainted with this Conspiracy which plotted against him, so that all those which interess themselves in the life of this great Prince, fear some violence will be acted against his Person; is it possible he should so ill requite the care the gods have had for the conservation of his life, replied Aronces, as to put to death an innocent man, and if I was in estate to go to demand of him any recom∣pence for the service I have done him, I should in∣treat him to limit his resentments, and to do me like∣wise the favour, as to command some of his men to inform him of one called Horatius, who hath stollen a Noble Virgin called Clelia, is now within his Dominions, and to oblige him so set free that admi∣rable Person: Attending the time till you are able do it your self, replied Sycanus, Cilicies shall tell him all you desire, and I am perswaded you can demand nothing of a Prince whose life you have so generous∣ly saved, but will be easily granted you; for my part, replied Cilicies, if the generous Aronces did not order me to do it, I should acquaint the Prince with his desires, for I am confident he ardently wish∣es the power to recompence the services he hath performed to him, and that he will be very glad to know the means wherby he might make any retalia∣tion. In fine, after those obliging words of Cilicies, Aronces told him all the divers Interests he had prompted him to demand both for Porsenna's safety and Clelia's liberty, and not willing afterwards to suffer any constraint, he appeared so distempered both to Sycanus and Cilicies, that believing their presence did add some grief to his wound, they immediatly departed: they were no sooner out of his Chamber, but looking upon Celeres with eyes which would inspire pity and compassion in the most obdurate hearts; and now my dear Celeres, said he unto him, what think you of the cruelty of my de∣stiny, you, who know all my disgraces and all my adventures, and who have been accustomed to see me unhappy? Is it not true pursued he, that you did not forsee that which is now arrived to me? For not mentioning many misfortunes which have hap∣pened to me even from my birth to the time when I esteemed my self to be ascended to the supream top of all felicity, by espousing the Incomparable Clelia; and when all my Rivals were not in a capacity to re∣sist my divine fortune, a dreadful Earthquake o'r∣threw all my happiness, and snatch'd Clelia from my hands to put her in my Rivals, and to finish my Ca∣pricious Destiny: I saved a Princes life who will de∣stroy Porsenna, whose life is dearer to me than my own, I kill'd him who had conspired his liberty; I saw Clelia with my own eyes in Horatius his power, and I find a Prince to be my Rival, whom I believed my Friend, and that I should have never suspected to have loved Clelia; I can do nothing now but pati∣ently endure my affliction, since I am not in a condi∣tion, neither to pursue Clelia's Ravisher to protect Porsenna, or to discover my true quality to Adherball; for there is no reason I should tell him whom I am, as long as we are not capable to prejudice one another, in case we should be enemies, as there is great likeli∣hood we shall be: his Complaints had lasted longer, had not Sycanus entred into his Chamber, with Ni∣cius and Martia, from whom he expected the greatest assistance in his Affairs; he received them with all imaginable joy, and Sycanus demanded his pardon, because he had not treated him according to his qua∣lity; what Nicius (said Aronces, fixing his eyes upon him) do you believe it requisite to oblige the gene∣rous Sycanus to conceal a Secret of such importance, as my Birth? Yes Sir, replied Nicius, and I am so sa∣tisfied of his fidelity, that is in this Castle, that all the King Porsenna's Friends assemble to consult together, what is best to be done for his liberty and your discovery; I pray Sir, (said Sycanus to Aronces) do not so much injure one, who passionately desires to serve you, as to suspect his fidelity; for I am per∣swaded without the least scruple, that by serving

King Porsenna, I importantly serve the Prince of Perusia, judge then what I ought to do for him, who hath saved his life; for my particular, said Martia to Aronces, I can assure you, Sycanus hath much inte∣rest in your happiness, and I may very well say, the fortune of two Kingdoms, is so inseparably tied to yours, that they would be both destroyed, if you do not save them, by saving your self; after this, Aron∣ces having said many obliging things to those who spoke to him, they began to consult on the liberty of Porsenna, and the Queen his Wife, and the disco∣very of Aronces; but they could not conclude any decisive resolution, till three Noble men of great account in this Realm, (and which were much addict∣ed to Persenna's interest) arrived at this Castle.

In the mean time Sycanus told Aronces, that there was a Princess in his House, whom it would be convenient to make use of, because she had great power with a man which was in much favour with the Prince Mezentius; but replied Aronces, may we confide in this Princess, since she is so well acquainted with one of Mezentius his Favourites, we may Sir, replied Sycanus; for the Princess of the Leontines is so averse to him, that if she should be less generous than she is, she would be faithful to those, which in∣treat her not to discover, that they trust to her secre∣sie, and this Princess having as much vertue as beau∣ty, will never think of obstructing your designs, for not knowing your Birth, but hearing the generous action you performed in saving the Prince Mezentius his life, she was so much disposed to serve you, that she made Aurelia promise her, (whom she entirely affecteth, and who will ingage for her fidelity) to ob∣tain your permission, that she might give you a Visit. If I was in a capacity to anticipate it, replied Aronces, I would now intreat you to bring me to her Apart∣ment; but since I am not, I must commit the conduct of this Affair, both to yours and Aurelia's discreti∣on: after that Sycanus, Martia and Nicius left Aron∣ces in the hands of his Chirurgions, which then came to dress his wound; on the other side, the Nu∣midian Prince, who really loved Aronces for his great deserts, and whom he looked upon as Clelia's adopted Brother, of whom he was amorous, continually sent to know the state of his health, and made a proposi∣on to him through excess of friendship, to permit him to lie in his Chamber, that he might have the consolation to entertain him without disturbing his repose; but Aronces refused it,, not willing, as he pretended to be troublesome to him, though he was swayed to this denial by a jealous resentment, he could not conceal. In the mean time, Sycanus hav∣ing told the Princess, that Aronces would receive her visit with much satisfaction, she resolved to go thi∣ther when night began to blind the World, in the company of Martia and Aurelia; but to wing the hours till the long expected time, she discoursed with Nicius, Martia and Celeres, whom Sycanus had brought thither, even in those things which have the most equality; for in fine, said she to Aurelia, I have lately had an experience which strongly fortifies the reasons may be alledged to prove the powerfulness of it, and I doubt not, but the desire I have to see A∣ronces, proceeds from that forcible inclination of which we are as ignorant, as of the true causes of the winds, and which blows as strong a gale in many occasions, and to prove the verity of my expressi∣ons; consider the Prince of Numidia and Aronces, both arrived here at the same time, of whom I have received almost an equal description; for Sycanus hath informed me, that the Prince of Numidia is tall, of a fair proportion, and though of a brown comple∣xion, of a very pleasing aspect, interwoven with the rays of an haughty Spirit, and a maid who attends me, whose genius is excellent at copying shapes and faces, when she hath seen them hath told me, she thought Aronces was the exactest piece ever nature drew, that the air of his looks expressed both gran∣deur and nobleness, his hair light, his eyes blew, every feature agreeable, and his whole composure heroick, and if I have known Aronces hath perform∣ed a glorious action, by saving the Perusian Princes life, I know likewise, that the Numidian Prince hath equalized it by endeavouring to rescue a noble Vir∣gin, who had been forcibly taken away, they are both hurt, both of incredible valour, both stran∣gers, and both unknown, and I believe both unhap∣py, because a deep melancholy sits inthroned in their faces; but there is some difference between them in my spirit; for though I know Adherbal is a Prince, and do not know the extraction of Aronces, yet I have no intention to go to see the Numidian Prince, but an impatient desire to visit Aronces, and I am so addict∣ed to serve him, that I do not doubt, but that he is the Prince Adherbals superiour in all noble qualities, as I am not sufficiently acquainted with the Numidian Prince, to judge equitably of his merits, replyed Celeres, I dare not presume to give any character of him, but Madam, I can assure you, you will never have reason to change that favourable opinion you have conceiv'd of Aronces. In effect Madam, he hath all the natural endowments that can be desired in an accomplished man, and I desire those who know him better than I do, to find any defect in him, or to make the least wish to his advantage, for first Aron∣ces is of a most pleasant disposition, and his know∣ledge far exceeds that profession he hath practised all his life, his soul towring above all common motions, his heart seated beyond the reach of fear, yet hath he a tender and compassionate spirit, he entirely loves and respects his friends, and believes humanity ought to reside in all men, and that Princes should not di∣spence with themselves, from having particular ver∣tues, though they are obliged to have others, which are peculiar to them, he hath affability mix'd with courtesie, and an inexplicable charm in his discourse, flowing from him with such eloquence, and pronoun∣ced with such grace and Majesty, that it charms the attention of all his auditors, and to define him in few words, he is one whom detraction it self cannot men∣tion without Epithetes of applause and merit, and a subject fit for nothing but admiration.

I may very well say, said the Princess of the Leonti∣nes, that the inclination I have for Aronces whom I do not know, is not ill grounded, though it appears blind to me, but the mischief is, it sometimes doth not accord with reason, for my part, said Aurelia, that which we often call inclination is not: and that the reason for which it inclines more to one side than another, is, that it can never find such an e∣quality betwixt persons, as not to put some distin∣ction between them, so that as it is the property of the spirit to discern and chuse, it always electeth that the heart is most affected to, and that as we commonly attribute to the caecity of our inclinati∣ons, is indeed an effect of a more perspicuous illu∣mination. There is doubtless much ingenuity in what you say, replied Celeres; but it shall never

perswade me, that the inclination is an effective thing, where reason hath no operation, for it is sometimes found that our reason prompts us to one thing, and our inclination to another, and though we know that which we love, merits less than that we hate, it doth not at all alter our affections; as I have more experience in the world added Martia; being elder than all those before whom I speak, I have noted an hundred times such prodigious effects of this blind Inclination that I cannot doubt the power of it; for I have sometimes seen men of transcen∣dent parts love women which have neither Beauty to attract their eyes, nor Vertue to allure their hearts; and women of great esteem to favour men which are by all rejected, and to despise others who merit much estimation: I, and I have my self some∣times been swayed to the friendship of some per∣sons more than others, not being able to give any reason for it, and I very well discern'd that if they had been deficient in Noble Qualities, 'twould not have changed my contracted Amity, therefore I have always put a distinction between those I have loved by Election, and those I have affected by In∣clination. I believe sometimes it doth not chose re∣plyed Sycanus, for those which are of a lively Ima∣gination and a penetrating spirit, so speedily de∣termine of that they would esteem, that they do not perceive the proper operations of their Spirit, and ascribe that to Inclination which doth not ap∣pertain thereto, and that which most authorize those who attribute all to the Inclination, is, that some men indiscreetly chuse those which are not amiable, and every one who cannot comprehend how reason should be capable of such grand mi∣stakes, had rather submit to a blind Inclination than to confess it is sometimes blind it self, so that by this way we may cloak one bad Election with a seem∣ing excuse, for the greatest part of men believe they are but half-justified, if they say they could not resist their Inclination, for my part, replyed Au∣relia, though I am perswaded of the grand Potency of the Inclination, I should not believe I were justi∣fied if it made me commit an Errour, but I should believe my self to be more excusable, if I should commit a fault by the force of my Inclination than by defect of knowledge: After that the Princess of the Leontines went to Aronces his Apartment, con∣ducted thither by Celeres, and followed by Sicanus, Martia, and Aurelia; this Enterview was received on both parts in a manner beyond expression, for although persons which are endowed with all the advantages of a gallant Spirit, are commonly mute at the first sight, their tongues not performing their usual Functions, it hapned not so with the Princess of the Leontines and Aronces, for their conversation was as free as if their knowledg had been of a long continuance, and they were as well acquainted at this first reception with one anothers deserts; as if they had been already united in a strict Bond of A∣mity; the Princess of the Leontines applauded his Heroick Action in saving the Princes life, and he highly commended the honour she vouchsafed to visit him; but these praises were without affectati∣on, and which savouring not of flattery, did not perplex those which received them, and they both found, though they much endeavoured to restrain themselves, that they had both some great subject of Inquietude, so that imagining their grief might proceed from one cause, they had many inducements to desire one anothers friendship, and if the Princess of the Leontines departed from Aronces much admi∣ring him, he remained with the same admiration for her; 'tis true, that as his Spirit was pre-occupi∣ed with many things which strangely distracted him, she was no sooner gone, but his grief resuming its former place (which her presence had a little di∣spers'd) he thought on nothing now but how he might compass a remedy to put a period to his affli∣ctions: The Princess whose disturbed thoughts ad∣mitted more relaxation than those of Aronces, was no sooner return'd to her Chamber, but an urgent cu∣riosity incited her to desire Aurelia to impart unto her both the birth and adventures of Aronces: That which you demand of me, said Aurelia, is of so great a consequence, that I dare not presume to tell you what I know of them without the permission of A∣ronces, though they much require your knowledge; and likewise knowing but part of his Adventures, I cannot entirely satisfie your desires, but I will pro∣mise you to entreat Sycanus, to oblige Aronces to permit them to be imparted to you; and Aurelia in∣violably keeping the promise she had made the Prin∣cess, did so much urge her Husband to desire this fa∣vour of Aronces, that he at last easily consented there∣to, and very well knowing how important it might be to acquaint her with Aronces his Adventures, he communicated his Sentiments to Nicius, Martia, and Celeres, who giving them a favourable approbation, they went together to Aronces his Chamber, to per∣swade him to license their discovery to her, at first he could not resolve to give his consent (his nature contradicting him) but after Sycanus had alledged many perswasive Arguments and Allegations to prove the necessity of it, he at last willingly without the least opposition granted their desires; 'tis true, the mind of this Princess could not be herein so soon satisfied as she desired, for the Perusian Prince the more to honour him who had saved his life, sent the Princess his wife to visit him, with Tiberinus the on∣ly Favourite of the Court, amorous of the Princess of the Leontines, who arrived at this time at the Willow Island, after Sycanus had conceal'd Nicius and Martia, in an Apartment, having given strict order no person should enter there, and an express command to all his Domesticks, not to declare that there was any Stranger in the Castle besides Aronces and the Numidian Prince (their discovery so much importing Aronces) he brought to the Castle, the Perusian Princess followed by five or six women, and conducted by Tiberinus (not any of their Attendants knowing Nicius and Martia were there) and Sycanus having before advertised the Princess that the Numi∣dian Prince was in the Castle, she believed his qua∣lity required the first visit, but 'twas most remarka∣ble, that Adherbal who did not know Aronces was his Rival, mentioned none but him so long as their conversation lasted, exaggerating those Noble A∣ctions he had performed at Carthage, where he was first acquainted with him.

But after many Encomiums of the generous Aron∣ces, tell me his birth said the Perusian Princess to him, to the end that the Prince whose life he hath saved may esteem him according to his quality, Aronces of himself is so illustrious, replyed the Numidian Prince, that if his condition should not be meritorious, he would deserve the treatment of a Kings Son; 'tis true, his birth was so variously reported at Carthage, that I cannot give you any assurance of it,

but what I certainly know is this, that he was edu∣cated by a Noble Roman, who being exiled by Tar∣guin, came to seek an Asylum at Carthage, where I first had the honour of his acquaintance, and I cannot be perswaded but he is of noble blood, for his thoughts do so transcend the Capacity of the Vulgar Intellects, that it would be a mere Soloecism to ima∣gine he can be less than of a Royal Extraction. I be∣lieve, said the Princess of Perusia to him, that I shall hear your Eulogy from the mouth of Aronces, as I have heard his from yours, in expectation whereof I shall now take my leave, after I have offered unto you, all those things which are necessary for you: The Prince of Numidia answered to this Comple∣ment with much Civility, entreating her not to be∣lieve the Character Aronces gave him, for as his thoughts were unknown to him, he presupposed that according to his obliging disposition, he would have given an higher Encomium of him than he deserv'd, so that the Princess having staid a quarter of an hour with the Numidian Prince, whom Tiberinus freely offered to assist to the utmost extent of his power, she went towards the Apartment of the Princess of the Leontines, but having met her by the way, some re∣ciprocal Complements having past on both sides, she brought her to Aronces his Chamber, who received the visit of this Princess with as much civility, as if he had not known she would be a grand Obstacle to all his Designs; at first her grateful language expres∣sed how much she was obliged to him for saving the Prince her Husbands life, assuring him of the gran∣deur of his acknowledgment for such a signal Service, and that he had given express order to make an exact enquiry throughout all his Dominions; for the per∣son he so much desired. Aronces returned thanks to this Princess with a joyful Emotion which sufficiently demonstrated, that the liberty of this person did much tend to his entire satisfaction: the Princess of Perusia likewise told him, that the Numidian Prince had related many things to his advantage, and that necessarily he was the most affectionate of all his friends; for in fine said she to him, though you de∣servedly merit all those Praises he hath attributed to you; I am of opinion that I may very well draw from them the consequence I have drawn, seeing that there are few persons who praise with excess, if friendship doth not thereto oblige them. I have without doubt, replyed he, received many Demonstrations of the Amity of the Numidian Prince whilst I resided at Carthage; but I am really perswaded he will one day repent of them when he is better acquainted with me, neither do I flatter my self with the vanity of those applausive expressions he hath bestowed on me, and I am strongly perswaded that he is a Prince whose deserts are incomparable, and who is endued with those qualities, which as much distinguish him from common men, as his birth is superior to them: After these words Aronces held his peace, for in those Sen∣timents which lay concealed in the inmocence of his heart if he had been less generous, he had not given such an advantageous Character of this new Rival which much augmented his Inquietude, seeming to him he might justly complain of Clelia, for detaining such a Jewel from him: But whilst the Princess of Perusia entertained Aronces, Tiberinus spoke to the Princess of the Leontines, who being opposite to his affection, could hardly contain her self from shew∣ing that mortal Enmity her Soul had contracted a∣gainst him; for Aurelia, she conversed with those Ladies which accompanied the Perusian Princess, and Sycanus entertained Celeres: but in fine, the Princess having performed her visit, after she had received a magnificent Collation at the Apartment of Aurelia, she returned to the Boat which had wafted her over the Lake, conducted by Aurelia to her Chariots, which attended her on the other side of the Lake; but she was no sooner gone when Nicius and Martia came from those places where they were conceal'd and the Princess of the Leontines spoke to Aurelia, to solicit her to remember her promise, so that Aurelia having spoke to Sycanus of it, and Sycanus to Aron∣ces, he was resolved for many important reasons, that the next day after Dinner Celeres should go to the Chamber of the Princess of the Leontines, to recount unto her all that she desired of the fortune of Aronces, whose adventures he knew almost to the least circum∣stances, but to the end he might make a better recital of them, he went this Night to the Prince of Nu∣midia's Lodging, from whose mouth he learn'd the love he had for Clelia, and all the Occurrences there∣upon, this Prince telling it to him, to the end he should tell it to Aronces, he being denyed the liberty to speak to him: so that Celeres being fully instructed either by Aronces, the Prince of Numidia, or his own observations, in all that which might content the curiosity of this Princess, he went the next day to her Chamber, where she with much impatience expect∣ed his coming, there being only with her Sycanus and Aurelia, he had scarce entred her Lodging, where she importunately solicited him to begin his di∣scourse, which after a little consideration he per∣form'd in this manner.

The History of Aronces and Clelia.

I Cannot tell, Madam, whether my words may seem impertinent when I tell you that 'tis not possible for you to comprehend the present for∣tune of this Prince, if I do not intermix in my rela∣tion some particularity reflecting on the King his Fa∣thers life. What, said the Princess of the Leontines interrupting him, is Aronces a Kings Son? Yes Ma∣dam, replyed Celeres, Aronces is Son of the most Il∣lustrious King of all Etruria, and the unhappiest King of the Earth, for the King Porsenna is his Fa∣ther: I pray you, replyed the Princess of the Leon∣tines, if it lyes in the sphere of your knowledge, to acquaint me with the adventures of Porsenna as well as those of Aronces, not concealing any thing from me, if it please you, for though I reside sometime in this Country, I have heard them but very confu∣sedly, because I have had so many unquiet thoughts which have disturbed my Spirit, that I had not any curiosity to inform my self of the misery of others, when I had no power constantly to support my own: Since you command it, Madam, and that you desire of me is necessary to instance you of the deplorable estate of the Prince Aronces, I must deduce my di∣scourse further than I at first intended, and tell you that the precedent King of Clusium, Porsenna's Father, waging War against the Prince of Perusia now re∣gnant, gained a famous Battel but the sequel proved unfortunate: for the Prince his Son under whose

Command his Troops were Victorious too far, pur∣suing those he had vanquished, was taken prisoner, so that Mezentius believing to have had as much ad∣vantage in this occasion as his Enemy, the Victory produced no peace between these two Princes, but the War continued as before.

In the mean time, Porsenna who was one of the fairest Princes in the World, and who is now one of the ancientest Illustrious Kings in the Earth, was used with as much Civility as one in his condition could expect, though he was kept with as much exactness, as if instead of being a Prisoner of War he had been a Prisoner of State; he was therefore put in a Castle about six miles from Perusia, and which is so advantagiously scituated, that one hundred men may defend it against one thousand; but for his good or ill fortune, I know not which to term it, the Princess Nicetale the first Wife of the Prince of Pe∣rusia being very sick, was ordered to go for the re∣covery of her health to an Air less subtle than that of Perusia, and her Physicians finding none more commodious for her than the Castle in which the Prince Porsenna was kept, advised her to go thi∣ther, for as it's very great, and that it hath one Tow∣er, which is so far divided from it, she might reside in the Castle without the knowledge of any of his Guard; but going thither she carried along with her the Princess Galerita her only Daughter, who was then about fifteen years old, and who was of such a piercing and prodigious beauty, that she could not be seen without admiration; the Prince Porsenna whom Nicetale visited many times in the Tower where he was kept, would not see her with∣out being sensibly told, that he became more captive of the Daughter, through the love she gave him, than the Father by the Laws of War: Nicetale being a Princess of great Spirit, no sooner perceived the passi∣on that the young Galerita had produced in Porsenna, she joyfully countenanced it, for she being naturally inclined to Peace, pitch'd upon this productive love, as the only means which might establish it between the King of Clusium and the Prince of Perusia her Husband, and far from opposing its continuation contributed much to the progression thereof, by the frequent visits she vouchsafed this Illustrious Cap∣tain, who seeing the bloing youth of the Person whom he loved, and not seeing her without the Princess Nicetale, judged that to acquire the love of Galerita, he might first gain the friendship of Nice∣tale, and indeed he had such an ascendant over her, that she loved him as if he had been her Son.

In the mean time he managed his love so discreetly, that the young Princess of Perusia knew that he had for her, that as she had heard term'd love, and she likewise felt, that she had for him I know not what tenderness that she never yet had for any Person; but in the end without expatiating my self to tell you with what Gallantry and address this loving Prisoner perswaded his love to her which had produced it; I shall only tell you that he acquainted her with it by writing, and obtained Nicitales permission to speak to her of it, which in the high esteem she had for him, received this confession of his love for her Daughter in a most obliging manner, for she then unlock'd to him the secret of her heart, telling him that she knew that the touching of the Estate of the King of Clusium, and that of the Prince of Perusia was without doubt the way to put him in a capacity to give law to all Etruria, and to dispute the power with the famous Vulturnum, and with proud Rome it self, but knowing the resentments the King of Peru∣sia had against the King of Clusium his Father, she was strongly perswaded that he would never con∣sent to hearken to any terms whilst he was in prison, or that if he did hearken to it, he would never give his Daughter to his Prisoner; 'tis therefore, said she to him, we must contrive a way to render you hap∣py, and to give the Peace to two Estates, which can∣not subsist in War: Alas Madam, what expedient, may a Prince find overwhelmed with so many diffe∣rent chances, as I highly esteem your vertue, I will propose to you a proposition, which according to all appearances may effect happily your design, if you follow my advice.

But generous Porsenna, pursued she, before I tell it you, you must solemnly swear to me, and do not pro∣mise me that which you will not inviolably keep, I promise you Madam, said he to her, that I will never violate my word I give you, and that I will not make use of the priviledge that may be granted to Priso∣ners not to perform their promise, but likewise pro∣mise me, that you will not command me to disrespect you, or not to affect Galerita: on the contrary repli∣ed Nicetale, I intend to put you in a possibility al∣ways to love her, and to permit her to love you in∣nocently, till the expiration of her life; but to make this design succeed happily, I must steer my course so, that you may depart from prison without any suspition, that I was privy to it: you must therefore said she, not go to Clusium, for fear you should not be there Master of your self, but you must go to the King of Cera, who remaining neuter during this War, is very fit to be a Mediator between the King of Clusium, and the Prince my Husband; but before it's put in execution, you must promise me, that in case by your solicitations and address, you can neither conclude a Peace between these two Princes, nor to oblige them to consent, that you may espouse Galerita, you will come back to reassume your chains; for it is not just, knowing your valour and good for∣tune in the War, I should put such a valiant man as you in the head of an Army, which must fight against Mezentius, for though he is sometimes violent and unjust, I am his Wife, and ought to espouse his inte∣rest against all the World, think therefore if you are capable to accomplish my desires, as Porsenna was amorous, and Nicetales proposition was equita∣ble, he promised her with joy to perform all the de∣sired, on condition, she would likewise promise him to use all her power, that he might espouse Galeri∣ta; so the agreement being fully concluded, they resolved that this Princess should return to Perusia, and he that commanded the Castle, absolutely de∣pending on Nicetale, should give him leave to escape, and Porsenna through an interest of love was obli∣ged to wish the absence of his beloved object, as Ni∣cetale desired passionately Peace should be concluded before the beginning of the Spring, she hastened her return to accelerate the execution of her design, but as she now look'd upon Porsenna, as a Prince which should espouse her Daughter, she permitted them to have some particular conference the day which preceded her departure, whilst she entertained be∣low a Lady of Quality which had arrived there that Morning; so that Porsenna in this manner bid adieu to that young and fair Person, the Grandeur of whose Spirit, equalling her great Beauty, made her to tell things most judicious to the Prince whom she

was about to leave: for after he had made to her a thousand Protestations of fidelity, she told him she would not oblige him to so many things, as the Princess her Mother had, in case that he could not make a pacification between the King of Clusium and the Prince of Perusia, she would only desire him not to bear Arms against the Prince her Father; but Porsenna having answered her, that if he was free, honour would force him to fight for his Father; and both love and honour equally engaging him to her, if he could not conclude a Peace, he would come back to re-assume his Irons, which seemed to him much lighter than those with which love had chained him; in fine Madam, this separation was so tender and sensible, and those which have related this Adventure, say, that it was scarce credible, that so young a Person, as Galerita should have power to draw her self from his conversation with so much judgment and address, and assuredly this particular entertainment much encreased the Princes affection. In the mean time, Nicetale, after she had reconfirmed her promises to him, and he had renewed his to her, returned to Perusia, leaving a secret order with him which commanded the Castle, who was the Son of the Princess Galerita's Governess, to favour Porsen∣na's escape in four or five days, but so privately to act it, that he might not in the least appear culpable of it; this man over whom his Mother had as much power by her address, as by that which nature gave her, disposed himself to hazard his Fortune in hopes to advance it, and executed it so happily, a few days after, the Princess Nicetale was returned to Perusia, that Porsenna saved himself, as if he had suborned some of his Guards who went with him, neither did Mezentius know any thing of Porsenna's love to Ga∣lerita, nor the Intelligence of Nicetale with Porsenna. In the mean time, this Prince according to his word went to Cera, from whence he sent to the King of Clusium to intreat him to endeavour to conclude a Peace with the Prince of Perusia by proposing his Marriage with the Princess his Daughter, and he to whom this imployment was committed, being a man of Quality very fit to perform this Commission Por∣senna fully instructed him of all the reasons which might oblige the King his Father to consent to his Propositions, charging him that if he would not effect it, to tell him that he was not free, but in ap∣pearance, and that he would return to the Prison of the Prince of Perusia, when his hopes were fru∣strated of espousing the Princess Galerita, and to give Peace to two of the most considerable Estates of all Etruria; at first the King of Clusium was strangely irritated against the Prince his Son; be∣cause he went to Cera, and not to him, and vented his anger against his Proposition, but Porsenna having secretly wrote to those which had some credit over this his Father's Spirit, that they might induce him to make Peace, they knew so well how to represent to him, that his people were weary of War, and the advantage that the Marriage of his Son with the blooming youth of the Perusian Princess would bring him, that in the end he resolved to send to offer Peace to Mezentius, whose courage was much abated at Porsenna's flight, for he knew not the conditions, on which he departed from his Irons, but having a fiery heart, and a vindicative spirit, he would not re∣solve with himself to hearken to any Proposition of Peace, nor Alliance with a Prince whom he hated, and that which fed this humour, was, that the Prin∣cess Galerita was much affected by a Prince of this Court, named Bianor, who forgot nothing that might hinder that the Peace should deprive him of his Mistress; that which rendred his credit so great: was that Mezentius was amorous of his Sister, who is now that Princes Wife, and who was then very beautiful and ambitions, so it was not without great difficulty, that Nicetale made him consent to her de∣sires, but she could not have done it, unless having divulged the advantageous Proposals of Peace by the King of Clusium: the people were no sooner ad∣vised of it, but they murmured at him, and so highly began to testifie their aversion to War, that Mezenti∣us knowing very well, he could not without danger excite a revolt in his Estates, (having given a great charge to Bianor to appease the Person whom he loved) he consented in the end to treat with the King of Clusium.

In the interim there passed few days, but Porsenna wrote to Nicetale and Galerita, to pray the first to re∣member her promise, and to give a thousand testi∣monies of love to the latter: but in the end, after a long Negotiation, the Peace was concluded, and the Marriage of Porsenna and Galerita resolved on, on condition Porsenna should remain at Perusia, as long as his Father lived: Mezentius imagining that the King would renew the War, in despight of the Alli∣ance, if he retained not the Prince as Hostage, it is true, this Article was easily accorded to, for though the King of Clusium very much loved his Son, he was not sorry for this advantageous absence, which reu∣nited in his Person all the obedience of his Subjects, so that the Marriage was happily concluded in de∣spight of the Clandestine Machinations of Bianor, and the natural aversion of Mezentius; but hardly had Porsenna and Galerita the leasure to contemplate the happy Sun-shine of their good fortune, when it was eclipsed with grief; for the sage and prudent Nicetale died a little after the Celebration of the Nuptials, and she dyed with much regret, because she knew the secret aversion Bianor's Sister enter∣tained in her heart against Porsenna, and it was prin∣cipally because she saw him adored by all the Court, and very much loved by the People. In the mean time the death of Nicetale put such a great conster∣nation in all her House, and in the Princess her Daughters, that there were few in the one and the other which were not entirely swayed by grief, so that in this great disorder, it unhappily fell out, that one of the Women of this Queen, which had been alwayes favourable to Porsenna's Rival, found all the Letters the Prince had written to Nicetale, during his residence at Cera, by which he entreated her ex∣actly to keep her word, and to oblige the Princess her Daughter to keep the promise she made him to espouse none but him; so that this Person being seised of these Letters, to evidence to Bianor, that if she had not had the power heretofore to serve him nigh Galerita, it was not for want of address, but because an invincible obstacle opposed her in∣tentions, but shewing all those Letters to Bianor, she excited a great confusion in his Spirit, which made him resolve to revenge himself both of Porsenna and Galerita, for as he knew Mezentius was jealous of his Authority, that he was violent and vindicative, and that he noted, he did not very much affect Porsenna, he believed that when he knew the commerce which had been between him and the Princess his Daughter, he would be much exasperated against him, & having

consulted with his Sister thereupon, she confirmed him in his design, for not seeing now that it was im∣possible Mezentius should espouse her, being a Wid∣dower, and that he was very amorous of her, she imagined it would be most advantageous to effect her Marriage with that Prince, and the only way to excite his anger, both against Porsenna; and the Princess Galerita: So that this Maid reasoning as an Ambitious Person, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as a Vindicative Lover and an Ambitious Rival, they absolutely re∣solved to shew the Prince of Perusia all Porsenna's Letters, but as they were not absolutely assured what impression they would make in Mezentius Spi∣rit when he saw them, they would not give them to him with their own hands, but laid them on the Table of his Cabinet, where he found them with∣out knowing who put them there; he was strange∣ly astonish'd to see them; for as he well knew the writing of Porsenna, and easily comprehended their Contents, he would not make appear his astonish∣ment nor anger, because he would be better satisfied of them, though those Letters almost learn'd to him all that which was passed, the Article only ex∣cepted which might justifie Nicetale, for it was not positively written in the Letter that he should re∣turn to Prison if the Peace was not concluded, be∣cause he judged Nicetale would understand it, if he did but express in general terms that he would not violate his promise: Mezentius then being willing to be better instructed in that which was but dubi∣ously mentioned in the Letters, sent to find out the Lady who had been the Princess his Daughters Go∣verness before her Marriage, judging that this secret might be known to her, she being very much belov'd by Nicetale, but the better to palliate his Design, he shewed to her all Porsenna's Letters to Nicetale, with∣out expressing the least resentment of anger, to have learn'd the Intelligence which had been between the Princess his Daughter, and Porsenna during his Imprisonment; but on the contrary he said to her the more to deceive her, that he had not the curio∣sity to know particularly all the passages between them, and who were those which had contributed to unite their affection, but to the end, to know to whom he owed that obligation of Peace which his People enjoyed by the Marriage of those two Per∣sons; Mezentius thus speaking with a feigned dissi∣mulation, and the Lady believing in the estate things were, his designs were consonant to his words, dis∣guised nothing from him, and recounted to him all that was passed; but though she told him that Por∣senna was set free on a limited condition to come back thither if he espoused not Galerita by conclu∣ding Peace, but he believed it not, but believed 'twas this Ladies invention, and judged 'twas her Son which had facilitated the flight of that Prince, though she did not acquaint him with it, but told him that Nicetale had suborned some of his Guards, but she principally aggravated the Grandure of Por∣senna's love to Galerita, and that powerful inclinati∣on of Galerita for Porsenna, seeming to her that no∣thing was more proper to mollifie the heat of a Prince which was himself susceptible of Loves slames; but scarce had this Lady finish'd her Speech, but Me∣zentius unmasking his anger, what, said he to her, beholding her with a terrible aspect, which would make the constantest Person tremble? Have I then put my Daughter to you, to teach her to love my Enemy and those that my Valour had subdued? Was it to inspire her with such degenerate thoughts that I preferred the care of her Education to you be∣fore many others? Sir, said she unto him, I have but obeyed the Princess Nicetale, and I do not see that this obedience hath had a preposterous Event, since you have for your Son in Law, the Son of a great King, and which merits to be greater as much by the qualities he possesses, as by his highness of his birth, If I could resuscitate Nicetale to punish her for her treachery and perfidiousness, pursued he, I would do it with all my heart: but since 'tis not possible, you shall answer for the fault she hath committed, and I will so severely punish you for your Treason, that you shall wish your death all the rest of your life; this Lady would have then allayed the fury of this violent Prince, but the more she spoke the more it excited his anger, and at this instant they came to advertise him that Bianor had something of consequence to im∣part to him, so that he having commanded some of his Attendants to carry that Lady to her Chamber, and not to let her speak to any person, he hearkned to Bianor, who assured him that he had news that the King of Clusium was upon the point of expiration: Porsenna not knowing of it, from whom he would conceal it, to the end he should not depart from his Court; for fear he should be retained there by his people, who would never consent that their Prince should reside at Perusia, hardly had Bianor learn'd un∣to him the Estate of the King of Clusium, but he took a resolution to satisfie three passions instead of one, for he pretended to satisfie his vengeance in arresting Porsenna, and declaring his marriage void, he easily pretended to satisfie his Ambition in usurping his E∣states after the death of the King his Father, and he pretended to satisfie his love by espousing Bianors Si∣ster, on pretext to revenge himself of Galerita and to dis-inherit her, because she had had a secret love with the Prince she had married, when there was war with the King his Father, so that confusedly reason∣ing with all the preoccupation of a person which had love, ambition and anger, he considered neither ju∣stice nor resentments of nature, nor the sequel of his resolution, hinting on nothing but to execute his un∣just designs, he therefore acquainted Bianor with all his intentions, communicating to him all that he would act against Porsenna, and for Sextilia his Sister, and as Bianor had an artificial spirit, he more stirred up Mezentius anger, and offered himself to execute his commands whatsoever they were, so that the Prince of Perusia without deferring a moment, gave all the orders necessary, to arrest at the same time Porsenna and Galerita, and it was so speedily resolved on, and so diligently executed, that Porsenna was al∣ready returned to the prison where he had been, and Galerita and her ancient Governess, were already in the greatest Isle of the Lake, that you may see from your windows. And they did not yet know in the City whether they were arrested or no, and Mezen∣tius was at first so happy in his unjust actions, that all succeeded according to his desire; for he had cruelly revenged himself both of Porsenna and Galerita, and saw himself in an estate to possess the person whom he lov'd, and he hop'd Clusium would soon obey him, for he knew the next day that Porsennas Father was dead, and that the Grandees of the Realm were di∣vided, and he had the good fortune, that though the people of Perusia very much lov'd Galerita and Porsenna, they revolted not because Bianor published many things disadvantageous to these two illustrious

persons, so that they at first, not being able to discern truth from falshood, they opposed not the injustice of Mezentius, who a few days after espoused Sextilia, in hopes to have a successor, which would deprive Galerita from having the power one day to possess his Kingdom, but to satisfie either his ambition or re∣venge, he promised protection to one of those par∣ties in Clusium, to endeavour to oppress the other, and sent into that Realm a manifesto filled with im∣postures and false reasons, to palliate Porsennas im∣prisonment.

In the interim, Bianor being amorous of Galerita, powerfully sollicited his sister to perswade the King to nullifie the marriage of Porsenna, that he might e∣spouse her, for he imagined (induced thereto by love) that Nicetale had a greater hand in this match than Galerita; so that conceiving some hope, he gave no repose to Sextilia, who to satisfie her brother, for∣got nothing that was possible to endeavour to make void the marriage of Porsenna, and so far perswaded Mezentius, that he went in person to induce her to desert that Prince, and to tell her that she was forced to marry him, more by her Mothers command than her own inclinations, and that he would not only put to death Porsenna, but her self also if she repugned his will, making likewise to Porsenna the most unjust propositions that could be imagined; for he offered him his liberty, if he would yield to him the half of his estate, and consent to the nullifying of his marri∣age, telling him he was in a place where he could not be too prudent to refuse any thing: but whatsoever he could say to that Prince, or the Princess his daughter, he could not shake their constancies, and they both told him, they would never forsake one another, so that Mezentius now remained satisfied, in hope that time would alter their opinions, and thought on no∣thing but how he might entirely usurp the estate of that unhappy King, who though unhappy as he was, was not so much as the Queen his wife; for Madam, I must tell you, that two Months after her Imprison∣ment, she began to fear her self to be with child, at first she imagin'd it proceeded from a simple effect of her Melancholy, but as she had her ancient Governess with her, this Lady to whom age had given much ex∣perience, told her that without doubt her fear was really grounded, so that she finding her self in the saddest condition can be imagin'd, seeing the horri∣ble threatnings of Mezentius, believed that there could be no assurance for the life of Porsennas child; and her Governess was of advice at first, that if Me∣zentius knew her estate, he would not insist on the rupture of the marriage, but considering he had told her, he would put to death both her and Porsenna, she could not hope that a Prince which had the cruelty to threaten his own daughters death, would spare the life of a child that he looked upon as the child of a Prince whom he esteemed his enemy: this Lady likewise who was her only consolation, told her that after Mezentius had reduc'd things to the estate where they were, he would not be capable to be mollified by the consideration of a child, which was but in conception, and who had nothing but tears to bow his obdurateness, when he should come into the world, so that they thought it was expedient to conceal that indisposition, which produced their fear, but the thing at first appeared so difficult to them, that their consolation ended in tears.

But after a little mature deliberation, they be∣lieved that if they could gain his wife, who com∣manded the Castle, it would not be impossible to conceal so great a secret; for as she was the only per∣son which had the liberty to see this young Queen (except two slaves which served her) they should fear nothing, if they could procure her to be of their intelligence, so that all the care Galerita used was to entirely to acquire that Lady who was called Flavia, and who is sister to Nicius, here present; but to speak truly, it was not difficult for the Princess to oblige her to serve her, and to be faithful to her, for she being naturally tender and compassionate, had a par∣ticular inclination to love Galerita, who knew so ad∣mirably how to acquire their spirits of those from whom she would obtain any thing, that it had been very difficult for Flavia to resist her intreaties, who much deplored the misery of so fair and vertuous a Queen, but Galerita deferred the discovery of it, as long as she could possible, to see if the Prince of Perusia could desist from his injustice, but hearing by some of her Guards, that he always appeared more inveterate against Porsenna, and that he used all the means possible to usurp his estate, and that when Clusium was submitted, he would assuredly put to death this Prince, she determin'd to confide on Flavia, to whom she learnt her present Estate, and the fear Mezentius should know it, but she told it her with such melting language, and tender considerations to procure her fidelity to assist her in saving the life of of an innocent Babe, which did not yet enjoy the light, that this vertuous woman, which had no obdu∣rate heart mingled her tears with Galeritas, and would not promise her (without evaporating many sighs) the accomplishment of all her desires, so that the true cause of her indisposition might be conceal'd. But without troubling my self to recite impertinent particularities, I shall tell you in few words, that Ga∣lerita having feign'd to be seiz'd with a greater ma∣lady than really she was, to obtain that her Guards should come no more into her Chamber, and Flavia (who was very much belov'd by her Husband) being wholly gain'd by her, and they having gain'd the Phy∣sician which should see Galerita: the design was in the end conducted with so much precaution, judgment, and sense, that the true cause of Galeritas indispositi∣on was not in the least suspected, and she had the ad∣vantage to salute the times with a Successor to Por∣senna, it being not then known, and the generous Flavia acted her part so handsomly, that the Son of the Queen of Clusium came into the world, without being publickly known, and was taken out of her Chamber without being discovered, for having fore∣seen what she would act, she had so order'd it that the Queen of Clusium having seen from her Chamber a lit∣tle child, she had which was very fair, and that one of her slaves held in his arms desired to see it, so that insensibly she had used the Guards of this Princess to enter daily, and go out with that person which car∣ried Flavias young Son into Galeritas Chamber, and which carried it sometimes divested and sometimes wrapt up in sumptuous swath bands, as if it were a∣sleep in her arms, to the end to use this artifice, when it should be necessary, and as Flavia was his wife who commanded the Castle, none which depended on her were suspected by Galeritas Guards, so that when this Queen was in estate to have need of the address of Flavia, she caus'd her which had accustom'd to bring the Son of this Lady to the Chamber of the Princess to come thither with the same swadling clouts where∣with she used to envelope it, when she carried it asleep

thither, having taken a great bundle of flowers in going through a Garden, which she carried as if it had been really the child she used to carry in her arms, so that being entred in this manner into Gale∣ritas Chamber with Flavia who followed her, and ha∣ving stayed there till the Queen had given Porsenna a Son, she departed afterwards from thence with the child of this Queen, whose face was covered lest the fallacy should be discern'd, and this young Prince was carried to the Apartment of Flavia; from whence she caus'd it to depart the same night, to commit it to the care of Martia her Sister in Law, to whom without any fear she confided this secret, because she had always had so great a dependance on the service of the precedent Princess of Perusia, that there was nothing to be fear'd, but as of necessity, that this child stould be carried in a Bark to the other side of the Lake, to transport it to the house of Martia, which was ten miles from thence.

There was a few days after some noise dispers'd of that which Galerita fear'd should be known, and it so suddenly receiv'd an augmentation, that Bianor hear∣ing of it made it known to Mezentius, and this Prince caus'd to be arrested the Physician, which had assisted the Queen of Clusium, and by most cruel threatnings, he obliged him to confess the truth, but hardly did he know it, but fury wholly possessing him, he commanded an exact search should be made for Galeritas Child, he caused Flavia and her husband to be arrested, and chang'd all the Guards of the Queen his daughter, and so rigorously treated this Princess, that she now fear'd Mezentius would kill her Son if he came into his hands, 'tis true, she long time fear'd this mishap would arrive, for knowing the humour of Mezentius, and having understood from Flavia, that some noise was dispers'd of the birth of this young Prince, she oblig'd ber to com∣mand Nicius and Martia on her part, to seek speedi∣ly a pretext to perform a voyage to carry this young child from the estate of a Prince, whose violence and injustice she equally fear'd; she gave Flavia pre∣cious stones of a very considerable value to give to Martia, that she might make use of as occasion ser∣ved during the exile of her Son, and Flavia having instructed Nicius and Martia of Galeritas intentions, return'd not to the Isle where she was kept, till she had seen Nicius and Martia depart to seek an Asylum for Porsennas successor, at first they had a design to put themselves under the protection of those which held the part of that unhappy King in his estate, but Ni∣cius who is very prudent, learning how that estate was divided, and that the faction Mezentius protect∣ed was the most powerful, it would be dangerous to trust this young Prince to men, which in the low e∣state to which they were reduced, would make use it may be of that occasion to make an accommodati∣on with Mezentius, instead of defending him against him, as the Son of their King, so that to put him in more safety, Nicius and his wife, leaving Clusium on the right hand, they embarqu'd at a Port, which was not above six miles from the famous City of Ce∣ra, with intention to pass to Syracusa, where Nicius had heretofore resided a long time, seeming to them that the Isle of Sicily was a safer retreat for the young Prince, which they conducted, than any other place they could chuse; for as Rome was at this time under the dominion of a violent Prince, that they spoke of nothing but exile, Volternum was not far enough, Tarentum was then divided, Capua was too delicious to sojourn for the afflicted, and Syracusa seem'd a Ci∣ty where they might remain, without informing who they were, because of the great resort of strangers thither from all parts, this City having the com∣merce of Africa and Italy, as well as Greece, Taren∣tum, and a great part of Etruria, but to conceal bet∣ter so great a secret, Nicius and Martia resolved to say that this young Prince was their Son, and with∣out having any other company with them, save his Nurse, and two most faithful slaves, they embarqu'd as I have told you, with intention to go to Syracusa, but Madam, before I relate the issues of their voyage, I shall briefly tell you, that Mezentius not only acted all I have told you, after he had known that Galerita had a Son, but he swore he would declare war to all Princes, and all Republicks, which gave him a re∣treat, and that Porsennas party in Clusium being sup∣pressed by the others, Mezentius had the power to persecute impunely that unhappy King, and men of the greatest knowledge are perswaded, that if he had not had a Son, his life had been in great danger, but as Mezentius saw, that if he put him to death, it would give a pretext for a new war, which he would not undertake, since those which had the Prince in their power would use his name to revenge the death of the King, he spar'd his life, and seeing himself so absolutely master of Clusium, as he hop'd, for those that he had protected against the faithful Subjects of Porsenna, had ever been there of the greatest Autho∣rity.

In the Interim Bianor endeavour'd to consolate him∣self by the great credit he had with Mezentius, and by the hope that Galeritas child would perish, and Porsenna die in Prison, and that he should one day en∣joy his Mistress.

But to return to Nicius and Martia, they were no sooner embarqu'd, but the wind which was at first favourable, suddenly chang'd, and became so out∣ragious that for fear of shipwrack, they must leave their intended course, and abandon themselves to the wind, which was stronger than the Pilots art, who conducted them: and the Sea was so tumultuous, that the waves often passed from one side of the ship to the other, with such impetuosity, that they nigh over∣whelm'd all that were there, and these waves meet∣ing sometimes together in such a manner that they form'd within themselves great foamy mountains, that the other waves bore away in wheeling about, and they saw a kind of fight between them, which threatn'd shipwrack to all the vessels which were then on the Sea: This Tempest became most dangerous to that Ship in which Nicius and Martia was, for the wind after it had tost it in divers manners, pusht it to∣wards the Cape of Lylibeum, so that as there is no greater danger for vessels when the Sea is angry, than to be nigh the Land, Nicius and Martia had much reason to fear the loss of their Vessel, but that which more confirmed it, was, that they saw the Pilot, who was very skilful, after to have unprofitably used his art to resist the impetuofity of the winds, and the tempestuousness of the Sea, had left the helm and fell on his knees to make vows to Neptune, decla∣ring by this action, that he no more hoped there, but in the assistance of the Gods, yet they ap∣pear'd in his face, that he did not hope to obtain that he demanded, for he had all the marks of despair in his eyes.

In the mean time, in the middle of this tempest, this young Prince which was Nicius and Martias principal

peaceably slept in his cradle, without knowing his life was in peril, but though he feared not, Martia and Nicius feared for him, and there was other ves∣sels in this place, which were exposed to perish, as that of Nicius: and by fortunes capriciousnesse, the tempest had brought together in a little space many ships, which held divers wayes, when it began, for there was one of Carthage which being parted from Syracusa to return to its Country had been con∣strained to leave its course, there was another from Tarentum, two from Ostria, and one from Corinth, so that the wind seemed not to have formed this little Fleet but to destroy it, these Vessels then fearing to be rocks to one another, and to beat by clashing together, performed all which they could to sepa∣rate them, but as usually the sea being angry dis∣perseth the Fleets, it seemed to have brought these ships together, and would not separate them, till they should be broken by one another, and had co∣vered the shore with their ruines: but Madam, the better to comprehend the marvellousnesse of this adventure, you must know that there was in this vessel that went to Carthage, an illustrious Roman family, who to fly the persecution of Tarquin the proud, which now reigns in that famous City, had taken a resolution to seek an asylum in Africa, be∣cause there is no great commerce between Italy and it, except it be casual by the way of Sicilie; and Cle∣lius who was chief of it saw him self unfortunate, and more unfortunate than Nicius, for he had an onely son in the Cradle, that was exposed to pe∣rish as well as he, it is not that Clelius feared death, through a resentment of weakness, but that having all the generosity which true Romans make profes∣sion of, he lookt upon his losse, and his sonnes as a gain to Tarquin whereof he was enemy and he did not consider the losse of all his family and his own. His wife, who was named Sulpicia, was not so troubled by the apprehension of death, as by a resentment of glory, who desired, that if they pe∣risht, the enemy should not hear of their shipwrack, so that Clelius and Sulpitia, without concealing them∣selves during the tempest, as usually all passengers do, which are in vessels, came on the poop, to look upon this terrible agitation of the waves, which momentarily exposed them to perish, at least just gods (said then this generous Roman, lifting up his eyes to heaven) if ye have resolved my destruction, save my Country, and to die like a true Romane, let me rather make vows for it, than for my self, do then, you just gods I entreat you oppresse Tar∣quin the proud by his own tyranny, let him be tram∣pled under the Throne to which his crimes have carryed him, and let the cruel Tullia, which passed over her fathers body to mount the same Throne dye cruelly, let all his family be exterminated, let the name of the Tarquins be an horror, and since Rome hath no more legitimate Kings, let it I say be free, and let it never have tyrants, Clelius having thus spoken, and Sulpitia by her sup∣pliant action seemed to joyn her prayers with her husbands, a gust of this enraged wind bearing Ni∣cius his vessel on theirs, split them both in an in∣stant, and covered all the sea with their ruines; the Carthaginians were seen mingled with the Romans and the Romans with the Sicilians, who in particular used all the means they were able to save their lives, but amongst others Clelius who could swim ad∣mirably, and who had a strong heart, incapable of disturbance by the sight of any certain death, en∣deavoured to swim to discover his wife or his son, amongst that masse of planks, which there floated, and men clinged unto them to save their lives, but as the violence of the waves, soon dispersed the splinters of the ships, Clelius without finding his son or his wife, was constrained to think on his own safety; and having discovered the point of a rock which overlookt the sea, where he might retreat in such a pressing necessity: he that endeavoured to gain it in despight of the impetuosity of the waves, in hope all the vessels which he had seen in the be∣ginning of the tempest were not perished, and that some of them would take him from the rock when the sea was a little calm; but as Clelius vigorously did swim to attain that rock, he saw on his right hand, a cradle which floated, and a young child, which without appearing affrighted at the horri∣ble peril where he was, smiled assoon as he per∣ceived him, this pitiful object sensibly touching the heart of this generous Roman, and at that in∣stant not thinking there was any other Child but his in any of the vessels which were shipwrackt, believed it was his son and did swim with more swiftnesse to go to succour that Cradle, which the waves so rudely tossed, but approaching it, he knew distinctly, that it was not his child; for he had different swadling clouts and very remarkable which gave him no doubt of it; neverthelesse, Clelius incited by a compassionate feeling, and wish∣ing his child were in the same estate, who might find one which would succour him, continued swimming towards the cradle of the young Prince of Clusium; for it was Madam the son of him whom Clelius saw in imminent danger, and which would have infalli∣bly perished without his assistance: this illustrious Cle∣lius did swim with so much force and address, for to take hold of a corner of the Cradle of that young Prince whom he knew not; but that which was most cruel, was, that the waves which pusht it, carried it from the point of the rock, that he lookt upon as an Asylum; nevertheless having found this Cradle, he sustained it with one hand, and swimming with the other, he turned his head to the rock, where afterwards arrived with much difficulty, and assoon as he was there, he put the Cradle of this young Prince, on the highest part of that rock, and seated him by it, to behold the place where he was shipwrackt, but looking on it, he saw his own sons cradle which floated, and which being intangled among the planks, that the Sea tossed in a strange manner, appeared to him ready to be drowned, so that not having the power to resist his paternal pity, weary as he was, he left the young child which he had found, and cast him∣self again into the sea, to endeavour to save his, but going thither had the misfortune to see that a gust of wind having pusht the prow of one of those broken ships, between him and his son, just as the cradle had been disintangled from the planks which supported it, hindred him from seeing any more the cradle or the planks; for at that time there fell a shower of rain so abundant, that Clelius could hardly perceive the rock, where he had left Porsennas son, when he believed to have seen his own son perish, he would return to him which heaven had given him, and having nothing else to do, he regained that Refuge, but when he was there, he sometimes be∣lieved, that he and this child would likewise die

there; for after the cessation of this terrible show∣er, he saw two vessels which had not been ship∣wrackt, instead to approach the place where he was, did all that they might to estrange themselves from it, for as the Pilots knew that rock, they would not by any means possible approach it; so that Clelius finding his deplored estate, judged that it may be, if he enterprised to swim to gain those vessels, it would not be impossible for him to do it, if he went alone without enterprising to sustain the Cradle; but as he would not forsake the child which heaven had put into his protection, he could not resolve to do it; for he was no sooner on the rock, but the wind changed, and pushed thither such an abundance of foam, that if Clelius had not held the Cradle of this young Prince in his arms, he had been drowned in the sea. Clelius being in this deplorable estate, believed when he see his son perish, he did not doubt of his wifes death, his generosity hindred from thinking of preserving his own life, and he saw little appearance to pre∣serve that unhappy infant; but in the end, one of these Carthaginian vessels which had not perished, being pushed in despight of him towards that rock and Clelius having made divers signs, was in the end perceived by him which commanded it, which being capable of humanity, had taken a particular care to save the most of those men he could, which were shipwrackt, and in the end, the wind having ceased on a sudden, it was easie for him without danger to approach the rock: and Clelius put him∣self again in the water, charged with the Cradle of the son of Porsenna to gain the vessel, where he had the joy to find again his dear Sulpitia, that a faith∣full slave had saved her by bearing her upon the water, and making her to board the ship where he sound her. This interview had something very delightful: for Clelius was much comforted by find∣ing his wife, and Sulpicia was very joyfull to see a∣gain her husband, she believed at first she had reco∣vered her son, when she saw Clelius with a child in his arms, but she was soon disabused, and in the end they both comforted themselves for the losse of their child by him fortune had given them, and by the consolation they had to see one another, after they had believed never to have seen one another again, and it seemed, that in the shipwrack, where they had believed to have lost all, they saved that which was of most value; for they found a part of their vessel run on ground on a heap of sand, where the richest things which they had were, and Sul∣picia strugling in the water had seised on a plank of another broken vessel, upon which was a casket fastned by divers cords wound round about it in that turning which was made at the time of the shipwrack; so that this faithfull slave of Clelius, who had saved Sulpicia, having found her sustaining her self by this plank, which was ready to sink by the weight of this casket, supported her, and brought her to the vessel where Clelius found her (for it was ve∣ry nigh) bringing likewise in his hands the casket which was fastened to the plank, imagining without examination, that it was hers, so that after Clelius and Sulpicia had had the leasure to meditate on the accident which was arrived, they found that their losse was lesse then they thought of in this occa∣sion; for they had found a child instead of theirs, and stones of an inestimable value in that Casket-

In the mean time, Clelius believing that he could not better acknowledge the favour that the gods had afforded him by saving his life, than in having a particular care of that child he had found, prayed Sulpicia to nourish it instead of hers, and to love it as her own, and as they both felt the grief they had for the losse of theirs, they would have restored this child to those which had lost it, if they were not perisht themselves, but they could not hear of them, for the misfortune was, that those of the Carthaginian Vessels saved none but those which were with Clelius and the other vessels, which were nigh that in which Porsennas son was shipwrackt, succour∣ed those which escaped there, but as the tempest se∣parated them, and their wayes being different, Cle∣lius could learn nothing of the birth of this child, neither of what country he was, neverthelesse his hope was, that the vessel which had saved him, went thither where he had a design to go: he obliged the Captain, to whom he owed his life, to bring him to Carthage, where he had a design to passe the time of his exile, to the end said he, that I may not have my spirit troubled by the recitall of Tarquins tyranny. But to make Sulpicia love the child better, the gods had given them, he desired he should have the name of Aronces, which was the name of the child he had lost; but he would not say, when he came to Carthage that Aronces was his son, though he had for him a paternal affection, for fear that should obscure his knowledge, and not knowing whether he should have other children, he would not disguise the truth, but he would carefully keep the Cradle, and the swading bands in which this child had been found, and likewise imagined that the stones he had found in that Casket might con∣duce to his knowledge: And he had for this child which was unknown to him, all the cares which his high birth rendred him worthy of, but whilst Clelius rendred to him all the offices of a true father, Nicius and Martia which had been saved by a Syra∣cusian vessel, were in so strange a despair for the losse of this young Prince, which was trusted to their care, that they durst never declare his death to the particular friends of Galerita, though they were strongly perswaded he had perished; for as things were then, if this young Prince had been in their power, they durst not in any wise have re∣vealed his birth, and they remained at Syracusa, where they learnt that Porsenna was more strictly kept, that Bianor persecuted Golerita, and that Sex∣tilia had no children. But to return to Clelius and Sulpicia, you shall know Madam, that they lived at Carthage, where their vertue soon gained them ma∣ny friends, and the young Aronces comforted them so well for the losse of their son, that if they had had a desire to destroy him to resuscitate the other, they could not resolve to do it, and indeed I have heard them say, he was amiable even from his Cra∣dle, and that he ever appeared to have something so great in him, little as he was, that it was easie even then to imagine that he should be of illustri∣ous extraction, he was likewise more dear to Cle∣lius and Sulpitia, because they were four years with∣out any children, but in the end Sulpitia had a daughter, which was called Clelia, but a daughter so fair, that they spoke of her beauty even at her birth, I shall not trouble my self Madam to exag∣gerate to you all her first attraction, though I have heard Aronces say, she testified so much spirit, even before she could speak, for as I have things of more

importance to tell you, I shall not weary your pa∣tience by a recital of that nature, and I shall content my self to assure you, that if Clelius forgot nothing to bring up the young Aronces, Sulpicia likewise forgot nothing to bring up the young Clelia; nei∣ther shall trouble my self Madam, to tell you many particularitis of the Grandeur and Magnificence of Carthage, to make you comprehend that these two Persons could not be better in any place of the Earth; since it is true, they found in it all they might find in the most political Republicks, and in the most flourishing Monarchies; but as it is not that of which I must treat, but it is the life of A∣ronces you must know: I shall tell you in two words, that Carthage is one of the richest and fairest Cities in the World, and that as all the Africans have a na∣tural inclination to delight, though they are a war∣like People, all pleasures were found in this Magni∣ficent City, as much as in any place of the Earth.

Moreover, as Carthage is dreadful to her Neigh∣bours, it is never without the residence of men of Quality from all bordering Estates, and it hath in its Neighbourhood a Prince which is called the Prince of Carthage, because he derives his descent from an Aunt of Dido, which did likewise reside there, before he imbroyled himself with this Re∣publick: the Prince of Numidia here present, was at this time there, and there was no Prince in Afri∣ca, which desired not to send his Children to Car∣thage, so that Aronces saw even from his Birth, Per∣sons whose conditions were proportionable to his, for as Clelius was much esteemed in this City, and Aronces was of a pleasant disposition, and a dexte∣rous wit, he easily familiarised himself with the Car∣thaginian and Numidian Princes, they being all of one Age; the Prince of Carthage so entirely affect∣ing his Conversation, (that when he went to a City under his power called Utica, not far distant from Carthage, he always accompanied him) Aronces by this means being very little in Clelia's company, whom he then considered, but as Clelius his Daugh∣ter to whom he was obliged both for his life and education; and it is as natural for those of fifteen or sixteen years, to seek those which are elder, he having nigh compleated a lustre more than Clelia, did not at this time much esteem her, the pleasures he found with the Carthaginian and Numidian Prin∣ces diverting his eyes from that amiable Object, whose Beauty (as he hath since confessed to me) be∣gan then to emit those rayes, which have since wounded his heart, but he so well behaved himself towards Clelius and Sulpitia, that they loved him as if he had been their Son, and expended for him, as if he had been their Child; but Madam, that you may the better understand my Narration, you must know that the Prince of Carthage hath a man of Quality depending on him, named Amilcar, whom he much loved, and which is the most agreeable and accomplished man in the World, who contracted so great a friendship with Aronces, that it is reported Amilcar was no more loved by the Carthaginian Prince, than Aronces was of Amilcar.

And this young Prince having taken a resolution to travel unknown, Amilcar desired that Aronces should accompany him, (and Clelia having consented thereto) Aronces being then sixteen years old, and the young Clelia twelve, departed with the Prince of Carthage and Amilcar to see Greece; but that which was most remarkable, was, that at their return, the Tempest having cast them in Sicyly, instead of re∣turning to Carthage, as they intended, they resolved to see Rome, and the greatest part of the principal Cities of Tuscany, and these two opposite Voyages requiring some time to perform them, they were four years before they returned to Carthage. Aron∣ces being twenty, and Clelia sixteen when they finished their peregrination; but before I tell you what pas∣sed between Clelia and him at their first enterview, it will be requisite to acquaint you, that at their de∣parture from Rome, where the violences of Tarquin continued, the Prince of Carthage who travelled un∣known, encountred an Illustrious Roman, named Ho∣ratius, whom the unjust Tarquin had banished, who without knowing where to pass the time of his ex∣ile, acquainted himself with Aronces, who very well understood the Latine Tongue, because Clelius who loved his Country, even to sacrifice his life for it, would not have Aronces ignorant of that Language: Horatius having a desire therefore to leave it some time to go into a strange Country, was very glad to find one endowed with so many rare qualities, which spoke his Language, and who having learn'd his de∣sign, proposed to him to go to Carthage, where he assured him he should find Clelius, whose name and vertue Horatius very well knew; for his Father and his, had been alwayes friends, though they had been Rivals, and Aronces having an Inclination to serve Horatius: not only because he appeared to have much Spirit, but because he was a Roman, and Son to one of Clelius's his Friends, entreated Amilcar, to pray the Prince of Carthage that this illustrious exile might accompany him, and find an asylum with him, and A∣milcar following his natural generosity, and willing to satisfie Aronces whom he loved, easily obtained of the Prince of Carthage that which he demanded, who became from this time Aronces's particular Friend, he not foreseeing that which should one day divide them: but Madam, before I declare the Arrival of this Illustrious Troop at Carthage, you must know, that leaving them at Capua; I shall somewhat enlarge my Discourse, and tell you, that during the four years of Aronces's absence, Clelia was mounted to such a transcendent height of perfection, that there was nothing spoke of at his Return, but her Beauty at Carthage, and she had had so many attractive Gra∣ces, that she took all hearts captive, and made them do vassalage and homage to her. He who had the greatest Authority in Carthage, and who was named Maharball, was become so amorous of her, that he was not in estate to observe the Laws of the Coun∣try, acknowledging no other than those love had imposed upon him; but as he is a violent man and very rich, he imagined that if he did but demand Clelia of her Father, he should without doubt ob∣tain her, and if Clelius had been a Carthaginian, he had easily given him his Daughter, but as he had a Roman heart, and had not renouneed his Country, he could not resolve to give Clelia to a man which was not of his Country, and without disguising his thoughts, he would have at first explicated himself, when this Marriage was proposed to him, though it appeared to be very advantagious for him, for without doubt Marharball's Authority was greater there than any others; for the Prince of Numidia who was captivated by this fair Person, durst not openly testifie his love, for as he was than an Ho∣stage with the Carthaginians, by reason of a Treaty his Father had made with this Republique, he had

been very, imprudent, if he had declared himself his Rival, who held him in his power, and which it may be upon sleight pretexts, would have arrested him, or at least made him depart from Carthage, and estrange himself from his beloved Object, to whom he only endeavoured to make his love appear, though he knew very well, that Clelius had said, he would not marry his Daughter, but to a Roman, yet he doubted not, but if he could touch Clelius heart, to make him alter his resolution, and to prefer him before that Puissant Rival, who so highly declared himself, for he believed that a Numidian Prince ought to be more considered by Clelius, than a man which had but a limited Authority, and which had it not for ever.

Thus you see Madam, in what estate things were, when the Prince of Carthage, Aronces, Amilcar and Horatius arrived there, but as Fortune from very inconsiderable beginnings discloseth those Events which oftentimes prove remarkable: Aronces revi∣sited the Fair Clelia in such a gallant manner, that it much contributed to that passion, which since hath tormented his life, for be pleased to know Madam, that as Carthage hath been heretofore begun to be builded by the Illustrious Dido, in a place which was bought of the Phenicians which then inhabited there, and since finished by them, it hath ever re∣mained as a mark of dependance of that proud City to that of Tyre, for there is built there every Year a Magnificent Vessel, in which they send to the Phe∣nicians the tenth part of the Republique Revenue, with the tenth part of the Booty and Prisoners that are taken in War, they likewise exchange every Year two Virgins chosen by lot, and those which come to demand this tribute bring two Phenicians, and receive two Carthaginians, which are always most advantagiously married in both Countries, as this Ceremony is famous, there is in one day desti∣ned to the renewing the Alliance of these two Peo∣ple, which is spent in nothing but publick rejoycing, for there hath ever been two men of Quality sent from Phenicia, which come to receive this Tribute, and which usually make a Magnificent Feast to the principal Magistrate of the City, in that proud Vessel, and assoon as they are returned to Shore, they ply their Oars, and hoist their Sails. And as Maharball ought to perform this Ceremony, and to renew the Aliance with the Phenicians and Car∣thaginians, he to content his passion, obliged the Ty∣rians which were to make this sumptuous Feast, to invite thither the principal Ladies of the City, so that at the going out of that famous Temple of Dido, where this Alliance was to be renewed, all the Ladies conducted by Maharball's Sister, which is a vertuous Person, were brought the two Carthagini∣ans which were to go into Phenicia, and received the two Phenicians, which were to remain at Carthage; but as this Feast was indeed made for Clelia, she was there with her Mother, Clelius not daring to oppose her going where so many other Ladies were, though Marharball's passion displeased him, she being indu∣ced thither more by reason than inclination, for Clelia's heart was not yet submitted to loves flame, neither had any of her Adorers made any impressi∣on in it, and it might very well be discerned, that she did affect nothing but glory, it giving an augmen∣tation to her Beauty; but to relate the real truth of things, I believe she loved it not too much, at least, I have not seen a fairer in my life, in whom there appeared less affectation.

In the mean time, we arrived at Carthage the day of this Feast advantageously for the Phenicians, and very gloriously for our selves; for Madam, two dayes hefore the Vessel in which we were, had taken two of the Isle of Cyrene, with whom the Carthagini∣ans had some contest, there being War between Sicy∣ly their Confederate, and this Isle: but without re∣citing all the particulars of this action; I shall tell you in few words, that the Prince of Carthage, A∣ronce, Amilcar, and Horatius did highly signalize themselves in this occasion, and that we took in the end these two Vessels, in which we found a very rich Booty, though those of the Isle Cyrene were not rich, they having before taken it in a Sicylian Vessel which came from Corinth: So that we took in this occasion a considerable Prize, whether by the rich∣ness of the Merchandize, or the number of the Slaves: but not to obscure the glory of Aronces, it is certain, that all those which were in our Ship, agreed that he had more contributed to this Great Action, than any other, and as I have told you, we arrived very opportunely for the Phenicians, to whom the tenth part of our Booty belonged, and very agreeable for our selves, for when our Vessel entred into the Port Clelia and three or four other Ladies were on the Poop of that Magnificent Ship that the Carthaginians sent to Phenicia, and she was there entertained by Maharbal, and by the Numidi∣an Prince; when we approach'd it the Prince of Carthage, Aronces, and Amilcar knew what was the Feast they made, and told it us, but when they were nigher and might discern the Beauty of Clelia, they were extremely surprized at it, and Aronces was sometime without knowing her, but as he was at first known by Clelia, she so obligingly saluted him, that he knew very well, that this fair Person was that dear adopted Sister, with whom he had passed his minority; so that he took much part in all the praises that the Prince of Carthage, Amilcar, Horati∣us and I attributed to her Beauty; but if Aronces was sensible of her Glory, Clelia was likewise of his, when that the Prince of Carthage followed by Aron∣ces, Amilcar, Horatius and I were in the tributary Vessel where all the Ladies were, to render account to Maharbal of the Prize he had taken, for as the Vessel was not his, but belonged to the Republique; the glory only of this action appertained to him, which he would have given entirely to Aronces, to whom he gave all the praises, speaking to Maharbal in presence of Clelia, that he made him be looked on with admiration by all those which understood him; but as Aronces hath without doubt all the modesty of a truly brave man, he departed from the place where they spoke so advantagiously of him, and approaching Sulpicia, he demanded of her news of Clelius, he not being there, and a little af∣ter, not being able to hinder himself from speak∣ing of the Beauty of her admirable Daughter, he rejoyced with her to see her so fair, and after∣wards seeking occasion to speak to her in particu∣lar, whilst Maharbal, the Prince of Numidia enter∣tained the Prince of Carthage and Amilcar, he testi∣fied to her his joy to see her endowed with such ex∣celling Features, Clelia on her part, who knew how her Father loved Aronces, received him with as ma∣ny testimonies of friendship, as if he had been her Brother, as Clelius had desired her to stile him, and that Aronces should call her his Sister, so that when he was nigh her, this charming Virgin thus said to

him, before he could frame himself to speak to her, the admiration of her beauty having for some time suspended his speech: Tell me my Brother, said she to him, hath not absence made you forget Carthage and Greece, and Italy, have not they made you hate Africa? but before you answer me, added she smil∣ing, remember I pray you, that though I was born at Carthage, I boast my self to be a Roman, for fear that without thinking of it, you put it before Rome, and prefer some other Country to my true Countrey. I now remember said Aronces so little of all I have seen during my voyage, that I cannot tell how to render you an account of it, for in the end my dear sister (if it is permitted an adopted brother to tell you my thoughts) you are the fairest creature I ever saw, and if Rome knew your beauty, I am perswaded it would wage a bloodier war to draw you from it, than that as Greece heretofore made against Troy, for to reconquer that fair Princess, whose name shall last as long as the world; at least, I know well, added he, that the most famous beauty of Rome, which is that of a person of great quality called Lucrece, is not comparable to yours; for all I see replyed Clelia, smiling, you are become such a flatterer, that I dare no more name you my brother, but for to tell me something, that I may hear without blushing, pursued she, tell me, I conjure you, if you are satisfied concerning Rome, and if Tarquin ever merits by his violences the attribute of proud Rome is assuredly replyed Aronces, the first City of all Italy, and it deserves to be the worlds Metropolis, since it may boast to be your true Country, but for Tarquin, he is so absolute there, that though all peo∣ple murmure secretly against him, there is no appea∣rance that his tyranny should soon finish, for hardly doth he know that any one is against his Interests, but he exiles him, or puts him to death: As Aronces had thus sayd, they saw enter in the vessel where he was, the tenth part of the slaves that the Prince of Carthage had taken, and that he had sent as an ho∣mage to the Phenicians, which gave a thousand prai∣ses to him in receiving them; but Clelia hearing the Prince of Carthage say, that those slaves belonged to Aronces, she put an obliging war to him in demand∣ing an exact account of his conquests; it is rather for me replyed he gallantly to demand of you an ac∣count of yours, which are assuredly more illustrious than mine; for I do not doubt, but if I saw all those which have been inslaved by the attractive lustre of your eyes, since my departure, I should see them in a far greater number, than those the Prince of Carthage attributeth to me, at least I know you may vanquish the vanquisher of others, If you enterprise it: After that Amilcar approach∣ing, Aronces demanded of him, shewing Clelia to him, if he did not fear to be shipwrackt at the Port? and the conversation being become generall, I gave my verdict as well as Amilcar.

But Madam, I must ingeniously confess unto you, she is the fairest nature ever made for wonder, and in her alone are concentred all those graces (may be imagined) to compleat a perfect beauty, the brightness of her hair adding a lustre to her sparkling eyes, and the circumference of her face framed after such exact rules of proportion, that no pencill is able to delineate her mouth for shape, shaming the imitation of the best artists, and the liveliest co∣lours, (though tempered with the hands of the most exquisite Painters) are but dull shadows, and imperfect Representations in comparison of that perfect mixture of red and white, which tinctures her complexion; but she is furthermore imbellish'd with all the Charms of a tempting beauty, for she hath a gallant and modest ayr, a lofty yet lovely Countenance, not any imperious deportment, but such an affable behaviour, that she commands both Love and Respect from all those who behold her, and though she hath a firm and bold spirit above those of her sex, she hath such an engaging sweet∣ness that none can resist, and that grandeur of spi∣rit which makes her despise the greatest perills if she be threatned with them, hath imprinted a cer∣tain timerous modesty on her visage, which heigh∣tens her unparallel'd Features.

Clelia being adorned with all these superexcellent embellishments of Nature, gave so much admiration to Aronces, Horatius, and to me, when wee saw her in that vessel which was going to Phenicia, that she was the sole subject of our discourse the Re∣mainder of that day, for Horatius he spoke of it less then me, for besides that naturally hee doth not love to declare his thoughts, I have known, that he felt himself so wounded with Clelias beau∣ty at this first fight, that he would not hinder his spirit from being wholly possessed with that fair person whom he alone contemplated, without communicating his Resentments to any persons, as for Aronces, he was more happy then Horatius, for as he resided in Clelius his house, he passed there the rest of that day and all the night, but he lod∣ged no more there, because the Prince of Carthage would absolutely that he should lodge in his Pal∣lace, and that he should be depending on him, and that Aronces having nothing but what Clelius had gi∣ven him, was not sorry to find such an illustrious way to subsist by his own virtue receiving the be∣nefits of so great a Prince.

In the mean time, after Clelius had imbraced A∣ronces with a Paternall affection, he had likewise much joy to see Horatius which was son to one of his dearest friends, and prayd Aronces to love him as if he had been his Brother, and commanded Sul∣picia and his amiable Daughter, to take a particular care of him, for when Clelius entertained Horatius of the present Estate of Rome, he found such a Sym∣pathy in his thoughts, and that he so much hated Tarquin, and the fiery and cruell Tullia his wife, that he loved him much more for it, so that Aronces who very much esteem'd Horatius, and which was very much beloved by him, performed all that he could imagin to render his Exile less rigorous; but as freindship is not alwaies dispensed by exact Justice, though I had less merit then Horatius, I had a greater part in the affection of Aronces, being his entire Con∣fident so soon as we arrived at Carthage, we knew the next day Maharballs love for Clelia without knowing the Prince of Numidias, which as I have already told you, made it appear but to her which caused it, but as he soon noted the credit that A∣ronces had with Clelius, Sulpicia, and their admirable Daughter, he endeavoured by all meanes to gain his friendship, in which without doubt he had much part, and since that time, as Liberty is much greater at Carthage, then Rome; the Prince of Numidia, A∣ronces, Horatius and I were almost alwaies with Sulpi∣cia, and we had the Advantages, not to be often importuned by Marharballs presence, because as he nigh sustained the weight of the Republique, it was

impossible for him absolutely to renounce his duty, to satisfie his Love; and relying on his Authority, he easily dispensed with all those petty cares, he thought unnecessary. And since none imbarqued from Carthage, without his provision, he did not fear Clelius would go from thence, nor that any man of quality in the City durst be his Rivall, as for the Prince of Carthage, he turned eyes another way, Amilcar seemed to have two or three designs in∣stead of one, and the Prince of Numidia was not in estate to dare to oppose him openly, he lookt upon Aronces as one unknown, which durst not turn his eyes towards the Daughter of a man, to whom he owed his life, and he considered Horatius and I as two strangers which would not stay at Carthage, and which would not make an enemy of him which should protect us. Clelia being by these considera∣tions importuned by him, and we were more happy, for though Maharball hath Spirit, it is an incommo∣dious spirit, he having a formed eloquence with an insupportable slownesse, and which would enforce attention from his auditors, as if his discourse con∣tained much ingenuity, who believes himself to be above all, he knowes who boasteth himself to be of a great house, great spirit, and great heart, and who is the violentest man in the world; but in des∣pight of all his violence, the Prince of Numidia was his Rivall, tis true, he was in so discreet a manner, that no person perceived it but Clelia only, and he had perswaded Maharball that the reason which so often induced him to Sulpicias house; was, that he was charm'd with her Language, and indeed the Prince with so much assiduity studied the Roman lan∣guage to have only the power to speak of his Love to Clelia, (as I have known this morning by himself) and to vent his passion the first time to that fair per∣son, for as he had lately left a man which depended on Clelius, who taught it him, he feigned to enter∣tain himself alone with her, whilst Sulpicia spoke to other Ladyes to have forgotten some instructions he had given him, so that he made divers questions to her saying, he should be very much obliged to her if she would be his mistress, as the language you lear∣ned said she to him, is nigh as strange to me as you; (though I have learnt it from my Cradle) since I do not ordinarily speak it, I should teach you my errours instead of correcting yours. As I principally learned that Language, sayd he to her, because I know you love it; and that for to speak it with you, I ought chiefly to speak as you, since I would be understood but by you alone, refuse not mee therefore the fa∣vour to clear my doubts, and to assist me to express my self when I entertain you, for it is certain, that how fair and copious the Language of your Coun∣try is, I find it poor and steril, every time I would tell you I love you, and I beleeve, tis rather because I have not found terms enough to declare it to you, then any defect of boldness: But in fine cruell Clelia, since you will not teach me to tell it you bet∣ter I now tell it you, and tell it you with a resoluti∣on, to tell it you when any occasion presents, and with a resolution carefully to seek it, I will take such a particular care to shun you, replyed Clelia, that if it is true you love me, you will more then once re∣pent what you have sayd, it hath been so long that I have repented for not discovering my Love to you sooner, replyed the Prince of Numidia, that I can hardly believe I shall ever repent to have told you that I love you, for in sine you cannot inflict any pu∣nishment upon me, for which I am not prepared, I demand of you therefore the favour, added he, to tell me only if you have as much aversion for me as Maharball, that which you have told me, replyed she, hath so much exasperated me, thar I cannot now tell whether there is any other person in the world then you which displeaseth me, ah rigorous Clelia! cry'd he, you carry too far your hatred by not being willing to tell me that you hate me lesse then a man that I know is very odious to you, and to make me beleive that I am the only person to whom you are averse, see then Madam what was the declaration of the Prince of Numidia's Love, and in what manner the admirable Clelia received the discovery of his affection, she kept her word as she said, to avoid his particular conversation; but she had the generosity to do it so carefully, that none should perceive it for fear they might divine the cause, and that Maharball should not have occasion to treat this Prince with any severity, as she told it to one of his friends, to the end to make him com∣prehend, that if she did not openly testifie her ha∣tred against him, 'twas not that he ought to con∣ceive more hope; since, twas but by a bountry which was entirely dissentaneous from all his pretenti∣ons.

In the mean time Aronces seeing the admirable Clelia every day, and seeing her with much familiari∣ty, was taken in the snares of her beauty, and not being one moment ignorant of the nature of that affection which began to cloud his Liberty, as usual∣ly those are which have had no passion, he really imagined in what fears and disquietudes this Love would involve his Soul, for though he was much esteemed by Clelia, and tenderly affected by her Pa∣rents, he little expected ever to attain that hap∣piness he so much desired, and his birth being un∣known, it would be esteemed an high presumption if he should levell his thoughts at Clelia, but what considerations soever he used to oppose this new born passion, proved too weak to resist those Charms shot from such a tempting beauty. On the other side, Horatius was at first so powerfully touch'd with Clelia's perfections, that I am assured, he lo∣ved as soon as his eyes surveyed those inimitable Graces Nature had bestowed upon her, he not then imagining Love had stole his Heart, but contrary to Aronces, called that Esteem and admiration which might have admitted the term of Love, and these two Rivalls not being acquainted with one anothers affections; spent their time in an amicable familia∣rity, the Prince of Numidia much esteeming them, and Clelia had three Lovers which knew not them∣selves to be Rivalls, and of whom but one had dis∣closed his amourous intentions; I put not Maharball in this number, for his passion was so generally known, that no person could be ignorant of it.

In the mean time, The Nuptialls (of the two Phenicians, exchanged for the two Carthaginians the day we arrived there) were solemnized, and as these marriages were performed at the Republicks expen∣ces, there was a great Feast made, and nothing but publick acclamations of joy during the space of eight days; but I consess Madam, Clelias Conversa∣tions was to be preferred before those Festivall de∣lights, she having a spirit suiting the pleasantness of her disposition. I remember one day amongst the rest, Aronces, Horatius, and I were with her, with two Ladies of the City, the one named Sozo∣nisba,

and the other Barce, for it is certain we could not better spend our time then with Sulpicia, the ground of this discourse proceeded from two men which had married the two Phenicians, one being amourous of her whom he had espoused at first sight, and disaffected her soon after the Nupti∣alls, the other which had espoused her, which was destin'd to him not being amourous, was become amourous since his marriage, so that this event being singular and agreable, they at first examined this fantasticall adventure; for my self sayd, Clelia I cannot conceive that it is possible to one to love, that he hath not the leisure to know, I easily ima∣gine that a great beauty pleaseth at first sight, but cannot conceive how Love should be produced in a moment, and I am strongly perswaded that one can∣not at the first time that they see a person, as a∣miable as can be imagined, feel any thing in his heart but some disposition to love, as you have ne∣ver been in Love, replyed Horatius, tis not very strange that you do not know how this passion pos∣sesses hearts, and it is certainly true, that one may love at the first sight if they see a person that is ca∣pable to be beloved, and I confess that if they should love her at first sight the love would not be, it may be, strong enough to give a long inquietude, and that it would finish as speedily as it begun; as at first a spark cannot make a great fire if care be taken to extinguish it, so Love hath need of entertain∣ment to increase it; but as this spark is fire, though it casteth no great heat nor light, so Love at first is Love, though it is but newly begun. It is certain replyed Aronces, that Love as friendship may be born in an instant which usually is preceded by many good Offices, but I am perswaded that that Love which hath no sudden beginning, and which is ad∣vanc'd by great esteem and very much admiration, is more strong and solid then that which is tumultu∣ously born without knowing whether the person beloved hath either virtue or spirit, for I have heard say, that there are men which become amor∣ous of women, with whom they had never changed aword; and there are some sayd Sozonisba which have loved women having never seen them, and which have even loved a picture; for those added Barce, I think they may be rather rank'd with those which have no reason, then in the rank of those which have Love. Indeed replyed Clelia, tis not so strange to see a man very amorous of a fair picture, as of a woman which hath neither Beauty spirit or virtue, as there are some which are; For my particular, re∣plied I, I find the fair Clelia hath reason, and that it is the greatest folly imaginable to love that which is not amiable. I am of your opinion, replyed Ho∣ratius, but be likewise of mine, and confess that all great passions have a violent beginning, and that there is nothing which more demonstrates an ardent and durable Love, then when it is born in an in∣stant without consulting our reason, I casily am of your opinion, replyed Aronces, that one may begin to have love at the first sight of an amiable person; but I will not confess that those which have this first thought of passion more violent than o∣thers, love more or longer, for 'tis rather an effect of their temperament, than the grandeur of their passion, so that ordinarily those which are of a hot nature love not so constantly as others, because not having power over their own dispositions, they must necessarily change Love as other things, and it consequently follows, that those which love the speediest are not the most constant: But in fine, said Clelia, it matters not whether they change or not, 'tis not of that I intend to speak, for that I maintain is, that one cannot have Love at the first sight they see a woman: I assure you Madam, replyed Horatius, I know a man which from the first day he saw one of the most admirable persons in the world, had I know not what in his heart which entirely possest it, which gave him joy and inquietude, desires, hope and fear, and which in fine, rendred him so different from himself, that if it was not love he had in his heart, it was something which very much resembled it. I know another, replyed Aronces, without suspecting Horatius his Passion for Clelia, which hath long time had esteem and admiration without loving a marvel∣lous person; 'tis true, I am perswaded, that the reason which then hindred him from it was, that he believed himself not permitted to love that which he should adore: but beginning to love, replyed Clelia, hath he left adoration, for if so, I find that which he adored ought to wish he should not love it, these two Resentments are not incompa∣tible.

Madam, replyed Aronces, and though we might adore things we love not, because they surpass our knowledge, we do nevertheless love that which we adore; for my self, replyed Barce, between those two thoughts, I should love him better which belongs to a mistress than him which appertains not but to a Goddess, and the tenderness of the heart is so to be prefer'd before the admiration of the spirit, that I put no comparison between those two things, indeed added Sozonisbe, tenderness is a quality so necessary to all manner of affections, that they cannot be agree∣able or perfect if it is not there, I comprehend well said Clelia, that we may say a tender amity, and there is a notable difference between an ordinary and a ten∣der amity, but said Sozonizbe, I have never heard of a tender amity, and I ever sigur'd it to my self, that this affected and significative term was consecrated to perfect amity, and that it was only speaking of it, we might sitly imply the word tender, so many men use it now replyed, I that we know not a truer signi∣fication of it. I would therefore hinder, said Clelia, that that word which signifies a thing so sweet, rare, and agreeable, should be prophan'd though Celeres hath said every one useth it. For my particular, re∣plied Sozonizbe, I promise you always to make use of it, if you can make me understand its true significa∣tion: I promise the same thing added Barce, for I in∣genuously confess unto you, that though there passes never a day but I tell some of my friends that I love them tenderly, and some friends accost me in the same Language, I confess it may be that it appertains not to me to use it: As I am perswaded, added A∣ronces, that there is a species of an amorous tender∣ness which puts as much difference between the Loves of those which have it or have it not, as ordinary tenderness puts to amity, I shall be infinitely obliged to the fair Clelia, if she will define tenderness, and decipher how I may know it, and what value it sets on friendship, to the end I may prove in the sequel of it, that tenderness joyned to Love, much aug∣menteth its estimation; as I have naturally a tender Spirit, replyed Clelia, I think it appertains to me more than any other, to speak of tenderness and that Barce with all her Spirit, cannot do it so well as I.

I have already confessed, replyed that fair person, that I do not well know how to make use of this word, neither do I precisely know, whether I have any tenderness or not, therefore I shall be infinitely obliged if you please to tell me the difference be∣tween an ordinary and a tender amity; it is so con∣siderable, replyed Clelia, that I may very well say, there is less between the indifferent amity, than be∣tween these two. For in fine, that which hath no tenderness, is a kind of a tranquillous friendship, which gives neither great contentments, nor great inquietudes to those which are capable of them, they have even friendship in their hearts, without expres∣sing any sensibility; depart from them without being melancholy, they think not of them if they see them not, they render them courtesies without great joy, and they receive them without much acknowledg∣ment, they neglect all petty cares, the evils of those they love touch them not, generosity and ostentation hath as much part in all they act as friendship, they have a certain Lethargy of heart, which makes them not feel the joy to be beloved of those they love, they put little difference between the conversation of other persons, and those to whom they have promised ami∣ty: In fine, they love with so much lukewarmness, that the least contestation there is between them and their friends, they are ready to infringe their pro∣mised friendship: Furthermore they are not enough sensible, neither of the good or evil of those to whom they have promised friendship, for usually they cold∣ly oppose those who defame them, and praise them themselves without order or aggravation, and we may say they love as if they loved not, so lukewarm is this sort of friendship, and usually their affection is very much interessed, and if any one seek the cause of it they would be found but in themselves. And indeed we see every day that those friends without tenderness abandon those to whom they have promi∣sed affection, as soon as fortune frowns on them, there is likewise some of them which cannot suffer the long sickness of those they love, and which desire to see them with assiduity, when they are not in estate to divertise them. That which you now say, happened once to me replyed Sozonisbe, for I had a languishing malady, which made me know there are few tender friends, in the beginning when I fell sick, pursued this fair person, they had very great care of me, but when the length of my sickness had made me become melancholy, and that I demanded no re∣medies, but of those which came to see me, in∣stead of then demanding news of me, or to tell them of it, I was soon in a very great solitude, and I knew that those whom I esteemed my best friends derided at me in effect, a man one day of my acquaintance was asked how long it was since he saw me, he answered, that till he was become so experienced to find some remedies to cure my melancholy, he would not see me, and the same question being demanded a Lady, she said cruelly that unless she knew the vertue of all vegetables, she could not make me a visit which would be plea∣sing to me, and that it was better to leave me at quiet, than to weary themselves by importuning me. 'Tis true, said Aronces, what this fair So∣zonisba hath said, and it is true, added Horatius, because we usually content our selves to deplore their mishaps without comforting them, judge then I pray, added Clelia, if friendship without tenderness is a sweet thing, and if I have not reason not to ac∣count them friends which have not a tender heart, as I have expressed to you, for in fine it is not that only which makes the sweetness of amity, and which makes it constant and violent together, ten∣derness hath yet that of more particular, that even a∣scribeth to it, I know not what character of gallantry which rendring it more divertising, it inspireth civi∣lity in those which are capable of it, and there is as great difference between a tender friend and an ordinary friend, as between a tender friend and a lover, but better to define tenderness. I think I may call it a certain sensibility of heart, which never soveraignly operates, but in those which have noble souls, vertuous Inclinations, and well weighed spirits, and which makes them when they have friendship, to have it sincerely and ardently, and to feel lively the griefs and joys of those they love as their own, 'tis this tenderness which obliges them to love better to be with their unhappy friends, than to be in a place of divertisement: it is this which makes them excuse their faults and defects, and to praise with exaggeration their least virtues, 'tis this which makes them do great services with joy, which makes them not neglect the least cares, which renders particular conversations more sweet than general; which entertaineth Confidence, which easily appeaseth any disorder, which happeneth a∣mongst friends, which uniteth all their desires, which makes complacency, equality as agreeable to those which have it, as to those for whom they have have it, and in a word comprehends all sweetness and affection of friendship, and in effect it's this a∣lone which puts joy there, and which by a particu∣lar priviledge savours nothing of the irregularity of Love; but resembles it in many things else, those which have but a stupid and common friendship, take only the care to keep the fairest Letters of their friends; but those which have a tender friendship, keep with pleasure even their least notes, they hearken to an obliging word with a joy, which obliges those which told it them, they take pleasure in the least things, and by an inex∣plicable charm those which have a true tenderness in their hearts, are never troubled to assist those for whom they have friendship, if they should be sick or melancholy, judge then what diffe∣rence there is between friends without tender∣ness and tender friends. Ah Madam, replied Aronces, if I would as well define the tender∣ness of Love as you have deciphered that of friendship, I should assuredly make this company con∣fess, that there is Love without tenderness as well as friends: 'Tis true added Horatius and the fair Clelia hath admirably represented that preci∣ous and delicate part of friendship few are acquainted with. For my pariicular said Barce smiling, I confess in my life I never fitly used the word tenderness, if it be true that it must have positively seat in the heart as Clelia hath said, to have it right, that is to say, to love tenderly. It is not so with me, added Sozonisbe, for it seems that I have an heart made in the manner as it ought to be, to beast of tenderness. For my part, replyed I, which have had more Love than friendship in my life, it more imports me to know what that amorous tenderness which puts a dif∣ference between Lovers, than that which is between friends, I would therefore desire the fair Clelia to permit Aronces to give his judgment of it: though I have less Interest in that kind of tenderness,

replyed she, then you have in that I have spoken of: I voluntarily consent that Aronces tell it you: If tis true you do not know it. Since you then per∣mit me Madam sayd Aronces; I will boldly say, that tenderness is a quality more necessary for Love then friendship, for it is certain that that affection which is produced by the help of reason, and which is con∣ducted and governed by it, may sometimes act in the hearts of those in which it is as if they had ten∣derness (though naturally they had it not) but for Love which is ever incompatible with reason, and which at least can never be subject to it, it hath ab∣solutely need of tenderness to correct its brutality stupidity and inconsideration. In effect, a Love without Tenderness hath nothing but impetuous de∣sires which can be confined to no bounds nor limits, and a Lover which hath a like passion in his Soul, considers nothing but his own satisfaction without considering the honour of the person belov'd, for one of the principal Offices of true tenderness is, that it takes much more care for the person it loves then its own, and a Lover which hath it not would do all that which might please him without any Reservation, and he would demand in a rude and uncivill way the greatest favours, as if they were due to him as a Tribute in effect, those freer Lovers, which are enemyes of tendernes, and who defame it, are ordinarily insolent, uncivill, full of vanity, easie to anger, difficult to appease, indiscreet when they are favour'd, insupportable when they are mis∣used; They believe the greatest work of Love they can give; is alwaies to wish to be made happy; for without that they know not neither favours nor graces: They are not contented with favourable regards, sweet speeches, and all those petty things which so elevate the beatitude of those which have tender souls, they are Lovers I say which read but once the Letters of their Mistress, whose hearts have not joyfull emotion when they receive them, who neither know how to rave, speak idly, nor sigh agreeably, and are utterly ignorant of a cer∣tain pleasing melancholy which proceeds from the tenderness of an amorous heart, and which is some∣times more pleasing then delight. These are Lovers I say of great noise, which makes all the prooves of their Love consist in excessive expences, and which feel nothing of all those delicacies, this passion inspires their jealousie, even as more brutall then that of the Lovers which have a tender heart, for they often pass from hating their Rivalls to hate their Mistresses, when on the contrary, those Lovers whose loves are mingled with tenderness, somtimes so respect their mistresses, that they restrain their anger against their Rivalls in some occasions, because they cannot do it without exasperating them. For my self sayd Horatius, I cannot discern Tenderness from Love in an amorous heart, for that passion when it is violent, so strongly operates in those hearts it possesses, that all the quality of their souls become as it is, or at least assume some amorous im∣pression. Tis true replyed Aronces, that love entire∣ly possesseth the heart of a Lover, and it is like∣wise true, that he which hath an heart naturally tender, shall love more tenderly, then he which shall be of a temper more fierce and rude, and I maintain, to love well, a Lover must have a naturall tenderness, before he hath Love, and this precious and rare quality which is so necessary, to love well, can be hardly acquired, and it is truly a gift of the Gods, of which they are never prodigall, we may gain more spirit, we may correct our vices; and ac∣quire all vertues; but we can never acquire tender∣ness, we may without doubt sometimes disguise our∣selves; but it cannot be long, and those which have tenderness, know not how to deceive; In effect, all the words, all the regards, all the cares, all the actions of a Lover, who hath not a tender heart, are entirely different from those of a Lover, which hath tenderness, for he hath sometimes respect without having a kind of sweet submission, which pleaseth much more, of civility without agreement, of obeysance without sweetness; and even Love without a certain delicate sensibility, which alone causeth all the punishments and all the felicities of Lovers, and which is in fine the truest mark of a perfect Lover, I likewise put for a foundation, that a tender Lover knows not how neither to be un∣faithfull, cozening, vain, insolent, nor indiscreet, and not to be deceived neither in Love not friend∣ship, we must as well examine if a Lover or a Friend have tenderness, as if they have Love or Friend∣ship.

As Aronces had thus spoke, the Prince of Numy∣dia entred, and a little after Maharball, so that the subject being changed by their coming, all the company after a little discourse went away with that violent Lover of Clelia. At our departure from thence, I went with Aronces to the Prince of Car∣thage, but though the incomparable Amilcar had this night there all the merriness of his pleasant dis∣position, and that all those which were with the Prince of Carthage confessed they never had heard from him more agreeable things. Aronces appeared to be very melancholy, and his melancholy was so generally noted, that Amilcar demanded of me if I knew not the cause of it, so that having observed him more carefully, I noted that Aronces was not where he would be, so that when we were retired, for we then lay together, I pressed him to tell me the cause of his melancholy, at first he would dis∣guise the truth from me, but in the end when I did not think to ask him any more about it, because I beleeved he would not tell me, he stayd himself after he had walked sometime, and looking stedfast∣ly upon me, thus sayd, You are not very inquisitive, said he to me, to demand that which you would know and you have sure little desire to redress my melan∣choly; since you press me no more to tell you the cause of it, no Aronces, cryed I to him, fixing my eyes on him, nothing but to demand of you, to tell me whether you are amorous, your expressions al∣most betraying it; for in fine, I prayd you with tenderness to tell me that which caused your grief and you refused it me: Nevertheless, a little after that you were angry, I demanded no more of you that you refused me, and I find you are even now disposed, to pray me to hearken to that you would never tell me, but in an instant, it is therefore I conclude with reason, and it seemeth to me that you are amorous, since tis true that there is nothing but Love only which can frame such a fantasticall thing as this: Tis true Celeres, sayd he to me, I am amorous, and though you tax me with Injuries, you must be the only confident of my Passion, and I tell you that which it may be shall never be known to the admirable person whom I adore, though I see her daily, you love Clelia then sayd I to him; for it seemeth to me that tis but she alone you daily fre∣quent,

yes Celeres, I love Clelia, replyed he, and I love her ardently and so tenderly, that according to all appearances, I shall become the unhappiest man in the World; but it seemes to me sayd I to him, that if I was in your place I should account my self very happy, for in fine, as you have been brought up in Clelius his house, you live with Clelia with the same Liberty as if she was your sister, and her Father and Mother look upon you in effect as if you were her Brother; tis true Celeres replied he, but they look not upon me as her Lover, and I am strongly perswaded, that if they looked upon me as such, they would hate me as much as they love me. And they would think to have right to accuse me of an horri∣ble Ingratitude and terrible presumption. In effect I owe my life to the generous Clelius, and I know not to whom I owe my birth, he found me in the sea, he saved me from an eminent peril, he hath carefully educated me, and I owe to him all my virtue, and I should be without doubt the basest of all men if I should voluntarily do any thing which might dis∣please him; but though I am assured he will take it ill, that one unknown dares lift his eyes towards his admirable daughter; I cannot hinder my self from doing it, and I feel I can never desert her love seeing my self likewise destin'd to live without hope I must prepare my self for imaginable torments, and I know nothing more cruel, then to have power to love without having Ingratitude. You have a soul so great, and an heart so well made, replied I, that Clelius can∣not doubt but your birth is illustrious, and if it was so replied he, I should not be in hopes to possess Clelia, though she affected me, for since Clelius refused her to Maharball, who is of an high birth, rich in possessi∣ons, and who hath the chiefest authority in one of the first Cities in the world, he would refuse an un∣happy man, that he alwaies lookt upon as an ungrate∣ful, and who it may be would be lookt upon by Clelia, as a man who thinks to enrich himself by marrying her, and not to render himself happy by the only possession of her person; likewise my dear Cele∣res, my hopes are destitute of all releif, for if Clelius remains in his wonted opinion he will never give his daughter but to a Roman, and if he changes it, he will give her apparantly to Maharball, but to tell you truth, I do not much fear, it, and I have likewise cause to complain that I am not a Roman, and if per∣haps I should be of a birth proportionable to my thoughts, Clelius would refuse me Clelia, as he hath refused her to my Rivall; but alas! I am far from that Estate since I know my extraction, and the ac∣cording to all appearances, I shall never know it, ne∣vertheles I love Clelia, I love her without hope; and I love with a resolution not to tell her of it; and not to murmure if she is angry to be beloved of me, in case she denyes my passion, judge then my dear freind, if I have no cause of melancholy. For my self re∣plyed I, am perswaded; that too great prudence is often needless in Love, without considering those things you have done, I would act divers wayes, for I would strive against my passion as much as I could, and if I could not vanquish it, I would seek to per∣swade my self by all that which might flatter it, and I would forget nothing of all that which might a∣greeably deceive me. For the first, replyed Aronces, I am resolved to do it, though I am perswaded I shall do it unprofitably; but in fine, I owe that to the gene∣rosity of Clelius, and it behoves me if he hath some∣thing one day to reproach me of, that I have at least nothing to reproach my self, but for the last, I shall never be in a capacity to follow your counsel for fear from seeking agreeably to deceive my self, I seek in despight to render my self most unhappy in effect, there are many instances which makes me believe that Clelius shall never know my birth more than I, and there are others where I believe that I and he shall learn that I am Son of some Enemy to Rome, or some friend to Tarquin, I strangely deplore the mis∣fortunes which happens to my friends, replied I to him, but I can never take pity of those they make themselves, therefore you may not expect any com∣passion from me, when you weave the web of your own miseries, after that as 'twas late we lay toge∣ther, but I should falsifie the truth, if I say we slept, for Aronces did not sleep at all, and he waked me di∣vers times to speak to me of his passion, but in fine Madam, as he hath a marvellous generosity, he effe∣ctually fancied with himself, to oppose his Love with all the power he could possible: and he forgot nothing to do it, for he went as little as he could to the places where Clelia was, he sought Clelius in par∣ticular, without seeking his admirable daughter, and he so strongly attach'd himself to the Prince of Carthage and Amilcar, that there was no person but believed he had more Ambition than Love. Hora∣tius though he was both his Friend and his Rival per∣ceived not his Love for Clelia, the Prince of Numi∣dia likewise suspected it not, and Clelia did not ima∣gine it, and because she would avoid to give any oc∣casion to the Prince of Numidia to mention his Love, she had given such a general order not to leave her alone, that if Aronces had been bold enough to de∣clare his affection to her, he would not have found an opportunity to have done it, so that as nothing more augments a breeding Love than the difficulty to tell it, Horatius on this side soon became as amo∣rous as Aronces; but as he naturally loved to conceal all things; he declared nothing of his passion either to Aronces or to me, these two friends were likewise Rivals without having cause to complain of one ano∣ther, they being both ignorant of their Loves, for the Prince of Numidia as he looked upon Aronces as if he had been Clelius his brother, he gave to him many testimonies of friendship, without discover∣ing his passion to him, to the end that being his friend he might favour him when occasion should present. For Maharbal the less correspondency he found in Clelias heart, the more his passion augmented, and the more reasons Clelius obliged him to prove that he ••ught not to think of marrying his daughter at Car∣thage since he had an intention to go speedily to Rome, the more obstinate he was to compass his design, so that Clelius and Sulpitia were extremely afflicted to see themselves in the power of an amorous person to whom they would refuse all that which might give any satisfaction to his Love. On the other side, though Sulpitia testified to have much friendship for Horati∣us because Clelius would have it so, 'twas true, that in the bottom of her heart she had a secret disposition not to render Justice to his merit, because he was son to a person of whom Clelius had been very amorous, and whom he thought heretofore to have married, so that Sulpitia yet retaining some resentments of jea∣lousie which perswaded her that her Husband did not love Horatius, but because he had yet some agreeable remembrance of the love he had for his Mother, had without doubt less disposition to love him than Cle∣lius, and she loved more tenderly Aronces than Hora∣tius,

for Clelia she esteemed them both; but as she was equitable, she saw that if there was any equality between these two men as reflecting on the qualities essentially necessary for virtuous persons, there was not so much for the agreement of the humour as that of their person, being certain that Aronces as much excells his Rivall, as his Rivall exceeds all others, so Clelia leand, by choice, on the side of Aronces, and having lived with him from her infancy, as if he had been her brother, there was between her and him a greater familiarity then between Horatius and her, though Clelius commanded her to live with him, as if she had been his sister, things being then on these terms there was some factions at Carthage which are unnecessary to mention wherein the illustrious Prince that Amilcar followed, had some part, so that the interest of his affairs obliging him to retire to Utica which depends on him, he went thither followed by his creatures, so that Aronces finding this occasion to separate himself from Clelia for to endeavour to heal himself by his absence, followed him likewise, for Clelius voluntarily consented that Aronces to whom fortune seemed to have not left any esta∣blishment should seek one nigh a great Prince, so Aronces departed from Carthage with his consent, he not imagining he went from thence to endeavour not to have more Love for his admirable daughter, but that which is most remarkable, was, that the Prince of Numidia and Horatius who knew not that Aronces was their Rivall, did all what they could to hinder him from following the Prince of Carthage; for as they both knew he was much their friend, and that they noted he was very well beloved by Clelia they imagined they should loose much in loosing him, and that when the time should come when they might discover the passion they had in their souls, they should be much assisted by him; but in fine, the Prince of Numidia and Horatius without telling the true reason which obliged them to counsell Aronces, not to go with the Prince of Carthage, and Aronces without telling them why he did not follow their counsells, we departed as I have before told you: Aronces not having entertained Clelia in particular, for he bid her adien in the presence of Sulpicia and Horatius, and I who knew only the secret of his heart alone, perceived the reluctancy which he had to de∣part from Clelius his house, for we entred in again three times upon such pretences, that at last he was constrained to say he had forgotten that which obli∣ged him to reenter, so litle true resemblance he found in the pretences he invented to see Clelia once more, but in the end, Madam, we went to Utica, where Aronces became more amorous, and by consequence more miserable then at Carthage, where there arri∣ved many things since our departure. For you shall know Madam, that Maharball who had a passion in his soul the most violent in the world, not suspecting that the Prince of Numidia who was his Hostage had any design, for Clelia spoke to him of nothing but his Love, of the Injustice of Clelius, and the cruelty of his Daughter, conjuring him to counsell them both to change their thoughts. For in the end, said he, to the Prince Adherball, if it be not a terrible thing to hear Clelius say he would not marry his Daughter till he return to Rome, he which hath been exil'd so long from it, he which is Tarquin's mortal enemy, who raigneth with so absolute an authority, that tis not credible any power can pull him from the Throne on which his cruelty hath so firmly seated him, yet Clelius pretends not to marry his Daughter but when he shall return to Rome, or at least not to marry her to any but a Roman, it must then of ne∣cessity be, that he will give the fairest and properest person on the earth to a banished Criminall, or at the most to an unhappy Exil'd: Judge then if I have no reason to complain of Clelius, and if I may not be∣leive, that either he or Clelia have a secret aversion against me, which they dare not testifie to me because they are under my power, but to hinder these things, pursued he, I pray you when you find a fit occasion to endeavour to make them take better thoughts for fear they force me to act those things which will not be pleasing to them, the Prince of Numidia hear∣ing Maharbal speak in this manner, was so surprized and astonished at it, that the agitation of his heart appeared in despight of him in his eyes, and it being discernd by Maharball, he endeavoured to recall himself; but he wholy discovered it by his words, for as he would not tell Maharball that Clelius was to blame, and that he durst not tell him that he had reason, he took a mean; which perswaded him to whom he spoke, that he was his Rivall; in effect, he so aggravated the Love the Romans have for their Country, the Injustice they had to put a vast diffe∣rence between strangers and them, and to perswade him, that as Clelius had sought an Asylum in the City where he had the greatest authority, he was obliged not to violence him in a thing which ought to be done freely with many other reasons which served not; but to evidence to Maharball that this Prince was amorous of Clelia; and that he had chosen an ill Confident, so that this thought exciting a grand di∣sturbance in his spirit, he left the Prince of Numidia, and without any delay went to Sulpicias house, where after some generall conversations, he found occasion to speak particularly to Clelia, and he endeavoured to perswade her that it should be very strange to her that Clelius should pretend to marry her, but when he returned to Rome, or at least not to marry her but to an unhappy exile, when he might give her the first rank in one of the cheifest Cities in the world, Sir said Clelia to him, it is not for me to examine my Father the reason why he refused the honour you do him; and it implyes I know that I should commit a great offence by not obeying him, for to oblige me with blindness to follow his desires, but to the end, that all your hatred should not fall on him, I ingeni∣ously confess that I should obey him with an extream grief if he should command me to espouse an Affri∣can, and so destroy my hope of seeing Rome. For it is true that there is in my heart so strong a Love for my Fathers Country, that would render me very unhappy to take from me the hope of dying there. If I dye not soon at Carthage, replyed Maharball, there is no appearance you will ever live at Rome, alas sir, replyed Clelia, as long as it is under the power of Tarquin, I shall not go thither, but I should be very sorry to loose the hope of it, therefore I intreat you not to persist to oblige my Father to consent to your desires, and to have the generosity to enter in his thoughts, and to beleive that if he were a Roman, he would prefer you before all other Romans, and since, added this discrect mayd, he re∣fuses you a thing which is so little advantageous for you, that you ought rather to thank him then to complain, for in the end, if he accords to that which you seem to desire, every one will reproach you, for your preferring the daughter of an unhappy Exile

before so many fair persons which are at Carthage, and whose alliance may be more suitable and agreeable for you. No, no, unjust Clelia, said he to her, do not seek to perswade me that there can be any thing more agreeable or glorious then the conquest of your heart, for it cannot be, and permit me to tell you, that if you were as prudent as fair, you might tell the unjust Clelius, that Tarquin is more powerfull at Rome than ever, and that according to all appearan∣ces, he will not permit him to return thither, that it is very dubious whether fortune hath sent more Romans to chuse exile then he hath put to death, and if it was not so, it would be easie to consummate your Nuptialls at Carthage, if it were for any other then Maharbal, and tell to him I pray you that he may be happy if he will, and that he may render himself mi∣serable if he renders me so. Ah Sir, replyed Clelia generously, I know not how to threaten my Father, but I can tell him that if my life is an obstacle to the tranquillity of his, I am ready to sacrifice it for his content so that taking form you the cause of your Love, I might take away your hatred against him. As Clelia had thus spoken, the Prince of Numidia entred, and seeing Maharball with her, he blusht for anger, and he seeing the change of his counte∣nance was confirmed in those thoughts he already had, and the better for to clear his suspition, he continued to speak low to Clelia, whilst Aderbal spoke to Sulpicia, and to the other Ladyes which were with her; but as he is naturally violent, he could not suffer this long particular entertainment without testifying much anger, so that Maharball not doubt∣ing but that he was his Rivall, took a resolution to distrust him instead of considing in him, as he had designed, and as the generall affairs of the Republick gave him not so much leasure as his passions re∣quired, he must of necessity go from thence and leave his Rivall with his Mistress, and in effect, though Clelia sought carefully to avoid speaking particularly to the Prince of Numidia, since he had discovered his Love to her, she did not do it this day with the same care, for she had her spirit so distracted with Maharballs expressions, that she thought of nothing else, so that she not taking notice of it, the Prince of Numidia came to her, and began to speak to her as a man which had some particular thing to tell her, Clelia coming to her self, turned towards him and prayd him not to oblige her to fly him, as she would ever do, if he continued to speak of his Pas∣sion, for in the end, sayd she to him, if you perse∣vere in it, you will force me to take a resolution not to consider you as you are a great Prince; but to look on you as a man which esteems me not, since he takes no care but to displease me. Would to the Gods Madam, said the Prince of Numidia to her, that I had never told you I loved you, this wish with∣out doubt is a wish very extraordinary from a passi∣onate Lover as I am, but tis true that I now do no∣thing but strive to repell the passion I have in my soul that you might be ignorant of it, though I know't will continue till Death. But Madam, that which makes me speak as I do, is, that I must adver∣tise you that if you do not soon depart from Carthage you expose your self to be the unhappiest person in the world, and that offering you an Asylum in the Court of the King my Father, I fear you will not go thither, because I have discovered to you my Love. Nevertheless I swear and protest unto you, that though I am more amorous then Maharball, I will never be so unjust as he.

Clelia hearing the Prince speak in this manner, was extreamly surprized at it, for she knew well that he knew somthing where she had an Interest, and spake to him with more affability then usual, to the end to oblige him to tell her, that which made him use this Language, and in effect the Prince recounted to her the conversation whith he had with Mahar∣bal, continuing in pursuit to offer her an Asylum in Numidia, and protested to her with as much Gene∣rosity as Love, that if he should be constrained to make war to defend her, he would do it with much joy; Clelia thankt him very civilly for the offer he made her, assuring him nevertheless that she beleived that her Father would not nor ought not to accept it, adding further, that for all that she should re∣main much obliged to him for it; but Aderball not holding himself refused for what Clelia said to him, spoke the next day to Clelius, and so lively represented to him the grandeur of Maharballs Love, his autho∣rity, and the violence of his Nature, that he made him easily comprehend that his sojourn at Carthage was very dangerous, but after that he offered him that which he had already offered to Clelia, so that Clelius who knew not that this Prince was amorous of his Daughter, admired his generosity, and gave him innumerable prayses, but after all Sir, said he to him, when he had left praysing him, it would not be just it may be to begin again the war between Numidia and Carthage, for a thing where my unhappy family have only interest, you are in a hostage for a treaty of peace which is not yet entirely executed. Likewise Sir, I should expose you to be evill treated by Maharball, and if I should involve the King your Father in new wars with this Republick; and there∣fore since Carthage is no more an Asylum for me, I must endeavour to depart from it, and to go seek one farther of, where Maharball hath no power to hurt me, for I have long had a great desire to approach Rome: the Prince of Numidia was not fully satisfied with these reasons, but told Clelius that it would he difficult for him to go by sea, and that it would be easier for him to go by Land into Numidia, but what∣soever he could tell him, the generous Clelius believed not, that seeing the terms in which were the things between these two States, he ought to accept the offer of Aderball, and having an effectuall desire to approach Rome, it was more easie for him to be ge∣nerous, and to refuse the Prince of Numidia, who found himself in a strange perplexity, so that he saw himself necessitated to desire her absence, whose person he loved, and to be separated for ever from her, but be found himself yet in a greater inquietude, for as he observed Maharball more narrowly, he discovered that he had a design to arrest Clelius, making him to be accused for machinating somthing against the Republick, and to have secret Intelli∣gences with the Prince of Carthage with whom A∣ronces was then, for things were very much imbroyled since the departure of this Prince. That which o∣bliged Maharball to contrive this design, was, that he hoped that being Master of the life of Clelius, he should soon gain Clelia, whom he thought would not refuse to marry him to give life and liberty to her Father; so that the Prince of Numidia believing that the design of Maharball might succeed, and that he should see him possessed of Clelia, if he should not ad∣vise Clelius speedily of it, he ballanced it not long, and went to see Clelia at the same time, though he believed this advice would accelerate his departure,

tis true, that in the force of his passion he had a design to follow her without telling her any thing of it; but in fine Madam, to hast my self to tell you that which passed, you shall know that the Prince of Numidia after he had told Clelia the most passionate things that can be imagined, spoke to Clelius, to whom he had made known so precisely the unjust de∣sign of Maharball, that after he had consulted with Horatius and Sulpicia about it, he was resolved that they should think no more of any thing but to depart speedily from Carthage, the occasion presented it self very favourable, for there was a Syracusian vessell ready to set sayl, so that Clelius secretly treating with him who commanded it, he promised to re∣ceive him and all his family into his ship, the next night which preceded his departure, and in effect without troubling my self to tell you the unprofita∣ble particulars, it suffices that you know that in despight of all the foresight of Maharball, the care of the Prince of Numidia, Clelia and Horatius came to so good a conclusion, that this illustrious Roman family embarqu'd one night without being perceiv'd, so that this vessel of Syracuse departed from the port at the break of day. Maharball not knowing any thing of it till night, for as he believed Aderball was amorous of Clelia, he suspected not he would have assisted her flight, so that having seen him all the day, this Prince had dextrously hindred him from going to Clelius his house, to the end he should not follow Clelia, with hope to find her. For the time had been so favourable, that there was no appearance that any other vessell could joyn that which carried this fair and admirable Virgin, but though the Prince of Numidia constrained himself as much as be could that he might not appear too melancholy, he was so pensive that when Maharball came to know the departure of Clelius and his family, he doubted not but Aderball was acquainted with it, he learnt like∣wise his departure in such a manner, which much ex∣cited his anger; since he knew not that Clelius was departed; but when he sent at night to his house to arrest him as a Criminall, he used the slight of Clelius to authorise this violence, for he assembled all the Suffects, (for so they call those who share the Go∣vernment of the Republick) and told them it did evidently appear he was a Criminall, because he was fled.

In the mean while, as he was most violent, he heard somthing from Aderball, which made him be∣lieve he was acquainted with Clelius his flight, so that he secured his person, publishing that he had a hand in all that Clelius had plotted with Aronces and Amilcar, Maharbal seeking by this means to revenge on his Rivall the insensibility of his Mistress, and it may be, he believed likewise to find Clelia, because he imagined that the vessel of Syracusa, in which she was embarqued should not be used, but to depart from Carthage, and should land her, to go to seek an Asylum where Aderball would meet her as soon as he should be free, so that in this opinion the Prince was kept very exactly, and treated with much ri∣gour. Maharball likewise sent divers vessells after that, which had conveyed away his Mistress, though with little hope; for besides that he believed not, she took the way of Syracuse, it had been so long since her departure, that there was no hope to find her again. Nevertheless as tis the property of Love not to neglect anything; Maharball had rather do an hundred unprofitable things then to miss one which might serve him.

But whilst this irritated Lover knew not on whom to revenge the unhappy success of his Love, and that he revenged himself on another Lover which was no better used then he, during I say that, that the unhappy Aderball suffered an unjust Impri∣sonment, and that he endured incredible evills.

Aronces who knew nothing of that which passed at Carthage, knew that absence could not heal him; and repented himself for leaving Clelia, for in the Estate in which things then were, there was no means to think of returning to Carthage, so that Aronces was so sad and melancholy, that his grief could hardly receive any increase; but melancholy much more in∣vaded his cogitations, when a slave brought him a Letter that Clelius had written him upon his depar∣ture, and that he had trusted to that slave which gave it him, at first he had much joy because he hoped to have news of Clelia, but he had in pursuit an une∣qualled desparation when he saw that, that Letter which was given him contained these words, if my memory deceive me not.

Clelius to Aronces.

DIvers important reasons make me depart from Car∣thage, to come nigher Rome, I know not whe∣ther I shall chose Syracuse or Capua for my Asylum, but in what place of the world soever I am, I shall be alwaies ready to receive you as if you were my son, in case the changes of the Court wherein you are, oblige you to leave it, and if the Gods hinder me from making a second shipwrack on the same sea, where they put you into my arms, you may assure your self of a house in all places where I shall have one for my self. I mention nothing of Sulpicia, Horatius and Clelia, for they know not of my writing to you.

After that Aronces had read this Letter, he gave it me to read, and told me many touching things which would excite compassion in your heart, if I should relate them to you, Amilcar a little after, coming into his Chamber, learnt us the Imprison∣ment of the Numidian Prince, the fury of Mahar∣ball, and confirmed the flight of Clelius, Sulpicia, Ho∣ratius, and Clelia, and likewise told us Maharballs design to arrest Clelius, and that they had carried their most precious things along with them, and this design had been so discreetly carried that not any one suspected it, but as Maharball, added he, used the Prince of Carthage his name to prosecute Clelius, though there is great likelihood he acted rather the part of an incensed Lover, then of a good Citizen I come to assure you on the Princes part, that he will recompence you for all the misfortunes Clelius hath suffered, and that there is nothing in fine, but you may expect from him. For my parti∣cular pursued he, I offer you all that which is in my power, and I think you may assure your self to be happy, Amilcar added in pursuit many obliging things where I might take part, and where Aronces and I answered with all the civility and acknowledg∣ment that we ought to have for such generous of∣fers, but though Aronces strangely constrained him∣self, it was impossible for him to conceal his extream melancholy; Nevertheless at first he was not asto∣nished at it, for as he knew that Aronces loved Cle∣lius, as if he had been his Father, he imagined twas a grief which proceeded from his tenderness for him. But as he saw him daily become more melan∣choly,

he suspected something of the true cause of his sadness, and drawing me apart he prayed me to tell him, if Aronces was not amorous of Clelia, so that not judging that it was disadvantageous to my friend to confess the truth to Amilcar; I told him that I believed he was not deceived, and that I ex∣treamly feared that his grief for her absence would bring him to the margin of his grave. As Amilcar dearly loved Aronces, he did all that which he could to divertise him, he which is the most divertising of all men, by his grief was too strong to be over power'd: and I can assure you that since he knew the departure of Clelia, there past not a minute but his grief augmented: that which rendred it more power∣ful was, that he knew that reason would have him oppose his passion, and remain with the Carthaginian Prince, where he found all that he could wish for in his present estate of fortune, for as this Prince very much esteemed him, he might hope a considerable establishment with him; Amilcar dearly loved him, this Court was most splendent and delectable, and considering the state of things, the Prince of Carthage would soon set on foot a great design, the happy suc∣cess whereof would put him in a capacity to accumu late honour and riches on all those which should be followers of his fortune, as Aronces one day told me (aggravating his misfortune) that he was the most unfortunate of all men, for in fine my dear Celeres, said he to me, after he had confessed to me, he was resolved to leave Africa, and to go to find Clelia. I I do not believe there is a more miserable man than I, and whosoever considers the deplorable condition in which I now am, shall without doubt find that since Love makes men unhappy, there never hath been no Lover which had so little reason to hope to be be∣loved or to continue to love. First Clelia, pursued he, knows not that I love her, and I ought not to make it known to her, whilst I know not who I am.

Moreover, Clelius seeming to be resolved not to give his daughter but to a Roman, 'tis assured that I ought never to pretend thereto, since according to all appearances I am not a Roman born, if it should be so, it should be then of some unhappy Roman, without virtue or quality, for if there had been any man of quality exiled which had been shipwrack'd, and who had lost a Son in the Sea, Horatius would have told it Clelius, having told him all the sad acci∣dents which hapned at Rome since his departure, be it those which he hath seen with his own eyes, or that which he heard from others; but though I know not whence I am, yet it seems I certainly conjecture that I am not a Roman, and that consequently I can never pretend to Clelia, you are so ingenious to persecute your self, I told him that if you would as much seek to asswage the evil which torments you, you would quickly come to the end of it. Ah Celeres, cryed he, if you knew the nature of the evil of which I speak, you would soon see it is immedicable, for if I remain here I shall dye the most despairing of all men, and if I go to find Clelia, as I will infallibly, I shall with∣out doubt act the most irrationalst thing that can be, since I ought not to tell her I love her: If I would not reward Clelius with Ingratitude to whom I owe all things, and so I shall leave a great hope of fortune to undertake a voyage to go see a person whom I adore, with intention never to tell it her, and with a strange desire to tell it her a thousand times a day if I could; Judge then Celeres if I am in a happy condition: Ne∣vertheless I must and will part, for my Love per∣swades there is no misery which equals absence, when absence is not strong enough to destroy Love. I therefore find my self so perplexed, when I think Clelius will demand of me that which so soon obliges me to return to him, for shall I tell him a lye if I tell him that I am exiled? and that I am unworthy the care he hath taken of me? and likewise if I should tell him that my friendship towards him could not permit me to stay longer, and ought I not to fear, that when he demands the cause of my return that he would hate me, and that he will force me to depart for ever from the person whom I love? But after all, let happen what pleases the Gods, for I declare to you I cannot do otherwise. In Effect, Madam, Aronces relying on Amilcar's friendship, told him all that which I could not deny him, and caused so great com∣passion in him, that he commanded him in the name of the Prince of Carthage to go to Clelius; but for to dissemble his return, Amilcar obliged the Prince to charge Aronces to negotiate something at Syracusa, for to endeavour to disunite Sicyly from the interest of Carthage, and Amilcar to finish his generosity, made him such Magnificent presents, that he put him in a conditlon not to want the assistance of Clelius when he should return to him. So Madam there be∣ing a ship of War prepared for us, we parted from Utica, and took the way of Syracusa, with intenti∣on if we did not find Clelius there, to land nigh the mouth of the River Vulturnus, to go by land to Ca∣pua, which is but twelve miles from the sea. I shall not tell you Madam, what was Aronces affliction when he went to take his leave of the Prince of Carthage, and separated himself from Amilcar, for I cannot ex∣press unto you, all that the tenderness of friendship and the violence of Love made him feel in this en∣counter, but 'tis true that when he was ready to de∣part, he began to fear he should be more unhappy, when he should be with Clelia, than when he was from her: but he changed his thoughts when we were em∣barqued, for as the wind was favourable he had a joy that I cannot express in the thought, that every moment he approached nigh Clelia: 'Tis true that this favourable wind lasted not long, for the next evening we saw a far off a light cloud rise out of the sea, which without terrifying us we fixt our eyes on it, but we were suddenly astonished when we saw the Pilot who guided us, affrighted at it, and begun to give orders to all the Mariners of our Vessel to the end they should prepare themselves for a great tem∣pest, at first we believed he abused us, and we could not comprehend that a thing which had nothing ter∣rible to look upon, should be the forerunner of a dreadful tempest, but hardly had we the leisure to think the Pilots supposition was but ill grounded, when we saw insensibly the sea cover'd with great bil∣lows of foam which did the same effect over this im∣mense sea, as flocks disperst over great vast plains, a little after we heard a roaring which was something terrible, though it seemed to come afar off, and a little after we heard a clash of Thunder on our left hand, which by a sudden flash of Lightning, gave us a happy presage, for you know Madam, the Etrurians which are the most skilfullest people in the world in matter of Divinations, have learnt us, that when the Thunder goes from the left to the right 'tis a happy presage, but when it goes from the right to the left 'tis an in-auspicious Omen. Nevertheless though A∣ronces and I knew this sign was not unhappy, we saw a little appearance of good luck, for it seemed this

Clap of Thunder bad been a signal to unchain the winds, and the sea roared horribly, and all the waves clasht so rudely against each other, that they utter∣ly destroyed our hopes, and truly Madam, I cannot tell you in what extreams we then were, when the night stealing on us on a sudden, exposed us to the fury of the waves and winds as long as it lasted, sometimes our ship climb'd the Clouds, and in a mo∣ment seem'd to descend into a profound Abyss, and the tempest turned it in despight of the Pilots art, and put us every moment in estate of shipwrack, like∣wise all the Mariners left their Offices, and the Pilot supplicated himself on his helm, and invoked Ne∣ptune with a high voice, expecting succour but from him alone, for Aronces I confess his constancy gave me it, for after he had remitted himself to the con∣duct of the Gods, he had as much tranquillity in his soul, as if he had not been in danger, and for to give you a sensible mark of his constancy, I shall tell you that in the middle of this terrible tempest, he spake to me of Clelia, and told me that if he dyed, as there was great appearance, he should dye with grief not to have made known to that fair person the love he had for her. But in fine Madam, as the tempest began at the setting of the Sun, it diminisht at break of day, and that glorious celestial Lumina∣ry bringing back the calm with the Light, we saw a little after the waves by little and little to abate, but we perceived at the same time, that we were so nigh a great vessel, that we might discern it was a vessel of War, our Pilot who seemed not to be destin'd this voyage, but to anounce us evil news, told us that the tempest was past, but that we were no less in danger, because the Ship we saw was a cruel Py∣rates which did nothing else but interrupt the com∣merce of Sicily and Carthage by the continual prizes he took. At these words, Aronces taking the word to answer him, as 'twas your part to command du∣ring the tempest, said he to him, it is for you to o∣bey during a combat, therefore make us board this vessel, for as it hath been beaten hy the tempest as well as ours, we fight with equal advantages; and we shall fight it may be better than Pyrates, at first the Pilot made a difficulty to obey, and would at least reason on the thing, but Aronces having abso∣lutely commanded him to follow his Orders, and to endeavour to gain the wind that we might be the assailants, he obeyed with fear and so well played his part, that we got the wind of the Pyrate: 'Tis true that as he was accustomed to vanquish, and that our vessel was less than his, he persisted not in endeavour∣ing to gain from us this advantage, and seeking to board us as we did him we joyned together, and we saw on an instant the enemies deck fill'd with armed Soldiers, which by their countenance only might intimidate those which saw them, for as they were men which a long time had been continually inur'd to War and the Sea, they were more swarthy and black∣er than Africans though they belonged to the Isle of Cyrne, and they had such a savage and sierce ferocity on their faces, that 'twas easie to judge they passed all their life in slaughter and blood, they had like∣wise the rusticity of Seamen, the cruelty of Soldiers determin'd in their eyes, their hair long black hang∣ing negligently, their habits were not uniform but different, because they were such as they had took from those they vanquish'd, but for their arms they were magnificent, and it appeared so well by their countenance that they were accustomed to sight and overcome, that I believed we should be vanquished; for we had not so many men as we saw in their vessel, and they were not without doubt so warlike.

Aronces thought to dye with honour, rather than to have the victory; when he saw that multitude of Enemies which so resolutely expected him: The Captain of those Pyrates put himself at the head of the others when our vessel joyn'd, he was well ad∣vanced in age, he had many hurts on his face which dissigured him, but he was so magnificently armed, and he had so fierce a countenance, as disfigured as he was, he was easily known to be the Master of those which inviron'd him. As we were in this posture Madam, and ready to grapple, we heard that cruel Pyrate insolently command some of his men, that they should prepare chains ready to chain us, ad∣ding, that it would not be difficult for him to van∣quish us; but as soon as he had pronounced these words, Aronces who felt himself outraged, cast at him a Javelin he had in his hand, and leaping into the Enemies vessel followed by me and ten or twelve others, we began the terriblest sight which was ever seen, I shall not exactly particularise it, because I have many other things to tell you, but you must know that Aronces gave such testimonies of such a prodigious valour, that I may say, he only merited all the glory of this great action: At first he assailed the Captain of the Pyrates, being closed together they were both ready to fall in the sea, when they heard a great noise at the other end of the vessel, which suspending the fury of these two fierce Ene∣mies, made them retain and leave one another, and they turn'd their heads towards the place where the noise was, but Aronces was astonished when he saw Clelius and Horatius with some others loaded with chains, who did all they could to take Arms from the Soldiers which would reinchain them, this sur∣prising object making Aronces believe that Clelia was this Pyrates captive, heightned his courage; but that which augmented it was that this fierce Pyrate against whom he fought, no sooner saw some of his men endeavouring to re-inchain Horatius and Clelius, but he commanded them to kill them instead of trou∣bling themselves to remit them to their Irons, and in effect the cruel ministers of such a bloody man put themselves in duty to obey him, and would effectu∣ally have done it, if Aronces after he had given him a reverse blow on the head which stun'd him, had not gone directly to those which would have killed Cle∣lius and Horatius, if he had not relieved them at that instant; but as he at first killed the one and hurt two other, he had the advantage to render to Clelius that which he owed to him by saving his life, and he like∣wise saved his Rivals, thinking he had only saved it to his friend. Nevertheless, this cruel Pyrate be∣ing come from his stupification, came again to the charge, followed by his men; but as Clelius and Ho∣ratius had taken swords from those Aronces had hurt, they seconded him, and I likewise whilst the rest of our men fought at the other end of the vessel: The Pyrate then seeing that which he little expected, gave command to rally all his men; and to cast all the prisoners and the captives into the sea, to the end that those which kept them might come to fight, so that Aronces hearing this terrible command, and Cle∣lius crying to him, that it was not sufficient to have saved his life, if he did not likewise save Sulpitias and Clelias. Aronces performed actions I cannot re∣present to you, for he kill'd or hurt all those he met,

and that which wound up his courage to such a pro∣digious height was, that he heard Clelia's voice which endeavoured by her complaints, to at∣tenerate the hearts of those merciless Pyrates, which would have cast her into the sea, so that precipitating himself in the middle of those which environ'd the Captain of those Pyrates, he thrust his sword through his body, and after he had seen him fall down dead, he went to the place where he heard the voice of Clelia, and he arrived so hap∣pily that he hindred her from being cast into the sea, by killing him that would have committed that barbarous action. 'Tis true Horatius followed him very nigh, hut 'twas Aronces that saved the life of that admirable Virgin and her vertuous Mother; but in exchange Horatius saved Aronces by killing a man which would have wounded him behind, and as the death of the Pyrates Captain had abated the hearts of the others, and that the most part of our men fol∣lowed us and fought very valiantly, the Pyrates saw themselves constrained to render their Arms, and to receive chains from them to whom they would have given them, so that by this means Aronces sav'd Clelius his life, his wifes, and the admirable Clelias, Horatius and many others, and saw himself Master of the richest booty that was ever taken in one vessel, without having received one hurt, though he had been in great danger, but that which was the sweet∣est victory was, that he received a thousand praises from Clelius, and as many thanks from Clelia, and after he had caused the dead to be thrown into the sea, chain'd all the vanquish'd, and commanded to have a care of the wounded, and established Orders in these two vessels. Aronces made Clelius, Sulpitia, and his admirable Daughter come into ours, and lest me with some soldiers in that we had taken, for my part I would have had Horatius have staid there like∣wise, but he so resisted it, that he followed the ob∣ject of his passion, we suspecting nothing of his Love: But in fine, Madam, we knew afterwards that this cruel Pyrate that we had met, had taken the vessel in which Clelius and his family were embarqu'd at Carthage, and that when we had found him, he had resolv'd to take the way of Cumes, for to go to sell Clelia to the Tyrant Alexidesme who now reigneth there, and whom you know Madam, to lead the most irregular life of any man in the World. We knew likewise, that this Pyrate after he had carried into his vessel all that which was in that of Clelius, had treated with those he had commerce for all the prizes that he had taken, and that which was admirable was, that he found there all that which belonged to Clelius, even to the Cradle in which Aronces was found on the Sea by that illustrious Roman.

In the mean time we consulted on the way we should take, and for to hold this council, our vessels were joyn'd together.

I perswaded this illustrious company to seek a Re∣treat at Capua, where I promised Clelius and the o∣thers to give them for their Friends all those I had there, and to render them all the Services I might, nevertheless as Aronces told Clelius that his return was caused by some Orders that the Prince of Car∣thage had given him to go to negotiate something for him at Syracusa, he was resolv'd that it should be there that we should go to land, and that we should pass afterwards from thence to a port nigh the place where the River Vulturnus casts it self into the Sea, for as you know Madam, Capua is but twelve miles di∣stant from that place, and in effect the thing was so executed: we were some days at Syracusa, from whence we sent back the Vessels the Prince of Car∣thage had lent us, Aronces feigning to tender him an account of his Negotiation though he writ to him but to thank him, as likewise to Amilcar, but that, Madam, which was most fair to Aronces, was, that he would not attribute to himself that rich booty he had taken, and that he would content himself with the benefits of the Carthaginian Prince. Clelius said he had not any part therein, Horatius said the same, and I maintain'd as the others that Aronces alone had right to dispose of that prodigious riches, so that after a long contestation where we all declared it to him; Since tis so, said he to us, I give all the right I have to—he would say Clelia, but fearing to discover his love, after he had a little recollected himself, instead of saying Clelia he said Clelius, and in effect he would in despight of him that he should dispose of this precious Prize; tis true he disposed of it in a manner worthy of his generosity, for he gave a great part of it to Horatius, to have means to subsist during his Exile; he constrained me likewise to accept of a great part of this Booty: He gave one part to the poor Romans exiled by Tarquin which were retired to Syracusa, and made an offering of the rest to that famous Temple builded on the top of the renowned Mountain Erice: but in fine, Madam, without staying my self to tell you a hundred unne∣cessary things; I shall tell you in two words, that we passed from Sicily into Campania, and from thence to Capua where we had a favourable reception, for the chief Magistrate of the City that we call Media∣dusticks was my Uncle, so that by this means I was happy enough to find occasion to render some servi∣ces to the persons of the world I wished most to serve, so that in a few days Clelius, Aronces and Horatius were not treated as strangers in our City: Sulpicia and her admirable daughter likewise found amongst our Ladies so much sweetness and Civility that the first was constrained to remit something of her Ro∣man severity, and to suffer Clelia to accommodate her self to the custom of the place where she was and to the honest liberty of our manner of life, 'tis true, Madam, that twas not very difficult for her to do it for tis certain that tis not without reason that our City is called the delicious Capua, in effect one may say that as nature hath placed in our Country all that which might render a life delectable, it hath likewise inspired into the Inhabitants Inclinations which car∣ry them to pleasure and joy to the end to make them enjoy all the benefits she hath afforded them, for one may say there is nothing in this place but delight, and that the care which it had to entertain the pub∣lick tranquillity, hath no other motive than to hinder the disturbance of the publick and particular plea∣sures, so all the World thinking to divertise them∣selves one may say all the World divertiseth it self, the Ladies are there fair gallant and magnificent, the men are ingenious for pleasure, festival days and ex∣tremely liberal, and there is there led a life so sweet, calm, and delectable, that there are no men such ene∣mies to society which have no grief to depart from thence, and not any strangers which may not facilly accustom themselves thereto, but how agreeable so∣ever our City was, and though this fair Troop re∣ceived all manner of civility, there was none but Clelia there which found any sweetness or delectati∣on; for Clelius hearing that Tarquins authority was

greater, and that although he was generally hated by all, that did not hinder him from reigning peaceably, had a most sensible grief: Sulpitia who had the same zeal for her Country, had likewise the same afflicti∣on, and Horatius joyning the resentments of an ex∣iled Roman, with those of a Lover who durst not say he loved, found himself very unhappy, but A∣ronces believed that he was much more, and knew not sometimes if he ought to esteem himself more miserable for not knowing his birth, or that Clelia was Ignorant of his passion, but he found some sweetness as well as Horatius, to think that Clelia was in a place where the violence of Maharbal need not be feared, and those two Rival friends left not to have some pleasing hours in the conversation of Cle∣lia, they lived with more friendship at Capua than at Carthage, because Horatius owing his life to Aron∣ces, and Aronces his to Horatius, the acknowledg∣ment bound with a more stricter knot their affecti∣ons, they told not one another of the passions they had in their souls, for as I already was the confident of Aronces, and that Horatius was not of the humour to have any, they discovered not to one another their Love, and they told it not even to her which caused it; so that though they had most agreeable hours with her, they had some also very troublesome, for Horatius thought not that an Exile could hand∣somly make a declaration of Love. Aronces could not imagine that one unknown might be favourably treated, for Clelia though by a natural and generous inclination she interest her self in her Country, ne∣vertheless as she had never seen Rome, that she was fair and young, and that all pleasures courted her, she found her self sufficiently happy, but that which principally made her felicity was, that looking up∣on Aronces as her Brother, and believing that he had nothing but friendship for her, she accustomed her self to live with him, with a confidence infinitely sweet, and which left not to afflict Aronces as obli∣ging as she was, because that the more he knew the sweetness of Clelia, the more he believed it was dan∣gerous to tell her that he loved her; so that except∣ing me, he took an extreme care to conceal his pas∣sion: Nevertheless these two secret Lovers daily frequented Clelias company, to whose house all the virtuous men and fairest Ladies every day resorted, 'tis not but that the beauty of Clelia gave resentments of jealousie and emulation; but she was so a la mode and there was so many in Sulpitias house, that those which would see and be seen, could not other∣wise satisfie their curiosity; for there were few per∣sons in any other houses, or if there was any other company it was ordinarily neither great nor delecta∣ble: Aronces one day took pleasant notice of it, for knowing Madam, that being in a fancy to endeavour to heal himself, we went many days from quarter to quarter, from street to street, from door to door, from visit to visit, to the end to divert his spirit from the object which so entirely possessed it, but in what place soever we went we heard nothing spoken of but Clelia, for in one house we were demanded if we had been at her house, and in another if we were go∣ing thither, one of my kinsfolks told us she came from it, and one of my friends told Aronces that he came from thence: In another place there was a man who said she should no more he called Clelia but the Fair Roman, and in the house of a Lady who was of a brown complection, there was one of her Gallants who highly praised the beauty of Clelia, though she was yellow haired, in another place we found a Lady which needs would find some fault, saying she was too fair, and I can assure you that for four or five days we went into no place where we heard not Cle∣lia spoken of, and we went every where, where per∣sons of quality might go, but at the last house where we went the last day that Aronces had destin'd to these visits, where we knew not what we sought, there was a Lady who finished to make known to that Lo∣ver, that it was in vain to seek any place where he should not hear Clelia spoken of, for he heard her more spoken of in this place than in any other: But Madam, before I recount to you this conversation, you must know to understand it with pleasure, who this person is which we meet with, and I believe you will not be angry if I describe her to you, since 'tis certain that she whereof I speak who is called Arici∣dia is an in-imitable person. In effect, all that which is particular to her, cannot be seen in any other: For in fine: I must tell you for her honour, that with∣out being of illustrious extraction, without having any beauty, and without youth she is considerable a∣bove all those which are great in Capua, and that she is at all Feasts publick and private, but that which is most strange is, that she is continually in conversa∣tion with all the young persons of quality, and with all the fairest Ladies: In effect, Those men which make such a tumultuous garboyl, when they find that a fair woman hath her Nose a little too big, too little Eyes, the Chin too short, or Lips too pale, and can hardly suffer those which have passed four Lustres, have not their eyes troubled to see always Aricidia, though she never had any beauty, and though she hath fifteen Lustres to count as the Romans, or that she can recount near twenty Olympiads according to the calculation of the Greeks, you will demand of me Madam, without doubt by what charms a per∣son to whom Nature hath refused all the Graces or∣dinary to her sex, whom time hath deprived of youth and whom fortune hath not endowed with great fa∣vours; for to render her so considerable and so much desired, and I shall answer you 'tis by a great good∣ness, and by a natural grandeur of Spirit which be∣ing joyned to a long experience of the world, and to an agreeable humour that without taking care of her self, she divertiseth all those which frequent her, for as she is without ambition, as she hath a great and noble heart, that she knows not how to slatter, that she is not interested in any manner, that she clearly sees things, that she recounts them pleasant∣ly, and that she knows all that which passes in Ca∣pua, there is no person which doth nor desire her, and when there happens any remarkable occurrence, there is no body which wishes not to see her, to know that which she thinks, says, or knows of it; so that if she could be in twenty places at one time, she might be there, she goes likewise every where without being troublesome, because she is never in any place but where she is desired.

Moreover, though she hath something in particu∣lar in her Physiognomy, and very pleasant in her manner of speaking, she hath not any pleasantness of profession: In fine, she hath a certain jovial since∣rity, which makes her say things which surprise and which please, and the truth is that she hath a solid vertue, though it is not savage. In effect, she says things that she thinks not of, she sees the weakness of others without contributing thereto, and with∣out being ever the confident of any Love, she knows

all the Loves of the City, she blameth the tatling Gossips, she flatters not the Gallants, she gives plea∣santly her opinion of those that pretend to be fair when they are not, she endeavoureth to reconcile the differences of families, she is in friendship with all the husbands and wives, and without doing that but which she thinks she ought to do, she pleaseth men which are opposite in all things, she is a good friend and is both officious and free, all the greatness of the earth cannot make her change her opinion, when she thinks she hath reason; and to define her in few words, I may say Aricidia is a living mortali∣ty, but a Moralist without sadness: and who believes that the pleasantness of innocent Raillery is not use∣less to virtue; but the most incredible thing is, that though she knows all the maliciousness the world is capable of, she is nevertheless incapable of it, and though she hath an infinite spirit, she cannot find a∣ny invention to prejudice any, though she finds a thousand when she would serve her friends. In sine, Aricidia hath found the art to please and give diver∣tisements to all the youths without incurring any blame, for though she is not young she is sometimes at Balls, she sees all the great feasts, she is in the most gallant walks and the merriest company, and Arici∣dia is composed of so much delight, that I may bold∣ly say she cannot be parallel'd, and I even maintain that it would not be advantageous for her to be fair, for if she were she goes to an hundred places where she would not go, she says things that she would not say, and her physiognomy which retains more the andacity of my sex than the timidity of hers, addeth a far more force to her words, and gives a liking to her discourses, as I have said already she is so desired in all places, that the days should be longer for her than others, if she would content all those that desire her: Aricidia being then such as I have represented to you, came into a house where Aronces and I entred just as she spoke of Clelia to five or six persons which were there, and that she spoke of her with earnest∣ness, so that when we entred she changed not her discourse; on the contrary she no sooner saw us, but knowing we were Clelia's friends, she addrest her self to us with that familiarity which is natural to her.

You come very sitly, said she to us, to maintain my argument against a man you see with me, who says that Clelia would be fairer than she is, if she was a little more coy: Ah Aricidia cryed that man, which is named Genutius, tell at least to Aronces and Celeres, that which I at first said of the great beauty of Clelia, before you tell them what I have wished thereto: I shall tell it replied she, after I have deli∣vered my advice thereupon, for I find it so unreaso∣nable that I cannot endure it: The beauty of Clelia is so resplendent and perfect, replyed Aronces, that I cannot well comprehend of what addition it is ca∣pable, I think, added I, that without seeking to deny it, you had best demand if of Aricidia: I vo∣luntarily consent to it, replyed Genutius, so that she will not conceal the prailes I have given Clelia: For to content you, replyed she, I shall then say, that you are of my opinion: that all the lineaments of Clelia's face are admirable; that she is of a most rare complection, hairs very fair, of a courteous beha∣viour, and that she is in sine one of the greatest beauties in the world, but after that pursued she, rai∣sing her voice, I shall say I do not believe she can e∣ver cause any love in you, because she doth not imitate all fashions, or to say better all the ill favoured coun∣tenances of these which think themselves fair, and which do not one action where there is not an affe∣ctation which strangely displeaseth, but to the end you many excuse him, added she, turning her self to∣wards Aronces and me; I must tell you that I have seen him heretofore amorous of one of those Ladies who frame all their looks, who place their hands with art, who turn negligently their heads, who have an artificial languor or a borrowed joy, who fit their lips to the mirrors when they dress themselves, and which laugh in such a manner, that they shew all their teeth when they be white. Ah Aricidia, cryed Genutius, you treat me cruelly, I treat you yet too well answered she, since there are such men as you are, which detract from those which are fair; for if all these forgeresses of affected simperings should not be praised by their Gallants, they would soon leave them, since it is certain they make none, but to attract Lovers, and we should see no more that which is so unpleasing to the sight; in effect I see nothing which so much undervalueth beauty, as affectation and the so great care in desiring to appear fair; for in the end added she, there is nothing more base, than to see a woman which hath naturally great eyes and open, which always closes them half to have them more tempting, and there is nothing more insupportable than to see the care that certain wo∣men have continually to make their lips of a roseate colour, and to see the fantastical and extravagant remedy that they use thereto, is there any thing more insupportable, than to see women who rise twenty times out of their places, without having any thing else to do but to consult their glasses, if they have forgot nothing of their tricks they have accustomed to do, and which have such a fancy to look on them∣selves, that they not only look on themselves with earnestness in all the glasses they find, but in the Ri∣vers and Fountains, and even in the eyes of those which speak to them, but that which is yet true is, that when they cannot see themselves, they seek an hundred affected inventions, to make themselves to be said such as they believe themselves, and that which oftentimes they are not, for sometimes they say they have not slept, to the end it should be main∣tained that it appears not in them, another time that they have an ill countenance, to the end it should be said they have a fair teint in another occasion, that they are ill favouredly drest, to the end it should be said well, and they bear an affection even to the smallest things. In fine, those persons which make so many fooleries, and so many fashions, are ordina∣rily of those that hasten to take the new modes, and which take them with excess, for if there be two or three Ribands worn, they take an hundred, and if the dressing is a little long, they wear their hair down to their girdle, if a little short they shew their ears, and they perform in fine, so many disagreeable things, to those which have not a depraved tast that they can∣not be endur'd, and that which is most rare is, that those women which spend their days, to compose all their actions to please, horribly displease all honest men except certain persons which have particular fancies, as Genutius, yet I know not added she smi∣ling, if he is of the same humour he says, and if he will not find as I, that Clelia is admirable, principally because she hath no affectation.

It is certain, added the Lady in whose house we were, that though Clelia doth not any action but

what pleaseth, 'tis clearly seen that she doth not think upon any thing she doth, and that she hath formed her self so great an habitude to have a good presence, that it is not possible for her to have an ill one. That which seemeth to me worthy to be noted in Clelia, said Aronces, is, that though she hath no affectation, she does nothing of all that which other women do; who make profession to be fair. She hath I know not what noble audacity which sets off her beauty, which hindreth not any one from doubting but that she knows what is hers; but she hath it in such a manner, that 'tis apparent she be∣lieveth to have something more considerable, and that it is not by that alone by which she merits esteem, so that I know not how Genutius can find that this admirable person is defective in any thing.

It is sometimes pleasant to dispute with Aricidia, replyed he, that you ought not to think it strange, if I have contradicted her in something, 'tis not, ad∣ded he, that I am constrained to confess that I am not altogether any enemy to certain little affections which give a gallant air to some women, and I know some that if we should take away those particular ad∣ditions they have to heighten their beautie, and should hinder them from doing all those little things which I know not how to name (but which may ad∣mit the terms of mines and fooleries) we should leave them nothing to entertain our sight: And on the contrary, there are certain beauties so plain that they cannot please me: For to speak sincerely, I would have a woman conceit her self fair before I tell her of it, because I am perswaded that she will not believe me, if she says not it her self; and to say in a word what I think, a woman in my opinion is not perfectly lovely if she loves not her self, and if she desires not to be beloved.

In fine, said Aricidia, half angry to speak, truly you love wanton Gossips more than others, because it is more easie to be favoured by them, and that in the humour you are in, you are not fit to make diffi∣cult conquests. But to return to Clelia, I maintain that she is more amiable than fair, though she is the fairest maid I ever saw.

As long as Aricidia spoke, Aronces set his eyes as fixtly on her, as if she had all the youth and beauty of Clelia, for he took so much pleasure in hearing what he loved, commended; that even his very eyes par∣ticipated with the joy of his spirit. There were nevertheless some moments in which he had some se∣cret spight, in that he could not find any subject whereby he might withdraw part of his heart from that beautiful person, for in the design which he had to draw it wholly if he could from her; there were also some moments in which the praises were given to Clelia, offended him: But these instances were not of long durance, and in despight of himself he was glad to hear her commended, and he praised her himself more than he intended to do.

In the mean while, having endeavoured five or six days to go into some place where he should not hear Clelia spoken of, which he could not find; Aronces propounded to me at our going out of the Ladies house where we had seen Aricidia, to go and take a walk in a place which was very pleasant; for Madam, you must know that there is near Capua a great Mea∣dow which is one of the delightfullest walks in the world: That which principally beautifies it is, that there are many small Rivulets which water it, and that it is bordered on both sides, with four rows of Trees, which compose the pleasantest Umbrage that I ever saw, and this place not being far from Capua, we might with convenience after our visit go thither, and in effect we went thither, with an intention to hear no more speech of Clelia. But Madam, admire the chances of Fortune in certain occasions, and to be surprised by that which surprised Aronces and I, suffer me to tell you that as soon as we were come near this Medow, Aronces rebeginning this discourse fetching a deep sigh turned himself towards me, and looking stedfastly on me; in fine he told me, I am now in a place where I shall not have Clelias name mentioned, except it be by you or I. You speak of that, I told him, as if you were displeased to hear that incomparable Maid named, or to have any re∣membrance of her. Nevertheless I know it is not so. Alas said he, would you not have me forget Clelia, since I am bound to banish her from my heart? But in fine Celeres, said he to me again, let us speak no more of it, and contribute what you can to my re∣covery, and to unslave my Spirit from so lovely an object, speak to me of quite contrary things, and let us entertain each other as if we were strangers. Since you will have it so, said I, must entertain you with the pleasantness of this meadow, which is al∣together fit for pensive thoughts. It is very true, replied he, that there was never a more pleasant nor convenient place to entertain ones self, but because I will not think of Clelia, I must not be my own com∣pany keeper, for all my cogitations would be but of her.

After that Madam, Aronces held his peace, and I did so likewise, so as it were forgetting that we were together, we fell both into a profound pensive∣ness, we even separated our selves by some steps, and if I durst speak of a love which I had in my soul, in discoursing to you of that of Aronces, I must confess that that which agitated his thoughts did also mine, and as he had his Spirit possest but by Clelia only, mine was also, but by the beautifullest person of Capua, which is called Fenice.

But after we had gone two or three hundred pa∣ces without looking or speaking to each other, we heard at our right hand some body singing near the Ruines of a Castle, which are a little beyond the meadow, where there is an admirable Echo, inso∣much that we coming again together, we resolved to go see who were at the Echo.

In the mean while, after he who sung had made an end he held his peace, that thereby he might be answered by the Echo: After which we heard di∣vers voices of men and women which were speaking, and because we were far from them, we heard but a confused noise, which would not permit us to dis∣cern, neither what was sung, nor consequently what was answered: But Madam, that which was rare, was, that as soon as we were within a distance that we might distinctly hear, we understood that it was Horatius which sung, and that having made there some verses in commendation of Clelia, which was amongst those Ladies which hearkned the last when we would understand him, insomuch that Aronces and I heard distinctly these six verses which I shall now rehearse unto you, which extolled Clelia above all the fairest of Capua, in setting forth her praises by the fairest of all, and which was less accustom∣ed to praise the beauty of others. They were these.

The Carthaginian Beauties led the way, And ours like they, to her do homage pay Toth' Splendor of her eyes all beauties rear, Which makes her raign securely every where; Yea even Fenice publickly doth say, That nothing is so fair as Clelia.

So that Aronces who withdrew himself from Ca∣pua, not to hear the fair Clelia named, was strange∣ly surprised, for after Horatius had said,

Yea even Fenice publickly doth say, That nothing is so fair as Clelia.

The Eccho repeated the name of this fair Virgin six times, so that looking upon me in a manner where there was some astonishment and grief mixt together: For any thing I see, said he to me, I must depart the world if I will no more hear Clelia named, for seeing the Ecchoes speak to the trees and fields of her; I believe I shall find no place which speaks not to me of her. Since 'tis so, said I smiling to him, I think you may better speak to her your self, than only to hear her spoken of by others; as I had said these words, we were so nigh that fair Troop, that A∣ronces had no time to deliberate with himself whe∣ther he should go to them or no, for the amiable Clelia, having turned her head on one side knew us and called us, 'tis true, I am perswaded that Aron∣ces who saw that Clelia was in this Troop, would nevertheless have approach'd her, though she should not have called him, though he intended to estrange himself from her, so that advancing towards this gallant troop; the first thing that Aronces did after he had saluted her; was to praise him which had praised Clelia, for my self, I confess I avoided with address to praise those verses though I knew the in∣genious malice of it, as much as any person in the company, for Madam, though by these six verses Horatius intimated that Fenice was the fairest person in Capua, and that it was advantageous for her, 'tis nevertheless true that there was malice in this praise, and that he reproached the defect, she hath not to find any thing fair, and 'twas easie to judge that he preferred the beauty of Clelia before Fenices, so that I being amorous of her, shunned as I have told you, to praise those verses of Horatius, and I spoke of the Eccho to a man in the company, for fear some one should tell Fenice that I had praised a man which had praised one other more than her, and which blamed her in such an ingenious manner, but my foresight was unprofitable: as I shall soon tell you, for this ad∣venture made a quarrel between Fenice and me, but to return to Aronces, he not only praised Horatius, in a manner whereof he praised Clelia, but he even praised her in so gallant a manner, that his prose was far better than his Rivals verse, and this same man which some days before had resolved to do all things possible not to love, changed his opinion on a sudden, and resolved in an instant with himself al∣ways to love her, and no more to oppose his passion, and to forget nothing that might make him love her, so that being delivered from the care of striving a∣gainst himself, he had his spirit more free, his hu∣mour more joyful, and he was so pleasant that night, that he infinitely pleased all the company, which in∣sensibly engaged themselves to examine the reason, wherefore the most part of fair women are covetous of praise and often very unjust, for said Aronces after many other things, they think some women are de∣form'd when they are beautiful.

For my part, said Clelia, my curiosity should be to know if effectually those which have the humour as you say are truly propossessed, or if they say things otherwise than they think them. There are divers sorts of them, replied Horatius, for I am perswaded that there are Ladies which know others to be fair though by an emulative resentment they say they are not, but I am likewise of opinion that there are some which so love themselves that they hate all others, and in whom effectually they find nothing that is fair.

For my particular, said a Lady in the company, who hath much spirit but is not fair, I think it not strange if envy make them speak which pretend to be fair against those which are, but I cannot wonder enough to see them which have no interest in beau∣ty, which because they are not fair, would not have others so, and which are likewise as difficult to please as if they had the fairest attractions in the world, the fairest complections, and all the charms which may be desired in an amiable person. As this Lady had thus spoken, Aricidia whom we had seen that day, came where we were with three women of quality, and three men, so that as Aronces and I had sought this place for its solitariness, we had the pleasantest company I ever saw, for except Fenice the most a∣miable of our Ladies were there, but as the subject of our conversation was then very curious when these two companies joyned, this Lady who spoke last, said they should oblige Aricidia to give her ad∣vice upon the subject they had before spoken of, so that after we had learn'd her what it was, she began to blame the fair ones which would only arrogate to themselves that title, but she blam'd them in a very pleasant manner, for it wanted but little that she re∣lated not all the histories of the City to those which have already some knowledge of them.

For my part, said she, I have been heretofore a∣stonish'd to see a fair woman and of as much spirit, which for to dispraise another said the most ridicu∣lous things that may be, for she found her too white and too brown: She likewise said she had eyes too sweet, mouth too little, and if my memory deceive me not, I think I heard her one day say she had lips too incarnate; what is this? thought I when I heard her speak so, am I a fool or wise, have I good eyes or hath she bad who speaks thus? but after a little consideration I found the cause of her injustice, for I knew there was a Lady which was fair flaxen-hair'd, who had eyes sweet, mouth little, and lips of a blush∣ing red, who had taken a Lover from her, so that after that I sought no more the cause of her prejudi∣cate opinion, likewise when I find some of those scrupulous beauties who think none fair but them∣selves, I examin'd what interests they may have to the fair and brown in general, I and what they might have in particular of those of which they spoke, and after that I did not want much to find the reason which made them unjust. In effect, I lastly saw one who because she had great eyes, maintained that lit∣tle eyes could not be agreeable, and I saw another which on the contrary, said that it appertained only to little eyes to make great conquests, and they only had I know not what of gallant and agreeable, which was fit to wound hearts, and that ordinarily great eyes open, were stupid and without agreement.

In another occasion, pursued Aricidia, I found a woman which contrary to them I have told you of, blamed in others that which she had, and praised that she had not, but she so faintly praised and blamed it, that after I had well examin'd her, I found that she blamed and did not praise it, but to the end to be contradicted, and that they might praise that she had, and blame that she had not: but usually I have alrea∣dy said we must know all the life of a fair woman, for to have power to divine what sort of beauty she may praise, 'tis not but jealousie may hinder her from finding any thing fair; but it more often happens, that there are more remote causes which procure this injustice: For in fine, all the company know a woman which would be very fair if she was fat, to whom I have heard say that a Rival she hath would be fairer than she is now, if she had ten or twelve fits of a Fever which might penance her body, and I know likewise one which because that a Lady is a∣nothers Confident, whom she believes to have a de∣sign on the heart of a man, that she would have for her gallant found strange defects in her, though she had not any, so that when I met with these critical choosers of beauty, I enquired who loved such an one? whether her Husband or her Lover betray her not, whether she is jealous, whether she is envious, whether she is wicked, whether she is frantick? I should never Madam, bring my discourse to a period if I should relate to you all those pleasing things Ari∣cidia said on this subject, but not being to trespass upon your patience, I shall desist from mentioning them, but shall only tell you that night beginning to cloath the earth with her sable mantle, the compa∣ny returned to Capua, and Aronces and I returned thither with Clelia and her company, but to tell you the truth, I was not a little surprised when that being returned to my Lodging, where I desired Aronces to lodge, I found that instead of not being willing to hear Clelia spoken of, he would not speak to me of any other thing.

In effect, if I thought to tell him four words on a∣ny other subject, he would not answer me but began to speak to me of Clelia: so that not being willing to contend with him; As far as I see, replied I smiling, you have changed your thoughts since our last Visit, for you desired to depart from the City not to hear Clelia spoken of, and you now speak nothing but of her. No, no, Celeres, said he to me, I have not changed my thoughts, but the truth on't is, I was not the same I thought my self to be, and that though I said I would not love Clelia, I was resolved always to love her, and to speak of her all my life: but if it is so, replied I more smiling, you must seek another Con∣fident than me, and I likewise must seek another than you, for if you have resolved always to speak to me of Clelia; at what hours and time may I speak to you of Fenice? 'Tis true he that's one; Lover is not fit to be anothers Confident; but cruel Friend, you are not amorous in such manner as I am, you love Fenice when you see her, pursued he, and you do no more love when you see her not, and your passion for her is rather a voluntary amazement than a true passion: 'tis therefore not very difficult for you not to speak so often of Fenice, and to let me speak of Clelia.

Have you then absolutely resolved, said I to him, not to think more of banishing her from your heart? On the contrary, I have taken a resolution, replyed he, to conquer hers if it be possible, and to acquaint her that she is the only Saint, at whose Shrine I of∣fer up my Devotion. In high thoughts, Madam, was Aronces at this time, and Horatius as I have since known, seeing Clelia give a favourable censure of those Verses; the Maid on a sudden when she oblig'd him to sing to the Echo, where we found him re∣solved to discover his Love to Clelia on the first occa∣sion which presented, and these two Corrivals though friends, not in the least imagining one anothers love, jump'd on one design when Clelia without thinking of it gave them the means to execute it: For know, Madam, she being desirous to have those Verses Ho∣ratius had made, and which she could not retain in her memory, Horatius having but twice sung them, demanded them of him the next day; but as he would make use of this occasion, instead of giving them to her at that time, he could tell her he would send them. On the other side you must know Madam, that as things change very much, by passing from one mouth to another, principally if it is to recount lit∣tle news of Cabala, where one word alter'd changeth all: It hapned that Aricidia having told some compa∣ny where she was, and that which passed at the E∣cho, those which heard it mis-related it to others, and those others worse to others, who told Fenice it was I which had made those Verses at the Echo, but instead of telling her this Song was for Clelia, they only told her 'twas against her; so that being much incensed against me, she complains of me with much inveterateness, in a place where Clelia arrived a lit∣tle after she departed from it: So that Clelia who is wholly composed of goodness, was very sorry that the praises Horatius had attributed to her, had been the ocasion of a quarrel between me and so fair a per∣son; therefore willing to acquaint me with the com∣plaints of Fenice, that I might justifie my self, and foreseeing she should not see neither Aronces or I all that day, because she knew Sulpicia spent the remain∣ing part of the afternoon in a place where we did not go. She wrote a Letter to Aronces to oblige him to advertise me of the anger of Fenice, for as she had been educated with him, and that Clelius would have her live with him with the same familiarity of a Sister, she made no difficulty to write to him, which she had done before in divers occasions, so that following those motions of goodness she had for me, she wrote a Letter to Aronces as I have already told you, which was somewhat nigh these terms.

Clelia to Aronces.

AS I know you love Celeres as much as I esteem him, and that I dare not write to him, I be∣lieved I ought to acquaint you that Fenice accuses him wrongfully of an Injury he hath offered her in praising me, to the end he may appease that fair per∣son to whom I willingly yield the Priority of Beauty; and I consent that Celeres should make some Verses, in which he should as much prefer Fenice before me, as Horatius by his Flatteries hath placed me above her, for I declare, it's not by the small beauty I have I would be esteemed, but there is something in my heart that merits praise more than my eyes, and in fine there remains no more but to call you my Bro∣ther, that delightful name my Father hath com∣manded me to give you, may hide those blushes which stain my Cheeks when I write unto you. A∣dieu, let not Celeres hate me for a quarrel I have in∣nocently

caused him and use all the power you have over him to hinder him from complaining of me.

See then Madam, the Scheme and nigh the words of Clelia's Letter that Aronces received as he was rea∣dy to depart, but as he received it in a time when his passion violently transported him, and in a time when he had resolved to discover it to her which caused it, he believed he ought not to let slip this occasion which presented it self, and that without staying to see Clelia, he ought in answering her to tell her clear∣ly that he was amorous of her, and in effect without any hesitation, and without one rase in all his Let∣ter he wrote with a strange precipitation, all the in∣spirations of his passion, for 'tis certain, this Let∣ter was rather a production of his heart than spirit, but after he had wrote it, he gave it to a discreet and faithful Slave, with order to attend Clelia's return, and to give it her without Sulpicia's seeing it, so that this Slave being very exact, executed it without much difficulty, for those which were with Aronces were in Clelius his house, as if they depended on him; so that 'twas very easie for this Lovers Slave to perform the command of his Master, and Clelia believing he wrote to her to inform her of Celeres quarrel, took the Letter without difficulty, but as she thought 'twas a simple answer to hers, she read it not at that time, because she was called at that in∣stant to go to her Father, and their conversation being somewhat long, she forgot Aronces his Letter in her pocket, and did not remember it until she was retired into her Chamber, and when one of her Maids had given her another which she said one of Horatius his Slaves had brought, so Clelia believing that he had sent her those Verses she demanded of him, and that Letter putting her in mind that she had one from Aronces which she had not read, she put her self in estate to read them both, but as she had without doubt much more inclination towards Aronces than Horatius, she opened his Letter first where she was astonished to find these words.

Aronces to Clelia.

YOu have given Celeres such singular demonstra∣tions of your Nobleness, that if I did not hope you had the same for me, I would not speak to you of him, and had rather give new matter to that high Vertue which gives so many Charms to your Beauty: but charming Clelia, as there cannot be testified more Nobleness than in pardoning a Crime in which ones self is solely interested: I must acquaint you that I have committed one which reflects on none but you, to the end that taking the generous resolution to pardon it, I may afterwards innocently commit it all my life. For not to draw a Vail over my thoughts, the Crime I have committed is, that I love you more than you would be beloved, and the glorious name of Brother you bestow on me, is so little agreeing with my thoughts, that I can no longer accept of it, permit me then to bear the title of your slave, if you will accumulate glory on me, but to the end my passion offend you not, know you have such an abso∣lute power over me, that I shall not desire any thing but what you will not refuse me: In fine I love you, but in so pure a manner, that if you could see my heart, you would never have the injustice to deface your Image from it; I know amiable Clelia that I am unfortunate, an unknown One, but if you knew my flame and the purity of my thoughts, you would not be offended to be beloved in the manner I love you; take then the pains to know them, and con∣demn me not without it I pray you. But to the end I may know if you consent to my demand, I de∣clare to you that if you answer me not, I shall believe that you favourably entertain my love, and that I shall have nothing but to render you thanks for it: but on the contrary if you take a resolution to treat me rigorously, I had rather receive a cruel Letter than receive none. I pray you make me not despair, for in the passion I have for you, I cannot lose hope without losing my life.

The reading of this Letter so much surprised Cle∣lia, that she could not tell what she felt in reading it; for as she much esteemed Aronces, and had much inclination towards him, she could not entertain a disobliging anger against him: Nevertheless, her natural modesty checkt her to do it. 'Tis true, as she knew her Fathers thoughts it was followed with some momentary grief, to see it was not permitted her to give any reasonable hope to the person in the world she believed most worthy of her if she had known his birth, and if her Father had not had an intention never to marry her but to a Roman; so that this astonishment, anger, and grief so much possessed her Spirit, that she thought not to read Horatius his Letter, and if her distraction had not made her o∣pen it without thinking on it, she would have slept without seeing it, but having opened it without any design to do it; and seeing the Song she demanded if Horatius was not there, and that it was only a Let∣ter, she read it, but not without less astonishment than she had done Aronces: For in fine Madam, I can shew you a Copy of it that I will read to you, see∣ing you will not be ignorant of any thing in which Aronces is interested.

Horatius to Clelia.

I Send you not those Verses you demanded of me, because having perused them I found they did not merit your sight, and (if I dare say so) they were even unworthy of me: but there is another reason which hinders me from o∣beying you; for in fine, amiable Clelia, I foresee I go to be so cruelly used by you, that you would not sing a Song which I made. T'is not but that I use all means possible not to be rigorously treated, but I sensibly feel that when I tell you now I love you, you will soon divine it, 'tis therefore I had rather declare it to you my self, to the end you may have some obligation to me to have concealed it so long from you: Know then, divine Clelia, that the first minute I saw you was the first of my passion, and that the last of my love will be the last of my life; I know I have not great quality enough to merit you, but I know I have divers things which may hinder me from being ill used: For in fine, I am a Roman, I am beloved by Clelius; my love and hate runs in the same current as his, I am an Exile as he is, I am unfortunate, and I love you more than can be imagined; dispose therefore absolutely of my destiny, but if it is pos∣sible banish me not from your heart as I am from Rome, if you will not be more unjust than the Tyrant which banisht me thence, and render me infinitely more unhappy by this second and more rigorous Exile, than I am by the first.

Clelia having finished the reading of this Letter,

was much perplexed to resolve what she should do, for she found something so various in this mishap which had made her receive two declarations of love in one moment, that she knew not what to imagine of it. That which most troubled her was, that A∣ronces and Horatius were friends, and that they might both say they had obligations to her, so that having thought a little thereupon, it came into her mind that that which gave her so much inquietude was not it may be but a simple gallantry agreed on between them to perplex her, for in our Caballa we make an hundred malicious intents one to another in divers occasions: Clelia therefore finding some sweetness in believing it, to draw her self from that perplexi∣ty where she was, made as if she really believed it, and hath since ingenuously confessed to me, that though the Letter of Aronces much vexed and afflict∣ed her, yet she felt in her heart that she sustained it more agreeably than that of Horatius; but after she had confirmed her self in this belief more by her will than reason, she took a resolution to answer those two Letters as if she had certainly known that these two friends desired to deceive her; but as she was not assured of it, she determined to write to both of them obscurely, to the end not to breed any contention between them if her thoughts deceived her, and not to discover to them that they had both discovered their Loves to her, if it was true they loved her. For in fine, (said this admirable Maid to her self) if Aronces and Horatius have plotted this invention, they will understand what I shall tell them, and know that they have not deceived me, and if it is not a deceit, and that they have written to me without one anothers knowledge, I shall not embroyl them, and I shall not find my self in the necessity to answer seriously to two Letters, wherein I shall find my self perplexed to do it, for I should answer it may be too roughly to Horatius and too mildly to Aronces: Af∣ter this Clelia taking a resolution to draw her self speedily from this perplexity, answered to those two Letters by two Notes that I shall tell you, for I think I never saw any of Clelia's writing that I have not retained, I so much esteem her: This Madam, was her answer to Aronces.

Clelia to Aronces.

YOur deceit hath not succeeded, and he with whom you have contrived it, shall have no more joy than you to believe it would deceive me, believe me Aronces it suffices not to have spirit to be a deceiver, but a certain maliciousness of which I believe you incapable, therefore enterprise no more to deceive me, and to prove that your design both effectually ill succeeded, I protest unto you, your Letter hath not angred me one moment, after this I think I need no more explicate to you my thoughts, and that you believe that I believe you are not amorous of me.

You see Madam, what was Clelia's Note to Aron∣ces, and so what was that she wrote to his Ri∣val.

Clelia to Horatius.

VVHen two have joyned to contrive a Cheat it is easier to be found out; pretend not then I con∣jure you, that yours hath happily succeeded, and to testi∣fie unto you, that I believe not to be so well with you as you may be evil with me, I pray send me the Verses I have demanded of you, but I likewise pray you to be strongly perswaded that you can never enterprise any thing that less resembles truth than what you have undertook: for in fine, to speak sincerely I live after such a manner in the world, that one must have lost ones sense and reason, if he think to procure my friendship and not my hatred, by disclosing his affection to me in an amorous Letter.

I am assured Madam, you know that though these two Notes were written on one subject and by one person, and that this person had an equal design in writing them, that that which addressed to Horatius was clothed with more rigorous and severe language than the other, but I must tell you the effect they pro∣duced in the minds of those which received them the next day: imagine then Madam, that when Aronces received that which appertained to him, there was a strange emotion in his heart, for as he writ to Clelia that if she answered him not, he would believe she was favourable to him, he thought seeing she wrote to him, he was going to receive his arrest of death, and that which made him think so was, that Clelia's Slave by the orders of her Mistress, had given him this Note without staying for an answer, so that he opened it with an extreme Inquietude, but when he had read it his spirit was a little more setled, but he was much perplexed to divine what Clelia would say, when she told him that he had contriv'd with another this deceit: Nevertheless after he had well consider∣ed on it, he believed that Clelia had purposely pre∣meditated it, not to be obliged to evil treat him, and that it was I that she made him seemingly think which had part in this pretended deceit of which she spoke in her Note; so that looking upon this Arti∣fice of Clelia as an obliging procedure for him, he found himself more happy than he hoped. He like∣wise received me with much joy when I entred into his Chamber a quarter of an hour after he had receiv∣ed this Note, but as I was sufficiently troubled at the anger of Fenice, I hearkned not to him so attentive∣ly as he would have me, so that being angry at me; Ah cruel friend said he to me, you interest not your self in my fortune: You take so little part in mine, said I to him, that I have more cause to complain of you than you have of me, for after you have told me you are not so miserable as you thought your self, you demand not of me how I stand with Fenice, but for to make you see you are happier than I to read the Letter I leave you, that this fair person hath wrote on the adventure of the Echo, for I am pressed to go to a friend of hers to adventure to oblige her to justifie me to her. After I had left Fenice's Letter in his hands I left him, but departing from his Cham∣ber, I met Horatius who entred there, and who appeared to have something in his spirit which made him melancholy, for he took no notice of me: In effect Madam, you must know that Clelia's answer had highly perplexed him, for he knew he had not mentioned his love to any one, nor the Letter he had wrote to her, so that he knew not what to think of that she wrote to him, seeing that on whatsoever side he looked on the thing, he found nothing of true semblance.

In the mean time, he felt I know not what in Clelias words, which made him believe that he had not any part in her heart, he was notwithstanding per∣swaded that he might have right to pretend thereto,

if it was not engaged; so that now thinking on what he never before thought of, he sought to find, if it was possible, whether Clelia lov'd any one, but after he had examin'd it, he found that if this fair person had some particular affection in her heart, it must ne∣cessarily be for Aronces, and that it must consequently follow Aronces lov'd her; for he suspected her not to love without being belov'd. This thought was no sooner formed in his imagination, but it excited in him a great disturbance: In effect, as Horatius is ge∣nerous, and that he had many Obligations to Aron∣ces, he had a strange agitation of heart, when he thought he might be his Rival, it likewise raised a War in his Spirit, and he effectualy took a resolution to resist his passion, if he learnt Aronces loved Clelia. So that endeavouring handsomly to clear himself, he went to Aronces his house, and he arrived there as I told you when I departed from thence, so that he had the Letter of Fenice in his hands I had given him and Clelias answer, but as soon as Aronces saw Horati∣us enter he concealed Clelias Letter, and still kept Fenices in his hands, for in this inopinate occasion he thought on nothing but his own interest and not mine. 'Tis true, that this Letter was writ in such a manner, that the Author of it could not be known if one did not know the writing, neither for whom it was, it having no superscription, and the reproa∣ches of Fenice were in such a nature, that one would not divine the cause of them: Horatius then entred into Aronces his Chamber, with an intention to dis∣cover by a familiar discourse if he loved Clelia, and endeavour to divert his love if it was so, he saw some emotion in his countenance, because his mind was then disquieted, and according to the nature of love which make Lovers fear the slightest things in cer∣tain occasions, he feared that Horatius should see Cleli∣as Letter, and know it, so that this disquised Lover seeing some agitation on Aronces face, and seeing a Letter in his hands which was written in Tablets, he held open without thinking on it, he so little dreamed of me, and seeing they were made in a manner as Ladyes ordinarily use to write to men, he demanded of him after some complements if those Tablets came from Clelia, Horatius having not any other design than to speak to him of that fair Maid on all sorts of subjects, to note either by his actions or words, if there was any suspicion that he was amorous of that fair person. But Horatius had hard∣ly demanded this of Aronces, but this Lover which was unprepared was much surprised at it, because it was true as you know that he had one of Clelias Let∣ters about him, and would not hinder himself from telling him this Letter was not from her, so as Horatius noting it, and not doubting but those Ta∣blets were Clelia's, he spoke to Aronces beleeving it so; by your favour, said he to him, do not conceal the truth from me, and tell me if the Letter you have in your hand is not from the admirable daughter of Sulpicia, as I do not doubt of it, shew it me I pray you, for as I am perswaded she writes as well as she speaks, I have a great desire to see one of her Let∣ters, at least I very well know her Character is the fairest in the world, for I have seen verses of her writing: at first Aronces believed, that telling a second time to Horatius that this Letter was not from Clelia, and telling it him very seriously he would be∣lieve it, and would press him no more to shew it him, but it hapned otherwise, for Horatius reitera∣ting his intr eaties with much earnestness, perswaded him he suspected something of his passion, so that fearing extreamly he should know it, and for fear he should acquaint Clelius with it, with whom he had a most inviolable amity, resolved to shew him Fenice his Letter, to make him a false confidence by shewing it him, to the end to frustrate his concei∣ved opinion that he was amorous of Clelia, if it was true he thought so that the better to conceal his pas∣sion. I know not Horatius, said he to him, giving him the Tablets he held, from whence it comes you will not believe me, but to evidence to you, you have wronged me by suspecting the verity of my words, see if this writing is Clelia's, but after you have seen this Letter do not speak of it I pray you, though I am resolved not to have any commerce with the person who writ it, therefore Horatius tell none, yet never∣theless I will not be indiscreet without any excepti∣on, that you have seen a Letter of this nature in my hands. As you tell me not her name who wrote it (replyed Horatius, after he had read it) I can hard∣ly be unfaithful to you if I would. For what can I say to those to whom I would tell it, but that you have shewed me a Letter: Since I know nothing else but that it is from an incensed Lady, who wrote to you with such an high indignation, that I believe she will easily be appeased when you will, and that she hath more disposition to love than hate you, whatsoever it be speak not of it, I pray you, said Aronces, for in the thoughts in which I now am, I am assured I shall never mention love to that person: Whilst Aronces thus spoke, Horatius had an extream joy to believe that he was not an amorous of Clelia, for though his friend told him he would never have any commerce with the person, whose Letter he had seen, he hark∣ned to that as the discourse of an angred Lover, who believed sometimes to hate when he loved most, he doubted not but Aronces had a great engagement to this Lady, whose Letter he had seen, so that be∣lieving he was not exposed but to be a mans Rival to whom he owed his Life, and whom he very much lo∣ved, he expressed a great resentment of joy by the only imagination of it, and lest that mishap he great∣ly feared might happen to him, he resolved whilst Aronces loved another to tell him that he had the same for Clelia, though he loved not to declare his secrets, for as he knew him to be very generous, he thought that after he had once made him his confi∣dent, he would not become his Rival, so that cast∣ing an obliging look on Aronces, For to demonstrate to you how dear your friendship is to me, said he to him, I have almost stolen from you your secret, but I will voluntarily declare mine to you: know then, continued he, that time hath worn out many months since love seized my heart, and I every day feel my hatred against Tarquin increases, because I look on him as the cruel cause of those punishments which are prepared for me. Aronces hearing Horatius speak in this manner, imagined he had some Amoretta's at Rome, and did not fully comprehend that he hated Tarquin more than ordinarily, because it was his exile which had caused his passion for Clelia, so that willing to testifie to Horatius, that he would obligingly es∣pouse his Interests, he commiserated his cruel passion, prying to tell him his adventure: Alas my dear friend, said he to him, my adventure is declared in few words; for as soon I shall tell you that I love without being beloved, I shall tell you all which hath happen∣ed to me, since I was amorous. But hath not absence, replyed Aronces, healed you of a love which hath

been so ill rewarded: as he thus spoke, and that Horatius, was about to tell him that he was not ab∣sent from the person whom he loved, and that he would have named Clelia to him; Clelius entred into Aronces his Chamber, and broke off the conversati∣on of these two Rivals, which knew not themselves to be so, and they could not renew it this day nor a long time after, for as Aronces would not render se∣cret for secret to Horatius, he rather avoided than sought him: Horatius on his side had his spirit so clouded with grief, that though he had a design to confide in Aronces, he could not do it, no occasion presenting it self. In the mean time, as he believ∣ed Aronces to be engaged in another love, he clear∣ly submitted his heart to Clelia.

But to return to the two Letters these Rivals had writ her, and the answers she returned to them; you must know, that three days were fully completed be∣fore Aronces had the happiness to see Clelia, though he sought for her in the resolution he had taken not to oppose his love, and had resolved to tell her that that which he writ was positively true, for Horatius though he resolved to love Clelia, he feared to see her lest she should be displeased when he should tell her the contents of his Letter were true: but at last by a fortunate occasion these two Rivals met toge∣ther after Dinner at Clelius his Gate with one design, to see Clelia; Horatius said nothing particularly to Aronces, because he had with him a friend which he had found at Capua called Stenius, whom he had brought to entertain Sulpitia, that he might discourse with her daughter, so that being entred without dis∣covering their hearts to one another, they seemed as two men which had great friendship together, but they were very much troubled when they approached Clelia, and this fair person seeing them both at once, and seeing in their countenances an equal agitation, confirmed her self in her conceived opinion, that they both had contrived together those Letters they had writ to her, it happened that Horatius nothing Aronces his change of Countenance looked on him, and Aronces doing the same thing looked on Horati∣us, so that Clelia believing they made some intelli∣gent sign to deceive her, determin'd with her self to tell them they were not come to their end: and thus smiling said, you see well said she to them, in the manner with which I receive you both that you have not deceived me, and that your fallacy hath not suc∣ceeded: therefore do not enterprise it once more, if you will not have the shame to be discovered, for if you could not deceive when I did not distrust, judge then if you can do it now you have rendred your selves suspected.

Aronces and Horatius hearing Clelia speak in this manner were strangely surprised, for her words a∣greeing with her writing, they knew by this both had written, and that both their Themes were love, since she used the same terms to them both, and not having power to hinder their sur∣prisals, and their astonishments, they changed colour, looked on one another, and afterwards looked on Clelia, as if they had desired to see her thoughts in her eyes, or what they should an∣swer her: On the other side, Clelia seeing the agita∣tion of their spirits, knew she was deceived, and blushed by a modest thought mingled with confusi∣on; but she did not judge it fit to retract what she had said, and she continued to make war to them, as she had begun, for after Aronces was come from his astonishment; For my particular Madam said he to her, I protest unto you I had no desire to deceive you, and Horatius very well knows I never proposed any deceit to him. I confess what you say, replyed he, but confess likewise I never proposed to you in my life to deceive the fair Clelia, to the end that as I shall make yours, you may make my justification, the path which you tread to justifie your selves will render you more culpable than you imagine, reply∣ed she, therefore if you will believe me, divide the controversie between you, concerning the crime I accuse you. At least amiable Clelia, replyed Aron∣ces, with precipitation tell me, if Horatius his crime is in the nature of mine?

I pray you Madam, added Horatius, yield not to Aronces that he demands of you without doing the like to me, and without telling me if the fallacy of which you accuse him, is like that you accuse me of.

If I should consent to your demands, replyed Cle∣lia prudently, I should give you honour to have de∣ceived me, since I should take the pains to tell you a thing I suppose you know; but in fine, whether your terms be equal or no speak no more of it, for in the humour in which I am, I cannot tolerate such abuses; take then some care to make me forget those you have done me, and never propound it more to me, if you will not have me fear or flee you, as if I had contracted much hatred against you.

I know not, replyed Aronces, what Horatius hath done or said which hath angred you, but for my part Madam I protest unto you, that if I have incurred your displeasure, I am disposed to displease you all my life. Those which have begun a thing, added Horatius, do not so easily leave it off, therefore Ma∣dam, you ought not to think it strange if I make use of Aronces his expressions, and assure you if I am cri∣minal I shall be so till death. I shall suffer the rest of the day, replied Clelia, seeming to believe that in effect you have deceived me, but I declare to you my patience extends no further, and that if to mor∣row you thus speak to me, I shall effectually act as if the deceit had succeeded.

As Clelia had finished these words, one of Horatius friends entred, and I entred a little after with Fenice, with whom I had made my peace since I left Aronces; 'tis true the better to confirm her I was not very sorry to accompany her to Clelias house, to the end she might hear from her mouth, that twas Horatius had made the Song which was the occasion of our quarrel, she accusing me to have done it, and I turned their discourse in such a manner, that I finished to Fenice my justification, but I was much surprised to see A∣ronces and Horatius both melancholy that they which used to be very civil, had some disposition to con∣tradict one another: I assure you Madam, this I tell you surprises you, for after I had told you that Hora∣tius had a design to discover if Aronces was his Rival, to the end to endeavour to vanquish his passion, I am assured I say Madam, that you are astonished to see this exasperation at first principally in Horatius his Spirit, but I may say he is not culpable, because it is so natural not to love a Rival, that what obligation soever he had to Aronces, he would not look upon him as his Rival, without feeling in his heart an ex∣treme agitation. Aronces on his part, not doubt∣ing but that Horatius loved Clelia, had a most sensi∣ble grief, and as reasonable as he was, he would not hinder himself from telling me afterwards, that he

was as much incensed against Horatius, as if after he had made him the confident of his passion, he was become his Rival, he therefore endeavoured to o∣vercome the tumultuous resentments of his heart, and in effect those two Rivals departed from Sulpi∣tia's house, as if they had nothing in their souls, which had begun to change their thoughts; but the most remarkable thing in this adventure was, that Aronces and Horatius both took an equal design, for Horatius resolved to acquaint Aronces with his affe∣ction, and Aronces to precede Horatius, resolved to discover first his passion for Clelia to him, so that those two Rivals instead of flying one another, de∣parted together from Clelia's house as I have told you; and having proposed to one another to walk, they went into a publick Garden where every one had the liberty to go, but they were no sooner there but both being desirous to use one anothers confi∣dence, they hindred themselves sometimes by their own impatience, and as soon as they were in the Garden, Aronces thus said to Horatius, As I infinite∣ly esteem you, I shall be very glad to acquaint you with the most important affairs which have hapned to me in the whole course of my life: I pray, said Horatius, let me first finish my discourse, for there is no reason you should deprive me of that advantage since I first begun to unlock to you the greatest secret in my heart. When I have told you I am amorous of Clelia, interrupted Aronces, then tell me what you please. Ah Aronces cryed Horatius, you have pre∣vented me, and I have nothing now to tell you, but that I fear I shall be conscious of ingratitude towards you, and shall not have enough power over my self as not to be your Rival. What Horatius, said A∣ronces, is it true that you love Clelia? Yes, said he, I love her, and it was to endeavour to discover if you loved her, that I came to your house that day Clelius interrupted us, and when I entred into your Chamber, I had taken a resolution if I could discover you to be my Rival, to vanquish my passion by all means I could poss∣bly use; but truly I cannot tell whether my in∣clination induced me to do it, for since I have known you love Clelia, I have so terrible an agitation in my heart, that I do not know whether I should love Cle∣lia, hate you or hate my self, neither would I in∣fringe our friendship or desert her: Ah Horatius cri∣ed Aronces, that which you would do is not possible; for if we both love Clelia, we must necessarily hate one another: I am so much obliged to you, replied Horatius, that I think not that the Love I have for her, and the friendship I have for you should be in∣compatible: If that which you say is true, replied Aronces, it is for you to yield Clelia to me, for it must consequently follow you love her less than I, since it is true that I believe it not possible to look upon you three days as my Rival without hating you. 'Tis not, said he, that I am less generous than you. but 'tis assuredly that my love is powerful: Ah A∣ronces, replyed Horatius, I oppose my self to that which you say, for you cannot have more Love than I, but it is that owing to me not so much as I owe to you, you are not so obliged to love me. No no, answered Aronces, it is not by that reason, for if I have defended your life you have likewise defended mine. I declare likewise to you that you owe no more to me than I to you, and if you renounce the preten∣sions you have for Clelia, I would count it as a thing you are not obliged to do. Would to the Gods, re∣plyed Horatius, I was in estate to do all which you say, for I should do it by another motive, but it is im∣possible for me to change my affection, and permit you to love her. It is true I am no great obstacle to you, seeing that if I am not deceived, I have not much room in Clelia's spirit: Ah Horatius cryed A∣ronces, you are not only the most accomplished man in the world, but you are a Roman, and I am an un∣happy unknown which cannot hinder you. Not∣withstanding I hope, though I have no subject of hope, expect not likewise I can ever suffer you to love Clelia, though many reasons oppose my Love. If you will (replied Horatius after a little considera∣tion) strive to divert the current of your affection, I will do the same things. If I should consent to your demands, replied Aronces, we should find our selves in some days in the same estate we are now, since I am assured that I cannot cease to love Clelia, so that all I can do is to recal my generosity to hinder me from hating you, or to hate you less than one ordi∣narily hates his Rival, for as I am sincere my thoughts must fall in the compass of my words, let us then love Clelia, pursued he, since our destiny will have it so, and be perswaded that there is nothing but my love to her can make me hate Horatius. I am of opinion, added this illustrious Lover, that if you be not more happy than I, I shall not hate you, and I am likewise perswaded that if I am not more happy than you, you will not hate me, and I may likewise say that Clelia in disposing her heart, shall put in yours and mine, either hatred or friendship according as we shall be either happy or unhappy, and we may draw from hence this advantage, that if Clelia loves you, her affection will consolate you for my hatred, and if I am preferred before you, I shall likewise com∣fort my self for yours. As these two Rivals were thus arguing, fortune conducted me where they were, and having noted some alteration in their countenances, I pressed them so much to tell me what had distracted them, that I became the deposi∣tory of the promises they had made not to oppose one another with Clelia, by any other way than en∣deavouring to make themselves beloved: they like∣wise promised one another not to discover it to Cle∣lius, and to expect to heal themselves when Clelia had chosen one of them, and in effect they lived a little while with the same civility as they had formerly done, but I am assured their thoughts differed in their hearts, and if their generosity had not restrain∣ed them, they would have quarrelled more than once on very slight pretexts, they overswayed their thoughts as I have told you, and lived so well toge∣ther, that if Clelia had not already known their loves, it had been difficult for her to know they were Ri∣vals, but they both took a different resolution to act with Clelius; for after Horatius had discovered his love he continually pressed her to be favourable to him: and Aronces on the contrary resolved with himself to tell Clelia, that he would not desire hope, nor demand any thing but the only favour to be be∣lieved her Lover; though he pretended not to be beloved, but to be put in the number of those whom Clelia called her tender friends, to distinguish them from many others, which had not so advantageous a place in her heart; so that Clelia finding Aronces less importunate than Horatius, avoided him less than his Rival, but she particularly forbad them both ne∣ver to speak of love to her, and though Aronces bet∣ter obeyed her than Horatius, he more perswaded her, and the importunity of the first did so evi∣dence

the discretion of the second, that he was less unhappy.

As things were in this estate, there arrived at Ca∣pua a Roman called Herminius, who merits much e∣stimation, and is endowed with all those qualities which complete a perfect man; but Madam, as I have not the leisure to play the Painter in describing him to you, having many things to acquaint you with, by which you may draw his Character: it shall suffice to tell you that as he was a Roman, and exiled by Tarquin, and one of Horatius his acquaint∣ance, Clelius no sooner knew that he was at Capua, but he presently offered him all that which depended on him, and prayed Aronces to contract a friendship with this illustrious Roman; he brought him like∣wise to Sulpicia and his daughter; which had no great difficulty to resolve with themselves to use him civil∣ly: But Madam, you must know, that Herminius was so touched with Clelia's merit, that though his affe∣ction was confined in Rome, and that it was not or∣dinary for them which have a violent love, to have at the same time a violent friendship: 'tis true he had an earnest desire to acquire some place in the admirable Clelia's heart, and if Horatius had not told us he knew his adventures, and that he had performed heroick actions for his Mistress, we had nigh believ∣ed he was amorous of Clelia, for he praised her with a certain exaggeration which seemed to be peculiar to love, he sought her with an extreme care; he was ravished with joy when he was nigh her, and was much afflicted when he saw her not, and so ardently testified to desire her friendship that Aronces and Ho∣ratius did not more passionately desire her love.

In the mean time, though he endeavoured to di∣vertise her in an hundred several manners, he essayed to divine that which might please her; Horatius nor Aronces had no inquietude, because they knew he was amorous at Rome: Clelia likewise and all those who saw him in Clelias house infinitely esteemed him. In the mean time, this admirable virgin lived in such a manner, that she had no lover but he was obliged to conceal himself under the name of a friend, and to call his love friendship, for otherwise they had been banished from her house, and Aronces and Horatius inrolled themselves under that title, if it was not in certain inevitable occasions, where this last strange∣ly importuned Clelia by his continual complaints; for my self which was amorous of Fenice, I was like∣wise Clelia's friend, and I remember one day among the rest, that Aronces, Herminius, Horatius, Fenice and I were with Clelia, where there was many other persons in conference with Sulpicia, for you must know this day was one of the most agreeable in the world, seeing the manner to which tended our dis∣course, in effect, as Herminius was a gallant of Friend∣ship and commonly entertained Clelia, with some expressions reflecting on tenderness: Aronces told him he could not chuse a person which knew the na∣ture of true tenderness better than Clelia; adding that if he could so far prevail with Clelia as to define it, he should be the happiest friend in the world, her definition of it much exceeding all others; If it is true, replyed she, that I can so perfectly decipher it it is because my heart dictates it to me, and it is not therefore difficult to tell the Notions of it; but from thence I must not draw this conclusion, added this fair person, that all those I entitle my friends are my tender friends, for I have them in several degrees. In Effect, I have half friends if I may so speak, that I call by another name, agreeable acquaintance, and I have some which have made a farther progress, and which I number in the Catalogue of new friends. I have others which I simply call my friends, and I have some that I call my customary friends, I have o∣thers which I name solid friends, and others which I name particular friends: but for those I beautifie with the title of tender friends, they are but few in number, and they are before so firmly seated in my heart, that they can hardly make any farther pro∣gress, and I so distinguish all sorts of friendship that I do not confound them. By your favour amiable Clelia, cryed Herminius, tell me where I am I conjure you: You are yet in new friendship, replyed she smiling, and it will be long before you go farther, at least, replyed he smiling as well as she, I should not be very sorry to know how I might go from New amity to Tender.

I am of opinion, replied Aronces, that few men have ever seen a description of that Country, it is a voyage many men would undertake, replied Hermi∣nius, and who may deserve to have the way, by which they may be conducted to that amiable place, and if the fair Clelia would do me the favour to teach me it, she would bind me in an indissoluble obligation to her: May be you imagine, replied Clelia, that there is but a short walk between new amity and Tender, tis therefore, before I engage you there I will pro∣mise you to give you the Map of that Country, that Aronces believeth hath none. I pray you Madam, said Aronces then to her, if there is one that gives it me as well as Herminius, Horatius and I entreated the same favour. Fenice likewise pressed her to give her the Map of that Country which no person had yet described, we then imagined Clelia would have wrote some agreeable Letter, which would lay open her thoughts, but when we pressed her she told us she had promised it to Herminius, and that she would send it him the next day: and as we knew Clelia writ very gallantly, we had much impatience to see the Letter, we presupposed she would write to Hermi∣nius, and Herminius himself expected it with such an ardent desire, that he writ a Note next morning to Clelia, to summon her of her word, and as it was very short, I believe it contained nigh these words.

Herminius to the fair Clelia.

AS I cannot go from new amity to tender, if you do not perform your word I demand the Map you pro∣mised me, but demanding it of you, I engage my self to depart as soon as I have received it to take a voyage, I i∣magine so agreeable, and that I prefer you before the sight of all the earth, though I should be to receive a Tribute from all Nations in the world.

When Clelia read this note, I have since known she had forgot the promise she made to Herminius, and that having hearkned to all those entreaties we made her, but as a thing which then brought us some delight, she had thought we would not remember it the next day, so that at first the Note of Herminius surprised her, but as at this time a pleasing fancy en∣tertained her thoughts, she imagined it would be delightful to others, and without any further con∣sultation, she took the Tablets and wrote that she had agreeably designed, and she so speedily executed

it, that in half an hour she had compleatly begun, and finished her designment, after which having wrote a Note she sent it to Herminius, with whom Aronces and I then were; but we were astonished when that Herminius after he had seen that Clelia had sent to him, shewed us a Map effectually designed with her hand, which taught us how we might go from new amity to Tender, and which so resembled a true Map, that there was Seas, Rivers, Mountains, a Lake, Cities and Villages, and for to make you see it more clearly, behold a Copy of that ingenious Map, that I carefully kept from that time.

At these words, Celeres gave a Map which follows in the next page, to the Princess of the Leontines, who was agreeably surprised at it: But to the end she might know better all the devices of it, he explica∣ted to her Clelia's intention, which she had done to Herminius in the Note, which accompanied that Map, so that after the Princess of the Leontines had it in her hands, Celeres thus resumed his di∣scourse.

You doubtless Madam, very well remember that Herminius prayed Clelia to instruct him how he might go from new amity to Tender, so that he must first begin by the first City, which is scituated at the bot∣tom of the Map, to go to the others, for to the end Madam, you may be fully acquainted with Clelia's design, you see she hath imagined tenderness may proceed from three different causes, either from a great Esteem, Recognizance or Inclination, which hath obliged her to establish these three Cities of Tender upon three Rivers, which derive their names from them, and to make three different ways to go thither, so as we say, Cumes on the Ionian, and Cumes on the Tyrrhene Sea, she makes us say, Tender on Inclination, Tender on Esteem, and Tender on Recognizance.

In the mean time, as she hath presupposed that that Tenderness which is produced by Inclination, hath not need of any conformation. Clelia as you see Madam, hath not placed any Village along the banks of this River, which runs with such a rapid course, that there can be no lodging along the shore for to go to new Amity to Tender, but for to go to Tender on Esteem it is not so, for Clelia hath inge∣niously put as many Villages, as there are small and great things which contribute to the protection of it by esteem of this Tenderness, of which she intends to speak: In effect you see that from new Amity we pass to a place called great spirit, because it is that which ordinarily begins esteem.

In pursuit, you see those agrecable Villages of pleasing verses, amorous and gallant Letters, which are the ordinary productions of the greatest spirits in the beginning of Friendship, and for to make a greater progress in that way, you see Sincerity, Great Heart, Honesty, Generosity, Respect, Exactness, and Goodness, which are all against Tender. To make it evident that there cannot be true Esteem without Goodness, and that we cannot arrive to Ten∣der on that side if we are not endowed with that pre¦cious quality. After all that Madam, be pleased to direct your eyes to new Amity, to see by what way we may go from thence to Tender on Recogni∣zance, see then I pray you, how we must go from new amity to complaisance, and from thence to that Village named Submission, and which is almost joyn∣ed to another called small cares, see I say, that from thence we must pass by Assiduity to make us under∣stand, that it is not sufficient to have that small obli∣ging care which give so much Recognizance, if we have them not assiduously. From thence you see we must pass to another Village called Empressment, and not to do as those slow people which will not hasten a moment what entreaty soever is made them, and which are incapable to have this impressment which sometimes so strongly obligeth, from thence you see we must pass to great services, and for to note there are few men which render such; This Village is less than the others, from thence we must pass to Sensi∣bility, to make us know that we must be lively touch∣ed with the least afflictions of those we love, after∣wards to arrive to Tender, we must pass by Tender∣ness, for friendship attracts friendship. In pursuit, we must go to obey Divine, there being nothing which more engageth the heart of those whom it o∣beys, then to do it blindly, and for to attain in the end to our desired Port, we must pass to constant friendship, which is without doubt the surest way to arrive to Tender on Recognizance: But Madam, as there are no ways which we may not stray from, Cle∣lia hath made as you may see that if those which are at new Amity go a little more on the right or left hand; they will likewise deviate, for if we part from great spirit, we go to neglect and we see opposite to that Map, that if we continue this deviation, we go to inequality, from thence to lukewarmness, lightness, oblivion, and instead to find our selves at Tender on esteem; we are at the lake of indifferency which you see marked on the way, and which by its calm streams without doubt lively presents the thing of which it bears the name in this place: On the other side, if we go from new amity to take a little more on the left hand, we go to indiscretion, persidiousness, pride, mischief, or obloquy, and instead of finding our selves at Tender on esteem, we are at the Sea of en∣mity, where all the vessels are shipwrackt, and which by the agitation of its waves, fitly agrees with that impetuous passion Clelia would represent: she like∣wise makes us see by these different ways, that we must have many noble qualities to oblige her to have a tender friendship; and that those which have bad ones can only acquire her hatred and indifferency, and she willing to describe to us in this Map that she never had love, nor would ever have any thing but tender∣ness in her heart, makes the River of Inclination cast it self into the Sea which is called the dangerous Sea, because it is dangerous for a woman to exceed the li∣mits of friendship, and she makes in pursuit that be∣yond this Sea is that we call unknown Lands, because in effect we know not what they are, and that we believe no person can go further than Hercules his pillars, so that in this manner she hath moralized friendship by a pastime of her fancy, to make us un∣derstand in a peculiar manner, that she never yet lo∣ved, nor could ever receive any.

Aronces, Herminius, and I found this Map so ex∣quisite, that we perfectly understood it before we departed; Clelia instantly prayed him for whom she had made it not to to shew it but to five or six persons whom she desired should see it, but as it was not but a simple delight of her spirit, she would not have it fall under the censure of those stupid persons, which neither know the beginning of it, nor are capable to understand the new gallantry, but she could not be obeyed, because there was a certain constellation which so reigned, that though we inttnded to shew this Map but to few persons, it made such a noise in

the world, that there was nothing spoke of but this Map of Tender; all the ingenious wits of Capua writ something in praise of this Map either in Verse or Prose, for it was an excellent Subject for an ingeni∣ous Poem, gallant Verses, very agreeable Letters, and very pleasant Discourses; but Clelia, said they, set too high an esteem on it, and there was no per∣son who was not demanded whether he would go to Tender? It furnished some such an agreeable subject of entertainment, that there was nothing more fit to exhilerate our spirits; at first Clelia was angry that there was so much spoken of it, for in fine (said she one day to Herminius) do you think I imagined, this spective fancy had any thing pleasant, but for our Cabala in particular to become publick, and that I made to be seen but by five or six persons which have noble spirits, should be seen by two thousand who scarce have any, and who hardly understand the best things? I know well pursued she, that those which know it began a conversation, which gain me only time to imagine this Map will not find this Gallan∣try Chymerical nor extravagant, but as there are strange men in the world, I extremely fear that they will imagine I seriously considered of it, that I have trifled away many days to find it, and that I believe to have designed an admirable thing, but it is a mo∣mentary folly, that I look upon as a toy, which hath it may be either some gallantry or novelty for those whose Spirits are well tuned to understand it, Clelia had therefore no reason to disquiet her self, Madam, for 'tis certain that all in general commended this new invention, which displayed the way how one might acquire tenderness from honest persons, except from some dull, stupid, malicious, wicked, whose ap∣probations were indifferent to Clelia, whether they praised it or no, yet it commonly drew some delight from the most stupid of those men: for there was a man among the rest who demanded to see this Card with a strange obstinacy, and after he had heard ma∣ny praise it, he dully demanded for what use it serv∣ed, and for what profit was this Map? I know not (replyed he to whom he spoke, after he had diligent∣ly folded it up) if it will serve to every one but I know it will never conduct you to Tender.

The Destiny of this Map, Madam, was likewise so happy, that those which were too stupid to un∣derstand it, used to divertise us in giving us subject to deride their follies, but it seemed particularly to Aronces, because it prejudiced Horatius; for Ma∣dam, you must know that this Lover which as I have told you, troubled Clelia with his continual com∣plaints, speaking to her one day of this Map, and willing to make use of it to speak of his passion, A∣las Madam, said he to her, I am more unhappy than all those which approach you, since 'tis true that I do not see the way which may conduct me where I may go in that ingenious Map you have made: for I cannot touch your Inclination, I have not sufficient Merit to acquire your Esteem, I can never oblige you to any Recognizance, and in fine I know not what way to take, and to say things as I think them, I know not if I may go where some other more happy than I is already arrived, and if that Countrey where you say no person hath yet been; is not known to some of my Rivals; for Madam, from whence proceeds this durity of heart towards me, if you have it not Ten∣der towards some others, you have naturally a gen∣tle spirit, a sensible heart, I very well know you e∣steem me, you are not ignorant of my passion, you likewise know Clelius honours me with his friendship there is no disproportion of quality between us, and if fortune changes at Rome, I shall have riches enough to make a Roman happy: But after all Madam, ad∣ded he, I am perswaded that far from having the power to pass to Tender, I shall never arrive there. Ah would to the Gods some unknown be not already arrived near those unknown Lands to hinder me from going thither, and that your heart is not already too much engaged to love him, of whom—You have done well Horatius, said Clelia interrupting him (her anger planting blushes on her cheeks) to re∣member me that my Father loves you, for if it was not by that consideration, I would treat you in such a manner that it would be in effect easie to know, that you will never arrive to Tender, but the respect I bear him somewhat retaining me, I content my self to tell you two things, the first is, I absolutely forbid you ever to speak to me in particular, and the second is, that that unknown of whom you speak, is not in these unknown Lands, because no person is yet there; nor can never be there, but to the end you do not i∣magine I conceal the truth from you, I declare to you he is at Tender, and that he shall always be there both by esteem and recognizance, for he hath all the me∣rit one can have, he hath saved my life as well as yours, but the difference that is between you and me is this, that I am very acknowledging and you very ungrate∣ful. In the interim, it seems to me not very judici∣ous to appear ungrateful, when one desires to obtain favours from any one.

Horatius would have answered something, but Clelia would not hearken to him, and Aronces being arrived he was constrained to depart from her, and to leave his Rival with her, but hardly was he de∣parted but Aronces gave her account of divers small Commissions she had given him the day before, for she had prayed him to oblige Aricidia to recount to him that which passed in a great Assembly where she was, he was likewise charged to procure flowers to make Garlands for a great Feast, which hath some resemblance with the Feast of the Terminales, so so∣lemnly celebrated at Rome, and he had promised to give her some of Sappho's verses he had translated, for he very well understood the Greek, and she knew it not; so that willing to quit himself of all those things she ordained, he made at first a pleasant Narration of that Assembly where Aricidia had been; for in fine Madam said he to Clelia, I will declare to you the very words of Aricidia, tell Clelia said she to me, af∣ter I had acquainted her with your desires, that the Assembly was not fair because she was not there, and that there never had been one where there was so much melancholy: For all those Ladies which pro∣fess Gallantry, were unhappily this day there for all the jealous Husbands were there, and above half of their Gallants were wanting, in pursuit Aronces pro∣mised Clelia that she should have the next day four bushels of Flowers to make Garlands, and began his Version of Sappho's Verses, whose memory is very fa∣mous through all Greece, which were very amorous as ye may judge by four Verses which I shall tell you, which remains in my memory.

Love is a pleasing Malady, For which my heart no cure can find: Yet if I could get Remedy, I'le rather dye than cure my mind.

But after Aronces had given her account of the Commissions she gave him, and that Clelia smiled at all that Aricidia told him, that she had thanked Aron∣ces for his flowers and that she had praised the Ver∣ses he had given her, he said to her half smiling, at least Madam, permit me to hope that if I continue I shall soon pass from that agreeable Village which is called Little Cares, and that if I cannot go to Ten∣der on esteem, I may one day arrive to Tender on Recognizance, not daring to pretend to go to the third, nor to think there is something above Ten∣der; for those happy unknown Lands I can descry but at a distance, I find my self so comforted by being strongly perswaded that others cannot go thither no more than I, that I shall think my self happy when I shall arrive to Tender.

Clelia remembring the expressions of Horatius, could not conceal her blushes, and Aronces fearing to have incurr'd her indignation demanded pardon of her, not knowing wherefore he demanded it: are my wishes too much to desire Madam, said he to her? if they are so, divine Clelia, I crave your par∣don, but I demand it not having power to do pen∣nance for such a crime; no, no, Aronces, said she obligingly to him, I do not condemn you for desiring my friendship, but on the contrary, am very well pleased you esteem me worthy of it; but to descend a little nigher, I assure you you have as much part as your merit or obligations may claim: for in fine, I owe my self to Clelius and Sulpicia; and likewise to you, and I assure you whilst you do not force me to change my thoughts, and conceal my friendship and my recognizance, I shall be very glad to evidence to you in any occasion that I am not ungrateful.

But Madam, replyed Aronces, what may I do to preserve my self in that glorious estate where you make me believe I am? you must live with me as you did formerly replied she; But Madam, replyed he, you desire an impossibility, for the means to live long without entertaining you of that I dare not tell you but by my sighs and regards? I am resolved, pursued he, to endeavour to obey you to oblige you if I can to desist from such an unjust command, for to testifie unto you Aronces, said she to him, that I have a ten∣der friendship for you, and that I will preserve it if I can by all means possible, I will unlock my heart to you, and rely on your discretion: Ah Madam, said Aronces to her, but I fear this confidence will afflict me and not at all oblige me, I know not if you are equitable, replyed she, but I am assured I shall not be unjust: If you do me justice, answered he, permit my love; and that I tell it you and you will be satis∣fied that I love without hope: if the Gods had dis∣posed your fortune and mine otherwise than they are, replyed she, I ingeniously confess to you, you are the only person on which I could wish my Father had fixt his eyes; but Aronces, things are not on those terms, for not to flatter you, if you are not a Roman you must not pretend to Clelia, and there is great likelihood you are not a Roman, neither that you shall ever know your extraction, content your self then to have acquir'd my friendship without pretend∣ing further; for if my Father should discover that you had other thoughts than those of a Brother, he would complain of you, he would forbid me your sight, and I should without doubt obey him, though I should do it not without some difficulty: But Ma∣dam, replyed Aronces, I will only tell you I love you, and Clelius shall not know it, but better to keep this secret, replied she, you must not tell it neither to me nor my Father; but Aronces pursued she, this secret is no secret as you imagine, for Horatius who knows it may tell it to others, if he hath not alrea∣dy done it, and it may be for some reason he may acquaint Clelius with it: Horatius without doubt hath cause to desire my unhappiness, replyed Aronces, but I have so good an opinion of his Vertue, that I do not suspect he will perform any dishonourable Action, and I believe he will only imploy his merit to eclipse my love: Though it should be so, said Cle∣lia, seeing he knows you love me, I must give him no occasion to believe I suffer your love, and I con∣jure you to confirm your Resentments; if I could do it Madam, replied he, I would, but it is not possible, I and all that I can do is to leave you to take a free e∣lection, love me then or love me not, suffer my love or reject it, nothing shall oblige me to murmure a∣gainst you, but nothing shall oblige me to alter my ardent affection, if you will not permit me to enter∣tain you with it, added he, I will do it, but I am as∣sured my vital faculties will fail when speech is for∣bidden me, and you may, it may be, repent rather to have desired my death, than to hearken to my Love, Aronces propounded these words with such a passionate and respectful air, that Clelia remembring that hazardous attempt he performed to save her life, had not the power rigorously to treat that man she had seen so valiantly kill those which would have cast her into the Sea, and she took a mean and told him without doubt all that decency and modesty di∣ctated to her, in such expressions which favoured not of any severity, which evidenced to Aronces that on∣ly Clelia's Vertue retrieved her, and that he had no subject to complain of her, though he had not ob∣tained the liberty to sigh, but after he had left her, Clelia had some discourse with her Mother, which gave her more boldness to abandon her heart, to the inclination she had for Aronces, for as Sulpicia tenderly loved him, that she had a secret aversion, for Horatius, and that she feared that Clelius had a design to give his Daughter to the last, she confided to Clelia all the secret of her Soul, and made her un∣derstand that she passionately desired she should e∣spouse Aronces, and that she strangely feared Clelius would make her marry Horatius; 'tis not, said she, but that he is an honest man, but in fine, I have some secret reasons which would afflict me if you should e∣spouse him, and I should be very glad if Clelius would turn his eyes to Aronces; I know very well added she, that we know not his birth, but I know we are not strangers to his Vertue, and that if he was not born at Rome, he hath at least the heart of a Roman, yea, of a generous Roman: Moreover, Clelius owes his life to him and we likewise; I have likewise disco∣vered without testifying any thing more of it, that he hath more affection for you than he shews, and I believe I ought to tell you my true thoughts for fear if he had been ignorant of them, you would have blindly conformed yours to those of Clelius; I pretend not pursued Sulpicia, to make you disobey him, but I would have you empty your address to disengage Horatius from the design I perceive he hath for you, that you make no rudeness to Aronces, and that you endeavour handsomly to make known to Clelius that you have some aversion towards Horatius, and that you have none for Aronces, for as I know he loves you, if you do as I direct you he will not constrain you, but above all my Daughter, added this pru∣dent

Mother, had your spirit always no estate to o∣bey him without any reluctancy, if he would have you recede from my directions, for I intend not to employ but address only, to make him consent to my desires: You may judge Madam, that Clelia easily promised to her Mother to perform all her desires, and to give her one secret for another; she acknow∣ledged to her that Aronces and Horatius loved her, but by a sentiment of modesty she could not resolve to tell her the sequel of the discourse which passed between these two Lovers and her. In the mean time being become more bold after that Sulpicia had told her she was more severe to Horatius and more affable to Aronces, to whom in the end she accorded the permission to tell her sometimes the thoughts he had for her, but she always forbad him the hope to be happy, without the consent of Clelius; but Ma∣dam, though Aronces lived with Clelia with much re∣servedness, Horatius nevertheless noted there was a greater familiarity between them than was usual heretofore; so that as Clelius more severely intreat∣ed him, since he mentioned that ingenious Man, it was not for that alone, but that his Rival had made a great progress in her heart, so that consideration much exasperating him, he felt a strange disposition in his Soul, to forget what he owed Aronces and to hate him, his natural generosity opposed the injustice of his love, but it was in the end constrained to yield to it; 'tis true that this particular friend he had which was named Stenius, contributed to incense him, for as he was a man which naturally lov'd these things which were more troublesome than agreeable, he had no sooner perceived that Horatius delighted not to hear that Aronces was favour'd by Clelia, but that he did nothing but tell him whatsoever his imagination fan∣cied, for sometimes he said she cast a favourable eye on him at the Temple, another time that she praised him with exaggeration, or that she had whispered to him, and there was never a day but that he made some new observation of this nature, and that he told not his thoughts to Horatius; so that this Lo∣ver remembring that Aronces and he had mentioned that they should not hate one another, and break their friendship till Clelia had chosen one of them, I now believed it was time to desert his friendship: Nevertheless to be fully satisfied therein, he sought the occasion to find Aronces without going to his house, for in despight of the tumultuous resentments of his soul, he conceived he should act a strange part if he should go to quarrel in his own house with a man who had saved his life; but knowing that Aron∣ces every morning recreated himself in the publick prementioned Garden, he went thither and there found him alone: As they yet retained some civility, Aronces instead of shunning him staid for him at the end of an Ally, for by a resentment of goodness and generosity, since he received some innocent testimo∣nies of Clelia's affection, he commiserated his Rivals condition, and he would have alledged many reasons to him to cure his passion, only to mitigate the grief he foresaw he would have, when he should know Cle∣lia had preferred his affection before his, but whilst he had this generous thought: Horatius whose heart was touched with jealousie, saluted him with a con∣strained civility, and taking the word, No, Aronces, said he to him, is it not time to cease to be your friend, and is not Clelia so favourable to you, as to put a dif∣ference between us? You demand it of me in such a fierce love, replyed Aronces, that I am perswaded if Clelia should much hate me, I should be obliged in honour not to tell it you; but lest you should think that the fear to make you my enemy makes me thus speak, I therefore tell you because I am sincere that I am not happy, but after that I leave it to your choice to be my friend or my enemy: As it is not there to be modest, replied Horatius, I know not whether I should be your friend or your enemy, because I do not positively know how you stand with Clelia; 'tis for you precisely to tell it me, for as I am a Roman I place sincerity above all other Virtues: though I know not my birth, replied Aronces, I know how to seat all Virtues in their right place, therefore as I am perswaded that after that you have told me, it is more just to be fierce than sincere, I say to you that I ever promised to tell you in what terms I should be with Clelia, and that I have not never pretended to know the like from you, you may therefore learn it from her mouth or divine it if you can, and it is for me to tell you once more that I give you your choice either of my hatred or friendship: If I may chuse, replied Horatius, I would chuse the last, because I owe my life to you, but it not being in my power, I gladly accept the other, and not to be altogether in∣grateful (said he with a piquing rallery, putting his hand to his Sword) I must put my self in estate to give you that you preserved me, Aronces seeing him in this posture put himself in the like, and these two fierce Rivals began a Combat which had ended but with their lives, if Clelius and I had not casually arrived at this Garden as they had their Swords in their hands, you may judge Madam what was Clelius's sur∣prise, when he saw two men whom he dearly loved, and whom he thought loved one another, to be in e∣state to kill one another, and he was so troubled at it that he ran as swift as I to separate them, for we both arrived together, fury having so transported them that they knew us not, but when we were two paces from them, Horatius seeing his blood run down from an hurt he had received on his left side became more furious: and casting himself on Aronces, Oh! too happy Rival, said he to him, since thou hast vanquish∣ed Clelia it will not be difficult to vanquish Horatius, Clelius hearing these words stayed himself one mo∣ment to look upon me, so he was so much surprised, but without staying my self or him, I put my self in estate to separate these two valiant enemies, and I did it more voluntatily because the advantage was on Aronces his side, and in effect Clelius being joyned to me, in despight of his astonishment we separated them without much difficulty; for as soon as Aron∣ces saw Clelius, he retired some paces and put himself out of a fighting posture, so that having seized them both, and there being arrived other men which came to us and assisted us, we took from them the power to continue their Combat.

In the mean time, as Horatius was hurt and Aron∣ces was not, Clelius accompanied the first even to his house, and I followed Aronces as my particular friend, but before they departed, Clelius looking upon them both thus said. What fury possest you? and whom ought I to quarrel with? for my self I have nothing to say, replyed Aronces, but that Horatius put his hand first to his Sword, and that I am not the assail∣er: yes, yes, Aronces, (replied Horatius in estrang∣ing himself from him) I am at once both culpable and unhappy, I am it may be more unhappy than you, replyed Aronces, but I am doubtless more in∣nocent.

After that, Clelius not daring to examine the ground of their quarrel before so many Men, be∣cause of those words he heard at his first arrival to them: those two Enemies went with Horatius, as I have told you, and I went with Aronces, who was as much afflicted, as if his enemy had vanquished him, for he imagined what the event of this com∣bat would prove, in effect, though Horatius was hurt and vanquished, he would tell nothing to Clelius of the subject of his quarrel with Aronces, because he had heretofore promised him never to tell him he loved Clelia; but he imagined a part of the truth, and was strongly perswaded in the opinion that Aronces and Horatius were amorous of his Daughter, but the better to know it, he return'd to his house, and taking Clelia aside, without telling Sulpicia of it, because he noted she did not love Horatius, I never believed (said he to her to affright her) that you had been capable to breed a quarrel between my two Friends, and I should never have thought the Daughter of a Roman so little esteemed glory as you do.

By your favour Father (said she to him) tell me what baseness I have committed? and what quarrel I have caused? You are the cause (replied he) that Horatius and Aronces have fought, and that one of them it may be, is in danger of death: What (re∣plied hastily Clelia, who would not retain this first motion) have Aronces and Horatius fought? and is one of their lives in danger? Yes Daughter (said he to her) and you are doubtless the cause of this disaster.

Clelia would then have demanded of her Father, which of the two were hurt? but seeing her Father much disturb'd, and that he attentively lookt upon her, she durst not ask that question; but Clelius knew that she interested her self in the conversation of one of those two enemies, for a crimson tincture shadowed her cheeks, which sufficiently confirmed him, that she was not altogether insensible either for Aronces or Horatius: In the mean time, as he did not certainly know for which of them two she had a tender heart, because he had not named him which was hurt, he resolved subtilly to discover it, and con∣cealing the truth, he told her that it was Aronces which was wounded, and that she had merited blame for what she had done.

Clelia hearing Clelius his words, was so much afflicted, that 'twas easie for her Father to know, that she had rather it had been Horatius, but though she said nothing whereon he might ground this con∣jectural opinion, her eyes betrayed the secret of her heart, and though she had power enough to hinder her from weeping, Clelius saw that it was only her prudence retained her tears; so that seeking no further confirmation, 'tis sufficient Clelia, said he to her, I know all the secret of your heart, and you will be glad when you know 'tis Horatius which is hurt, and not Aronces; for I am very certain you prefer Aronces before Horatius, and that you affect rather an unknown person then a Roman, yet I know not whether you suffer them both, though you love one better then the other: Ah Clelia cry'd he to her, Maids of your quality do not thus live at Rome; but to the end you may elevate your heart, and to add more confusion to your weakness, remember that your blood is of the most illustrious in the World, that the Nobility of your Race is ancienter then Rome, and if the famous City of Alba yet subsisted, that Crown should be your Hereditary right.

But without seeking these marks of greatness from the Tombs of those Kings from whom I am descended, and in the ruines of a State of which I might have been the Master; to the end to scrue up your thoughts to a sublimer pitch of greatness, it suffices you are my Daughter, to find very strange that you should be capable of that weakness I re∣proach you: I know Sir, replied she, that I ought to take all things at your hands, therefore have I suffer∣ed you to accuse me without cause, but after all, as I am obliged to justifie my self, permit me to tell you that I am not culpable.

What? (replied Clelius) do you say that Aronces and Horatius are not amorous of you? and do you think to perswade me that you do not love Aronces better then Horatius? I do not positively know (re∣plied Clelia) if those you say are effectually amorous of me; but if 'twere so I should not be culpable, since I never had any design to countenance their affections, and for the difference you say I put be∣tween Aronces and Horatius, I am not in that very criminal; for in fine, I saw Aronces as soon as I in∣joyed the light: you have commanded me from my infancy to love him as a Brother, and to give him that Title, you have always loved him with a Pater∣nal affection, I have seen him esteemed by all those who knew him before I knew Horatius, 'tis not therefore strange that I have more disposition to have friendship for him then the other, though I have lived with an equal civility towards both of them.

If you have always lived so (replied Clelius) wherefore should they quarrel? wherefore should they sight? wherefore should Horatius be hurt? and wherefore should he say to Aronces in my presence, that he was more unhappy then he? I know not (re∣plied she) the cause of their quarrel, but I very well know I contributed nothing to it, that I have no sub∣ject to complain of Aronces, and that if I had not feared your displeasure, I should have long since ac∣quainted you that I had reason to accuse Horatius, because he persisted to give me marks of his pre∣tended passion, though I had forbid it him; if you had defended it as severely to Aronces as Horatius, replied Clelius, things would have never come to these terms, and if you had not made a secret of that Gallantry, order should have been taken to pre∣vent these things.

In the mean time I have to tell you, that though Aronces hath merit, I forbid you to look on him but as one ungrateful, that hath forgot all that he owes me, and I command you to dispose your self to live better with Horatius, if he escapes; for to tell you clearly my intentions, if he doth not esteem you unworthy of him, after that which hath happened, he is the only Man in the World that I can consent you espouse: He is an accomplished Man, a Ro∣man, and Son to a Friend I very much loved; and in fine, he is Tarquin's Enemy, which is the greatest inducement for me to desire his Alliance; for Aron∣ces I know he is endowed with transcendent quali∣ties, but since he is both unknown and ungrateful, I will not only forbid him to look upon you, but command you never to speak to him till you are Ho∣ratius his Wife.

After these words Clelius lest Clelia, grief seizing all the faculties of her Soul, after he departed from

her Chamber, he went to find Sulpicia, to whom he made strange reproaches, accusing her not to have taken sufficient care in the tuition of her Daughter, since she suffered her to put some distinction between Aronces and Horatius; for after all, said he to her, if she must put any between them, it must be for the disadvantage of Aronces, and not Horatius: Sulpicia hearkned to her Husband's words with an extreme despight, because they confirmed her in the belief that his friendship towards him principally pro∣ceeded from his former affection to his Mother, so boldly taking his Daughters part, whose innocency she knew, she took Aronces; in effect said she to Clelius, if Aronces is not a Roman born he hath a Ro∣man heart, and if Clelia had not lived well with him, she should have disobeyed the command that you and I injoyn'd her; if she had suffered him as her Brother, replied Clelius, I should have had nothing to reproach her, but she hath endured him as a Lover, and hath without doubt treated Horatius as an ene∣my; by your favour (sharply replied Sulpicia) blame not me indirectly by blaming Clelia, and be perswa∣ded that she is altogether innocent, that she loves glory and virtue, that she hath not derogated from her birth, but you are so opposite to the pretensions of Aronces, because you do not know his Father, and favour those of Horatius, because his Mother hath been of your acquaintance.

At these words Clelius feeling himself touched to the quick at this reproach of Sulpicia (because in effect there was some truth in it) felt in his heart such a disposition to anger, that for fear he should not overpower himself, he departed not only from her chamber, but out of the house, and went to A∣ronces for whom he had yet a tender affection, but against whom likewise he was much angred, though he was resolved to speak to him rather like an angred Father than an enemy, for Aronces received him with his usual respect, but with such a profound sadness imprinted on his Face, that it easily appeared that his Soul was much disquieted; as soon as he was entred, Aronces thus says to him with as much submission as if he had been his Father, I doubt not but you believe you have cause to complain of me, for that which hath passed between Horatius and I, but I protest unto you, he hath been the Assailer, if he had not forced me to act what I have done, the respect I bear you would have obliged me to suffer any affronts from him.

I am willing to believe, Aronces (replied Clelius) that Horatius hath committed most wrong in that which reflecteth on your quarrel, and I am very much deceived if I do not make you confess, that you have been more culpable towards me, then he can be towards you; for in sine, you know Aronces what I have done for you, you know I found you in the Sea, that I exposed my life to save yours, and afterwards far from treating you as a slave the gods had given me, I educated you as my Son, and that there might be nothing deficient on my part to your advantage, I desired my Wife to love you as if she had been your Mother, and commanded my Daughter to love you as if she had been your Sister; but O horrible and unparallel'd ingratitude! you use the familiarity I have given you in my house to cloak your affection to Clelia, and you pretend to enforce her from me, that she might not obey my commands, I therefore declare to you by a tender resentment which yet resides in my heart, and to teach you to acknowlege those obligations you have to me by a grateful recognition to you for sa∣ving my life, I say, that if you will ingeniously con∣fess all that which is passed between Horatius and you, and swear to me never to pretend any thing to Clelia, nor once to speak to her till she shall be espou∣sed to Horatius, I will preserve my friendship to∣ward you, and I will bury in oblivions grave the cause you have given me to complain of you.

Would I had the power (said Aronces to him) to shew you all that which hath passed in my heart, for if it were possible for me to do it, you would easily seal my justification, and my infelicity would (it may be) receive a great diminution, but seeing you can∣not divine my thoughts, permit me to tell them you, and do me the favour to believe that I will con∣ceal nothing from you, I will then ingeniously con∣fess to you, that I have received continually from you all things I could desire, and more then I could ever expect, and I have been, and I am yet linkt to you in such a chain of gratitude, that nothing but death shall be able to untie, and if I could but once reproach my self to have committed any thing vo∣luntarily which might merit your indignation, I should esteem my self the most ingrateful and persi∣dious of all Men; but generous Clelius, that love which hath made a deep impression in my Soul, and which irritates you against me is not of this Nature: What have I not done to resist and banish this passion from my heart, and for being just to you, Clelia hath reason to tax me with injustice, for I have been sometimes so transported beyond my self, that I have wisht with a strange desire, neither to admire love or esteem her; but my wishes were still in vain, for I observe, love, and admire her, more than my tongue (too weak an instrument to blazon forth her perfections) is able to express; but as I live with∣out any hope to be happy, demanding no recipro∣cal affection, I cannot see how I should be conscious of any injustice towards you, and though my per∣son should be your captive, yet I must tell you that the respect I bear you, only hinders me from desiring to cease to be miserable, and I must therefore inge∣niously confess to you, that I am not capable to see Clelia in Horatius his power without contributing to my own Tragedy: neither give her to me pursued this afflicted Lover, and I consent thereto; neither give her to Horatius if you will not give death to a Man whose Life you have saved.

I very well know my words do not fall in the com∣pass of Reason, and that you have some subject to impute injustice to me, because I seem to impose Laws on him from whom I ought to receive them, I would not have unript my thoughts to you in this occasion, if I had not imagined to oblige you to compassionate my feebleness, I might have told you if I would, that as unknown as I am, there is some∣thing inshrined in my heart, which may merit the particular esteem of Clelius; but I declare to you without murmuring against you, that if you never give her me, I shall without doubt complain of for∣tune, but never of Clelius: and if Horatius shall not be more happy than I, I shall not believe my self to be the most unfortunate of all Men.

That which you say (replied Clelius) is so dissonant from Reason, that I cannot give you any positive Answer, and all that which I may or ought to tell you is, that my Daughter is under my power; that the Romans are not only Masters of their Childrens

fortunes, but of their lives; and as Clelia's Father I shall bestow her on whom I please, and I shall never give her you, but according to all likelihood shall be∣stow her on Horatius, and I expresly forbid you ei∣ther to see her or speak to her.

After that Clelius departed from Aronces, and left him in such a grand despair, that I think there was never any Lover whose afflictions equalled his; at least, I know that when he told me his discourse with Clelius, so many marks of despair were seated in his eyes, that I feared he was not able to support such a cruel adventure, and that his grief would act his lives Epilogue: who ever saw (said he to me) any misfortune equal to mine? for in fine, I have not the consolation to accuse any one of those miseries which have drowned me in a Sea of desperation; for I know Horatius ought not to yield Clelia to me, and that Clelius ought not to pre∣judice Horatius by giving her to me, whose birth he knows, and I suffer an affliction so much the greater, because I do not find it altogether unjust; and I am so miserable, that even the affability of Clelia to∣wards me gives a continual augmentation to my de∣spair, for if I was not beloved of Clelia, and had no hopes of gaining her affection, it seems to me, I should not so much hate my Rival, nor so much murmure against Clelius, and despair it may be would then somewhat mitigate my passion; but alas Cele∣res, I am not in this estate, for on Clelius and Hora∣tius his parts I see an absolute impossibility to ac∣complish my designs, and on Clelia's I see such a seem∣ing correspondency of affection which renders me more miserable, but not enough to make me happy; in effect, she would it may be without any repug∣nance obey Clelius, if he should command her to love me, but she doth not so much affect me as to dis∣obey him, if he commands her to espouse Horatius; and the sweetness she expresses to me, doth increase my misfortunes; I should not therefore be the less unhappy by the cruelty of Clelia (added he) and all that I can desire for my consolation is, that my Ri∣val should always be hated by her, and that she will always affect me with a correspondent affection: thus you see, Madam, the affliction of Aronces in this troublesome conjuncture; nevertheless as he durst not go to Clelius his house, after that he had told him, and that he desired to know Clelius his thoughts in this occasion, he prayed me to go to Sul∣picia's house, but as I was known for Aronces peculi∣ar Friend, I found that Clelius had given order to all his Servants to tell me that Sulpicia and Clelia were not there, so that the unhappy Aronces found him∣self in an unequal'd despair; Clelia on her side was not happy, for she sufficiently loved Aronces, sensi∣bly to fee•• the privation of his sight, and she had a great aversion towards Horatius, to imagine she could never espouse him without an extreme dis∣pleasure: on the other side Sulpicia who had a jea∣lous thought in her Soul; who hated Horatius, and tenderly loved Aronces, was not without Inquietude: for she would not directly oppose her Husband, neither would she suffer that he should pretend to give his Daughter to the Son of a Woman, which had heretofore given her such a cruel jealousie; for Horatius, he was more unhappy, for besides as he was hurt, he knew that he was not affected by Clelia; 'tis true, he had the consolation to know he was by Clelius, and to think this Fa∣ther would employ all his Authority in his favour, if he escaped the hurt he had received, which was less dangerous then Clelius had told his Daughter.

In the mean time, as Love is ingenious, it made A∣ronces find the invention to write to Clelia, but he was astonisht when she defended him by a Letter to continue his writing to her, this rigorous command was without doubt conceiv'd in the most sweet ex∣pressions imaginable, but for all that 'twas a rigo∣rous command, and rude, and it was done in such a manner, that Aronces very well knew Clelia would have him obey it, and he was during sometime de∣priv'd of all consolation, till that Herminius who more lov'd Aronces then Horatius though he was a Roman, somewhat asswaged his grief, for as the true ground of the quarrel between Aronces and Horatius was now divulg'd, and the prohibition he had made his Daughter never to see him. Hermi∣nius made a Complement to that unhappy Lover, and pitied his condition as a Man which had a tender Soul, who knew the most sensibility of Love, who deplor'd all those which were miserable, and who used all means he could possible to comfort them, and he so much endeavoured to comfort Aronces, that his endeavours proved effectual; for as he said he had been at Sulpicia's, and that he had entertain'd a long time her admirable Daughter, he extremely pressed him to tell him if she did not mention him in her discourse; if I should tell you she spoke to me of you, replied Herminius, I should tell you a lie, but if I tell she carefully avoided to speak of you, I shall tell you a thing which is more advantagious for you then you imagine: For in fine, I so clearly know that, that hindred her from speaking of you, was, that she felt she could not do it without ex∣pressing more inclination towards you then Horatius, that I cannot doubt of it: for I have seen her blush at her own thoughts, I have seen her seem not to take notice what was spoken of you, yet I have seen her attentively hearken to it, and I have seen some marks of despight, when Stenius, who as you know is Horatius his Friend, hath said something to her to his advantage. Ah, ah Herminius, cryed A∣ronces, you would alleviate my miseries, and seek to diminish that malady which cannot be healed, I pro∣test unto you, replied Herminius, that I speak to you with all the sincerity of a Roman: after that Aron∣ces relying on the probity of Herminius, pray'd him to repair oftner to Sulpicia's house, and faithfully to relate to him all that he heard Clelia say, reflecting on Horatius or himself, but he durst not entreat him to say any thing to her on his part; for knowing the modesty of her humour and prudence, he judged that she would never discover the secret of her heart to a third person, and in effect, Herminius did all that Aronces desired, and for some days he was the most agreeable Spy in the World for his Friend, for he always reported to him some favourable obser∣vation he had made to his advantage; for my part I had likewise pray'd Fenice to report to me all that she heard Clelia speak of concerning Aronces and Horatius, that she then more frequently visited; so that either by Herminius or me, Aronces heard every day something which pleased him; he was there∣fore much troubled to know that Stenius saw her more often then ordinary: but after all he had some consolation in that he learnt by us that his Ri∣val was not in estate to entertain her when he was forbid her presence.

In the mean time Clelius daily visited Horatius, and Aronces doubtless had no consolation, but that Her∣minius and I gave him: But Madam, we were not always in power to give it him as accustomed, for neither Herminius nor I had any thing one day fa∣vourably to tell him, so that there are none more suspicious then a Lover, and an unhappy Lover, he no sooner saw us but he knew we had doleful things to tell him. In effect, as he demanded of me if Fe∣nice had not seen Clelia, I told him coldly no; and as he demanded of Herminius if he knew nothing of Clelia, he answered the same thing, so that this e∣quality of Answer being suspected by him, he lookt upon us with eyes, which demanded us so many things, that once without having a design, told him more then he would know, for he saw grief in mine, and he noted that Herminius turned his head aside not to encounter his, and not having power to re∣main long in this incertainty; I pray said he to us, tell me speedily that you will not tell me, for if you do it not, I shall go to Clelia's house in despight of the defence of Clelius, and I will perform so many things contrary to reason, that you will repent not to have made known to me my misfortune: at first we would have concealed the truth, but there was not the means, and we were constrained to tell him that which we knew; for my particular I told him that Fenice having been at Clelia's house, was very much surprised to see her so reserv'd to her, and to hear her speak of him in a manner which made her judge that she thought to have cause to complain of him: for Herminius, he told him something which was more displeasing; for he not only informed him that Clelia had spoken in such a manner, that it evi∣dently appeared her spirit was irritated; and more∣over, that she had in an obliging manner inquir'd of Horatius's health, at the same time that Stenius came to her: So that Aronces having these two things, had almost sensible Dolour, and therefore not being able to live in such a cruel uncertainty, he was absolutely resolved to speak to Clelia, to know from her self what oblig'd her to vary in her thoughts concerning him. That which pusled me in this business was, that I did not know why Clelia gave such cold entertainment to Fenice, for to think it was because I lov'd Aronces, and that I likewise was lov'd by him, it were equally to wrong both the wit and generosity of Clelia, so that I knew not what to think of it. But in fine, Madam, after Aronces had conjectur'd an hundred ways to speak to this admirable person, he did so well that he met with one, it is true that he had it by the contribution of fortune, for there being a Person of Quality dead at Capua, and the custom requiring that his Wife should be visited, Aronces had the time so exactly watcht when Sulpicia should make her visit, thereby to order his own, and that he might do what he had before intended; and he so well fitted all things that he came to the door of this mourning house, at the same time that Sulpicia and her Daughter ar∣rived there: so that I being with him, and that I knowing his design, I led Sulpicia, which received us very civilly, and Aronces presented his hand to Cle∣lia, who as soon as she saw him blusht, and received him not with such a sweetness as her Mother, or if she had any it was very cold, and which had nothing of that obliging disposition she was wont to have for him; In the mean while there arriv'd to facili∣tate to Aronces design, that as we traversed a Court which belongeth to the house where we were, and that we were under a magnificent Portal which is at the lower end of the stairs, there happened I say, that Sulpicia met with a Kinswoman of the deceased, which was going out when we entred in, and who following the custom of some Women, which al∣ways tells more then they are ask'd, related unto her not only the sickness of her Kinsman, but besides all the distempers which had heated his blood, and had caused the disease which ended his life: In fine, continuing her discourse, and relating what reme∣dies had been given him, how he had disposed of his means, and generally what had befallen this Man, since ten or twelve years to his last breath: so that our design not permitting us to leave these Ladies with whom we were, I gave attention to this long Narration, during which time, Aronces entertain'd Clelia: At first she would have approached Sulpicia, but as she endeavoured to do it, Aronces opposed himself with such a comely and civil manner, that she could not manifest all the rigour she intended for him; I am nevertheless perswaded, she was not an∣gry to be constrained to speak to Aronces, who no sooner saw Sulpicia ingaged to hear the Ladies di∣scourse, which she had met, said by your favour charming Clelia, I pray tell me from whence does it proceed, that you not only forbid me to write to you, but you speak of me as if I had offended you, and that I were not as innocent as miserable, though I am the unhappiest of all Men: I thought (replied she blushing) that you were in so good a correspon∣dency with Fenice, that you did not care if you had none with Clelia.

What Madam, (replied he greatly astonished) do you believe that Fenice hath a part in my affections, Fenice whom I scarcely ever see, Fenice which is fer∣vently loved by the dearest of my Friends, and Fe∣nice in fine, which is not considerable to me, but be∣cause I know by her partly what you do or say, since I have no more the liberty to be my self a wit∣ness of your actions, and the admirer of all your words. Can you believe, Madam, that a heart which adores you can be able to adore another; and is it not sufficient that Clelius is offended with me, that it hath debarred me to see you, and that you have for∣bid me to write to you, and that I fear my Rival shall be happier then I, without your accusing me with an injustice which never had its equal: I know not, Aronces (said she) whether you love Fenice or not, but I know you have received Letters from her, and that you have been enough conversant to have some familiarity with her, yet said she (not gi∣ving him leisure to interrupt her) that brings no alteration to your fortune, for since my Father hath forbidden me to let you love me, and that he hath commanded me to receive the affection of Horatius, there will be no other change in the thing, but that I shall obey him with less repugnance then I should have done.

What Madam, (said Aronces, with a mortal an∣guish in his eyes) will you obey Clelius? will you no more suffer my affection? and will you enter∣tain my Rival? Ah! if that be so, you have nothing to do, but to prepare your self to rejoyce for my death: for in the thoughts in which you are, it will without doubt cause you joy; but because I may at least have the comfort to die justified, accuse me exactly of my supposed crime, tell me when Fenice was loved by me, when we were familiar together,

and if I destroy not all these impostures, esteem me as the basest of all Men, take from me wholly all hopes, that is to say, take away my life; speak then Di∣vine Clelia, continued he, but speak without turn∣ing away your fair eyes, that they may see in mine all the innocence of my heart, and the fervour of my Love.

Clelia hearing Aronces speak in this manner, began to doubt of what had been told her concerning him, so that looking upon him with a more gracious eye then before, by your favour Aronces, said she to him, justifie not your self, for I had rather be in wrath then in sorrow, wherefore because 'tis upon necessity that I must lose you, leave me in the belief that 'tis I which have lost you: No, no, Madam, replied he, I will not indure this injustice, and I must be abso∣lutely justified.

As Aronces ended these words, and that he was in hope to appease Clelia, Fenice followed by two of her Friends, came down stairs at the foot of which we were, insomuch that Aronces, who did not think that she had been there, and who knew that Clelia had newly accused him to have born her some affe∣ction, was so surprised by the sight of her, that it was not in his power to conceal those marks which demonstrated the agitation of his spirit.

Nevertheless, as he intended to clear Clelia of her doubt, he saluted Fenice with more reservedness then ordinarily, insomuch that this person not knowing what was the reason of the diminution of his wonted civility, and calling to mind the cold en∣tertainment that Clelia gave her the last time she saw her, she could not hinder her self from making some reproaches for it: Ah Aronces! (said she to him) 'tis too much to be at odds both with you and Clelia; 'tis not added Fenice, but that her beauty deserves your regards, but she ought not to be possessor of all your civilities, Aronces and Clelia were so surprised by what Fenice had said, and she passed by so suddenly, that they had not the leisure to answer her, yet they both began to give her a reply, but as I have said already, Fenice gave them not the leisure to end it; nay, they were not able to say any thing to each other, and I could not go after Fenice, who had not seen me, because Sulpicia ended her discourse which she had with that Lady, which had stayed her, by this means, Aronces thinking to clear himself, found himself in a new labyrinth, for the alteration of his countenance, and what Fenice had told him, renewed the suspicions in Clelia's heart, insomuch that although he spake to her as he went up the stairs, she gave him no Answer, and she hath even acknowledged that she hardly understood him, you may then judge Madam, that when they were in this mourning Chamber, it was not easie for him to en∣tertain her, and when Sulpicia departed, Clelia car∣ried her self so dexterously, that she engaged me whether I would or not to lead her; it is true that Aronces was not prejudiced by it, for he found in Sul∣picia whom he accompanied, so much kindness, that it did in some measure comfort him, yet she never∣theless told him but very displeasing things, for she confirmed him in the belief which he had, that Clelius was very angry with him, and that he would not be easily reconciled: it is true, that she testifi∣ed to him a great deal of sorrow for it, which did infinitely oblige him.

But as she went about to joyn Clelia's thoughts with hers, and to make him know, that she also was very sorry for it: Ah Madam, said he to her, the equity of Clelia is far inferiour to yours, and I am far from having any subject by which I might equalize her goodness with yours.

Certainly you take the modesty of my Daughter (replied Sulpicia) as a Token of indifferency: but I assure you, she gives your virtue its deserved praise, and that if my perswasions could be ever able to cause an alteration in Clelius his thoughts, you should see what testimonies she would give of the esteem she hath of you: Aronces durst not tell her what Clelia had told him, for fear of angring that fair per∣son to whom I spoke, but as soon as I desired to know of her for what reason she would put Aronces to despair, by treating him so cruelly: Aronces (re∣plied she) it may be, is not so innocent as you think him to be, and you may chance to be a better Friend then you think for, in speaking to his advantage; Clelia told me that, in such obscure terms, that as I knew not, that she thought Aronces loved Fenice, I was far from understanding what she meant, and I likewise answered so ambiguously, and our conversa∣tion was so mysterious, that we parted without un∣derstanding one another; so that when Aronces and I were alone together, we knew not what to ima∣gine, for he was so astonisht that Clelia should ac∣cuse him of loving Fenice; and I was so affrighted at it when he told it me, that I knew not what to think of it, and the grief which Aronces had for it was so great that it could not be exceeded: for my part I knew well after that which he had told me, that it may be I was a better Friend then I thought, for be∣lieving that Aronces was amourous of Fenice, whom I loved, she was perswaded that I did more then I ought in speaking in his behalf.

In the mean time, we in vain searcht from whence should proceed Clelia's jealousie, the cause of which was very far off, for you must remember, that when I told you, that when Horatius endeavoured the first time to know whether Aronces was in love with Clelia or no, he found him with a Letter in his hand, which Fenice had wrote me, of which Horatius knew not the writing.

Now Madam, it happened that during the time that he had kept his Chamber for the hurt which he had received—Stenius fortunately shewed him a Song which was written by Fenice, which he saw sometimes, so that Horatius remembring it to be the same hand as that which he had seen in his Rivals hands, he began to imagine that Aronces loved in two places, and that I was his Confident only but by Fenice, so that relating this whole Adventure to Ste∣nius, he began to exaggerate the unjustice of Clelia, to prefer a Man to him which only gave her a divi∣ded heart.

So that Stenius effectively believing that Aronces had some intelligence with Fenice, and thinking to tender Horatius a good office, he went without in∣forming him of it to Clelia's house, and he so con∣trived his discourse, that he gave this fair person to understand, that I was Aronces confident near Fenice, though I went for her Lover, or if that was not that Aronces betrayed me, he even assured her, that he had seen a Letter from Fenice to Aronces, and he did it without making any scruple of the likelyhood of this lie, because Horatius had effectually told him that he had seen one in Aronces hands, it was not a considerable falshood to change one circumstance of this thing, so Stenius did what he intended, since he

had put jealousie in Clelia's heart, which procured A∣ronces's miseries, for it was not possible to imagine what was the cause of Clelia's illegal proceeding, so that he found himself most wretched, principally because Clelius had forbid him his house, that Horati∣us did mend daily, that Clelius saw him assiduously, and that it was divulged through the whole Town, that he had promised him Clelia; Aronces knew well in himself, that being as he was so much obliged to Clelius, he ought not to contradict his design in di∣sposing of his Daughter, and that equity permitted him not to seek means to destroy Horatius, since he lookt on him as a Man which he would have espou∣sed to Clelia, so that love and equity counselling diffe∣rent things, he found himself greatly perplext, but in the midst of so many misfortunes, he resented Clelia's jealousie more then all things, so that the ex∣cess of his passion fram'd in his Cogitations the most elegant propositions in the World, though he was so equitable; for although he knew that I was suffi∣ciently in love with Fenice, he would shew her some publick incivility, because Clelia knowing of it, should no more believe he lov'd her, he even would have me not see her during some days, and he would in fine, satisfie Clelia, not considering whether the re∣medies which he would employ were lawful or not: But at last, after we had well considered what might be done for him; we resolved that he should desire Herminius to speak to Clelia, and to desire her from him, to tell him what caused his anger, and I per∣swaded him also to imploy Aricidia, to perswade Clelius that he should not be so obstinate as to give his Daughter but to a Roman, for I was strongly per∣swaded, that if Clelius gave her not to Horatius, he would willingly bestow her on Aronces, though he was unknown; and in effect Madam, we went to Herminius, and Aricidia who promised us to perform our desires. But as diligence in this occasion was requisite, because Horatius was to go abroad (as it was reported within two or three days) Aricidia went the very next morning to see Clelius, and Her∣minius promised to go to see Clelia in the Afternoon. But to begin by the conversion of Aricidia, who had so much affection for Aronces, I shall tell you that this officious Woman was no sooner with Clelius, but entring in discourse, I know not said she to him, whether you will take in good part what I shall tell you, but I am sure I have no interest in it, but that of your Families repose, Aricidia is so accustomed, replied Clelius, to be a Promoter of the contentment of her Friends, that I am perswaded she can never have but good intentions: Since it is so, replied she, do me the favour to answer me, and that sin∣cerely; I promise it you, answered Clelius, and I pro∣mise it fairly, for I can never do no otherwise: Tell me then I conjure you, replied she, is it not true, that Aronces is one of the most accomplisht Men in the World, that he is most couragious, most witty, most virtuous, and the most agreeable, and that he is, in fine, a Man whom you esteem above all the rest in the World, and which hath been most belov'd of you, I acknowledge it, answered Clelius, but since it is so, replied she, why have you relinquisht your love, and what hath he done to merit your hatred: He hath had the impudence to love my Daughter, replied Clelius, he hath been so ingrateful as to for∣get he owes me his life, and that 'tis I which have made him what he is, but I shall make him know, that the Romans know well how to punish the un∣gratefuls. Go not so fast Clelius, said she to him, and take heed that the Romans in thinking to pu∣nish the ungratefuls, expose not themselves to in∣gratitude: 'tis true, you have sav'd Aronces's life, but he was but a Child, so that it may be said, that he did not see what you did for him, but you beheld with your own eyes what he did for you, when he sought to save your life, as you have your self told me, so you must not count what he owes you, with∣out counting also what you owe him, and you must precisely tell me, why you will match Clelia with Ho∣ratius, who never sav'd your life, who though he hath a great deal of worth, yet is far short of A∣ronces, and wherefore you refuse her to the latter; I could tell you, replied Clelius in two words, that 'tis sufficient that Aronces not knowing his birth, to make me take it very ill, that he durst have an in∣tention to my Daughter, but as without doubt you will tell me that he hath so noble a mind, that 'tis not possible to doubt of his quality; I have another reason to tell you, which admits of no answer; for, in fine, Horatius is a Roman, and by all likelyhood Aronces is not; Ah Clelius, replied she smiling, this is not so strong a reason as that which you alledge not, and for my part I cannot endure the humour of the Romans which set themselves so boldly above all the rest of the World, for when all is done, Vir∣tue belongs to all Countries, and of what place of the World soever Aronces is of, I esteem him as much as a Roman; believe me Clelius, added she smi∣ling again, be not more curious then your Fathers were, who for to get Wives, ravisht those of their Neighbours; and be not more then one of your Kings who married a Corinthian Slave, though he was so great a Prince, not considering she was not of Rome, and for to shew that 'tis not sufficient to be a Roman, to have all things to discover to be lov'd by you, is not Tarquin a Roman, and the Son of Ro∣man Parents, yet I have heard you say, he hath not the heart of a true Roman, that he is the Tyrant, and not the King of Rome, that he is an ambitions, a cruel, and a Parricide, that his Wife is an inhumane Woman, which hath passed over her Father's body, and that she is the wicked'st person of her Sex; after which, durst you maintain that 'tis good rea∣son to alledge unto me that Aronces is not a Roman, and that Horatius is of Rome, for as there are Ro∣mans without Virtue; I maintain there may be vir∣tuous persons, which are not Romans, therefore you must not say, you ought to prefer Horatius to the prejudice of Aronces, since the latter hath more worth then the other, and that you are more obli∣ged to him, and that he is more esteemed by Clelia: if you had received your birth at Rome (replied Cle∣lius) you should see what 'tis to be born a Roman, and you should know what is that invincible band, and that love to our Countrey which bindeth all its Citi∣zens to each other, as for Tarquin I look upon him as a Monster which hath usurped the Sove∣raign Authority, which belonged not to him, and I neither consider him as a lawful King, nor as a Roman.

But since Tarquin's Vices (replied Arcidia) make him not to be considered by you as a Roman, let the same reason induce you to esteem Aronces by reason of his Virtues, as if he were one: No, no, Aricidia (replied Clelius) you shall not perswade me, since I am resolved Horatius shall be the possessor of my Daughter, and that Aronces never shall, and in effect

since he is not a Roman, and that he is ungrateful, I must not look upon him as a man capable to wed all my interests, for in fine Aricidia, I will have a Son∣in Law, whose love for his Countrey and hatred a∣gainst the Tyrant of Rome, shall be in the same degree as mine, it is therefore that I find in Horatius the ac∣complishment of all my desires.

In the mean time, as I foresee it will be difficult for Aronces to see Horatius crowned with the title of hap∣piness, whilst this passion predominates in him, I shall therefore oblige him before I resolve on this marriage to return to the Carthaginian Prince, and command him not to return hither till he hath eradi∣cated this passion from his heart.

Have you then positively promised Clelia to Hora∣tius (replyed Aricidia?) No, said Clelius, because I would have him desire her, but have only fed him with hopes, and I am resolved so soon as he hath left his Chamber, to salute him with this agreeable news: but do you know, (answered Aricidia) that it will be as pleasing to Clelia as Horatius? I believe it, replyed he, and presuppose that her will is regu∣lated by mine. In truth (replyed Aricidia) I did not believe you so disesteemed him, and that no Chymera of a Roman could come in competition with the tran∣scendent qualities of Aronces: for in fine, if Rome only were illuminated by the Sun, it might plead by that priviledge to have more vertuous persons than any other City: but as you know the Sun spreads his beams through the whole Universe, and there are vertuous men in all parts of the world, I have heard say, continued she, that in all Greece there were but seven men which above all the rest were called wise, yet the Greeks think they are well furnished with wisdom, and you pretend that all Romans are wise; believe me Clelius, if you would diligently peruse the ancient Records of Rome, you should find it ever since its being infected, with vices, and if there be a∣ny difference between Romans and others, it is that their Vertue is more rude and savage, and I am fully perswaded that since you will not be perswaded by me, that the over-ruling quality of the Romans is obstinacy, for if that were not, you would yield to my reasons, to your prayers and to your self, for I am assured that during what I have said of Aronces, your heart hath consirmed that I had reason, and that you were to blame.

Clelius hearing Aricidia speak, and knowing her franchise, would no longer dispute against her, and being resolved to refuse her, he would do it with civility, wherefore he gave her thanks for the inte∣rest she took in his Family, but he still spoke to her so fiercely of Aronces, that she knew there was no∣thing to hope for, and knowing it would be to no purpose to delude him, she gave him no hopes; on the other side, Herminius found Clelius's spirit so ex∣asperated, that she would not so much as let him speak to her of Aronces, and she took it so ill that she should employ others to speak to her still of one thing, for though he had been well with her, this very occasion had been sufficient to cause a disgrace from her, for the more she esteemed Herminius, she so much the more took it ill that he should justifie Aronces, so that this miserable Lover was in unspeak∣able despair, I had for my part some vexation, for as Ferice hath humours and is a little unjust, she tax∣ed me of Clelia's coldness, and of Aronces want of civility which they had shewed her when she saw them together, and she pretended that in considera∣tion of her I should fall out with them, so that we had a great contestation, which did almost cure me of my amorous disposition: But to return to Aronces who was far more miserable than before, because Clelius who being desirous that he should retire him∣self from Capua before Horatius should marry Clelia, went to tell it him, and in effect told him so roughly, that he could not give him an answer, for as he was redevable to him for all things, and that he still con∣sidered him as his Father, he durst not be violent a∣gainst him, and withal knowing very well that it would have been to no purpose, he therefore endea∣voured by all the tenderest words he could express, to compassionate his heart, and when he saw that he could not work upon him, he conjured him to per∣mit him to have the liberty to dwell with him, and if he would not, at least to suffer him to take his leave of Clelia: but whatsoever he could say he could not obtain any thing of what he demanded, so that A∣ronces being transported with anguish, and not able to contain it in his soul; Ah pitiless Clelius, cryed he, wherefore did you save me my life, or why at present do you kill me; 'Tis no matter, said Clelius, you must depart, and it must be without a second quar∣rel with Horatius, as also in not seeing my Daughter; Ah Clelius, replied Aronces hastily, I shall not satisfie you in any thing, except I have a command from Cle∣lia to depart without assaulting Horatius, 'tis not but that I know the respect which I owe you, but my rea∣son is weaker than my love, and if she which causes it does not command me to let my Rival be happy, I know not whether I shall not disobey you, since you must be commanded by Clelia to depart, replied Cle∣lius fiercely, going away she shall command it you, but it shall only be but by a Letter, for I declare unto you that that she shall not go out of her Chamber till you have left Capua: You may judge Madam, in what condition Aronces wns, who a while after repented, for what he had hastily said to Clelius, yet notwith∣standing his love, he knew well that this illustrious Roman was not much to blame in giving his daughter rather to Horatius of whom he knew the birth, than to one whose true quality was unknown to him, and he saw also that he had no occasion to complain of his Rival, and it is that which hath made him the more miserable: But that which was to him most in∣supportable, was Clelia's anger, for he feared that the hatred which he thought Clelia bore him, should induce her to love Horatius, which above all things in the world he feared, and indeed he could not in the condition he was then in, harbour sweeter thoughts in his fortune, than to think that Clelia should hate his Rival in marrying of him: In the mean while, Clelius according to what he had said to Aronces, made Clelia write a Note in which were on∣ly these words.

IF within three days Aronces leaves Capua, and that without seeing Horatius, I shall pity his misfortune, and if he obeys not the Command which I make him to de∣part, none ever hated so much as I shall hate him.

You may easily think Madam, in what a despair Aronces was then, after he had read these cruel words, it was so great that I thought his anguish would have deprived him of his life: But in fine forcing himself with an extreme violence, he answered Clelia in this manner.

Aronces to Clelia.

I Will, Madam, depart within three days if my grief will spin my life so long as to obey you, but I will not go but for to dye of love and despair, and I assure you that the end of my life shall antidate your Nuptials, and I shall never have the grief to hear that my Rival hath possessed you, but you shall it may be, soon know the death of the most faithful of Lovers.

This was Madam, the answer of Aronces to Clelia, who saw it not so soon; for as it had been her Father which was the cause of her writing, he hindred A∣ronces Letter from being delivered unto her, for fear it should mollifie her heart; for although Clelia was angry with him, Clelius nevertheless perceived that she hated him not, and that she had not any af∣fection for Horatius. Things being in this manner, I saw Aronces an hundred times almost resolved ei∣ther to kill Horatius, or to dye himself, and if I had not in part retained his violences, I know not what he would have done; there happened a thing which did much embroyl these two Rivals, for as Aronces was going pensively along through a street which is near Horatius Lodging, this Lover was going forth as being the first time, and expresly to see Clelius, to whom he was going to make his first visit, for to thank him for the good will he bore him, though he had not yet promised him any thing, so that these two Rivals encountring, they approached together with different thoughts, for Horatius who thought he should be soon happy, had less anger in his spirit and he still acknowledged his Liberator in the person of his Rival: for Aronces as he was miserable although he was generous, he only saw his Rival in the person of his friend, they both nevertheless saluted each o∣ther, for I had forgot to tell you that their friends during the time that Horatius kept his Chamber, had made a kind of agreement between them, without disclosing of their quarrel. But in fine, to begin where I left off, they saluted one another, and Aron∣ces speaking to his Rival the first, For ought that I can see, said he to his Rival, by I know not what Sentiment which he could not retain: It is sufficient to be born a Roman, to become happy, and the great∣ness of my passion availeth me nothing, you should have done better to have said your merit, replyed Horatius, thereby to exaggerate your misery, for as I think my self to be as amorous as you, it is not in that that we differ, nevertheless I can assure you, that my reason is not at present troubled with fear that I shall be perfectly happy, since I cannot be with∣out rendring you altogether miserable.

Ah Horatius! (replyed Aronces) it is not of these things you must speak to comfort a generous Rival: on the contrary, you remember we made a bargain one day that we would not hate one another, till Cle∣lia (to the prejudice of one of us) had made her choice: therefore as you are going to be he, I think I am ful∣ly dispensed of all the friendship I had promised you, and I am verily perswaded that I may without break∣ing the laws of generosity hate you. Hate me then unjust friend (replyed Horatius) for as it is not easie to love who hates us, think it not strange if I have no affection for him that loves me not; far from ta∣king it ill (replyed Aronces) you cannot do any thing which may seem to me more just, then to hate me, for I declare unto you, that if the respect which I bear unto Clelius did not retain me, Clelia should never be yours as long as my heart should beat within me, and I know not added he, if Cielius should be sufficient, if Clelia did not meddle in it: Although you have van∣quished me, replyed Horatius fiercely, if things were in that condition, I should know how to defend Cle∣lia with the same valour that one of my Predecessors defended Rome. That Horatius of whom you speak (answered roughly Aronces) overcame three men it is true, but it was more by policy than valour, and though you shall have his valour, I should not be the sooner overcome.

As they were in these terms, and Horatius who prepared himself to give him a sharp answer, Hermi∣nius and two more came to them, who knowing what passed between them, and seeing some alteration in their eyes, did not leave them till they were parted, in the mean while as this intervene was known by Cle∣lius, he sent again to Aronces to tell him he would have him be gone, so that in effect he was fain to resolve himself to depart, at least he did as one who intends to depart, for his followers were ordered to have all things in readiness, there were for all that moments in which he thought more in killing of Horatius than in departing; but when he considered that the death of his Rival would not procure him his Mistress, he a little refrained his violence, which he knew was not grounded on a lawful soundation, for Horatius had been in love with Clelia before him, Clelius intend∣ed her for him, and would not have Aronces have any thoughts that way, and in fine, Horatius was not ve∣ry Criminal towards Aronces.

In the mean while, Clelia on her part was not with∣out grief, for she doubtless had an inclination in her heart powerful enough to cause in her a great difficul∣ty to overcome it, principally since she knew that A∣ronces prepared himself to be gone, and to obey her, for she then knew well that if he had loved Fenice he would not have left Capua, so that her jealousie sud∣denly ending, her affection for Aronces gathered new strength, and her aversion for Horatius encreased so much, that she knew not how to obey Clelius, and if a resentment of glory had not resisted her designs, she would have done things that she had never yet done: on the other side, Sulpicia who was horribly perplex'd to think her Daughter should espouse Horatius, sought all means to hinder these Nuptials, but after she had well considered on it, she believed that as he was ge∣nerous, it might happen that if Clelia should tell him freely that she could not affect him, and that she should intreat him not to think on her, he might re∣solve himself thereto; so that telling her thoughts to Clelia, and Clelia thinking nothing difficult to do, so that it might conduce to the rupture of her marri∣age, told her Mother that she would fulfil her desires, and Sulpicia by a resentment of her former jealousie, assuming more boldness at this time than she should have done at another, told her Daughter that she should the better to accomplish her design, write a Note to Horatius, to be at a certain hour which she should appoint him, in that Garden which as I have told you is common for all, there to acquaint him of an important business: Sulpicia adding that she should tell him, that it was without the knowledge of any that she writ to him, because Horatius should not i∣magine that it was by her instigation that she did this, at first Clelia told her Mother that she thought it would be as well to speak to him in her Chamber when

he should come to see her, but Sulpicia told her it would be more easie to discourse with him privately in a Walk, then in her house; adding withal, that Horatius would be better perswaded she had no incli∣nation to love him, by this extraordinary action, as was this of giving him an assignation.

So that Clelia obeying her willingly, writ a Note to Horatius, and gave it unto a slave, to deliver it him, and as she concealed it as a great secret, told him softly, that he should carry it to Horatius: but as this slave had formerly carried divers to Aronces, and never but one to Horatius, he thought she had said Aronces, and withal not knowing how to read, he knew not that it was directed to Horatius, and trusting to what he thought to have understood, he delivered it to Aronces, who had at first (seeing this slave with a Letter) an extreme joy, but when he read it, and that he knew it was directed to Horatius, and not to him, it caused in him an extreme dolour, ne∣vertheless, as he knew the slave was mistaken, he made no sign to perceive it, and only told him he should not fail to do what Clelia ordained him, but this slave was no sooner gone, but Aronces came to my Chamber, to shew me this Note, in which were only contained these words.

Clelia to Horatius.

PRay do me the Favour to meet me precisely about the Evening, in the great Walk of the Myrtles, for I have something of great concernment to communicate to you, and withal a great favour to demand of you.

Well Celeres said Aronces to me (after I had read this Billet) what say you of my fortune? and what counsel you me to do?

I counsel you to go to the assigned place as if you were Horatius, and with an intention to make Clelia a thousand reproaches, and if you can to make her change her thoughts, or else to change your own, if she alters not hers: this counsel is easier to give then to follow (replied he) at least as not to love Clelia; as for going to the place she has appointed to speak with Horatius, I am already resolved, but that which terrifies me is, that I know not what she would have with my Rival, I likewise fear, added he, that the slave which brought me the Note, will ac∣quaint her with his mistake, when he shall tell her that I will not fail to meet her at the appoint∣ed place.

But said I to him you have not writ to her: no, replied he, and that which hindred me from it was, not impossible but that this slave in telling her that I should do what she desired, might tell it her so, that she should find out the mistake.

And (Madam) it happened according to their ex∣pectation, for it sell out so, that when this slave was returned home, there was a great deal of company in her Chamber, so that she would not let him give her an account of his errand, for fear he should be understood, but asked him aloud whether he had done what she had ordained him? and he answer∣ing, yes, she made him sign to be gone, Clelia not doubting but that Horatius would come at the assigned place, thought on nothing else but to meet him.

Nevertheless, there happened a thing which had almost obstructed her going, for Clelius would have had Sulpicia gone to a place where she should have been the whole afternoon, but Sulpicia who servent∣ly desired that the marriage between Horatius, and her Daughter should be broken; did so well, that she caused her Daughter to be with one of her Friends, whom she knew did commonly walk in the place where Horatius was expected, and when she left her, she perswaded her as much as possible she could, to put Horatius into such a despair, that he should never hope to have her.

But whilst things were thus favourable for Aron∣ces, and so contrary for his Rival, this Lover who was ignorant of the agitations of Clelia's heart, was in a strange perplexity, and in such an inquietude as I cannot represent unto you, for his impatiency would not permit him to stay till the appointed hour, but he repaired thither long before Clelia came; for my part, as I had a great desire to know what this interview would produce; I went also in the Garden, and walkt in an Alley from whence I might see those which went into that place where Aron∣ces was, where in fine, Clelia came with one of her Mothers Friends, with whom there was three o∣ther Ladies.

As soon as Clelia saw Aronces, her blood leapt into her face, 'tis not but that she thought 'twas Fortune only which guided him thither, but that she was per∣swaded Horatius would come also, and that she fear∣ed she should meet them together.

On the other side, Aronces who seeing the alterati∣on of Clelia's countenance, and imagining that she staid there for his Rival, and that the commotion which he saw in her eyes proceeded from her de∣spight to see him there, raised his grief to so high a pitch, that he resolved to go either into another Alley, or else to make Clelia a thousand reproaches: but in fine, his reason overpowering his passion, he became Master of himself, and he so dexterously dis∣guised his sentiments, that the Ladies with whom Clelia was, could not perceive he had any particular design, for he saluted them very civilly, and without addressing himself to Clelia, he discoursed with the Conductress of the little Troop; so that according to the freeness which we enjoy at Capua, he fell in con∣versation with these Ladies, and sometimes enter∣taining one, and then another, he at last spoke to Clelia, who was much surprised not to see Horatius, and that in all likelyhood Aronces was not to leave them very quickly, and there happened an occasion which gave Aronces as much leisure as he could desire to entertain Clelia; for as this company came to a great rotundo of Trees, which divides this great Walk of the Myrtles, and the Ladies having seated themselves, it happened that the places casually were before almost all taken, so that there was no place left for Clelia, who seeing only a little Bench which was on the other side, where there could sit but two, she went thither, and Aronces took his place by her.

But when she saw him approach, the fear which she had that Horatius should come, that he should find her in a particular conversation with his Rival, and that it should hinder her from perswading him what she desired, caused her to speak softly to him; by your favour Aronces (said she to him) if it be true, that you have formerly had some friendship for me, I conjure you not to desire any private discourse with me to day, for since I durst not recount unto you my

life, it is not needful you should think of speaking with me in secret.

No, no, Madam, (said he to her, looking atten∣tively on her) it concerns you not so much as you think, for I assure you Horatius shall not come hither by your orders, and if fortune guide him not hither, I shall have leisure humbly to intreat you to tell me, what I have done to merit your hatred, and what he hath done to gain your love, and from whence pro∣ceeds; that when you deny me the comfort of a last farewel, you writ him Notes, & gave him assignations in a place from whence you would have me be gone, because you stay for him: but Madam, to deliver you from the unquietude which I cause in you; I must tell you that the slave which you ordered to de∣liver your Note to Horatius, did mistake, for 'tis I which have received it; and I am come hither to conjure you to tell me, if I am worthy to know, that you had resolved to tell Horatius: you may judge Madam, how Clelia was surprised when she heard A∣ronces use these expressions; nevertheless, as her spirit was free from jealousie, and that the love which she had for Aronces was stronger then ever, and he lookt on her in such a manner, which mollified her heart, that she endeavoured not to disguise the truth of that which she perceived he knew, and she was not very sorry to make him understand that this assignation was not to be advantagious for Horatius. Also when Aronces had desired her to tell him what she intended to tell Horatius whom she had staid for: Aronces, said she, then to him, if you know what you demand, you would soon gain-say yourself, and you would desire me not to tell you that which you seem to desire of me.

Tell me at least then answered he, what you would have me do; if it be true, answered she, that you love me yet, I will have you resolve your self to love me no more but as a Sister, and that you will be so equitable as not to accuse me of your misfortune, since I am enough my self, not to accuse you of mine: But Madam, replied he, things are not alike between us, for I may justly accuse you of all my misfortunes, but for my part, what is it that I do which may con∣tribute to your unhappiness? You are the cause, an∣swered she blushing, that I have a horrible repugnan∣cy to obey my Father, you are he, which makes Ho∣ratius, who is a very deserving person, altogether insupportable to me, as soon as I consider him as to be my Husband; and in fine, by all appearances, you are the cause that the rest of my life will be misera∣ble: Ah Madam, by your favour, replied Aronces, permit me to give so advantagious a sence to your words, that they may, if not make me happy, they may at least render me less miserable: I consent thereunto Aronces, replied she, but I also conjure you to tell me no more anything: for as things stand now, I can no more innocently receive any particu∣lar mark of your affection, nor give you any of mine; you might nevertheless, Madam, if you please, acquaint me with that which you would have told Horatius; I would have told him, replied she, so many things advantagious for you, that I ought not to tell it you, if I could effectually desire you should love me no more: for in fine, Aronces I would have seen Horatius, by the command of my Mother, to tell him freely I can never love him, and to endeavour by a resentment of generosity to in∣duce him not to obstinate himself to render me miserable, since I can never render him perfectly happy: but to tell you the truth, I think I shall ne∣ver perswade him; you now see Aronces, added she, the subject of this Assignation, for which you have reproached me. If it were permitted me; replied he, to give you thanks, and to require your pardon, I should prostrate my self divine Clelia, at your Feet to testifie unto you my acknowledgement, and for to conjure you to tell me if you would hate me in case I should disobey Clelius, who will have me depart, and seek all means possible to forget you: I know not, replied Clelia, whether I should hate you, but I know I should live with you as if I lov'd you not. In effect, added this prudent Virgin, I shall do what I can, not to espouse Horatius, but when neither by my prayers nor inventions I shall not pre∣vail, there must be no more of anything done, but to prepare never to see each other, for without any equivocation, I must tell you that though my Father should not oblige you to be gone, I should; 'tis therefore, that if the design which I have does not succeed, as I believe it will not, you must conform your will to my Fathers, because you should not ne∣cessitate me voluntarily to impose upon you a rigo∣rous command.

As Clelia had ended these words, Horatius who heard by chance that she was in that Garden, came thither, so that this fair Maid spying him afar off in an Alley which came into that where she was, ad∣vertiz'd Aronces thereof, and desired him to leave her alone, to the end she might perform that which Sulpicia had enjoyned her to do: But Madam, replied he, who shall assure me that this conversation shall be such as I desire it to be; that which I have had with you, replied she, going away; promise me at least, replied he, that whatsoever happens you will still have a little love for the miserable Aronces; I promise it you not, replied she, with an alteration in her colour, in casting a favourable aspect upon him; but I know not whether I shall not do it without promising you of it.

After that Clelia rejoyn'd the Ladies, with whom she was, and after Aronces had saluted them, he went into another walk, without being perceived by Ho∣ratius, and came to me in that where I was walking: But it was with an extreme difficulty that he left his place to his Rival; but after all when he conside∣red that she spoke to him, only but to tell him that she could not love him, and to pray him to think no more on her, he had an unspeakable joy, though it was not accompanied with tranquillity, and having an extreme desire to know the success of this conver∣sation, he desired we should walk in the Garden, till it was ended; because if Horatius should leave Clelia, he might know of her how his Rival had received what she had told him: but Madam, it was easie to foresee what would be the event of this business; for Horatius was very amorous, and he was perswa∣ded that notwithstanding what Clelia had said to him, she would obey Clelius, who thought though he had not promised her would give her to him, and in effect though this amiable person employed all her subtleties and eloquence to perswade Horati∣us, to banish her his thoughts, 'twas altogether im∣possible for her to do it, neither was it in Aronces his power to come any more to Clelia, for Horatius left her not, but went away with her.

In the mean time, as he could not resolve himself to depart till he knew the success of this discourse, he engaged me to go and speak to Clelia, who then

knew that all Aronces secrets were known by me; so that leaving him behind, I went and mingled my self with the Troop, where this fair Maid was, who was then going away; so that there being no other Men besides Horatius with these Ladies, when they were to pass a difficult place, by reason of a great heap of stones, which were laid to support a Terrase which was to be built there, he was obliged to pre∣sent his hand to one of them which passed the first, hoping after he had done so to all, to lead Clelia: But making use of this occasion to speak to her, I led her over, and left her not till we were out of the Garden, and not for to loose any of those precious moments, I whispered to her, and told her, Madam, the miserable Aronces sends me to you to know whe∣ther he must live or die, you shall tell him (replied she, with a most obliging sadness) that I will not have him die, but that if he loves me, he shall ever be mi∣serable, and that he has nothing to do, but to depart from Capua as soon as he can; I was going to tell her that she was too blame for not opposing her self more strongly to Clelius, but she answered me with so much wisdom, and in so tender a manner for my friend, that all I could do was but to admire her; it is true, that when we came to the Garden door, I was constrained to leave her, and Horatius likewise, so that we were alone together, and as he knew me to be Aronces particular Friend, his hatred did ex∣tend it self almost as much to me as it did to him, and having exasperated his spirit with that which Clelia had told him, we parted with small demon∣strations of friendship; but as I was returning I found Clelius, who was entred in this Garden by ano∣ther door, who had newly joyned himself with A∣ronces, whose departure he urged so strongly, that he gave him but one day more to be in Capua, as I knew that Clelius could not tell him any agreeable thing, I made no great difficulty to interrupt them, but as I came near them, Aronces who had an ex∣treme desire to know what Clelia had told me, de∣manded it of me by my eyes.

So, that not having any favourable answer for him I made a sign to him, whereby he might perceive his hopes were utterly destroyed, to the end he should suddenly resolve to be unhappy, and should not feed himself with an uncertain and vain hope, which brought much confusion in his spirit, for it seemed to him he had fallen to a less miserable estate, if Cle∣lia told him nothing advantagious this day; and I had no sooner joyned my self to them, but Clelius left Aronces, and went to find Stenius, Horatius his Friend, who expected him in another Alley. I will not tell you Madam, what Aronces said to me after Clelius had left him, and that I had recounted to him the discourse I had with Clelia, for it would give you much compassion, but that which made him quite de∣spair was, that he must now resolve to depart, if he had followed the tumultuous resentments of his heart, he would not have left Capua till he had kill'd Horatius, but as he could not do it without offending both Clelius and Clelia, and without putting himself in a condition never to see his beloved Object, this consideration more then justice bridled his fury, and though night began to vail the sky with a sable Mantle, Aronces could not resolve to depart from this Garden, but ingaged me insensibly in such te∣dious exaggerations of his mishap, that it was more then half an hour since Cynthia guilded this Garden with her resplendent Rays, which gave birth as it were to a new day; so that we hardly knew 'twas night, his displeasure so much possessed him; but in fine, the excess of his own grief imposing silence on him and me, because I could tell him nothing which might comfort him.

We walkt sometime without speaking one word in a little Alley, along the side of an indifferent thick Wood, which is inclosed in that Garden, and it happened that Aronces going faster than I, was ten or twelve paces distant from me, but as he went a∣lone he heard on the other side of a Pallissade, which was between him and that little wood, two Men who thinking themselves to be alone in that place, spoke somewhat low, one of which raising his voice, addressing his speech to the other; I know well (said he to him in the Roman Language) what we have promised to Tarquin is unjust, but since 'tis promised we must obey, for in what place can we remain, if after we have assured him to bring the head of Cle∣lius, we violate our words?

You may judge, Madam, what was the surprisal of Aronces, when he heard these expressions from an unknown Man, and though Clelius had pronounced him the most rigorous sentence imaginable, he did not look upon him in this occasion as a Man which banisht him, which esloyned him from Clelia, and which rendred him most unhappy, but he considered him as the Father of his Mistress, to whom he owed his Life, and attentively listening to hear the dis∣courses of these unknown Men, he heard, that he which had hearkned to him who had first spoke, an∣swered him in these terms: I very well know (said he to him) that Tarquin is the violentest Man in the World, that hating Clelius so much as to desire his head, he would very much hate those, who instead of bringing it to him, should advertise him of the de∣sire he hath to destroy him; but it seems to me, not returning to Rome, 'tis easie to flye his fury, and the difficulty will be to know if Clelius is in estate to in∣rich us, if we prove what we may tell him; Ah too scrupulous friend! (hastily replied he to whom he spoke) why do we thus trifle time? doth it not suffice that the Prince to whom we belong hath com∣manded us to kill one of his enemies, and that he hath promised us a great recompence, without ex∣posing our lives and fortunes to danger; by disco∣vering it to Clelius, he will make, it may be, as though he believed it not, because he would not recompence us, but will keep himself on his guard, and prevent us from executing our design? therefore without stumbling at these unprofitable intentions, let us on∣ly see if our Ponyards are sharp enough to act to morrow the command of Tarquin.

Ah Villanous Wretch! (cryed Aronces, going on that side where the Assassinate was by an overture he accidentally found in the Pallissade) I will frustrate your barbarous design, and you shall never Ponyard Clelius before you deprive me of my Life: Aronces pronounced these words so high, that it rouzed me from that Lethargick slumber in which my melan∣cholly had buried me, and I went directly to him, whom I saw hold a Man which was strugling to get from him; and that there was another who hold∣ing a Ponyard, told him that if he would not leave his companion, he would kill him; but that he had hardly the time to do it, for having suddenly seised his arm, and staid his hand in which he held his Poni∣ard, with which he menaced Aronces, I prevented him from acting his intention.

In the mean time Aronces having taken from the hands of him he held, the Poniard he drew, when he cast himself upon him, saw himself in estate to be Master of his Life; but as he thought 'twas im∣portant to discover to Clelius all he knew, he did not kill him, principally seeing that I held the o∣thers Arm, and knowing by that he had overheard, that him I held was the least impious, he believed 'twas easie to know by him all that which was requi∣site for Clelius to know; and Aronces seeing that I was without doubt strong enough to hinder this Man from using his Poniard, but that I was not able to take it from him, he threatned to kill him, and cried to him, if he would render it, he would recom∣pence him magnificently for the good design he had to tell Clelius, but whilst he thus said, the other whom Aronces had disarm'd, watching his opportu∣nity, drew a second Poniard he had, thinking to sheath it in his heart, but as Aronces saw it glister, by the reflexion of one of Cynthia's beams on it, he guarded himself and warded the blow with the o∣ther he held, and no longer sparing the life of that Traitor, he seised his right arm with his left hand, and gave him two blows with the Poniard, which made him fall half dead at his feet.

In the mean time, him which I held, endeavoured to disingage himself, but I held him so strongly that he could not finish his intent, but as soon as he saw his companion fall, he let go his Poniard that I took, and emplored the clemency of Aronces, whom he saw to interest himself so much in the life of Clelius, and the better to obtain it, he drew the other Poni∣ard he had, and casting it at the feet of Aronces, I pray Sir, said he to him, since you heard what I said to my companion do not treat me as him; I pro∣mise it you replied Aronces, but you must discover to me all you know, and all which may assure the life of Clelius which I will defend as my own: As Aronces had thus spoke, Clelius and that Friend of Horatius, with whom he walkt, as I have told you, arrived in this place; so that they were very much surprised to find us in that estate, and to see a Man half dead at our feet, and another which seemed to demand par∣don, and to see Aronces and I with each of us a Po∣niard in our hands, but the Father of Clelia was much more astonisht, when I first speaking, see Clelius said I to him, see what Aronces hath done to save your life: and if he merits death at your hands; for I had perfectly understood that it was for the interest of Clelius that he assaulted these two Men; Clelius being amazed at my words, could not tell what to answer, but Aronces drawing him from this astonish∣ment, told him in two words, without any exagge∣ration what was newly happened, so that Clelius was so sensibly touch'd, to see in a moment after he had pronounced the sentence of his banishment, he had hazarded his life to assure his, that he could not hin∣der himself from testifying to him the admiration he had for his virtue, and without demanding any thing of that which concerned him: Ah Aronces cryed he, your generosity charms me, and Aricidia had reason to say, that if you were not a Roman, you had a Roman heart; therefore seeing I have not promised any thing to Horatius, I must leave Cle∣lia to dispose of her self, without intermeddling with it; Aronces ravisht with joy to hear Clelius speak in this manner, rendred thanks to him in few words, whilst Stenius privately murmured at it, but after that Aronces telling him, that this place was not fit to entertain those Assassinates, and some Slaves of Clelius who sought their Master, being arriv'd, they gave order to carry this person to a Man's house which depended on me, to have his wounds drest, and we brought the other to Clelius his house, who would have Aronces and I go thither, for Stenius he left us at the Gate, and went to advertise Horatius that his affairs were not so prosperous as he imagi∣ned; but arriving at Clelius his house, we met Sulpi∣cia and her Daughter, who were much surprised to see us, and to hear Clelius say, he owed his life a se∣cond time to Aronces, and that he was the most ge∣nerous of all Men, and these two persons easily gi∣ving credit to the words of Clelius, received Aronces with an extreme joy.

In the mean time, as he was impatient to know the contrivancy of that plot, the execution of which Aronces had hindred, they enclosed the Conspirator in a Chamber where we were going to interrogate him, when Herminius arriv'd, who told Clelius he had a business of great Importance to acquaint him with: But as Clelius told him, that he might now tell all he knew before Aronces and me, he shewed him a Let∣ter he had received from Rome, where amongst ma∣ny other things there were these words.

THe proud Tarquin is more diffident, cruel, and vindicative then ever, for he had no sooner known that Clelius was returned from Africa, and that he was at Capua, but he believed he approached Rome, to plot some conspiracy against him, and one of my intimate friends hath told, that he believes the Tyrant hath a de∣sign on his Life, at least I assure you, that few days have been added to the age of time, since two of those he uses to employ in such horrid executions, departed from Rome and having taken way of the company, if you think fit advertise Clelius to take care of himself.

After Clelius had read aloud this fragment of a Letter, and that Herminius had named him who wrote it, and told him that he was a Man well informed in all things, and that he had counselled him not to go forth but well accompanied: I am much obliged to you, said he to Herminius, for the advice you have given me, but I shall be infinitely more if you help me to set forth the praises of Aronces; for in fine, he hath nigh kill'd one of those of whom your friend speaks, and if you please, you may hear from the other the confession of his crime, and after we had recounted to Herminius in two words, that which was passed, we entred together into the Chamber where this Man was, from whose mouth we would know the cruel intentions of Tarquin, but to the end he should more ingenuously declare all he knew, A∣ronces confirmed to him the promise he had made him magnificently to reward the repentance he had had, and he effectively spoke with very much ingenuity; 'tis true, that which the more obliged him was, that Herminius knew he was heretofore one of his Fa∣ther's slaves, and making himself known to him, what miserable wretch (said he to him) hast thou learnt this Trade thou practises in the house where thou wast brought up? No Sir (said he to him, but changing my Master I have changed my conditions, since 'tis true, that as long as I lived with a virtuous Master, no crime could be imputed to me, but as soon as your Illustrious Father had given me to a Man who is become Tarquin's Favorite, I degenerated to what you see: 'tis true said he, the remembrance

of the beginning of my life hath stirrd up much com∣punction in me, and him who promises to recompense me for my repentance, heard, I would perswade my complice of my crime not to commit it I remembred you, and imagined those reproaches you would make me, if you should know the life I led.

Sure it is so, (said Herminius) make an ingenious confession, and in effect this man told Clelius, that Tarquin had commanded him and his Companion not to return to Rome without bringing his head, and he assured him they had resolved to kill him the next day in that Garden, where Aronces had ore-heard their contestation, for they had known 'twas the custom of Clelius to go thither every night, and oftentimes alone.

This man likewise said that when Aronces heard them, some remorse invaded his Conscience for that barbarous action he was going to commit, but as his companion was the most resolute of all men, he was assured he would not have admitted of any perswasion but executed Tarquins command the subsequent day, though he should have done it alone: and he appear∣ed so repentant for his crime, and demanded so ma∣ny pardons for his fault, that Clelius effectually know∣ing by Aronces that he opposed his companions inten∣tentions, generously pardoned him and gave him a recompence sufficient to carry him to the wars with∣out Tarquins power, but for the complice of his crime he used him in another manner, for he would not have his wounds drest, and when by force there was plaisters put upon them he would tear them off, neither would he take any nourishment, and what∣soever could be said to him he would not answer nei∣ther Aronces nor Herminius, who interrogated him to see if he did not know more than the other: on the contrary, he used all the means he could possible to dash out his brains against a wall, and in the end died as an enraged man, to whom the regret not to have executed the crime he promised to commit, and the sight of an approaching death hurried on to such a furious action.

In the mean time Sulpicia not losing such a favoura∣ble occasion, told Clelius so many things to oblige him to acknowledge the vertue of Aronces, that in the end he was resolved to leave Clelia to a free election, since he had not yet promised her to Horatius, and that he had only given him hopes to obtain her, whilst these things were acting, that Lover which had believed to be happy, no sooner knew by Stenius the adventure of the Garden, but fearing it might make Clelius change his thoughts, he went at the same time to find him, but as Clelius would have some time to settle his resolution and thought, he had some tenderness and recognizance for Aronces, he had some difficulty to give his Daughter to an unknown, he carefully shunned Heratius this day, which hap∣pened to be the Eve of that day Clelia celebrated for her birth, for though she was not born at Rome, Cle∣lius nevertheless made her observe all the Roman Ce∣remonies, therefore as her birth was the next day, he would have the Feast be more magnificent than usual, because it had been preceded by one in which he had shunned death, and he found that this day was not numbred amongst those dismal ones, care∣fully observed by the Romans, and not finding any unhappiness in this favourable day, Clelius would have it solemnly celebrated; Clelia on her part who knew the alteration of her Fathers mind, and who had a little before thanked Aronces for saving his life, had an extreme joy to hope she should not e∣spouse Horatius, Sulpicia was so glad that she thought of nothing, but magnificently to solemnize the Feast of her Daughters Nativity.

For this effect as it was a custom in such like occa∣sions to offer an innocent Oblation to those Divini∣ties the Romans call Genij, every person as they believe having a particular one: Clelius made an Altar to be adorned with Vervine and Flowers, in a Temple where the Romans residing at Capua perform their Ceremonies, and all the principal Ladies of the City being invited to accompany Clelia when she went to the Temple, where they came in their most Gorge∣ous Attire; for Clelia as it is the custom at Rome, as well for men as women, to be invested in white on their birth-day, she had a white Robe, but for to beautifie the simplicity of that Vestment, Sulpicia adorned her with those stones she had heretofore ca∣sually found, when that after she was shipwrackt she had been saved by a faithful Slave, and had again found Clelius, to whom the Gods had given a Son for him whom they had lost, and though the Habit of Clelius was not at all magnificent, it received a great imbellishment from them: for as in these occasions Ladies are not covered as usually they are, and that they are drest like those which are married, she had part of her fair hairs hanging on her shoulders neg∣ligently curl'd, for the others they were pleated in many rings along her cheeks, and tyed on the hin∣der part of her head by a rose of precious stones the fairest were ever seen: Moreover, as her Neck was shadowed but with a thin Vail of Tiffany, it trans∣mitted the lustre of her beauty through it, it was likewise enclosed with a Collar of Diamonds, her wast being surrounded with precious stones of an in∣estimable value, her sleeves of her Robe which were great and hanging down, were fastned on her shoul∣ders by two knots of Diamonds.

In fine, her Habit was so gallant and rich, that Clelia in this posture could do no less than attract all eyes, she had such a pure tincture, such sparkling eyes, and such a charming and agreeable air in her looks, that I can assure you my eyes never met with a fairer Object.

Clelia being such as I have represented her to you, went a foot from her house to the Temple without any discommodity, for the streets by which she was to pass were large and very dry, and the Sun had stole behind a Cloud lest he should be outvi'd by the splendor of her eyes.

Moreover as it is the custom that those persons which celebrate their birthday, should offer an in∣nocent Offering to the Gods, Clelia carryed in her fair hands a sumptuous Basket in which was her obla∣tion, but this Sacrifice was so covered with Orange and Jasume Flowers, that it dispersed ore all places where she passed an odoriferous Odor; she went a∣lone, her Father and her Mother followed her, all the Ladies of the City preceded her, going two by two, and all the friends of Clelius following him in in the first rank, whereof were Aronces and Horatius: but Madam, as Clelia's beauty was divulged through Capua, and this Ceremony being different from ours, and that novelty excited the curiosity of the people, the streets were thronged where Clelia should pass, as if there was to be seen enter one of our Captains Crown'd with a Triumphant Laurel, but Clelia see∣ing this concourse of people of all conditions, which looked from their windows, doors, and streets, on∣ly

to behold her, and hearing all the acclamations they gave her, was surprised with such a modesty, that it much heightned her beauty, for blushing at her own praises, her tincture appeared more resplen∣dent, her eyes more lively and tempting, Aronces and Horatius this day so contemplated her beauty, that their love augmenting, their hatred encreased towards one another, they spoke nothing together whilst this Ceremony lasted: for as Horatius his hope was not quite extinct, because Clelius had not spoke to him in particular, and that Aronces would not de∣stroy his, they both thought not to irritate Clelius by a new Combat, and though they were Rivals they assisted at this Ceremony as though they had been friends; it is true that it was not very strange they should master their thoughts in this occasion, for the admiration they had for Clelia, without doubt sus∣pended a part of the hatred that was between them.

But in fine, Clelia went to the Temple to offer to the Gods the Offering she carried, and she put it with so good a grace on the Altar adorned with Garlands of Vervine and Flowers, that she seemed rather to be the Goddess to whom the Sacrifice was offered, than her which offered this oblation: I shall not, Ma∣dam, weary your patience by telling you all those Ceremonies which were performed in this occasion, for it is not for that intent I mention this Feast, but I shall acquaint you that amongst this great multitude of persons who looked upon and admired Clelia, I take notice that a man and woman who bore the cha∣racters of persons of quality, casually saw her as she came from her house, and I likewise noted when I was nigh them, that they beheld her with an extra∣ordinary attention, that they whispered together, and when they saw Aronces they testified so much ad∣miration, that they followed them as if they had been invited to the Feast; and fortune was so propi¦tious to me, that I saw them once more in the Tem∣ple very attentive, sometimes looking on Clelia some∣times on Aronces, I likewise noted that this Lady whom I did not know, and who had a very good pre∣sence for a person of her age, passed by many others to come nigh Clelia when she was at her devotion, but I was astonished to see her more attentively to look upon the precious stones than Clelia, and it seemed to me she lookt with a more curious eye on that which was on the hinder part of her head where was the rose of Diamonds, and not to admire the beauty of her face; nevertheless thinking it was a curiosity usual with Ladies to look more upon that which a∣dorns, than those which are adorned; I diverted my eyes otherways, and I looked upon Fenice, which except Clelia, was without doubt the fairest in that company.

But in fine, when Clelia had finished her prayers, and was going to place her self in that order in which she came, this man and Lady whom I did not know, and who had looked so much on Aronces and Clelia, approached to me, and demanded civilly who that beautiful Virgin was? and who was Aronces? whom they shewed me with their hands not knowing his name: For that admirable person, said I to them, she is called Clelia, and Daughter to an illustrious exiled Roman, but for him you shew me, all that I can say is, he is the most virtuous in the world, and he is called Aronces, for he doth not himself know his birth: what (cried this Lady changing colour) doth not he know his Parents? He is far from know∣ing it, answered I, since the Father of Clelia found him floating in a Cradle after he had been shipwrackt himself, and whose life he saved without knowing to whom this Child belonged, which he hath carefully nourished as his own.

By your favour (added this Stranger which was with this Lady) tell us on what Sea, and in what place this Child was found in a Cradle? It was nigh Syra∣cusa, (repled I) if my memory deceive me not: At these words these two persons looked one upon ano∣ther, shewing many marks of astonishment and joy on their countenances, and demanded of me if I did not know from whence Clelia had those stones which adorned her? so that telling them the same shipwrack which had taken a Son from Clelius, and which had given him Aronces, had likewise given him these stones.

We need not doubt (said this Lady somewhat low to him which was with her) but Aronces is the same we imagine him to be: What! (said I to her trans∣ported with joy,) do you know the birth of Aronces I pray (added I looking upon them both) if it is so, tell it the dearest of his friends: for as I cannot doubt that he should not be worthy of his great heart, I make no difficulty to demand it of you: That which you demand (replyed this Stranger) is of so great consequence, that Aronces ought first to be acquaint∣ed with it, but lest we should commit an indiscreet action, I intreat you to tell us all you know how he was saved?

And as I had often heard Clelius tell it, I told him the day of this shipwrack, the place where it hapned, and I described to him the Cradle in which Aronces was found, for Clelius had shewed it me, when we found him in the Pyrates Vessel, I told him likewise that a Casket full of stones then came into his power, and in fine, all I knew of this adventure, giving ma∣ny praises to Aronces, which evidencing to him that I effectually was his particular friend, obliged him to speak more freely before me, ah Martia! (said he to this Lady, who as you know is his Wife) I do not doubt but Aronces is the child we lost, for the day of his shipwrack agrees with that when we thought we should perish, the place where it hapned is the same, the Cradle in which Aronces was found is like it, the stones we see Clelia have are those we had in our pow∣er, but that which clears all suspicion is, that Aron∣ces is the very Picture of the Father of that Child we lost, so that we must necessarily conclude he must be his Son.

I confess Madam, the discourse of that man (who is the same Nicius now in this Castle) much perplex∣ed me: for in the beginning when he spoke to Mar∣tia, and told her that Aronces was assuredly the Child they had lost, I believed he was their Son, but when he said he was his Fathers Image, that belief soon vanisht, when I perceived he did not resemble him which spoke; so that dying with desire to be satisfi∣ed in that I would know, I pressed Nicius and Martia to tell me who Aronces was? but they answered 'twas first to him they must disclose this secret, and they earnestly prayed me to bring him to the sight of them, and without deferring the time any longer, I knew the place where they lodged, and I promised them to bring Aronces thither before the day was past.

And I presently went to Clelius his house to rejoyn my self with that fair company I had left; for 'tis the custom at Rome that the day that one celebrates for their birth, there is prepared a feast to entertain

those friends which are invited to accompany them at this Ceremony, so that finding the Tables cover∣ed and the company ready to sit down, I at first be∣lieved that I ought to attend the end of this repast, before I told to Aronces that I knew, but this great secret seems to me so difficult to keep, that I could not resolve my self thereto, and drawing Aronces handsomly apart, Can you believe, (said I to him) that Clelia's Birth-day is that which is destin'd for the discovery of yours, and before night you shall know who you are? No Celeres, said he to me, I do not believe it, for by what strange adventure can I know it? As I saw he gave no credit to my words, I spoke to him more seriously, and in few words recounted to him that which had happened to me, so that di∣spelling that doubt, I saw in his face different mo∣tions, at first I saw joy, a little after I noted inquie∣tude and fear, and a moment after impatience to know that he feared to learn, nevertheless the great∣ness of his Spirit reassuring him, and that which I told him of those stones, giving him some certainty that he must be of illustrious birth, he remitted him∣self so well, that as he would not now depart with∣out causing some disorder, he resolved to expect the end of this repast to content his curiosity, and in ef∣fect it was executed as he had resolved, for as soon as the Tables were uncovered we stole from the com∣pany, and went to find Nicius and Martia, who ex∣pected us with an impatience, which could not be e∣qualled but by that of Aronces, he stayed two or three times going to find them, for though he believed he should not fear any thing which might trouble him, the love for Clelia made him fear, that his Parentage would not be worthy of her: but in the end, being arrived to the Lodging where Nicius and Martia were, they met us with the greatest demonstration of joy in the world, for the more they looked upon Aronces the more they saw him resemble the King Porsenna, but that which redoubled their satisfaction was, that when he began to speak they found he had the sound of his voice so like to the Queen Galerita his Mother, that they could not doubt but he was the same Child: which was committed to their charge, whom they had lost by a shipwrack. In the mean time, Aronces no sooner saw them, but he thus said to them, after what my dear friend hath told, I know not what I ought to say to you, knowing not who I am, neither do I know whether I ought to wish to know it; Nevertheless as the incertainty in which I have lived is the cruelst torment imaginable, tell me I entreat you who I am, though you tell me my heart soars higher than my birth, and do not fear if it please you to reveal this secret in the presence of him to whom you have spoken of me, for all my se∣crets are his, and you cannot tell me any thing in par∣ticular which reflects on me, but I shall tell it him a little after: Since 'tis so, said Nicius, I have two fa∣vours to demand of you before I tell you any thing, the first that you permit me to look upon your left hand, the second that I will shew those two knots of Diamonds to Martia, we have seen that beautiful Virgin wear, which is the cause of your discovery, since if she had not been adorned with those Jewels, to give us the curiosity to look more attentively on this Ceremony, we had not, it may be, seen you: for in fine, if you are he I wish you are, you have on your left hand a little black mole, like to one we be∣lieve to be on your Mothers face, and which becomes her admirable well: and if those stones we saw are those we imagine, there is two Portraits in the two knots of Diamonds, that I pray you to shew my wife. For the mole whereof you speak, (replied Aronces shewing him his hand) you may see it's such as you tell me it should be, but for the two knots of Dia∣monds you would have me shew you, I have some∣times handled them, and I did not perceive they o∣pened, neither that they had Portraits inclosed in them: If they are those we think, replyed Martia, you may handle them an hundred times before you can perceive they open. But in fine, added she, that which I say is not so necessary to know, and after I have precisely known the day of your shipwrack, and what manner of Cradle in which you were found, and after I had seen you and heard you speak, and have found in your hand the mole which ought to be there, and seen the Jewels of Clelia, there is no que∣stion to be made but you are the Son of the King Por∣senna, and the Queen Galerita, and him which hath put Nicius and I to the expence of so many tears: Yes Sir, added Nicius, you are assuredly the Son of a great Prince and Princess, and would to the Gods you were more happy than they.

Aronces hearing Nicius and Martia speak in this manner, was so surprised at it that his astonishment appeared in his eyes, but it appeared there without causing any transportment of excessive joy in his heart and I may very well say that never any person gave such an illustrious mark of moderation. In effect, the first motion which came into his spirit, was, to give me a new demonstration of his friendship: For 'tis true, as soon as Nicius and Martia had related to him his birth, he beheld me with an obliging eye, in which there appeared without the confirmation of any words, that he was glad to see himself in estate to requite my affection by effectual courtesies. In the mean time, he learnt to Nicius and Martia all that I had already told them, and they learnt to him all that I have recounted to you in the beginning of this History; that is to say, the War of the precedent King of Clusium with Mezentius Prince of Perusia, the imprisonment of Porsenna, his love for Galerita, by what means he had been delivered, his marriage, the death of Nicetale, the second imprisonment of Por∣senna and Galerita, his birth, the manner how he had been conveyed from the Willow Island to put him in their hands, their flight, their embarque∣ment, their Shipwrack, and the resolution they had taken to go to Syracusa, and not to declare to Por∣senna's friends, that the child was trusted to them, had perisht, not because they did not positively know he was dead, but because they durst not tell it, for fear it should abate the hearts of the friends of Por∣senna and Galerita, but though, is it possible, said I then to Nicius and Martia, that the child of Porsenna and Galerita hath not appeared so long; and how could it be concealed so many years, that they did not know where he was? The thing hath been very easie, replyed Nicius, for you must know that ha∣ving a year very carefully concealed the loss of this young Prince, the friends of Porsenna making a se∣cret League, resolved that they must have this Child in their hands to endeavour to excite an insurrection among the people, so that one amongst them know∣ing where we were, came thither, and as we must necessarily confess our shipwrack to him, end as 'tis natural to flatter our selves with hope, and to dimi∣nish as much as we could the misfortunes of others, we told to this friend of Porsenna, that this Child

would be one day, it may be found, and that there had so many escaped ship-wrack, that it may be this child should be escaped as well as the others; whe∣ther it should be so or no, replied he, to whom we spoke, we must not publish his death, if it were not for no other reason, then not to give joy to the ene∣mies of Porsenna, and grief to his friends, and conforming our selves to his will, published it not, and since that, have always said that Porsenna's Son was not dead, and to endeavour to excite the people to Rebellion, we spread a bruit that Mezentius had taken him from us by force, and that he kept him prisoner as well as his Father.

In the mean time, as we durst not return into our Countrey, because of the Perusian Prince, we always remained at Syracusa; but as Martia had a long and grievous sickness, from which she hardly recovered, we agreed to leave Sicily for some time, and to choose a more healthful Air, and finding no place more a∣greeable then Capua, we came hither, and we came hither without doubt conducted by the gods, for to find you here, since that in the state in which things are, your presence is wholly necessary to save the life of the King your Father, for Mezentius is more incensed then ever; Bianor hath always love and am∣bition, the Princess of Perusia his Sister, doth all she can that he may obtain his ends, and Mezentius despairing to have other Children then Galerita, seems resolved to put to death Porsenna; to the end to enforce this Princess to re-marry with Bianor, for though she is your Mother, she hath not compleated above thirty six years, and is yet as I have heard, one of the fairest persons in the World; You may judge Madam, with what attention Aronces hearkned to the discourse of Nicius, and how many different thoughts possessed his heart, for he was glad to know he was a King's Son, he was afflicted to learn in what a deplorable estate the Prince was to whom he owed his Life, the certainty of not being a Roman gave him some inquietude, because of Clelius, the thought that he could not espouse Clelia without doing some∣thing contrary to exact prudence, gave him displea∣sure, and his soul was strangely agitated, but at last got the Victory. In the mean time, as there lackt the shewing of the two knots of Diamonds, to fi∣nish the discovery of Porsenna's Son, though it was not necessary; Aronces after he had said a thousand obliging things to Nicius and Martia, and after he had recounted to them the obligations he had to Cle∣lius, and a part of that which was happened to him, except his love for Clelia, he left them to return to Clelius his house; but returning thither we met Her∣minius, who came from thence, and who told us that it was accounted a very strange thing we should so suddenly leave them, adding that a part of the com∣pany was already gone: In effect, when we entred Clelia's house, there was but four or five of her friends with her, who walkt together in her Father's Garden, for we went so timely to the lodging of Nicius, that it was not so late when we came from thence, but we might walk without any incommo∣dity, so that Clelia no sooner saw Aronces, but she made war to him for leaving her when she celebrated her Birth-day. If you knew what obliged me to do it, (replied he to her) I am assured you will not mur∣mure against me; it may be (replied she to him) and shall not accuse you of it, but you cannot hinder me from complaining of you: that which you say is so glorious for me (replied he) that if I should have gained nothing by leaving you, I ought to be conso∣lated for leaving you: But in fine, Madam, (said he to her, separating her five or six paces from the com∣pany) I must tell you that which hath obliged me to leave you, and that you know I have not done it, but to cease to be that unknown Aronces, without Name and Countrey, who hath sometimes been so cruelly treated by Clelius for that reason. What Aronces! (replied she blushing) do you know your Birth? Yes Madam, (said he to her) I know it with some joy; though I am not a Roman, because that as Son to the greatest King of all Etruria, I can pretend with more boldness to the possession of the perfectest person in the World: permit me then I conjure you, that now I know my self to be the Son of the King of Clusi∣um, whom Mezentius detains Prisoner, I offer a se∣cond time to you my heart, and that I assure you when I shall be peaceable possessor of an Estate, that my Grandfather hath nigh intirely usurped, Ple lay my Crown at your feet, and without leaving those chains you have given me, I will boldly pub∣lish, it would be more glorious to be your Slave then to be King o're many Realms, and because I see, ad∣ded he, that which I tell you ought to surprise you, and that I perceive you are surprised: I shall not tell the whole narration of my story, but leave it to Ce∣leres to acquaint you with it, whilst I shall go to seek Clelius, to the end, to learn him my adventure, and to conjure him to suffer those knots of Diamonds you wear to be seen by those who have learnt me my birth, and likewise to entreat him to prefer me before Horatius.

Clelia was so surprised to hear that which Aron∣ces said, that she knew not what to answer him, 'tis not that she suspected the truth of it; but the thing was so surprising, that she could not imagine it to be possible, though she did not doubt of it: she therefore answered him as a person infinitely pru∣dent, for without affording him so much time as to think she doubted of what he said, she gave him cause to make known all the particulars of his ad∣venture; and Aronces going to seek Clelius, who was in his house; I remained in this Garden, and whilst the friends of Clelia, either entertained them∣selves together, or with Sulpicia who then came thi∣ther, I told her in few words all that Nicius and Martia had told Aronces, and I gave her a most sensi∣ble joy, to know that her Lover was of such an Il∣lustrious birth, I saw in her eyes that she feared this greatness would be an obstacle to her felicity, but she did not tell it me. In the mean time Aronces went where Clelius was, and telling him he had an impor∣tant business to communicate to him, he entred into his Cabinet, where he told him all he knew, but he told it him with the same respect, he accustomed to have when he knew not his birth, and Clelius having consented to his desire, I returned to find Nicius and Martia, from whose mouths the Father of Clelia learnt all they had told us; and to confirm that which they said, those two knots of Diamonds be∣ing shewed him, they demanded to see, they ope∣ned them, and in one there was a Portraict of a very beautiful person; and in the other a Portraict of a very handsome Man, who so much resembled Aron∣ces, that one could hardly think but this Picture was made for him, and Nicius seeing our astonishment, told us that the Portraict which resembled Aronces, was the King his Father's, and that the Picture of that fair Woman was the Queen his Mothers, and

that those Portraicts were made a little after Por∣senna's first Imprisonment, and since his marriage they remained in the hands of Galerita, and that this Princess having desired to gain all her Jewels to her Son, and thought not in the trouble where she was then, to take those two Portraicts from those two knots of Diamonds, which were made with such Artifice, that one would not perceive they opened, at least not to know the secret to open them: and Clelius seeing all these circumstances concur together, could not harbour any sinister thoughts of the truth of what Nicius and Martia had declared unto him, it appearing by so many indubitable conjectures, so that Clelius now looking on Aronces as the Son of a great King, would have used more civility towards him then ordinary, but Aronces opposed it, and told him with much generosity, that his birth should not change those obligations he had to him, neither should it change his heart, nor any thing between them; In pursuit of which Nicius and Martia said, that 'twas not yet time to publish the birth of Aron∣ces, and that this great secret must be concealed some time, but the principal business was to think of saving the King his Father's life, and to hinder Mezentius, as I have told you, from forcing his Daughter to marry Bianor, adding that it was ne∣cessary they should speedily go to advertise the friends of Porsenna and Galerita, that the Prince their Son was living, and that he should a little after follow them, to the end, to advertise with you what is best to be done. Nicius exaggerated with so much eloquence, the danger in which the King of Clusium was, that Clelius joyn'd himself to him, to perswade Aronces to come speedily to Perusia. In the mean time, as he had a passion in his Soul, which would not agree with this Voyage, though he had resolved to take it, and said he would, it was easie to see that he had something in his heart which contradicted his words: But in fine, Madam, without tyring your attention with any trivial relations; I shall tell you Sulpicia was admitted to this secret, and Clelius and she forced Nicius and Martia to leave their lodging, and to lodge in their house, where they staid but two days, for they had so much impatience to carry this agreeable news they knew to the friends of Porsenna and Galerita, that they would not defer it longer; but before they went they told Aronces the place where he might hear of them when he came to Perusia, I shall not tell you, Madam, what were the discourses of Aronces and Clelia those two days, for it's easie to imagine they contained much delight; but when Nicius and Martia were departed, and that Aronces saw both Honour and Nature would have him go: he felt in his heart an inexpressible emotion, and he told me in fine, after a long agitation of spi∣rit, that if Clelius would not give him Clelia, he would not go till he had forced Horatius from Capua, as well as he, 'tis not, said he to me, but I know that I do not follow the direct course of reason, by thinking to espouse Clelia now I know I am Son to a Prince, to whom I owe so much respect as not to marry with∣out his permission; but Celeres, it is Aronces which is amorous of Clelia, it is Aronces which ardently wishes her possession, it is Aronces which cannot suffer his Rival to enjoy her, and it is not the Son of the King of Clusium who hath this diversity of thoughts. In effect, I shall not pass for such, but when I shall have saved his life, and if this beatitude hap∣pens to me, it will be easie for him to seal my pardon, for having a passion in my Soul which is unknown to him, and to have loved more then all the rest of the World, the most amiable person of the earth.

I must likewise see if Clelius is in the resolution to leave Clelia the liberty to dispose of her self; for if he is so, I dare hope she will prefer me before Ho∣ratius, and that I shall not go to Perusia, till after I have rendred my Rival unhappy; but Madam, whilst Aronces thus reasoned, Horatius who saw a great change in his fortune, since Clelius owed his Life to Aronces, went to find that Illustrious Roman, for to demand of him if he would change the hope he had given him, to give him Clelia for an effective fruiti∣on; but as Horatius hath a heart sensible and fierce, and that he was nigh assured he demanded a thing he should not obtain; spoke to Clelius in a manner which incensed him, and seeing the difference there was between the proceedings of Aronces and Hora∣tius, it was the cause that he answered less favoura∣bly to the last.

I know well, said Clelius to him, after this Lover had alledged all the reasons he could imagine, that I have given you hope to obtain my Daughter, but I likewise know, ••••ever promised you her, and that the least I can do after the last obligation, I have to your Rival, is no more to force Clelia to espouse you, and to leave her the liberty to choose between Aronces and you, and not to be unjust towards her by being favourable to you: I thought, fiercely re∣plied Horatius, that though 'tis long since you resi∣ded at Rome, that you had not forgot that the Ro∣mans never used to give their Daughters to their slaves, and that Aronces might never pretend to Clelia with your consent. Ah Horatius interrupted Clelius, Aronces is not a slave, and you and I should have yet been the Pyrates slaves, if he had not deli∣vered us by his valour. You are now more ac∣knowledging, replied he coldly; you are now more ingrateful, replied Clelius, and I cannot comprehend what obliges you so ill to requite the obligations you have to me, for so ill treating Aronces for the love of you; you treat him so well now, replied he, that I should think my thanks ill bestowed, if I should thank you in a time when you think to render him happy, and me miserable, but Clelius, fortune, it may be, will revenge me on your Injustice, and you will one of these days know that you have given Cle∣lia to the Son of some Roman Enemy, and it may be likewise to some miserable stranger, without Birth and Virtue: yet once more Horatius, re∣plied Clelius, speak not of Aronces as you do, if you will not have me tell you, you degenerate from a Roman.

I should too much, Madam, trespass on your pa∣tience, if I should relate to you all the discourse of these two Men, and it suffices that you know they separated ill satisfied one with another: and this conversation made Clelius resolve not to give his Daughter to Horatius, though he should not give her to Aronces, as in effect, he did not believe Aron∣ces ought now to espouse her, though he spake to Horatius as if he believed it; but he soon changed those thoughts: for after that Aronces had had con∣ference with Sulpicia, and that some passionate ex∣pressions had passed between him and Clelia, he went to find Clelius, to conjure him to give him his Daugh∣ter, and to let him espouse her before his departure, but he spoke to him in the presence of his Wife; at first Clelius told him that he had too far extended

his generosity, and though he had resolved to give him Clelia when he last saved his life, he believed to be obliged, now he knew him to be a King's Son, not to give her to him; 'tis not, said he, but Clelia is of an Illustrious blood, sufficient to enter in alliance with all the Princes in the World, but since you have a Father, I ought not to give you my Daughter with∣out his consent; you must then let me kill Horatius, replied Aronces with precipitation, for I declare to you I cannot depart without doing that, if you give her not to me, therefore if you will not let me dye my hands in the blood of a Man which hath been my friend before he was my Rival, and let me renounce all sentences of Nature and Honour, give me Clelia I earnestly intreat you, for if you do it not, I shall be criminal towards all the World. I shall be unwor∣thy of my birth, and that goodness you have had, and have yet for me, Horatius shall have reason to hate me, and Clelia even shall have, it may be, cause to despise me; commiserate therefore an unhappy Lover, who feels Virtue will forsake him if you do not satisfie his love, and think after that as Nicius hath recounted to you of the life of the King my Father, and since he believed not to have done an unworthy action by engaging himself to espouse Galerita, when he was the Prince of Perusia's Priso∣ner, who was the King of Clusium's Enemy: think I say, that if I am so happy as to deliver him, he will not easily pardon me, for having espou∣sed a Virgin which possessed my heart before I knew I was his Son.

In fine, without deferring any longer, to tell you the good hap of Aronces, Clelius who had his spirit irritated against Horatius, resolved to render him happy: 'tis true, that Sulpicia who had an extreme joy to see things in this estate, was she which finish∣ed them, for she handsomely told Clelius, that if Aronces espoused their Daughter, it would be the means to see himself one day in power to give a re∣doubtable injury to Tarquin, so that this puissant reason for the interest of revenge, having fortified all those of Aronces, he consented he should espouse Clelia before his departure: but to the end it should be privately done, he was resolved that the Nupti∣als should be kept at an house of pleasure I had nigh the River Vulturnus, about half a days journey from Capua, and as 'twas necessary for Aronces speedily to depart, and that Clelius was glad that this Marriage should be made before Horatius knew of it, he was resolved it should be solemnized but with a small number of persons, and this Voyage should be pre∣texted with a simple design to injoy the pleasures of the Countrey; and in effect, there was at this little feast but three or four of Clelia's friends, and Herminius and two others who knew of it, and who were invited to the Nuptials.

I shall not stay my self, Madam, to tell you the sa∣tisfaction of Aronces, nor to recount unto you in what terms he expressed it, for it would be needless, but I shall only tell you, that this little Troop whom joy conducted, went where these Nuptials were to be kept, they were no sooner there, but the River Vulturnus over-flowed its banks, as you have known without doubt, and made such a strange disorder, that they must necessarily stay till this inundation was passed before they could make a Feast. After this, Madam, I shall not exaggerate to you the terri∣blest adventure in the World, by recounting ex∣actly how the morning after this inundation was passed (which was the day which should have prece∣ded the Nuptials of Aronces and Clelia) there was a terrible Earthquake, for you are not ignorant of the effects of it, since 'twas known further then Sici∣ly, and by consequence further then Perusia, but shall only acquaint you, that this terrible day where the winds, flames, and burning stones, made such an horrible disorder; during this Earthquake, was an unhappy day for Aronces, since he was separated from Clelia by a whirl-wind of scorching flames, just as he perceived his Rival, that a little before he belie∣ved to have been at Capua.

But in fine, Madam, to conclude his mishap, For∣tune cast Clelia in the Arms of his Rival, he not knowing who had brought Horatius in that place, or how Clelia came into his power, and all that which I know is, that Aronces saw her no more, but when this great disorder was passed, he believed that she was dead, that he returned to Capua with those which escaped so great a danger, and I did not so much afflict my self for the loss of my house, as for the grief of my friend whom I followed to Capua, where he soon knew that Horatius was not there, and that Stenius had received a Letter from him, and in pursuit he went to find him to indeavour to disco∣ver if he knew nothing of Clelia, that he refused to tell him, that Aronces forced him to fight, that he vanquisht him, that he took from him the Letter he had received from Horatius, by which he knew he had Clelia in his hands, and that he carried her to Pe∣rusia; so that seeing his Love, his Honour, and Nature commanded him to go thither, he resolved with Clelius that he would depart, which he did, for Herminius as he had some affairs which induced him to leave Italy; Aronces and I gave him Letters for Amilcar, and I would not desert my friend, but leave Fenice, of whom I was not too much satisfied, and of whom I was but a little amorous.

But after that, Madam, imagine what was the grief of Aronces, when he saw upon the Lake Clelia in a Barque which Horatius defended, and what was his astonishment to see in the other the Prince of Numidia, whom he did not believe to be his Rival; imagine, I say, his grief to see he could not go to assault Clelia's Ravisher, and succour him which assail∣ed him; imagine the deplorable Estate wherein he was, when he knew by a Slave, that they would assas∣sinate the Prince of Perusia, whose death would have delivered the King his Father, and the Queen his Mother: and in fine, imagine the miserable con∣dition in which he now is; for Madam, Aronces knows not where Clelia is, he knows she is in the power of his Rival, and he hath found one in the person of his dearest friends.

The life of Porsenna is in danger; Galerita is still a Prisoner; Mezentius saith, she shall never depart from Prison if she will not re-marry: there is dan∣ger to hazard to make Aronces known to the Prince of Perusia for Porsenna's Son, he is at present inca∣pable to act because of his wounds; Sextilia always favours her Brother Bianor: Tiberinus who is now Mezentius his Favorite, hath more then one Interest to induce him to desire the loss of Porsenna, and to oppose the discovery of Aronces, and though he hath saved the Perusian Princes life, his without doubt would be in great danger, if he was known to be Porsenna's Son, and what ought he to hope if he is not so? Madam, Aronces is every way unhappy for Honour, Nature, and Love assault him with most ri∣gorous

thoughts, when that fortune mingles it self to make continual combates in the heart of a Lover; therefore I dare hope, Madam, that being sensible of the mishaps of so generous a Prince, you'l render to him all the Offices which are in your power.

Doubt not of it (replied the Princes of the Leon∣tines seeing Celeres had finisht his Narration) for I am so touched with his misfortunes that I shall forget nothing that lies in my power, to testifie to him that I have a true compassion, therefore I conjure you to pray him to inform what I shall do or say, for though I have an inveterate hatred against Tiberinus, I will constrain my thoughts in this occasion, and in∣deavour to put him in his interest, though as things are it will be a difficult enterprise; you have so much address and so many charms, replied Aurelia, that we must despair of nothing; you are so generous, added Sycanius, that we ought to expect from you all things in such an encounter.

In truth, replied she, I merit no great praise to be capable to have compassion for another's misfor∣tunes: for you so sympathize in mine, and have thereby brought me so much consolation, that I should be armed with cruelty, if I should but seem to refuse mine to an Illustrious unhappy person.

After that, Celeres seeing it was late, rose up and went to Aronces, with whom he found Nicius and Martia, who assured him the next day, the principal friends of Porsenna would come to the Castle where he was, to the end to consult what was expedient to be done in such an important conjecture.

The End of the First Book of the First Part.

CLELIA. The First Part. BOOK. II.

LOve being the most predominant Pas∣sion in the heart of Aronces, it prompt∣ed him to be a most assiduous visiter of Clelia, and finding her interest to be the only square of all his actions, it may very well be said, That she was the only object of his mind, and that his thoughts ran wholly upon her, and nothing else besides. The Prince of Numidia as well as he, was wholly taken up with thinking upon the most admired Clelia, and he did most passionately wish for a sight of Aronces, that he might cheer up himself a little with some a∣morous discourses. As for the Princess of the Leon∣tines, she had so many various discourses with her self, that had she not been of an infinite generosity, she would not have spared so much time as she did to think upon the miseries of Aronces, Celeres for his particular, his heart being not then infested with any violent passion, and being composed more of friendship than Love, his whole thoughts were how to cheer up the wretched Aronces, so as complying with Silanus, Aurelia, Nicius and Martia, whose minds ran all upon the same business, all of them were wholly busied in discanting upon the present conditi∣on and state of the matter.

But at last the expected friends of Porsenna being arrived, Sicanus presented them unto Aronces, as soon as Nicius and Martia had informed themselves in all such circumstances as made it evident that he was really the Son of Porsenna; so as then seriously considering the State of the business and falling into council about it, there grew a very great contest a∣mongst them; some thought that the sooner the better, if Aronces were made known unto Mezentius, considering the services which he had done him: But Sycanus was of a contrary judgment, and said, that if they did so, they should too much put Aronces in danger: and that to go prudently to work they ought to tarry until the Prince of Perusia had some affection to him, grounded upon his merit; and also that it was requisite to keep close, they not being in a ca∣pacity to oppose Mezentius, in case he should prove unjust.

Others of the Company, arguing after another method, advised that Aronces should go into Clusium, there make himself known; add after he had there secured himself, then to send unto Mezentius, and let him know he was there, and demand of him the life and liberty of the King his Father. Aronces no sooner heard this advice, but he did utter∣ly disgust it, because he conceived that by this way he should stand too much upon his own safety, and too much hazard the safety of Porsenna. Also being perswaded that Clelia was within the Dominions of the Perusian Prince, he had no genius to be far from thence: So as after a very serious consultation upon the matter, the result of their arguing was, that as soon as Aronces was recovered, he should go unto Perusia; that he should Court all occasions to win up∣on the affections of Mezentius and all his Court; that in the interim, he should make sure of all Porsenna's friends, and prepare them to unite themselves and take up Arms if need were: that they should hold intelligence with some in Clusium. That the Princess of the Leontines should use all her endeavours to en∣gage Tiberinus in the service of Aronces upon all occa∣sions that should present themselves: And in order thereunto she should be intreated to quit her melan∣choly way of life, and go into Perusia as soon as A∣ronces was in a capacity of going thither.

After the Session of this private consultation, all these friends unto Porsenna separated themselves, and each one in particular went about the execution of these resolutions, excpet Nicius and Martia, who sculked in the house of Sicanus until a fit time of shew∣ing themselves useful in the service of Aronces. In the interim, this Prince was strangely perplexed that no tydings could be heard of Clelia; and the more, because the Prince of Numidia was also concern'd in it: But in spight of all these fretting inquietudes, which in probability might have retarded his reco∣very, yet recover he did, and that sooner than could be hoped. The Prince of Numidia also began to mend upon his first dressing, so as Celeres now seeing nothing which could hinder these two Rivals from seeing her, he began to be exceedingly perplexed; for he knew that the Prince of Numidia was ignorant that Aronces loved Clelia; and his heart longed to im∣part himself unto his friend: On the other side, he was sure that Aronces knowing how Adherbal and he adored one and the same Saint, Aronces would no longer continue a lover of Adherbal: He did appre∣hend some danger in acquainting the Prince of Nu∣mida with the truth of this matter, and in trusting the secrets of one Rival unto another: Also he con∣ceived that this confidence would be to no purpose,

and that when Adherbal should know both the qua∣lity and affection of Aronces, it would not at all alter the thoughts of Clelia: therefore the advice which he gave unto Aronces was, to dissemble his thoughts from that Prince: For truly (said Celeres to him) what will it concern you, though Adherbal do love Clelia, as long as he cannot come to the sight of her, nor so much as know where she is? Let him therefore be puling and telling you of his love to her: And to set him packing further off from you, give me leave to infuse some false intelligence unto him concerning Clelia, to the end he may be wandring in quest of her; and you be thereby rid of that vexation which his presence causeth you. How's this Celeres (said he to me) can you think I am able to endure Adherbal should ever come and tell me that he loves Clelia? That he will do so for ever; and that he intends to seek her all the world over; that he will pull her out of the Arms of Horatius, and never yield her unto any? Would you have me Celeres, suffer you to part from me with false intelligence, and perhaps send him nearer unto Clelia; for since you know not where she is, how can you tell but that you may direct him the way to find her. No, no, Celeres, (added he) I have other thoughts than these; and though some∣times I would be contented withal my heart, never again to see the Prince of Numidia's face since he is my Rival; yet I wovld never have him out of my sight, until I know where Clelia is. In the mean time, it goes against my soul to dissemble with him, I nei∣ther know how I should speak to him, nor whether it be expedient to let him know my thoughts; there∣fore if you will, let us leave the matter at hazard; for when I do see him perhaps I shall not then be able to speak what I now think I am able to do.

Truth is Madam, some two days after this di∣scourse, though the Prince of Numidia was much weaker and unable than Aronces, yet he gave him a visit at his Chamber; and he came in such a nick of time that he found Aronces alone, for I was then gone with the Princess of the Leontines and Aurelia. You may easily imagine how Aronces was surprised; yet for all that he received him very civilly, but did not answer the caresses of the Numidian Prince with his usual freeness; he began to thank him for the pains he had taken in coming to see him, but Adherbal ob∣ligingly interrupting him: No, no, (said he unto him) my dear Aronces, you need not thank me for what I have done: but if you saw into my heart per∣haps you would complain against me, for this visit is not a visit of bare friendship, since my love unto Cle∣lia hath a share in my affection to you, and I come as well to make you the confident of my Passion, as of my sorrow for so much sadness in your looks, both the last time you came to visit me and now. Sir, (re∣plied Aronces faintly) I am so far unfit to be the confi∣dent of your Love, that if you will be rul'd by me, you shall never make choice of me for it. And yet replied Adherbal, you are furnished with all the qua∣lities requisite in a most agreeable and faithful friend, for you slow in wit, ingenuity, and spirit, you have a most tender soul, you know Clelia as well as I do, you are her friend, and doubtless yet you love me, for since absence hath not diminished the least spark of my affection to you, I will judge of you by my self, and believe that your affection answers mine: That I may trust you with the whole secrets of my soul, and discover all my infirmities unto you. 'Tis true Sir, (replied Aronces) that indeed I have a ten∣der heart, and do know Clelia; but alas, (added he, out of his excess of love, sincerity and jealousie) it is not so true that I am her friend.

How, replied Adherbal, what alteration is this? How is it possible you should ever hate that most tran∣scendent person? Nay, nay, mistake me not, (re∣plied he) for I do love her in the same degree you do: Now judge whether or no I am fit to be your confi∣dent, and whether I could possibly give you a more heroick testimony of my friendship than this, in ac∣quainting you with my love of Clelia. Oh Aronces, (cried out the Prince of Numidia) it is a most cruel testimony, for truly since I see that you do love Cle∣lia, I need not ask any further why I am not loved my self. Upon this Adherbal was silent, and so a while continued; in the mean while Aronces was something pleased in thinking that his Rival did not now look upon him as the confident of his love; so as growing a little bolder, I know not Sir (said he unto him) whether you may accuse me for being the cause why Clelia doth not answer your affection, but I am very certain that I my self am not in the Catalogue of the happy, nor in all likelihood shall be a long time. Yet I conceived that being acquainted with your genero∣sity, it was a piece of my duty to tell you ingeniously, that I have loved Clelia, ever since I was at Carthage. That I did love her at Capua, and that having hah the happiness to do Clelius some considerable services, he freely bestowed Clelia upon me, and I was upon the very point of marriage, when a most horrid Earthquake did make a separation between us. Thus, and with reason looking upon her as my own, since Clelius and Sulpicia gave her unto me, and since never contradicted their wills, I conceived it fit to acquaint you with the state of the business, and that to dissem∣ble with you, did derogate from the maxims of true generosity.

How Aronces! (said Adherbal then unto him) hath Clelius and Sulpicia both made a promise of Clelia unto you? and hath Clelia given her self unto you? Yes Sir (replied he) and that is it which renders me the more miserable. But Sir you know that you are no Roman, replied Adherbal, and when she was at Carthage, Clelius then would not bestow her upon a∣ny but a Roman, but talked as if he would give her unto an ordinary Citizen of Rome, before the great∣est King upon Earth. 'Twas so indeed, replied A∣ronces, when we were at Carthage, but it is as true, that though I am no Roman, yet I had been a most happy man had fortune been pleased. Since you have thus far informed me Sir, replied Adherbal, I know very well how I ought to answer, but to tell you tru∣ly Aronces, I doubt I cannot; I am so grieved to meet with a Rival in the person of my friend, and to hear I ought not in reason pretend any more unto Clelia, that I dare not answer for my own thoughts. And I am so little master of my self, (added he in rising up) that lest I should vent something in my transport of grief, that might make me repent it all my days, I will take my leave of you not knowing what I shall think when we meet next. Sir, replied Aronces, your virtue makes me ashamed, and I will use all the virtue that I have, to be both your Rival and your Friend: My design is the same, replied the Prince of Numidia, but I cannot say that I am able to execute it, nor do know whether I am able to be both at once, the most miserable and the most generous man. Upon this Adherbal retired, he himself not knowing his own thoughts of Aronces, for his soul was so

sadded to hear that he could not pretend any more unto Clelia, as he was not the master of his own mind. Aronces himself could not chuse but grieve that he had such a brave man to his Rival: But Horatius be∣ing then the most legitimate object of his hatred, and finding no likelihood that the Prince of Numi∣dia could ever prejudice him, his vertue surmounted all motions of any aversion towards that Prince, and overcoming himself, he went to visit him the next morning betimes. The Prince of Numidia emulating the generosity of his Rival, and unwilling to yield unto him in point of generosity, he gave him a most civil reception, and such high discourses passed be∣tween them, as made them admire each other, though their hearts did beat such a pulse as secretly moved rather to hatred than love of each other. After this, these two Rivals did meet at the Princess of the Leontines Chamber and at Aurelia's, but they met not without many standers by.

The truth is, they continued not long in a power of seeing each other, for both being perfectly reco∣vered together, they were forced to sever; for A∣ronces was constrained to go unto Perusia, and trans∣act about the preservation of the King his Fathers life: And the Prince of Numidia seeing no rational hope for himself, resolved to wander up and down the world, and not to be any longer in quest of Cle∣lia, since now he had no pretence unto her: and the principal reason of this his resolve was, because he would try whether change of place would work a change of mind, and whether he could recover that tranquillity which he had lost. But finding it a piece of difficulty to take a handsome farewel of his Rival, he opened his heart unto Celeres, who being very desirous that two such great Princes should part fair without a quarrel, he did approve of his intention in departing without visiting Aronces, who being ready to go unto Perusia was mightily perplexed: For not knowing where Clelia was, he could have willingly wished, that though the sight of a Rival was a mote in his eye, yet he would have had the Prince of Numidia there as well as himself. But that wish was in vain: For Adherbal went that same night to take his leave of Sicanus and Aurelia, and giving them thanks for all favours received from them, he gave order that all his equipage should be ready by break of day; but before he went he left two Let∣ters with order to be delivered unto Celeres, one for Clelia the other for himself, which contained these lines.

Adherbal unto Celeres.

FOr all you are an intimate friend unto my Rival, yet I have seen you so passionately grieved at my misery, that I will desire a favour from you. 'Tis true, it is a fa∣vour of a strange nature, since I heartily wish that you may not be able to do it; for I conjure you to keep this inclosed Letter, for the most admirable Clelia, but that it may not be a breach of that fidelity which you owe unto my Ri∣val, I do not desire you to deliver it unto her, until she hath made my Rival most happy. This being all I ask of you, I dare hope that you will not deny me this office, since I do not desire it may be done me until fortune hath put me into a capacity of meriting the compassion of my Rival. I hint not a syllable to you of him; for what can that man say of him, who hath found in the person of Aronces, all that can possibly move the highest friendship, and the high∣est hatred? Adien. Pity me, since you may safely do it without offence note my Rival and your Friend; and believe that you could never pity a person who doth more merit it than my self.

When Celeres had received and read this Letter, he was much surprised, and the more because that directed unto Clelia was sealed; however since he was not desired to deliver it until Aronces, was first happy, he did not scruple at the doing of this Office for the Rival of his Friend. But as he was ruminating upon this adventure, Aronces comes suddenly into the Chamber, and sees Adherbals Letter unto Clelia, upon the Table; this sight much amazing him, he asked Celeres in all hast whether he knew where she was, and how it came about that the Prince of Nu∣midia directed this Letter unto him, for he kn••w his hand. Celeres perceiving the agitation of his Spirits, and Adherbal not having obliged him to conceal it from Aronces, he shewed him the Letter of his unfor∣tunate Lover, and acquainted him with his depar∣ture, for till then he knew not of it. Aronces re∣collecting himself by degrees as he read this Letter; Alas, alas, Celeres, (said he unto him after he had read it) I am afraid that you must never deliver my Rivals Letter unto Clelia, since you must not deliver it until she hath made me happy: No sooner had he said so, but a fresh gust of apprehension rowsing his thoughts, he lamented the absence of Adherbal, in a thought that perhaps he might come to find out Clelia. Yet notwithstanding Celeres so convinced him, that he was perswaded the absence of Adherbal would be advantageous unto him. For truly Sir, (said he unto him amongst many other reasons) there is not a more intollerable torment under the Sun, than to have a Rival whom virtue compels one to love, and whom love compels one to hate, to be perpetu∣ally in ones eye. 'Tis right Celeres (said he unto him) but this is not the first time that such a passion as mine, hath hurried a man into unreasonable thoughts.

Whilst this Prince was thus talking, he held in his hand his Rivals Letter unto his Mistress, and looked upon it as if his looks would have broke open the Seal: after restoring it hastily unto Celeres, take it Celeres (said he) and keep it, lest a spark of jealou∣sie should force me to open it: And that my fidelity may be the more manifest, I will be faithful unto an unfortunate Lover and Rival, let my desire of seeing what he hath written unto Clelia be never so great: So Celeres took the Letter and told his friend, that had he offered to have opened it, he would have gi∣ven a stop to his curiosity. After which Sicanus be∣ing come, and telling them that the Princess of the Leontines prepared her self to go next morning unto Perusia, and transact in the service of Aronces, they went both together unto her Chamber, where Cele∣res related all passages; shewing them the Prince of Numidia's Letter, and applauded the power which Aronces had over himself, in not opening that Let∣ter which his Rival writ unto Clelia, though he had a most strong desire unto it. Were it possible to e∣steem Aronces more than I do (replied the Princess of the Leontines) doubtless I should, for I do think no quality under Heaven more laudable than fidelity is; especially when it is preserved in such cases, wherein it is easie to be otherwise, or where good excuses may be had, or examples to authorize infide∣lity. How many men are there in the World, who never use to make the least scruple of opening all the

Letters which come unto their hands? who invent devices how to open and then shut them again unper∣ceivedly? and who have such a general curiosity to be prying into all manner of Letters, that no Seal escapes them: As the Princess of the Leontines was saying so, Aurelia entred, and no sooner entred but Sicanus addressed himself unto the Princess of the Leontines; Madam (said he unto her) if you desire to be informed further of their curiosity who love to be opening Letters, I beseech you in∣treat Aurelia to tell you; for she is acquainted with a fair Lady, whom you Madam also know, that put such tricks upon her; and therefore since she is bet∣ter able to inform you then I am, I will leave it un∣to her to tell you all the passages of it.

So Sicanus having Letters to write unto Perusia, he went out, and left Aurelia to supply his place who did become it excellently well; for she apprehend∣ing at first the business, did smilingly ask the Prin∣cess of the Leontines, whether it was concerning the opening of any Letters; for if it be (added she) none in the World can give a better account of such a matter then my self, unless I have forgot∣ten; though for my part I have renounced e∣ver making use of any such ways, as heretofore have brought upon me abundance of delight, and as much sorrow.

The Question (replied the Princess of the Leon∣tines) is not concerning the opening of any Letter, but whether we ought absolutely to condemn or excuse such Men as are so inquisitive as to open them; such as make a mock at those who are so scrupulously faithful, as not to open the Letters of their very enemies, although they were per∣swaded they contained some concernments of themselves. Madam, replied Aurelia, I am able to give you all those fond and false reasons, which are alledged by those who are inquisitive, for a friend of mine hath instructed me in the Art: Aurelia had no sooner said so, but the Lady of whom she spoke entred; for she living within three miles of the Thrasimenian Lake, towards the Isle of Saules, she used often to visit Aurelia; also she had seen the Princess of the Leontines two or three times. Yet this Princess never before knew of her humour in opening Letters; because no occasion concern∣ing it did present it self; but as soon as she was en∣tred, Aurelia knowing her humour, and also know∣ing that she affected raillery, and that she did not think she did ill in opening all the Letters which came under her hands, she told her that she came in a very good time to help her out in the mainte∣nance of a good cause: For truly (said she unto her) as I was boasting of my skill in opening and shutting of Letters, they would needs perswade me that I put my self unto a great deal of trou∣ble▪ which could hardly ever procure me any great delight; and besides, they would make me believe, that such an act was neither just nor generous.

For matter of justice and generosity (replied this Lady whose name was Statilia) perhaps it will prove a little difficult to prove that it is; but for matter of pleasure (added she) I will maintain that there is nothing fuller of delight then to make ones self Mistress of anothers secrets unperceivedly, and ne∣ver be beholding to them for it: and I am perswa∣ded, that there is always some kind of pleasure in knowing that which others know not, and which they do not know, that others know it, be the thing of what nature it will.

For my particular (said the Princess of the Leon∣tines) I am not of your opinion, for there are a thousand sorts of secrets, which never move the least curiosity in me. For my part, added Aronces, my mind is not at all inquisitive after such things, as in which I have no interest, and as I should not think well any should dive too far into my heart, so I will never offer to dive into the hearts of others; and I am so far from opening their Letters (said he and smiled) that I think if their hearts were in my hands, I should not screw any thing out of them; always excepting the heart of my Mistress, and the hearts of my Rivals. For my part (replied Statilia) I should not use the matter so: and since it is more easie to open Letters then hearts, and since some∣times opening the one, the other is discovered, I will never omit any opportunity of satisfying my curiosity; but that I may never be taxed with any malicious curiosity, I assure you, that though I have opened almost all the Letters which ever came unto my hands, yet I never raised any mischief between the parties, or set them at variance. But I beseech you tell me (said then the Princess of the Leontines) to what purpose is it that you are so desirous to o∣pen Letters, since you make no use of the con∣tents? To do so once out of an humour of gal∣lantry, I confess some small delight may be taken in it; but to make a matter of care and continual practice for nothing, I must confess, that I cannot understand it: First, this must be an infallible po∣sition, that of a hundred Letters which you open, there is not one wherein you have any concernment nor wherein you can take any pleasure in seeing, for those who have a mind to speak of you, will not trust the mention of you in their Letters; such as hold any intrignes of gallantry will not commit them to such hands as come within your walk; Do∣mestick business never diverts; general news can be no subject for your curiosity, since that is known to you as well as them that write; common complements cannot be any pleasure to you, and for Letters of wit, they will be shewed unto you with∣out your opening them; so as I must conclude, that you commit a very unjust Act for a very poor pit∣tance of pleasure. And I am perswaded, that no∣thing in the world ought to be more inviolable then the fidelity of Letters; so as though I had in my hands a Letter which came from one of my profes∣sed enemies, directed unto a person whom I neither loved, nor he loved me, yet I would let it pass with∣out an opening. Indeed the facility in committing this kind of crime, is an argument to me, that it ought never to be committed, and that nothing ought to be more inviolable then Letters.

For my part (said Statilia) I may conceive it may be with this, as with Theft in Sparta, where they punish only those who steal ill-favouredly, and are taken in the Act. So as I must conclude, that when one hath the art of handsome opening them, so as it shall never be perceived; and that when one knows how to conceal the contents of the Letter opened, it can be no great crime to open them. This were reason enough to keep you from it, replied Aronces, that oftentimes you put your self to abundance of trouble about the opening of a Letter, wherein you find nothing, when as you might employ your time and pain much better. If that consideration would

have corrected her (replied Aurelia) she had been long since corrected: For such an Adventure happe∣ned unto her one day, which I shall relate unto you, if she will give me leave. I consent (said Statilia) provided you will give me leave to relate some Ad∣ventures which have passed, and which have accusto∣med me to open Letters. This condition is so just (said Celeres) as I believe Aurelia will not be against it. I shall not be against any thing, answered Aure∣lia, which may excuse Statilia. But since it is my turn to speak first, (pursued she, and addressed her self to the Princess of the Leontines) be pleased to know Madam, that there was in Perusia some four or five years, a Lady and a Widow, whose beauty was in competition with Statilia's, this is sufficient to make you think there was no great love between them. I must tell you in general terms, that both of them had beauty enough to divide between themselves, all the hearts that were in a most gallant Court. They were perpetually making usurpations upon one ano∣ther, and could never keep within the limits of their own Empires. I beseech you (said Statilia and in∣terrupted her) come to the business of Letters, if you will have me let you go on with your story. I shall come to it presently (replied Aurelia, and turn∣ed towards the Princess of the Leontines) that Stati∣lia passionately desiring to know the secret thoughts of her pretended Rivalless, received a Letter which was not directed unto her, but was amongst many others which were directed unto her. As soon as she saw the Superscription, she knew it to be the hand of that Lady whom she loved not; and she saw written upon it, the name of a Man who was deeply in love with Statilia, and whose fidelity she suspected; for of late he was less assiduous in his visits to her then ordinary, but more unto the other Lady. So that musing upon the matter, and considering all circum∣stances, she believed him to be in love with this Lady; she concluded it upon a hundred consequences, which she believed to be infallible, as upon conjectures which she thought to be unquestionable. I coming into the Chamber, she acquainted me with the Ad∣venture, and with her resolution of opening the Letter; but, said she, I must use all my art in the o∣pening of it, for I would by no means have the two interested persons to know that I have seen it; but on the contrary, it being delivered without any su∣spicion of me, I may carry it so as she who did write it shall think her new Lover hath revealed all unto me, and as for him to whom it is directed, I will en¦deavour to make him believe, that I know of it by some other of this Ladies Lovers. Therefore it is requisite, I use extraordinary care in the opening of it, that it may be done and not perceived.

At the last Statilia after two hours muse upon it, and after two hours more spent in experiments upon other Letters, to try which way was the best, she opened this Letter which procured her so much an∣ger and curiosity. And that you may the better ap∣prehend her awonishment, I must acquaint you, that this Lady who writ this Letter had a very pleasant house in the Countrey: In this house, there was a Man who had an excellent faculty in certain curious works. This Man by an odd piece of Fortune was called by the very same name of him that was in love with Statilia, though their qualities were much different: So as in lieu of finding matters of Court∣ship and gallantry, as she expected in this Letter, she found several orders relating unto the Gardens and works of this Lady; in some places she desired he would have a special care to plant rows of Orange-Trees, in another place she desired might be a Foun∣tain circled about with a Palizado of Myrtles, and many other things which were absolutely imperti∣nent unto the imagination of Statilia. However, she never went about to undeceive her self, but still would needs have it, that this was a Letter of some private correspondency, which had in it some am∣phibious sence; for as you know, since the famous Sybil who came unto Tarquin at Rome, and writ a book of Verses called Acrosticks, which by taking the first letter of every Line makes up perfect sence on the side, many after her made use of this inven∣tion. Statilia was above an hour in turning and winding the words and lines of this Letter every way, in hopes to find some sence fitting to her fancy; but as she was thus busying our self, the Slave who brought it unto her amongst many others, came to ask for it, and to tell her that it was directed unto a certain Man who had the oversight of such a Ladies works. Upon a more strict examination and consi∣deration of the business, Statilia perceived that all her discants and conceits upon this Letter were upon false surmises; that she had taken a great deal of pains to no purpose, and that she was not a jot the wiser in that thing which she most desired to know. Yes, replied Statilia, I drew thus much advantage out of my curiosity, that I knew there was nothing in the Letter worth the knowing, for had I let it pass without a sight, I should have believed all my life long, that this Lady had written a Letter of gallan∣try, and that this pretended gallant was persidious. But Madam, added she, the better to acquaint you, how I came unto this humour of opening of Let∣ters, be pleased to know, that the first person I ever loved, was the most cunning wench that ever was, and after a hundred testimonies of my affection to her, I took a journey into the Countrey for eight days, where we were almost continually together at an Aunts house of hers, who was my Cousin. In this solitude we were never asunder, and as in friend∣ship nothing is so sweet, as to be talking unto each other upon what we think of all our acquaintance, so did we, she being naturally ingenious, and loving me very tenderly. I did truly tell her my opinion of every one she named me, not withholding my most secret thoughts from her. At last, I was to return unto Perusia, and leave her in the Countrey; she sent above twenty several Letters by me, she shewed me many of them before the sealing, and I did not suspect that there was any of the rest which she shewed not unto me that any ways concerned me, for she carried it so cunningly, that I believed she would have shewed me all if I desired. So as taking into my charge these Letters, as soon as I came into Perusia, I thought of delivering them according to directions: But as chance would have it, one of them was unsealed, and I must confess I could not seal it before I read it; it chanced to be one of those which she had not shewed unto me, and it was direct∣ed unto a Man, who at that time did not hate me, and was her Cousin. I having spoke much good of him unto her, I found that she acquainted him in her Letter with all I had spoke in his advantage, and gave him the greatest hopes in the World: I blushing for anger, and finding what I expected not, I resolved to open all the rest which I had not seen; and truly I did not repent it, though she moved me

to be extremely angry. For I found in one of them (which was directed unto a Woman who was owner of as many bad, as good qualities) that she had imparted unto her, a great part of what I had said of her: I found in another of them a notable piece of Railery, which she had put upon me. And to be short, I discovered, that she was the most crafty Wench upon earth, and the least worthy of my friendship. In the heat of my anger, I sent her back all her Letters open; and I made a solemn vow most religiously to be observed, that I would o∣pen every Letter which came under my hands, which I did not see before sealing, because I would never expose my self unto any such disasters, as then by good fortune I prevented: Ever since my curiosity hath been so well satisfied, that I knew not how to repent of it.

I perceive, replied the Princess, you have found out an invention not to be deceived your self, but is it not worse to be upbraided with deceiving of o∣thers, then it is to upbraid others with deceiving you? Having had experience of both (replied Sta∣tilia and laughed) I can assure you, Madam, that in these matters it is much better to deceive others, then to be deceived by them. Truth is (added she) that if I could charge my self with any wicked acti∣on, I should be ashamed; but I cannot think the opening of a Letter to be a crime so hainous. For if there be no matter of consequence in it, then I do no harm unto any: If there be any matter of mirth in it which relates not to my self: I can laugh at it in a corner; and if there be any injurious mat∣ter which reflects upon my self, I have injured them only, who would have injured me: So as I must con∣clude, that of all the sins which one can commit, this I speak of is the least, the most easie to be acted, and the most pleasant. You cannot perswade me with all the wit you have (replied the Princess of the Le∣ontines) but that the opening of Letters is a most dangerous habit; it is so much against the maxims of justice and generosity, that I dare maintain it is a violation of all manner of rights, and that it is a less folly to rob another, to usurp Kingdoms, and to be revenged upon ones enemies by sword, or poison, then to blemish ones fidelity by such things as those. For by robbing one may inrich himself; by usurp∣ing a Kingdom, one may satisfie his ambition, and by revenge upon enemies one may gust the sweets of it; but there is neither pleasure nor profit gotten by opening of Letters, at the least not by one in a hun∣dred. Yet experience makes it manifest that it is the crime of many, and the custom of it so easily gotten, as I cannot tell how Aurelia could break her self of it. Alas Madam, replied Aurelia, I was ea∣sily broken of it, for I think never was any one more severely punished then I was for my curiosity: But I am very much obliged unto that charitable Friend who was my punisher and correcter. Oh I beseech you (replied the Princess of the Leontines) tell us how you came to leave off that trick which Statilia taught you. Since you command it Madam (replied Aurelia) you must know, that after I had learned of Statilia all her inventions of opening Letters, and had practised them five or six days together, and did nothing else: After I say, that I was grown very cunning, I made use of my skill upon several occa∣sions; but having another friend besides Statilia, whom I loved very well, and was also loved again, I would have made her my Confident in a business of a Letter which I opened, and would have told her all. She being a person more scrupulous in such matters then Statilia, she resolved to put a trick upon me which might correct me, for a thing which she thought not just. For a whole month together I received a∣bundance of Letters, several ways, upon several sub∣jects, all directed unto Men of my acquaintance, wherein I still found something which vexed me; for she who caused them to be written, knowing all the secrets of my whole life, she had contrived them so cunningly, that I burned above a dozen Letters after I had opened them, not suspecting that she had any hand in them. At last I was so pitifully perplexed that not being able to continue any longer, I went to empty my self unto this charitable friend; for though I loved Statilia very well, yet at that time there were some things which I could not impart un∣to her. As soon as I began to complain, she unto whom I made my moan, began to mock me, and said I deserved no pity, and that those who were misera∣ble by their own folly, deserved no compassion. A∣las (replied I) my misery proceeds from what others have written; but if you would not have seen their Letters replied she) this had not been written of you. After this, she would have perswaded me, that this was a punishment for my curiosity: But I was deaf in the ear, insomuch, as she did not que∣stion, but that I would open the next Letter I met withal: And indeed, in order to her design of con∣verting me, she did write one Letter directed unto her self, though it was really intended for me, as being to pass through my hands, thinking that I would open that Letter as soon as any's else: This Letter I received, simply believing it intended for my friend, and according to her hopes I did open it. But Madam, I was most strangely ashamed when after the opening of it, I found that in lieu of being to her, it was from her, and intended for me, and more damped when I read it: For, Madam, it contained all the arguments that could be devised against that ill quality of opening of Letters, and to make me ashamed of it: The Letter was long, and full of wit, and concluded that it was a thing never to be excused, unless it were done out of a resentment of jealousie. Therefore (said she in the end of her Letter) if you will ever go about to justifie this ill quali∣ty unto me, you must accuse your self of two things more, you must confess that you are both in love and also jealous, and the suspicion which you have of e∣very one, makes you look for that which you would never find. Thus, Madam, was the cure of my cu∣riosity, for from that time I made a promise unto my self, never to open any more Letters; and I was so convinced with the arguments of my generous friend, that I went and acquainted her with my reso∣lution, she in recompence confessed, that all those Letters which had so perplexed me, were writ only to correct me: but they had not the same influence upon Statilia; for she hath opened several Letters which were directed unto me, and put her self to much trouble in making them up again: After all this, Statilia being excellent at Railery, did very in∣geniously defend her self against all the solid reasons which the Princess of the Leontines, Aronces, Au∣relia, and Celeres brought against her, yet she was for∣ced to confess, that they were in the right, and she in the wrong; but withal she protested, that she should for ever continue in the wrong, and as long as she

live never be broken of it; after this, she concluded her visit and went away. And the Princess of the Leontines continuing her applauds of Aronces for his fidelity even unto his Rival, they began a most so∣lid league of friendship. Indeed this Princess ac∣cording to her promise went into Perusia, Aurelia went also: But as for Sicanus, he staid with Nicius and Martia to give all directions concerning Aronces, when the time did require. In the mean time A∣ronces finding himself in a fit condition to go, and seeing the interest of the King his Father, his own, and of his love, required that he should go as soon as possible he could to Mezentius, he went two days after the Princess of the Leontines departed from the Isle of Sauls, and he was entertained with so much honour, that Mezentius lodged him in his own Pa∣lace, and would have every one look upon him as a Man unto whom he owed his life: So that as it is the custom of all Courts, Aronces had not only the fa∣vourable aspect of the Prince, but of every one be∣sides. Bianor and Tiberinus also did him all imagina∣ble honours: And as Aronces was infinitely amiable, so it was an easie matter for him to get love. The heart of Mezentius was so much moved, as he spoke it openly, a few days after he came to Perusia, that though he had not been a Debtor to him for his Life, yet he should have most tenderly loved him, and think him worthy of his highest favour. These advantagious words being reported unto Tiberinus, he began to be jealous of this growing Favorite, so as to give him a handsome remove, he told Mezentius that it was a shame for him to keep a stranger so long in his Court, and that it were good to pack him away with some magnificent Present, to the end he might go about his business. But Mezentius be∣ing of an apprehensive wit, knew well enough the jealous thoughts of Tiberinus, and without giving any direct answer, told him that e're long he would do what did become him. Mean time, the Princess of the Leontines, out of her zealous and generous devotion to serve Aronces, did force her self to look upon Tiborinus a little better then ordinary, and en∣deavoured to make him love Aronces, she did still pre∣serve very carefully that amity which she had gotten amongst all the Grandees of that Court: And scarce a day passed without some secret conference with her, from the friends of Porsenna and Galerita, Sica∣nus and others who negotiated for Aronces, did con¦tinually communicate unto him what each of them in particular had done. But the greatest affliction upon Aronces was, that he could not hear a word of Clelia, though by order from Mezentius a strict Inqui∣sition was made for her throughout all his Domini∣ons. So as since he could not then depart from Pe∣rusia, considering the condition where in the King his Father was, nor knowing where to seek her, he resol∣ved to stay until he could better dispose of himself, and in the interim to send secretly unto the Towns which were then Enemies unto Rome; for he con∣ceived that Horatius who was upon ill terms with Tarquin, could not seek a safer retreat then amongst his enemies. So as in order to this design, he sent unto all such places where there was any hopes to hear something of her. After which, he did whol∣ly devote himself to save the life of Porsenna. For Mezentius desiring a Successor, and to marry his Daughter, he having no Children, did accuse Por∣senna that he went about to murther him, and did charge him indeed with some shews of probability. Indeed the Man who would have killed him, and whom Aronces killed, was a Friend of the Prisoner King, and if his virtues had not been apparent unto all the World, it might have been thought, that de∣sire of liberty might have prompted him to consent unto such an unworthy action. So as Mezentius ha∣ving some colour to accuse him of such a crime, he made it be prosecuted, and they proceeded against him as a Delinquent. Aronces then being in great favour and familiarity with Mezentius, he talked one day with him concerning this accusation, and told him that he believed it had no good foundation, and beseeched him to take a business of that great im∣portance into his serious consideration. How A∣ronces said Mezentius unto him, did you give death to him, who would by order from Porsenna have taken away my life, and would you now save his life, and who would have been my death? Sir, replyed Aron∣ces, I desire to keep you from doing a thing which afterward you may repent of, when it is too late: And if an unfortunate Stranger, to whom you have given leave to utter his mind, may be still permitted to speak, I would ingeniously confess that I think there is nothing of greater consideration, then for a Soveraign Prince to be very cautious how he med∣dles with those of his own quality; for if he put them into the Rank of other men, then doth he lose his own priviledges, and makes himself capable to suffer that which he inflicts upon others. Therefore Sir, I beseech you be not too hasty in proceeding against Porsenna, but make a difference betwixt a great King and a common Subject. Your language, replied Mezentius, is indeed both prudent and generous, but the life of Porsenna is so great an obstacle unto all my designs, that since fortune hath given me a just cause to ruine him, I ought to do it, unless I be the most imprudent man upon earth. I do know very well, Sir, replied Aronces, that Porsenna is accused; but I cannot tell whether there be any proofs against him: 'Tis true you were assaulted by a man who was tyed unto his interest; but Sir, you have kept him under such strict guards, as it is not credible he should ever have a hand in such a horrid act: And therefore Sir be careful, least in seeking for a pretence to ruine the innocent, you become guilty your self, and least you should provoke the just gods to revenge his death: Sir I beseech you pardon the boldness of my lan∣guage, for I take so great an interest in all that con∣cerns you, as I hope that my zeal will plead my ex∣cuse: I thank you, replied Mezentius, and my love is so tender towards you, that you may speak any thing; but for this love to you, you are more obli∣ged unto me then you imagine; for you have so great a resemblance of a Man, whom of all the World I most hate, as I wonder you can be deep in my affection. However, I must tell you, that I do not wonder you should speak as you do, for you are young, you know not the several interests of my state, nor the secret reasons which I have to ruine Porsenna: Therefore being neither angry, nor per∣swaded by any thing you have said, let me tell you, that if I do not ruine Porsenna, he will ruine me; and in the choice of these two, I had better ruine then be ruined. Aronces had further replied, if Tiberinus had not come in; who seeing them in such private conference, grew extremely jealous; for he knew by the countenance of Mezentius, that the discourse was very serious, and concerned something of great importance. So as discontent appearing

in his eyes, Mezentius perceived it and was angry; and to punish Tiberinus for taking it ill he should talk with Aronces, he spoke not a word unto him, but con∣tinued talking with that Prince; insomuch as Tiberinus being extremely netled, he went out abruptly, & went unto the Princess of the Leontines. Mean time, Me∣zentius talked no more of Porsenna unto Aronces; but pressed him to tell who and from whence he was. You know (said he unto him) that I have often asked you, and could never get a direct answer from you. 'Tis very true Sir, replied Aronces, and I beseech you let me be silent still; for truly Sir, I have several rea∣sons to conceal my self; and all I can say at this time is, that as soon as I can I will let you know it. Your answer doth a little stagger me, replyed Mezentius, for it makes me think you were one of those Chil∣dren who were left in the Street, exposed to the Will of Fate, and ignorant of your extraction. No, Sir, replyed Aronces, I am none of those, I know my Progenitors are noble; but I know withal that I ought not to discover it, until some matters be over, which perpaps will be very shortly. As Aronces was saying so Bianor entred, who came to tell Mezentius, that he had met with many circumstances which made it conjecturable, that Porsenna was knowing to the design of him who would have assassinated him. But whilst these passages were at the Palace of Me∣zentius, Tiberinus was with the Princess of the Le∣ontines, inveighing against the new favourite Aron∣ces: It is desired Madam (said he unto her after ma∣ny other matters) I shall ere long be as much out of my Masters favour as out of my Mistresses, and con∣sidering the fresh favours of Aronces, I shall be as un∣fortunate in my ambition as in my Love. That I may remove half of your misfortunes (replyed the Prin¦cess very wisely) I pray follow my counsel. Your language Madam, had been more obliging, replied Tiberinus, if you had said, I command you. Which you will (said she) if your case were mine in lieu of crossing the growing favours upon Aronces, I would comply with him and his interests, and perswade him that he was a debtor unto me for the good fortune he enjoys; and in order hereunto I will take upon me to make this union betwixt you; for I cannot con∣ceive that you can continue long in favour, unless there be some who is in favour with Mezentius about his pleasures, whilst you are about his great affairs: You know this Prince as old as he is, hath all the in∣clinations of a young man: So as whilst you are transacting in State affairs, the other may be the com∣panion of his diversions: make choice of Aronces for it, he is young, he is a stranger, he is not in a capa∣city to move factions in the Court, nor any way hurt you; and in all likelihood will be contented with a pleasant life, and enjoy the sweets of his favours in that kind. But I beseech you Madam, replied Tibe∣rinus, how can you tell whether Aronces will not sup∣plant me in the place which I enjoy, if once he enter into the heart of Mezentius: If you be in power to supplant him (replied the Princess) then do it; but take heed lest in going about to ruine him you ruine your self. But on the other side by taking that course which I propose, you run no hazard, for by not crossing the favours of Aronces, but complying with his interest, Mezentius finding no stop to his inclina∣tions, will of himself leave off those things which now divert him; but say he should not, however you have thereby obliged Aronces; and it is not pro∣bable that he who seems to be of a most notable ge∣nerosity, will ever dishonour himself by any publick ingratitude, and therefore the best expedient is as I advise principally, because he may not be looked up∣on as a new Favourite, but rather his favours may be looked upon as an effect of yours. The Princess of the Leontines also used many other arguments unto Tiberinus; so as none being fitter to perswade than a Mistress, Tiberinus thought all her reasons to be very good, and he thought himself so happy that she would interest her self in his fortune, as he told her that he did absolutely put himself into her hands, and that she might tell Aronces what she pleased; So as A∣ronces coming in, to lose no time, she resolved to unite them before they parted; but to do it the more handsomly, and the better to deceive Tiberinus, she no sooner saw Aronces; but she began discourse: You come very happily Sir, said she unto him, to thank Tiberinus for those favours for which you are obliged unto him: For truly Aronces to be plain with you, you are a debtor unto him for all those favours which you receive from Mezentius: Truth is, that Prince intended to have packt you away with a Princely Present, the next morning you came hither, for those who have seen Porsenna at your age, do say that you do extremely resemble him: And Mezentius could hardly have endured the sight of you, if Ti∣berinus had not stopped his aversion, which he care∣fully hides from you, by reason of his obligations to you; which aversion he had never overcome with∣out Tiberinus: I thought it to be expedient that you were acquainted with the state of things, to the end you might apply your self unto the fortunes of him unto whom you are obliged, and so make your own the more secure. Aronces knowing the meaning of the Princess, did answer her as handsomly as she spoke. Insomuch as Tiberinus suiting with the inten∣tions of that Princess, did contract a league so great, as he discovered unto Aronces all the ways that would most work upon the spirit of Mezentins. But that which was most remarkable in this business was, that to testifie the confidence in Aronces, and the more to engage him in his interests, he told him that above all it was most expedient to hasten the ruine of Por∣senna. For truly (said he) as long as that Prince is living, the life of Mezentius is not secure: Aronces durst not at the first openly contradict Tiberinus, lest he should render himself suspected: So as this confe∣rence ended with reciprocal protestations, never to prejudice each other unto Mezentius: And indeed, they did negotiate together as men who stood in need of each other. Tiberinus confessed unto Aronces, his love unto the Princess of the Leontines, and he per∣ceived, that if he would be in the favour of Mezen∣tius, he must comply with Aronces, so as he neglected nothing in order thereunto.

This being the state of things, the people of A∣rezzes and Crotones made such an unexpected eruption and entred so far into the Country of him whom they took for their enemy, that Perusia was hotly alarm'd: and Mezentius as stout as he was, did think of leav∣ing the Metropolis of his Dominions, and retire himself unto an Isle of the Thrasimenian Lake, until he had mustred his forces. But Aronces, who had great favour and familiarity with him, was against it; and perswaded him that upon such occasions, it was very dangerous to fly or shew any signs of Fear, so as he resolved to stay and make head against his e∣nemies as well as he could.

There being some Forces still on foot, by reason

that he was never a quiet possessor of Clusium, he gave orders that they should be drawn into a body. The People of Perusia offered of themselves to Arm; and Aronces beseeched Mezentius for leave to go and view the enemy. And accordingly he went in the Head of Two Hundred Horse only, to see what he could discover of their true force; he behaved himself so bravely in this employment, that he defeated one par∣ty which he met, and took many Prisoners, from whom he knew the true state of things. So as return∣ing to Mezentius after this glorious attempt, he ex∣horted him to meet the enemy. And accordingly, as soon as their Troops were mustred, and some Dis∣cipline used amongst the fresh Soldiers, who were listed to defend their Houses and their Wives, he went out of Perusia, followed by Tiberinus, Bianor, all the Grandees of the State, Aronces and Celeres. But what necessity soever there was of Soldiers, the Guards upon Porsenna were not lessened, such fears there was of his escape; nor were the Guards upon Galerita diminished. But to be short, Mezentius marched towards those, who struck a terrour all be∣fore them; and who were Masters of the Field, and who carried themselves as in a Country which they intended to ruine, the better to subject it. Aronces, knowing that it concerned him to signalize himself upon this occasion, and that Tiberinus was not sorry in his heart that he would expose himself, it was an easie request to obtain the most dangerous command. And indeed, it was he who commanded a small Party of choice men, designed for the Forlorn Hope, unto all the dangers and perils of the Army: Celeres was the faithful Companion of his Adventures in War, as well as in his Adventures of Love. Aronces did acquit himself so heroickly in this desperate employ∣ment, that as it may be said he saved the life of Me∣zentius many a time; for by his diligence he came to understand the state of his Enemies, and he hindred the Enemy from having any knowledge of that Prin∣ces Condition; for as soon as any party appeared, he assaulted and repulsed them, and he was the Actor of so many glorious exploits in this rencounter, that if they were all related severally, they would seem incredible.

At last, after several days of only facing each o∣ther, and both sides declining Fight, they were both equally forced to give Battel; which though it was not fought by such formidable Armies, as the very sight of them strikes terror, yet it was more terrible than if these two Armies had been more numerous: For when a Battel is fought betwixt four or five hun∣dred thousand men, commonly a great part of them are only Spectators of the Fight, and the Victory is oftentimes gotten more by a panick fear or a tumul∣tuous rout, which huge multitudes are subject unto, where order is hard to be kept; than by any true actions of valour, or conduct of the Captains. On the other side, when two small bodies fight there are none idle, all are in equal danger, death is in every Rank; all bestir themselves, all sight, and every particular Soldier is the Carver out of his own glo∣ry, since chance of War here is not to be expected, nor is the victory to be gotten by the capricious hu∣mour of Fortune, but by true valour and prudent Conduct. But if ever great actions were done in a short time, and between a few Troops it was at this time; when Mezentius was ready to perish, if the valour and good Fortune of Aronces had not rescued him. These two little Armies were no sooner in sight of each other, but without so much delay as to seek advantages, the Fight began, and that with such animosity and fury, as useth to be amongst such as are desperate. At the first, the right wing of Mezen∣tius was broken, and Bianor who commanded it was killed: But Aronces whose Body upon that occasion, was joyned unto that which Bianor commanded, he having taken his place, he made Fortune wheel a∣bout, and rallying the broken Troops, he routed them who broke them. On the other side, Mezen∣tius being astonished to see that Bianor had made so poor resistance, he cooled the courage of his men, by his wonder at it: So as the enemy making use of this favourable opportunity, they charged through the Battel where he was: Insomuch that things were in a very bad condition, when Aronces observing what passed, left Celeres to keep things in the con∣dition he had brought them: He went then to help Mezentius, carrying only two hundred Horses with him, and infusing fresh spirits into the Soldiers, by a thousand actions of Valour which they had seen him perform, he came to the place where Mezentius was, but he came just as that Prince, whom he found for∣saken of his men, and environ'd with enemies, was ready to render himself and be their Prisoner. But Aronces assaulted his Enemies with such vigour, as the vanquishers became vanquished, and were forced to let go their Prisoner of that great importance. And as if Fortune was resolved that Aronces should have all the glory of the day. As soon as he had set∣led the Battel, he perceived that the Wing which Tiburinus commanded had need of help: So as with∣out more delay, he hasted to the place where neces∣sity invited him, he alter'd the face of things, and got a most perfect victory. For indeed the enemy losing their hearts, after they had lost their advan∣tages, he broke them all; and did so absolutely de∣feat them, that those who died not at this bloody skirmish, threw down their Arms, and implored the mercy of the Conquerors. It was most observa∣ble, that though Aronces commanded only a little Body, yet he commanded the whole Army, as soon as Bianor was dead: For his admirable Valour got him such credit in the minds of all the Soldiers and Officers, that they did both acknowledge and obey him. Mezentius, Tiberinus, and the whole Army did publish, that it was he only who won the day: Celeres did highly signalize himself that day; and by high acts rendred himself worthy of that esteem which Aronces had of him. In the mean time, the Enemies General being dead, and no Enemy appear∣ing, Mezentius after he had left the command of the Army, unto the Conduct of an old Commander, and taken order for the Funeral of Bianor, he conceived it best to return unto Perusia, to assure the people of Victory. And Aronces having no mind to leave him, lest he should attempt something against the life of Porsenna, he returned thither also: And he return'd with such Trophies of Honour, as he was received with such acclamations, that they raised a most time∣ly jealousie in Tiberinus, and did not over-well please Mezentius, as much as he was obliged unto Aronces, and as well as he loved him. For indeed the fright being very great in Perusia, every one looked upon him as the deliverer of the Town: Insomuch with∣out a word of Mezentius or Tiberinus, nothing could be heard but the name of Aronces; every street was filled with multitudes of men, who pressed to behold him as if they had never seen him. Those who had

seen him in one street, ran a back way to see him in another; Women with Children in their arms, did shew him unto them as the man who had saved the lives of their Fathers, and preserved their Liberties; and such glorious applauds were given Aronces at his entry into Perusia, that his modesty made him blush.

Tiberinus yet dissembled the secret sorrows; and he went unto the Princess of the Leontines, as soon as he had lodged Mezentius in his Palace, but he went with a most dejected look; thinking it a shame for him to appear before a Princess with whom he was in Love, since he could not bring with him the chief glory of the Victory. And he was no sooner there, but Aronces and Celeres came in also; so as Tiberinus striving to constrain himself, he began to commend Aronces, (who modestly interrupting him) began to commend him again, and presently after to talk of something else, asking the Princess how Sextilia received the news of Bianor's death; she received it, answered she, with much sorrow: Yet it is be∣lieved that it is not so much out of tenderness, as some resentments of ambition; for she is so confident that Mezentius will put Porsenna to death, and that Galerita will be married unto his Brother, that she may be comforted after his death. For Mezentius being old, she fears her Fortunes would not change if he should die before he put the King of Clusium to death, and before he had married the Princess his Daughter unto some of her Relations. At the last, there is one that pretends to know her thoughts, did assure Aurelia that these were hers. After this they talked of many other things; and much other Com∣pany coming in, Tiberinus could not speak a word of his Passion unto the Princess of the Leontines. But the day following, he found an opportunity whether she would or no: Yet being of an infinite ingenuity, and knowing it was not a time to treat him ill, if she intended to serve Aronces, she carried her self with such a civility towards him, as did put him into some hopes, though her words did not signifie so much. In the mean time, as soon as the Victory of Aronces had put Perusia into a Calm, Mezentius began to think upon Porsenna's death, and at the same time to marry the Princess his Daughter. But since there was no thinking upon the last of these, until he had execu∣ted the first, he began to renew the execution of the business, and to draw up a charge against Porsenna, for complying with that Assassinate who would have murthered him. On the other side, all the friends unto that Prince, being advertised by Sicanus and Nicius, they began to negotiate secretly for the pre∣vention of so great a misfortune, and to acquaint A∣ronces, who was then in a most miserable condition; for he could not hear any news of Clelia; and both honour and nature would not permit him to depart from Perusia, or if he should he knew not whither to go, nor where the person whom he loved was. More∣over, though he was much in the esteem of Mezenti∣us, yet he knew that his hatred unto Porsenna was above it: And he conceived, that if ever he should acquaint him that he was his son, he would then change his mind, and hate him as much as ever he loved him. All he could do was to try if he could prolong the matter, until the friends of the King his Father, had some power to help him, when he should speak unto Mezentius, as the Son of Porsenna. In order to that, as he was one day talking unto that Prince, concerning the weighty matter he asked him, whether it were not convenient to endeavour the discovery of the truth from the mouth of the Prisoner King? For indeed Sir, (said Aronces to him) if you should upon bare conjectures put a great Prince to death, you would eternally stain your glory by it: I would advise you to send some faith∣ful and unbyassed person unto him, who in a discourse which may appear to be without design, may endea∣vour to find out something, which may clear him or justifie him: and if you would be pleased to permit me the liberty of seeing him, I am confident to make him speak more freely than otherwise he would: For seeming to enter into his interests, and willing to serve him, he may chance trust me so far as to impart some∣thing, which will either keep you from destroying him unjustly, or make it appear you may do it justly. At the first, Mezentius did reject this proposition; and told Aronces, that Porsenna had long since de∣served death: That it was sufficient he was able to Ruine him, and that he was to blame for letting him live so long.

Do you not see that this Prince is an eternal colour for Civil War, in all the mutinies in my Dominions? Sometimes reports are spread abroad, that Porsenna hath a son living, and wandring up and down the World, and that he will ere long appear, sometimes again, that he was in my power, and that I kept him Prisoner, and there is nothing uninvented to draw upon me the hatred of my Subjects: And therefore to be rid of such a perpetual persecution, it were fit and expedient to destroy him, though he have no hand in the business of the Assassinate: and if he have a Son living, I wish to the Heavens, I could at one blow ruine both the Father and the Son: But to tell you truly, I am confident he hath no Son, but that he is perished, and all reports of his life are no∣thing, but only the fictions and devices of my ene∣mies.

Truth is, if this Son be dead, he is more happy than if he were living, and if he beliving he shall live no longer than he is out of my power. Aronces hearing Mezentius say so, was out of his excess of ge∣nerosity and boldness, in a hundred minds to tell him that he was the Son of Porsenna; for sometimes he had a fancy that Mezentius owing him for his life twice, and for a victory would not hurt him. But at last, reason telling him that he ought not to hazard a business of this importance, wherein more than he had concernment, he recalled himself and dissembled his thoughts: Also thinking, that if he should ha∣stily discover himself, the least punishment would be imprisonment, then the interest of Clelia more than his own, restrained him from telling truth unto Mezentius: But according to his first design, which was to protract the matter, he did negotiate so well, as that Mezentius gave him leave to see Porsenna: And accordingly some two days after, Aronces went unto the place where he was guarded, with orders unto him who commanded the Castle, to let him have the liberty of discourse without any witnesses: So this Prince not known to be son unto the King of Clu∣sium, went unto the place where this miserable King was, who knew nothing of all the Passages against him; nor what Galerita did, nor whether he had a Son or no: A place wherein he lived a most melan∣choly life, that his Constancy was high, and though he had a soul, that could look grim death in the face, without alteration of countenance; yet when Aron∣ces entred into the Chamber, he was surprized; for

besides his being unaccustomed to the sight of any but his guards, he found in the face of Aronces so great a resemblance of himself in his younger days, as he could not chuse but be moved at it; but much more was his wonder, when Aronces telling him that he had obtained liberty from the Prince of Perusia to see him, and confer with him about some matter which concerned him, he knew the tone of his voice; for being very like that of his dear Galerita whom he did most tenderly love, in spight of so long an absence, he changed colour, and was so moved, that Aronces perceived the turbulency of his spirit.

Porsenna could not with-hold some expressions of joy to see him, though he knew him not. So as when the Man who conducted Aronces unto the Chamber, retired, he began to speak, and looking most fixedly upon him, who ever you are honest stranger (said he unto him) I am obliged to thank you; for I profess, the very sight of you hath been the first pleasure I have had since I came into this Prison, though for ought I can judge by your face, I have been longer in it than you have lived. Sir (replied Aronces) you are much in the right, in comparing the time of your imprisonment with my age and life, for having the honour to be your son, you may conceive there ought to be no difference between the length of the one and the length of the other. I see Sir, added he, that my discourse does amaze you; but if you will do me the honour to hear me out, I shall make that apparent to you, which at the first seemed incredible. Your face, your voice, and my own heart are so suitable to your words, replied Porsenna, that I am apt to believe it: Therefore speak on I beseech you, and omit not the least circumstance, which may perswade unto a belief of that which does infinite∣ly please me, but which seems to be impossible; for if you be my son, how comes it to pass Mezentius should give you leave to see me? hath he repented of his injustice? is his reason returned? how came you to move his heart? Aronces seeing Porsenna in such a good disposition to hear him, he began to re∣late his birth; the manner how Flavia got him out of the Isle of Saules, where Galerita was guarded; his Ship wrack, how he was saved by Clelius; his so∣journing at Carthage, and again at Capua, the ren∣counter of Nicius and Martia; her acknowledge∣ments, and every circumstance concerning them two; and in general, all that was needful to make him see that certainly he was his Son, and that he was worthy to be so: For he related unto him the design which he had to come unto Mezentius to de∣liver him; how he had saved the life of that Prince in a Wood, near the Lake of Thrasimene, and what happened unto him since; but he told him not of his love unto Clelia: On the contrary, though he was not able to relate what had happened unto him, without naming her, yet he was as careful as he could to avoid it, thinking that if he did pronounce the name of that admirable Lady, he should discover some of his souls resentments. But after he had told Porsenna of a thousand convincing circumstan∣ces, he shewed unto him a private mark which he had in one of his hands, and was so like that which Galerita had upon her face, that Porsenna seeing her in seeing Aronces, hearing the voice of his dear Ga∣lerita in hearing him, and understanding a hundred passages which were impossible to be forged, he im∣braced his Son with abundance of tender joy; but Aronces in lieu of joy; was extremely sad. Porsenna observing it, asked the cause? Alas, alas, Sir (said he unto him) how is it possible but I should grieve, to see that at the very same time in which I bring you joy, I must also bring you sorrow? For, Sir, Me∣zentius believes, that the Man whom I killed, and who would have killed him, would never have at∣tempted it without your contrivance, and he is so extremely incensed, as he is ready to take any vio∣lent course. I my self come now unto you under the notion of your enemy; and I took upon me to visit you, under a pretence of pumping you, whe∣ther what Mezentius believes, be true or false. Since you are my Son, replied Porsenna, I will think that you believe you cannot have a Father who would wash his hands in the blood of your Grandfather; and I am so far from desiring the preservation of my life by a crime, as I charge you to attempt nothing up∣on the life of Mezentius, though there should be no other way to prevent my death: For after the indurement of a prison three and twenty years, with glory I am able to indure death, which is only a mo∣ment of pain. Therefore, dearest Son, I charge you not to hinder Mezentius from putting me to death, so it be by just ways; and be sure never to commit any crime to prevent him. After this A∣ronces gave him an account how all things stood, and of the design which Mezentius had to marry Galeri∣ta: For perceiving the great constancy of the King his Father, he did think it not fit to disguise any thing, to the end he might have his advice. So as after a full consideration of every thing, they resol∣ved, that to gain time, Aronces should tell Mezentius, that without all question Porsenna was innocent in the business of Assassination; but withal, he was perswaded, that it was not impossible but that he might be induced unto a consent that his Marriage might be broken off, provided things were not done with too much precipitation. Aronces did not yet leave the King his Father, until he had assured him that he would sooner die, than consent he should; and until he had yielded him all possible testimonies and expressions of virtue and generosity. At his return he gave an account unto Mezentius according as it was resolved upon. But though the Prince of Perusia wished to have found Porsenna rather guilty of the Assassination than innocent, yet he durst not shew as much, but only told Aronces, that though Porsenna should consent unto the breaking off the Marriage, yet he would not set him at liberty in a long time: For, said he, Prisoners of his Quality must not be dealt withal like others; they must ne∣ver be set at liberty until they be brought into such a condition, as they shall not be able to take revenge. Aronces replied unto all this, according as his great soul did suggest unto him; and he did so well know how to manage the mind of Mezentius, as he promi∣sed not to be too hasty upon the death of Porsenna. But as to the Marriage of my Daughter (added he, after many other things) I will do as if Porsenna were already dead; for if he will not consent his Marriage shall be broken, he dies; and if he do con∣sent, it is time that I think upon whom to bestow my Daughter. Indeed Mezentius was so wholly in∣tent upon this, that he resolved to put it in executi∣on, and to be think himself upon whom to bestow Galerita. Sextilia having a great power with him, he never used to do any thing of consequence with∣out imparting it unto her, and therefore he asked

her advice in this business. But she made ado, and did not like it; for her interest was to marry her unto one, who depended upon her, but not being beloved by the Grandees of the State, she knew not whom to prefer, and therefore desired some days of consideration upon a choice of that importance. As for Mezentius, he did cast his eye upon Tiberinus, not dreaming upon the violent love that he bore unto the Princess of the Leontines; for besides the ignorance of it, he supposed that the ambitious consideration of Reigning would be so prevalent in him, as to make him quit all other pretensions what∣soever. So as whilst Sextilia was considering, he employed a friend unto Tiberinus with orders to know his mind. Tiberinus was put to a terrible per∣plexity, for his heart was divided between a violent love and ambition: So as not knowing which way to take, he gave an ambiguous answer which signifi∣ed nothing: But presently after his love did check him into repentance; yet for all that he was not fully reconciled in himself; for presently after he thought himself too hasty in returning an answer, that he did not consent unto the proposition; at least he thought it good to be sure of satisfaction in his love before he refused the satisfaction of his am∣bition. Mean time, as chance was, Aronces came to know of this proposition made unto Tiberinus, and he went unto the Princess of the Leontines, beseech∣ing her to be so generous, as to flatter up the pas∣sion of this Lover, purposely to keep him from con∣senting unto this Marriage; since the Princess was very tender of Aronces, and since it concerned her to promote his happiness, and since she thought the desire of Mezentius to be very unjust, she promised Aronces all he desired: So as when Tiberinus came to tell her what Mezentius had offered him, and to be∣seech her she would set a value upon this sacrifice which he made unto her, he did not at all surprise her, but found her prepared the most in the World; for without any engagement of her self unto him, she gave him some ground to think, she desired that he should not marry Galerita. So as expounding what she said unto his own advantage, he thought himself to be better in the opinion of the Princess than ever he believed. At first, she told him, that she would not give him any counsel in the matter, but bad him consult with his own heart: Yet after he had vowed never to think upon this Marriage, and that he demanded nothing from her, but that she would set a value upon this refusal, as done for the love of her; then this wise Princess told him, that she esteeming him so much as she did, thought her self obliged to tell him, that this proposition which was made unto him was more dangerous then he i∣magined. Then she told him that it was not hand∣some to marry the Wife of a great and unfortunate King, who was to be forced to yield her, or die the day before the Marriage. She told him further, that the common opinion being, there was a Son of Porsenna in some part of the World, it was not like∣ly that ever he would let him reign in quiet; but upon the first occasion the subjects of Porsenna would revolt, and perhaps deliver him up unto the Son of that King as the Murtherer of his Father; and therefore she conceived it to be much better to re∣fuse a thing which had in it nothing but a bare shew of grandeur. Adding, that it would be a thing absolutely impossible ever to esteem a Man who can find a heart to marry Galerita. Tiberinus hearing the Princess of the Leontines speak thus, did believe she could not give him any greater hopes, than by coun∣selling him to reject this proposition: So as his love flaming more violently, being blown up by these fresh hopes, he never stuck upon the matter, but vowed a thousand times that he would never reign unless he could reign and not lose her favour. The Princess of the Leontines wished to have him still keep in that mind, and therefore she seemed as if she were obliged unto him, and without any further engagements, Tiberinus took his leave of her fully resolved to refuse Galerita. He went unto the Man who was employed by Mezentius, and told him he could not accept of that honour which was offered him; telling him after all that the Princess of the Le∣ontines had said, purposely to prevent his further thoughts of it.

Mean while, Aronces thinking that Mezentius out of his obstinacy of will, would offer Galerita unto all the Men of Quality in the Court, he employed Aurelia and Sicanus (who were newly come to Peru∣sia) to disswade them all from a thing which would be extremely prejudicial to them, thought it seemed advantagious. In order thereunto, Sicanus and Aurelia told them confidently, that they were certain the Son of Porsenna was not a Prisoner unto Mezen∣tius, as reports went, but that assuredly he would e're long appear; adding what a shame it would be to consent unto such an unjust motion. And the bu∣siness was transacted so handsomely, and with so much good fortune, that after Tiberinus had return∣ed his refusal, Mezentius made the motion unto all that were in any capacity of marrying his Daughter but found in none of them that disposition which he desired; so as his mind being exceedingly incen∣sed at it, he fully resolved to put Porsenna to death, and to marry his Daughter as he fancied, not doubt∣ing but then any one would with joy accept of the offer. So as consulting with Sextilia thereupon, she approved of the design, and both of them contri∣ved how to put it in execution; and afterwards to serve their own interest: To that end, Mezentius gave order that the Princess Galerita should be brought from the Isle where she was kept, and lodged in his own Palace, yet not suffering any whosoever to see, or speak with her.

This Order being executed, that fair and virtu∣ous Princess, who knew nothing either of her Hus∣band, or her Son, or the cause of her being brought out of Prison, could not imagine whether she had reason to hope, or to fear; but the wonder was, she was never fairer in all her life then now, and none would have thought she had been above five and twenty, had they not known her to be much more. When she came unto Perusia, there was such an uni∣versal murmure amongst the people, against the in∣justice of Mezentius, for keeping so fair and good a Princess Prisoner; That this Prince resolved to make all hast possible in the execution of his designs, for fear of some commotions. To that end, he sent secretly his orders unto the place where Por∣senna was kept, and he sent for Aronces, with such express command to come presently, that he imagi∣ned some matter of importance was on foot, he was told by some of his intelligence about Mezentius, that this Prince had sent unto the place where Por∣senna was guarded: So as all the friends of the Pri∣soner King was in a Condition to attempt something for him; and Nicius and Martia being come to Pe∣rusia,

Aronces sent unto them by Celeres, all that he knew, and appointed them to assemble themselves at the Princess of the Leontines house, there to act further as occasion should require. Celeres would have disswaded him from going unto Mezentius but he could not, for he went, and was received with demonstrations of extraordinary joy. Sextilia was then with him, who treated him with more testimo∣nies of amity then ever before. Then Mezentius began to speak, Aronces said he, I have hitherto been loadned with obligations to you, and obligati∣ons of that high nature, as can never be sufficiently acknowledged; you have saved my life twice, you have made me victorious over my enemies, and have thereby preserved my State: For all these, I have not done any thing for you; but now, you shall re∣ceive a recompence so great, as all Italy shall talk of it. Sir (answered Aronces in a surprise) I have a Soul so little interested, as that it values not the greatest gifts which fortune can give; I set a far greater value upon some demonstrations of your esteem, then I should upon all your treasures should you bestow them upon me.

Your expressions (replied Mezentius) doe speak you so worthy of what Ssxtilia and my self intend for you, as it were unjust any longer to detain you from the sight of it. After this, Mezentius called for the Captain of his Guard, and whispering with him, he went out, and presently returning again, he brought Galerita into the Closet where they were. Galerita was no sooner there, but casting her eye up∣on Aronces, she changed colour, for he had such a re∣semblance of the King her Husband, as he was the last time she saw him, as that she thought it was Por∣senna whom she saw. Yet this pleasing errour lasted not long, nor hindred her from saluting the Prince her Father, with as much reverence, as if he had not been the cause of all her misfortunes. But as for Sextilia, the salutes between them were very hol∣low and cold. As for Aronces, as great as his won∣der was at the expressions of Mezentius, yet he was most sensibly joyed to see the Queen his Mother, for he knew by the bahaviour of the Captain that brought her in, that it was she, and he knew it bet∣ter by the mark which she had upon her Cheek, re∣sembling that upon his hand. So as looking as earnestly upon her, as she upon him, one would have thought they had known one another, though it may (in a manner) be said, that they never saw each other.

At last Mezentius began to speak, and looking up∣on Aronces, here generous defender of my life (said he unto him) here is the recompence which I have designed for you, in testimony of my gratitude for all the services you have done me; This Princess whom you see here is my Daughter, she shall possess my estate, and you shall possess it with her as long as the gods shall let you live; you have assured me, that your Birth is very Noble; your actions confirm me in the belief of it: I do owe you my life and estate, and I do give you no more then you have given me, in giving you my Estate, and my Daughter: And all, upon no other condition, but a promise to protect Sextilia when I am dead: For Porsenna hath consented unto a Divorce from Marriage, and there is nothing which can hinder yours now with Galerita.

This discourse of Mezentius did so timely sur∣prise the Queen of Clusium, and Aronces, that it was a long time before they could recover themselves out of their wonder. Aronces was so affrighted, to hear they should motion him to marry his Mother, that he could not well tell whether what he heard was real or a Dream: And Galerita did so wonder that Porsenna should consent unto a Divorce, that she knew not what to think. So as not being able to indure long in such a cruel incertainty: How Sir (said she unto Mezentius, before Aronces could an∣swer) Doth Porsenna give his consent that I shall be no longer his Wife? Oh good Sir, if it be so, let me hear it from his own mouth; but if it should be so Sir, never expect I will ever consent unto a second Marriage: I have a Son in some part of the World who must one day be your Successor, and who perhaps will by his obedience, repair the infidelity of his Fa∣ther, if it be so that he is culpable. For my parti∣cular, Sir, (said Aronces then unto Mezentius) I have such prevalent and powerful reasons not to accept of this honour which you are pleased to do me, as when you shall know them, you will say that you de∣sire impossibilities. I perceive very well Aronces (said Mezentius unto him) that it is only out of re∣spect and generosity you speak as you do; and that because Porsenna is yet living, therefore you will not marry Galerita. But to remove that obstacle, know that Porsenna hath already either consented unto my desires or else he is dead. Oh Sir (replied Aronces) what do I hear? are you not afraid lest the Son of this unfortunate King, should come and revenge the cruelties used upon his Father? Let him come (an∣swered he in a rage) let him come, if he have a mind to be a sharer in the punishments, and die by the same hand that his Father did, unless he have obeyed my last orders.

Oh Sir, (replied Aronces then) I should too long conceal the truth from you, if I did not tell you that the King of Clusium is the most innocent and the most generous Prince in the World: And to mani∣fest it unto you, know that I have the honour to be his Son: That when I saw him by orders from you, I discovered unto him who I was, and he did more commend me for saving your life, then he should if I had saved his: Send back Sir, send and recall your Orders, unless you will be branded with the Title of unjust. Mezentius and Sextilia, hearing Aronces speak so, were strangely surprised, Galerita was a∣stonished, and so glad both, as that she was not able to testifie her wonder and satisfaction. Yet her heart told her that Aronces spoke truth, and both Mezentius and Sextilia sought the same: For the re∣semblance betwixt Aronces and Porsenna, and the boldness of his language did convince all doubts of it: Also it chanced that as he spoke with much acti∣on, he shewed the hand which had the mark, so re∣semblant unto that of Galerita's Cheek, so as it was apparent Aronces told the truth. However, this acquaintance in lieu of producing a favourable ef∣fect, it did the more incense Mezentius, who not knowing what to do, nor whether the Orders to put Porsenna to death in case he refused the Divorce were already executed; he vented the most sharp and bitter expressions in the World against Galerita, and against Aronces, for all his tenderness over that Prince. Again, what satisfaction soever Galerita had in the finding of her Son, yet she durst not shew any signs of joy, until she were a little better assured, and until she knew in what condition Porsenna was. Mean while, there being some of Aronces's particu∣lar

friends, in the Chamber of Mezentius they heard how that Prince spoke in choler; and he who kept the door (who was also obliged unto Aronces) hear∣ing the menaces and sharp language of Mezentius, went and acquainted the friends of Aronces with it, who went in all hast to impart it unto those who were at the house of the Princess of the Leontines; all who began to stir themselves in the behalf of that Prince, who for his part was in a most inconceivable perple∣xity; yet maugre all the confusion of his thoughts, he could not chuse but think upon Clelia, and to fear that if Mezentius did arrest him, he should not be a∣ble to rescue her out of the hands of Horatius; more∣over, he knew not whether his Father were dead or living, he saw the Queen his Mother in a pitiful con∣dition, and he saw himself in a likelihood of perish∣ing by the orders of his Grandfather, whose life he had twice saved.

Mezentius for his part was not at rest, for the sight of Galerita gaull'd his heart, and the remem∣brance of what he had made her suffer, made him a∣shamed, but this shame was so far from moving him to repentance, that it did the more incense him. As for Aronces he had so obliged him, and he had such inclination to him, as he would not acknowledge him for the Son of Porsenna, though his heart told him it was true. However amidst all these tumul∣tuous thoughts, he moved Sextilia to ask Aronces, what proofs he could make of what he said? but he would not ask that question himself, lest he should seem inclinable to believe it; for whether Porsenna were alive or dead, he was resolved not to acknow∣ledge Aronces; for said he if Porsenna be dead, I must not acknowledge such a Prince for my Successor, whose Father I have put to death; and if he be living, to acknowledge a Son of so much merit, would too much fortifie his party. But whilst he was thus con∣templating with himself, Sextilia coming towards Aronces and Galerita who were talking together, she asked that Prince the question which Mezentius de∣sired her, so as Aronces whose great Soul could never be shaken by any bitter blast of Fortune, unless by the gusts of Love; did make her a concise relation of his birth; of his exile, of his shipwrack, and all the passages of his life: So as Galerita not doubting but that he was her Son, after so many particulars told unto Sextilia, she broke out into the most ten∣der and passionate expressions in the world, mixed with much sadness, for she could not speak of him, but she must needs speak of Porsenna also. Mezentius being more and more incensed, called for the Cap∣tain of his Guards, and commanded him to carry back Galerita unto the Castle from whence he brought her, and afterwards to secure Aronces in such a place as he might be very safe: As things stood up∣on these terms, a great hurley burley was heard in in the Palace Court: Presently after, the noise was heard on the Stairs, and in the Anti-Chamber; in an instant after this, the Captain of the Guard whom Mezentius had called, came into his Closet, and seeming much amazed, Sir (said he unto him) behold the King of Clusium in the Head of all the Grandees in your Estate, and followed by a huge multitude of people coming all hither. Oh ye just Gods (cried out Galerita then) must I see that illustrate and unfor∣tunate Prince once again? She had no sooner ended her exclamation which she could not restrain, but Mezentius almost mad cried out, is Porsenna living? Oh is Porsenna escaped? Then all my Subjects have betrayed me, and my enemies come to murther me in my own house. I beseech you Sir, replied Aron∣ces, think better upon the King my Father, I think of him by my self, (replied the Prince of Perusia most fiercely) for as I would ruine him were he in my place and I in his, so I cannot look for any thing but death, and therefore I will prepare my self for it with cou∣rage, and will go and meet him.

Then he asked for a Sword but none would obey. Porsenna followed by a croud of strange men of all conditions, entred: and no sooner entred, but A∣ronces going towards him; I hope Sir, (said he unto him) you have no intention to be revenged upon the person of Mezentius, for what Fortune hath made you suffer by him: Nay, nay, replied the Prince of Peru∣sia, never offer to flatter me in my misery, and since my subjects have betrayed me, and since I have not a sword to dye by, I am ready Sir, (said he to Porsen∣na) to take upon me those Fetters which I have caused you to wear, and to take my death from you as I did intend to bestow it upon you. Since I never used to sin by example, (replied the King of Clusium) I shall not do as you say: But though I am Master of your life, yet I will content my self with giving liberty unto the Queen your Daughter, which taking my son and my self out of your power; and with entring into my own Dominions, without any desire of u∣surping yours; I will promise you an everlasting peace betwixt us, unless you will force me unto a war. And to make it manifest that my words and my actions do agree, I do declare unto you that though all your for∣ces be at my command, yet I will continue in the head of them only, until such time as you have restored unto me those places of mine which you hold from me; until I have carried away my Wife and my Son, and until you have given orders for all these: Then will I leave you to be Master in your own Dominions, and restore back all your Troops, without any o∣ther condition than not to punish any of those who have helped me to my liberty.

Mezentius hearing Porsenna speak with so much Heroick generosity, was in a confusion far different from that wherein he was before, and looking upon Sextilia (who ever did feed the fewel of his hatred unto that Prince) Oh you unjust person, (said he un∣to her in a low voice) why did I ever follow your o∣pinions? But afterwards perhaps higher, what is past cannot be recalled (said he) but at the least I must admire that Generosity which I want, since the condition wherein I am is so miserable, as I am not able either to do or say any thing which can merit a∣ny glory. The truth is, (added he, and addressed his speech unto Porsenna) should I tell you my heart begins to change, out of consideration of what you have done, and out of my affection to Aronces, you would think I spoke it out of weakness; but I am na∣turally so resolute and firm, that I can never undo a thing of which I do not really repent. But since you are not bound to believe me; I will only tell you that I will perform more than I will promise; and that I cannot think any thing unjust which you shall do a∣against me. At these words Galerita began to speak, and expressed her self so passionately and tenderly unto the Prince her Father, unto the King her Hus∣band, and unto her Son, as she did almost establish a confidence between these three persous. Afterwards they caused that crowd of people who followed Por∣senna to go out of the Chamber of Mezentius: Sexti∣lia also went out into her own Chamber: Aronces

he stayed, and assuming the Office of a Mediator be∣tween his Grandfather and his Father, talking one while unto one, another while unto the other, to re∣gulate their conditions, with the sweet ingredient of Galerita's prayers, he compleated the pacificati∣on between them. But whilst this Princess was talking, Celeres, who stayed in the Chamber, ac∣quainted Aronces with the manner how Porsenna got out of prison. He told him how Nicius had quit∣ted the Isle of Saules, and was gone disguised to ac∣quaint all the Commanders in his name, that the Son of Porsenna would shortly appear, and that they should all prepare themselves to save the life of that King, in case Mezentius should attempt any thing a∣gainst it; and that since the Troops were quartered very near the Castle where the Prince was guarded, so it hapned that those who Mezentius had sent that morning to make Porsenna either consent unto the Divorce, or die if he would not, did meet with Nicius whom they knew very well, and their minds being troubled with the Order which they had re∣ceived, they had some conference with him about it. Nicius aiming at nothing more than to procure Friends for Porsenna, he told them as much as he told all the rest whom he desired to gain; and he was more zealous with them, because he understood they were to go unto the Castle where Porsenna was kept. So as they, imagining what would be their destiny in ••ase they should put to death a King, whose son should one day be their Master, fears did so seise upon them that they believed Nicius; so as having made them change their minds, they made use of a Letter of Credence which they carried unto him who commanded the Castle, moving him thereby to let Porsenna come out; These two Men telling him, that Mezentius intended to have him carried unto another place. The matter seemed the more likely, because Nicius having all the Commanders of the Troop for him, there was four hundred horse at the foot of the Castle, the Commanders saying, that they had orders to conduct and guard this Prince. To be short, the things was done, and Por∣senna at his coming out, the same time that Galerita was carried unto Perusia, shewed himself unto the Army. And after a speech to the Commanders and Souldiers, desiring their assistance for the liber∣ty of a Princess who one day would be their Sove∣raign; they all did promise him fidelity. He went first with four hundred Horse only unto the Gates of Perusia, appointing all the Army to follow, and his intention was to demand the Queen his Wife, and Aronces of Mezentius. But as he was ready to exe∣cute this intention, Sicanus met him, and telling him that all the people at the sight of Galerita were in a great disposition to rise, he changed his mind, and resolved to enter inuo Perusia; and after he had sent forth fresh Orders unto the Army to make hast up, Porsenna in the head of these four hundred horse entred the Town, after that Sicanus had acquainted all the friends of Aronces, who were at the house of the Princess of the Leontines; but as he related the business unto them, they received intelligence of all the passages at the Palace against Aronces, Ga∣lerita, and him, so as changing the design, they went to meet Porsenna, whom they advised to go strait unto the Palace.

This King from whom his Prison had not taken away his brave mind and Majesty, marching through the streets of Perusia, followed with those four hundred Horse, and all the friends of Aronces and his own, which amounted to no small number, did infinitely win upon the minds of the people; for he saluted them with all civility, and told them that he looked for nothing but the liberty of Galerita. Adding that Aronces was his Son, and that Mezen∣tius knowing it, would have put him to death. The people were charmed with him, followed him to the Palace of Mezentius, as I told you, and would have helped him in the execution of his design. But to make it most manifest concerning the know∣ledge of Aronces, Flaura and her Husband desired to enter, and did so, for then it was not a time to insist upon Ceremonies. Nicius and Martia arrived also, and brought with them a Man whom Clelius sent unto Aronces, by whom he sent the same Cradle in which he was found floating upon the Sea, after Nicius had suffered shipwrack. So as there wanted nothing concerning the knowledge of Aronces, and Porsenna doing all things with unparalelled generosi∣ty. Mezentius was so moved unto repentance, that he would needs resign the government of his Do∣minions unto him that gave him his life: But Por∣senna being both generous and prudent, he would not let Mezentius cease Reigning: But what repen∣tance soever appeared, he would not for all that re∣main under the power of a Prince who had used him with such rigour: nor would he let Galerita, Aron∣ces, nor any that had a deep hand in his liberty re∣main there. So that after Mezentius had sent Or∣ders unto all those who commanded in the Towns which he had usurped, Porsenna left him, and carried with him the Queen his Wife, and the Prince his Son. 'Tis true, he did not go out of the Town as soon as ever he was out of the Palace; for such multitudes did choak up the streets, by their eager desires of seeing their Princess and Aronces, that they could not pass. Aronces told Porsenna, that he owed his liberty chiefly unto the Princess of the Leontines, and that he would never go out of Peru∣sia before he knew whether it was her pleasure or no to go out with them: So as for all the press he got into her house, and thanked her for all her fa∣vours. Mean while Galerita, who was in the Coach, willed the people to obey Mezentius; that they should forget the rigour which had been used unto her, and keep within the compass of their duties. Whilst she was thus talking with much prudence and generosity, the Princess of the Leontines was en∣treating Porsenna to let her be protected in his Court, she conceiving her self not safe with Mezen∣tius, considering how she had transacted. Also considering the love of Tiberinus to her, she could not counterfeit with him any longer, since Aronces had no need of her, and therefore she was very de∣sirous to go out of Perusia; so as without more de∣lay, Aronces went to acquaint the Queen of Clusium, and presently after did fetch this Princess, whom the Queen received into her Coach: Aurelia, Martia, Flavia, and the Women of the Princess of the Le∣ontines did follow in other Coaches. All being ready, this Illustrious company went out of Perusia; Tiberinus being gone into the Countrey for three days, was astonished when he returned at night, and heard all this news, especially that his adored Prin∣cess was not in Town; yet she was not very far off; for Porsenna and all his Train passed away that night to a Village, where they took thought for nothing but how the Princess might pass it away with the

least inconveniency that was possible; and in the morning they took the way towards Clusium, where the news of Porsennas liberty and life of the Prince his Son was no sooner heard, but all those who op∣posed the party of that Legitimate King went out of it, so as the joy was universal; and when Porsen∣na came thither, he was received with extraordina∣ry acclamations. Thus it may be said, that this Prince did upon a sudden pass from the lower de∣gree of adversity unto the highest top of felicity; for he saw himself seated upon a glorious Throne, his Dominions were entirely restored unto him, he enjoyed his dearest Galerita, he found her still most rarely fair, and to sum up his felicities, he saw such a successor of his own as his own heart could wish. He offered publick Sacrifices in thanks to the Gods for his good fortune: The ancient magnificence of the Clusian Kings might be seen in the Palace of Por∣senna: Feasts, Revels, and Pleasures arrived, and the publick tranquillity was so setled, that the Court had nothing to do but divert or be idle. The young Gallants of quality talked of nothing but delights, whilst the grave sort discoursed upon the designs of the Roman King, who was upon sitting down at the siege of Ardea, of which various reports went throughout all Italy. But whilst every one accord∣ing to his genius was talking of War or Love, Aron∣ces, the unfortunate Aronces, amidst so many appa∣rent felicities, esteemed himself the most miserable of men; for he was never so much in love with Cle∣lia as now, and had never less hopes. All the con∣solation he had was in talking of his misery unto the Princess of the Leontines and Celeres, who only knew of his affection unto this admirable Roman. He fancied, that if he could but only know where Clelia was, it would be a high comfort unto him, but he was not far from so much happiness: For one of those whom he had sent unto all the Towns of Italy, which were then Enemies to Rome, to enquire whether Ho∣ratius as the enemy of Tarquin was not retired thi∣ther, came and told him that he was at Ardea; that Clelia was there also, and that she was sick of a lan∣guishing disease. So as still he found himself in great perplexity, for all reports being that Tarquin was going to besiege Ardea, he knew not what course to take. He did not upon any terms think it conveni∣ent to acquaint the King his Father with his affection to Clelia, because as soon as ever he was set in the Throne, the King of Rome desiring to make sure of such a potent neighbour, had sent his Ambassadors unto him, to renew that ancient alliance which for∣merly had been between those two States: And in∣deed, the King of Clusium seeing that Rome was the most considerable Town of all Italy, and that there was none able to dispute against her, he was glad to accept of such an Allie, lest Mezentius should close in to his disadvantage. Thus there was a renewing of the Alliance between Porsenna and Tarquin, which made Aronces nor dare to tell the King his Father that he loved the daughter of one that was greatest ene∣my to the King of Rome, or that he was resolved never to marry any other; however he would not entertain the least thought of striving against his pas∣sion, but courted all possible opportunities to cherish it. If Ardea had not been besieged before he could get thither, there had been some hopes of a possibi∣lity to get Clelia out of his Rivals hands: But the Siege being begun already, he could not contrive his satisfaction any manner of way. All being secure in the Bed of Peace within the Dominions of the King his Father, the violence of his love prompted him to go out of Clusium without ever telling him, and try what he could do to procure the liberty of Clelia, and make himself happy: but the great difficulty was what he should do then; For truly (said he unto Ce∣leres) what in any reason can I do in this unlucky con∣juncture? Shall I get into Ardea, and defend my Ri∣val by defending her? Dare I attempt to kill him in a beleagured Town, where when I have done it I can∣not get Clelia out? For it is not credible that they who have given Horatius a retreat, will ever let me be master of my self if I should kill him. Or shall I go and fight under Tarquin who would have mur∣thered Clelius? And shall I go and help him to take a Town, which when it is taken will expose Clelia un∣to servitude? What, what shall I do unfortunate man that I am? And yet something I must do, and I must do it presently if I mean to have it in my choice, whether I will go into Ardea, or into the Camp of Tarquin. Celeres knowing how he loved, be had no mind of sighting, but would have perswaded him to see the success of the siege before he fixed upon any resolution. Oh sie Celeres (replyed he, after he had heard all that his friend had to say) do you think I am able to be so tamely idle, as to stay in expectation of what will be the success of the siege; especially since I know that Clelia is there, and that she is sick? If you think so, you think me to be a very calm Lover; but to remove any such thoughts be assured, that though I know not whether I shall go into Ardea, or whether into the Army of Tarquin; though I know not whether I shall be Besieger or Besieged, yet one of them I will be, and therefore I will depart and that to morrow. Though it be not above two hours since I heard where Clelia and my Rival is, yet I think it to be an age; and that I should be the most unwor∣thy of men, if I do not go immediately where my love invites me. But to let you see, my dear Cele∣res, how violent my passion is, let me tell you that I am a little joyed to hear that Clelia is sick of a lan∣guishing disease; for slattering my self I believe that her disease is not dangerous, and that I may look up. on it as an effect of her hatred unto Horatius, and of her affection unto Aronces. I believe I say that only melancholy is the cause, that my Rival is as ill as she; and such is the fantastical humour of my passion, I should be extremely grieved if when I see Clelia next, I should not find her somewhat less fair than the last time I had the happiness to see her. Do you think after all this, my dear Celeres, that a man whose love prompts unto such fantastical conceits, is able to stay out the success of a Siege? No, no, Celeres, my passion is not of so cold temper, and if you will con∣tinue the faithful Companion of my Fortunes, pre∣pare your self to depart in the Morning. Aronces then embracing him by way of thanks, consulted with him whether he should acquaint the Princess of the Leontines with his design, but fearing lest her friendship unto him should induce her to reveal this secret unto the Queen of Clusium, who loved her ve∣ry well, it was resolved he should only write unto her at parting, as well as unto Porsenna and Galerita. So as busying themselves only in taking Orders for his voyage, he dispatched a messenger into Capua to be informed of all passages from Clelius and Sulpicia, and to know what was become of Clelia and Horatius; and for this he made choice of the same man whom Clelius had entrusted with such things, as might make

him be known who he was. But to the end his Journey might be the more private, he took with him only two trusty slaves which he brought from Capua. Then after they had provided themselves of all necessaries for such a design, Aronces, Celeres, those two slaves and Guide, went out of Clusium just at midnight; for the King's Palace being at the Towns end, there was a Gate there; so as the two slaves being gone out in the Evening before, with such Horses as Aronces should need for the journey, he and Celeres went out at this private Gate, by suborn∣ing the Man who kept the key, and unto whom he gave such recompence as might be a sufficient reward against the anger of Porsenna.

Thus after he had left Letters for the King his Father, for Galerita, and for the Princess of the Le∣ontines, he went out of Clusium, in such a night as when the glittering Stars use to dissipate the hor∣rour of obscurity, so as by that gloomy light coming neither from Sun nor Moon, they might ve∣ry well travel, and know the way: But Aronces had not rid above three or four Miles, before he found a great cordial in his sorrows: and how ex∣traordinary soever the thing was which he did, yet he did it without any pain, because he did it for Clelia. And when he imagined, that perhaps the day would come when she should know what he did, and would thank him for it; he was ready to sacrifice himself and all the World unto his Love: He thought also, (so much did his passion flatter him) that Clelia did divine what he did for her; so as riding on with ex∣traordinary speed for fear of being followed, and meeting with none upon the way, Aronces for all his fast riding, had leisure enough to contemplate upon his passion; but the end of the night drawing on, and as it is usual, growing darker than before, he was forced to ride a slower pace, until such time as the Clouds began to be guilded from the East; and bestow upon all the fields such a pleasing light, as imperceivably dissipating all obscurity, it seems to restore life unto all the beauties of Nature; since there was that morning no mists, and Aronces being upon the top of a little Mountain, when day was light enough to discern all the varieties of the Earth which offer themselves to the eye, he disco∣vered a vast extent of Hills and Valleys, he espied a little Village, which Celeres seeing as well as he, the motion was made to rest their Horses so me few hours, that afterwards they might make the more hast from Clusium. And indeed the guide told them that if they rested not there, they could not rest in any other within twenty miles: So as Aronces as forward as his love did prick him; consented unto the proposition, and leaving the road wherein they were, he rode to the left hand, to make towards this Village, which seemed as they did ride to steal out of the Passengers eye, for the further they rid the less they perceived it, by reason of several Hills which were about it. But he had not gone five or six hundred paces, before they discovered coming out of the most delectable Valley in the World, four Horsemen, and some slaves coming towards them: So as none being more cautious then a Lover who would conceal himself, Aronces asked Celeres, whether it were not better to take another way more on the right hand, and so shun those whom they saw, who had taken up their Inn at that Town where he in∣tended to stay, and who had began their Journey as he had ended his. For Celeres (said he) it would be very disastrous, if these Men should meet us, and go afterwards unto Clusium; there divulge which way we take, and you may well imagine that my departure makes a great noise in the Town, and when these Men hear of it, they will inform how they met two Men with two slaves and a guide. 'Tis true, said Celeres, all this may chance; but if we should turn out of the way, we shall make our selves more suspicious unto these Men, then if we follow on our way; for since you see it is so little beaten, as if we take it, they must needs imagine that we took it only to avoid meeting with them; so as Aronces seeing some danger in his over prudence, he went on the way he took; but he had not gone a hundred paces, before he heard one of these Men sing, and sing very well. Ah Celeres (said Aronces) certain∣ly the Man whom we shall meet is not in love; or if he be, he is much more happier then I am. But coming nearer, he saw him less, though he heard him better; for the Road turning in that place, the corner of a Hill did hide him though he was nearer; so as distinctly understanding what he did sing, he heard that the burthen, or Chorus of every Verse ended thus:

And if Delisa unfaithful be, Barce is so, as well as she.

Aronces no sooner heard this Verse, but the name of Barce, and the voice of him who sung it, being not unknown to him: Oh Celeres (said he) I am ex∣tremely mistaken, if he who sings be not Amilcar; at least, I am sure he made the Song which I hear. Celeres not hearing it so well as Aronces, because he was talking to the guide, he did not believe it, and said there was no likelihood of being him. He had no sooner said so, but the way turning again, he did not only see Amilcar, but Herminius also: So both being equally surprised, and equally glad to meet, they both alighted from their Horses together; for Aronces would not then pass for the Son of a King, nor be known for any such by those strangers.

And he was always wont to say that friendship e∣quals all Men, be of what quality they will. So as being alighted sooner than they, and he went more of the way to meet Amilcar and Herminius, then they did in meeting him. But in requital, Amilcar spoke the first; for as Aronces did very tenderly em∣brace him, I am extremely glad (said he unto him with a low voice and smiled) to find still the gene∣rous Aronces in the person of a great Prince; for after I had seen Clelius at Capua, I was afraid, that I should only find you to be the Son of a great King unto whom I could only be a servant, and not find you any longer my friend. Oh my dear Amilcar (replied Aronces) you had no reason to fear that; but you speak it in such a pleasant manner, as I am very ready to pardon you, upon condition, that you always believe, I will always be Aronces unto my Friends, and will never be the Son of a King, un∣less to recompence them, when any occasion shall pre∣sent it self. After this, he imbraced Herminius with abundance of joy; and he imbraced him as a Man whom he esteemed most of any Man in the World. But in imbracing, is it your pleasure, Sir (said Her∣minius to him in a low voice) that Men shall not re∣verence you so much, but that they may also shew their amity and friendship? I wish it, generous

Herminius (replied Aronces) and shall do as long as I live; for should I not be the same unto you, that I was at the beginning, I should be unworthy to be what I am.

After this, Amilcar and Herminius, presented un∣to Aronces two Illustrious Grecians who were with them, and assured him, that they were Men worthy of his esteem and friendship. These Strangers be∣ing of a haughty mind, Aronces did easily believe what his Friend did tell him: One of these Illustri∣ous Grecians, whose name was Zenocrates, was very tall, the features of his face pleasing, and his Physi∣ognomy so noble, as it did invite all eyes at the first sight, to judge more favourably of him than of the other Greek, whose name was Artemidorus, though though the last of these was a Prince, and very handsome. But the greatest advantage of Zeno∣crates was, that he had more in him than he promi∣sed, though he promised very much: And Amilcar also spoke more advantagiously of him unto Aron∣ces, then he did of Artemidorus, whilst Herminius was imbracing Celeres. After all which, Aronces began to speak; by what happy adventure (said he) hath fortune brought together an Illustrious African, a generous Roman, and two worthy Grecians? And what good Fate made us meet them? For when I parted from Carthage, Amilcar was in a mind never to see Italy a second time: When I parted from Capua, Herminius was gone into Africa; and yet I meet them in a place, where I never could imagine to see them: But the worst is (said he unto them) that you go towards the place from whence I came, and that I cannot return with you, and that my Desti∣ny doth call me on.

Since our business to Clusium was only to see you, Sir (replied Amilcar) we will go whither you will. As for Herminius so he be not in Rome, where he dares not appear, he is willing to be where either you or I am. And as for Zenocrates, he is a Free∣man of all the World except one place only, and he hath this advantage that he loves to be any where, where there is good company. 'Tis true, added he, that for Artemidorus, he cannot meet with any hap∣piness in any place, but only one, where he cannot be: And there is some kind of magnetick thing at Rome, which makes Herminius think himself not very well any where else: But for all that, since they cannot be where they would, they had better be with you, than in any other place of the World: And therefore it is you, Sir, that must shew us our way; for, as for me I am ready to face about, and for three months you may dispose of me as you please. You may do the same, Sir (added Herminius and smiled) without any great obligation unto the incomparaple Amilcar; for his humour is such, that he is well any where, and it may well be said, that he can make his own felicity. After this, Aronces as∣ked some news of the Prince of Carthage; and then all taking Horse, they went unto that Village where Amilcar, Herminius, and those worthy Grecians did lie the night before. And though the soul of Aron∣ces could not be at rest until he was further from Clu∣sium, yet he was very desirous to talk with Amilcar and Herminius in private, whilst their Horses rested. During which time, Celeres whom Amilcar had em∣braced, did entertain those illustrious Greeks; for he spoke their language.

As for Aronces, he being the most obliging person upon earth, and knowing that every one had rather relate their own adventures, than hear others, he did very obligingly desire to know the fortunes of two friends; but they had no mind to satisfie his cu∣riosity; until he had satisfied them why he left Clusi∣um, and travelled in this private condition. For they understood by Clelius, that he was the Son of Porsenna, and they heard by the way that he was owned to be so. So as he acquainted them in as short a manner as he could, with all passages since his departure from Capua, for Amilcar saved him the la∣bour of relating what happened since he came from Carthage, by telling him that Herminius had related it to him. But as great a care as Aronces took to shorten his relation, the time which they designed for resting their Horses was expired before he ended: So as he could know no more of Amilcar and Hermi∣nius, but that the last of these met the first upon the Sea, who had those two illustrious Greeks with him, and that the Prince of Carthage who had reconciled himself with that Republick whose name he bore, had sent him into Italy, upon a design which concern∣ed Sicily, and which he should know when they had more leisure. After which, all taking Horse they took their way towards Ardea, and yet they would not come too near it, until they knew the state of things: So as finding a little Town in their way, which was not above ten miles off it, they stayed there to inform themselves: For since Aronces was not well resolved whether he should go into Ardea, or unto Tarquin, who was yet at Rome, though he had some Troops alteady about the Town, it was requisite for him that he stayed there: Also Hermi∣nius could not follow him neither unto the Camp, nor into Rome: He was willing to go into Ardea, both as friend unto Aronces and as enemy unto Tar∣quin, but he would not venture himself in the hands of a Prince, with whom he would not be reconciled if he could. So as after they came to this little Town where they stayed, they resolved that since Celeres could not be known in Rome, and since he had no e∣nemies, that he should go and know certainly whe∣ther that Prince had any real design of besieging Ar∣dea: At the same time Aronces sent one of his Slaves who was both witty and trusty unto Ardea, to know whether or no Clelia was there still; for he was afraid to resolve upon any course, which in lieu of bring∣ing him nearer that person, it should set him further off.

So as Aronces, Artemidorus, Zenocrates, Amilcar and Herminius, rested in expectation within that Town, where nothing was talked on but the power of Tarquin, his violences and injustice. But how is it possible (said Artemidorus) that this Prince can be such a one as Fame speaks him, since it appears that he bears some reverence unto the Gods; for he sent two of his Sons unto Delphos with offerings, and I have heard say, that he hath built a stately Temple in Rome, which he did dedicate unto Jupiter. Did you know Tarquin, replied Herminius, you would not wonder he should make a shew of some reverence to the Gods; for then you would plainly see, that all the Religion he hath is to serve his policy. Not but that there are some men, who say that he is not very well resolved in his own thoughts, and that be does not well know whether he should or he should not believe there are are any Gods. And for my part, I can never believe that a prince whose ambiti∣on hurries him to violate all manner of rights, and to commit all sorts of crimes so long time together,

can believe there are any Gods. Men questionless may sometimes out of weakness fail, (said Zenocra∣tes then) but when they do obstinately continue in a long course of wickedness, I think it may well be concluded that those who live so, do not believe there is any thing above their heads which they ought to fear. Truth is (said Herminius) did Arte∣midorus know what the actions of Tarquin are; what are his Laws, and by what ways he came to the Throne; how he hath maintained it, and what are his maxims, he will with me believe that he never thinks of any Gods. Since happily I may have some negotiations with that Prince, said Amilcar, I should be very glad to know all his life: For my particular, said Artemidorus, I am extremely full of curiosity to know it. And for my part, added Zenocrates, I shall be glad also to hear it; though I know very much of him already. As for me, said Aronces, though I have heard him discoursed of a thousand times unto Clelius, yet I must confess I do not know the whole Series of his History, and Herminius would much oblige me in telling of it: for since I know not yet whether I shall be on his side or no, I shall be very glad to know him a little better than I do; especially since we have now leisure enough to hear his History. For my particular (said Artemidorus) I would if I durst desire a little more, for I must confess that I do as much desire to hear the History of Rome, as the Hi∣story of Tarquin. The Story of that Prince is so mixed with that of Rome (replied Herminius) as one cannot tell the one but he must also tell all that relates unto the other. Since so (said Aronces) I beseech you satisfie the curiosity of Artemidorus, and addtess your speech unto him, since he hath the least know∣ledge in the things which you are to tell. Zenocrates approving of what Aronces said, and Herminius con∣senting unto what these three illustrious persons de∣sired, he recollected into his memory all that was re∣quisite for their better understanding the life of a Prince, whose name made such a noise through all Italy: And after he had shut the Chamber door to the end none should interrupt him, he began in these terms, but he spoke in his own language; which Ar∣temidorus did understand, though he spoke it not.

The History of Tarquin the Proud.

I Am to relate such great, such excellent, and such terrible things unto you; as I cannot tell whe∣ther I am able to order my method so, as shall make my Relation pleasing; for I know not very well how I can in few words contain the History of a great City, which hath been governed by six Kings, which seemed to have shared among themselves all the vir∣tues; and after them I know not how I should speak of a Prince who is branded with all manner of Vices and Crimes. I know not I say, how I should in a short time acquaint you with the most dismal effects that ever Love and Ambition caused these many ages: and yet I am resolved to touch upon all that is necessary to make the injustice of Tarquin to appear, or at the least to pass so slightly over the Reigns of those Kings who did precede him, that I may have time enough to aggravate all the Crimes of a Prince, who can ne∣ver be enough hated. I will not therefore insist upon a previous discourse of Romes Original; for is there any men at Africa, that knows not the prodigious adventures of the famous Remus and Romulus, who are said to be sons of Mars by a Vestal? Who knows not, I say, unto what they were exposed by the Com∣mandment of the King their Uncle, called Amulius, who had usurped that Kingdom which belonged unto their Mother? who knows not also that the Cradle wherein they were, and which was left in the midst of a Desart, was found out by a She Wolf, which the cries of these two Infants invited thither? who knows not how it is said, the Wolf did let them suck her under a Fig-tree, which at this day is called the Romulian Fig-tree? and that others say; a Shepheard finding them, did carry them home to his Wife who nourished them? However it be, they lived and came to be great and brave men. Remus was taken priso∣ner and delivered by his Brother, after which they both of them joyned in the killing of him who had usurped the Kingdom which belonged unto them. After this, they made a peace with Numitor, Bro∣ther unto him whom they had killed, and leaving him quiet in his own Dominions, a desire took them to build the famous City of Rome, which Tarquin at this day would destroy, and they built it in the same place where they were left in the Desart, and where they were found: These two Brothers began to build it the One and Twentieth day of April, in the eigh∣teenth year of their age. Indeed, generous Artemi∣dorus, since I suppose you know how that the desires of Reigning did divide them, and that the death of the one did establish the Throne of the other, I shall not trouble you with any more. But let me tell you that in a very short time, this new City unto which Romulus gave his own name, was as potent as any of the most ancient about it. The cause of its being so soon populated was, because Romulus established an inviolable Sanctuary between two little Groves, which were held for sacred, and whither whosoever retired was in safety. So as by this means, he drew subjects unto himself from all the Neighbour Towns, where any men were who feared punishment for any crime. Moreover, it is well known, that he did worship all those Gods, which those of Altes adored, and that he would have Hercules reverenced as he is in Greece. Afterwards that famous plundering of the Sabines made him talked of through all Italy: He established excellent orders in the Town; he did wonders in feats of War; he defied all his enemies; he killed the King Tatius with his own hand; he Tri∣umphed in Rome: The Wars with the Cernebans, the Crustivanians, the Antemians, the Sabines, were all glorious unto Romulus, though the power was divi∣ded for a while. Afterwards the War with the Fi∣denatians began, then the Vientaneans followed, and in both Romulus got eternal glory. But after he had punished the injustice done unto his Mother, after he had established several good Laws; after he had performed many glorious Feats of War; killed Kings, triumphed solemnly, and given peace to his people, he ceased to Reign in ceasing to live. Some thought that the hundred Senators whom he had e∣stablished, procured him to be murthered that they might Reign: Others said, that he only vanished; but the opinion of such as do not use to follow the vogue of the blind vulgar was, that there was one whose name was Proculus, who seeing the people ready to fall upon the Senators; to appease them came and told them; that Romulus did appear unto him ascending up into Heaven; and assured them,

that their Town should be Mistress of the whole Earth. So as the immortality of Romulus, and this happy presage qualifying the people, their whole thoughts were, how they should render such honour unto him as unto the Gods. This Artemidorus was the original of Rome: and this was their first King, who doubtless was both valiant and wise, and fully accomplished for the establishing of an Em∣pire. For my part, it is such a terrour to me when I consider how the same people who never were go∣verned, but by valiant wise and vertuous Kings, can brook the government of a Tyrant, that I tremble at it, And to induce you into my opinion, before I satisfie your Curiosity, I would speak something of all those who preceeded him. Know then that accor∣ding to the first Law which Romulus had established, which was, that the people should chuse their Kings, and that this election should be confirmed or refused by the Senators which he had instituted: A man of high vertues called Numa Pompilius, was chosen King of Rome by universal consent; and certainly most deservedly, for he was indowed with all the virtues of the ancient Sabines ftom whence he was descen∣ded. He was prudent, pacifique and religious; and it may well be said, that the Gods would by his Pru∣dence and Piety establish that Throne which Romulus had erected by his Power and courage; he spent the whole three and forty years which he reigned, only in regulating matters of Religion, making of Laws, extinguishing those vices which the War had intro∣duced; in teaching virtue, in woing men to Peace, in building Temples; in doing Justice unto men, and in reverencing the Gods, It was he who set up the Vestals in Rome, the institution whereof was before at Albez: This was he who instituted the Salian Priests and all their Ceremonies: This was he who did regulate the Months; it was he who built the fa∣mous Temple of Janus, which is alwayes open in time of War, and always shut in time of Peace, this was he, who to testifie his love of the Sciences and Arts, did consecrate a Grove unto the Muses, unto which he would often retire himself. It was said, that it was there where a Nymph named Egeria, came to inspire him in all things he did. But after a three and forty years peace had given him leasure to inspire his people, with the love of Wisdom, he died; and one of the most valiant men upon Earth was cho∣sen in his place: But this Prince being a greater Soul∣dier than Romulus, he began the famour War of Al∣be, which had such glorious success, that he ruined one of the greatest Cities upon Earth, or to say bet∣ter, he joyned it unto Rome, and of two Peoples, made but one: The famous Combate of the three Horatij, against the three Curatij, was fought during his Reign; after which the Fideates and the Vecen∣tines incited by those of Albe, renewed the War: But Tullus, maugre all opposition, vanquished his Enemies, destroyed the famous City of Albe, and angmented the glory of Rome, he had after another War against the Sabines, whom he vanquished; but after he had bestowed half his Reign in imitation of Romulus, he bestowed the other half in imitation of Numa; for he did not only become Religious as he was, but even superstitious.

But at last, a Thunder-bolt having ended his life and his Reign, another man, called Ancus Marti∣us, who was Son unto a Daughter of Numa Pompili∣us, was chosen King of Rome, so as emulating the glory of resembling his Grand-father, he began to cause all his Ordinances to be observed. But fear∣ing lest his neighbours, should draw some advantage from his Piety, he began to bestir himself in mat∣ters Military, wherein matters of Religion had no share, that his enemies might see, he thought of War in time of Peace. And indeed the people of Latium falling upon him; he vanquished them, and also the Sabines, and afterwards he lived in Peace: It was he who built the first Prison in Rome, and who built a Bridge over Tiber; it was he who inclosed the Mount Aventine and of Janicula within the Wall of the Town, and who built the City of Ostia? but after a Reign of four and twenty years, he died: But after he had prohibited all his Subjects from set∣ting up any new Religions of their own fancy; and commanded them to be conformable unto that which was established in the State. Hitherto, Generous Artemidorus, all I have said hath no relation to the story of Tarquin the Proud: nor would I have rela∣ted it, but because it was your desire. But now I am to treat of the fifth King of Rome, I must tell you that if he had not been King, Tarquin who Reigns at this day, had never been her Tyrant. And there∣fore it is requisite I speak a little larger upon the first of the Tarquins; who as he was a Greek originally, and Ambition made him do many brave things, so it is the same passion which caused so many Crimes in his Successor, and for divers reasons I must enlarge my self upon this Subject: Know then, that a man called Demarathius of the City of Corinth, being for∣ced to leave his Countrey, because it was divided, and the side which he took proved the weaker, he came to dwell in a Town called Tarquinia, where he married and where he had a Son called Lucumo, and another who died.

Mean time, Lucumo being heir unto his Father who was very rich, he married a Woman of great quality and high spirit, who was called Tanaquil. And not enduring that her Husband should dwell in a Town, where Ambition was an unprofitable passion, she perswaded him to go and dwell at Rome, where vertue was recompenced, and where the happy might happily become Kings, as experience had shewed. And in order to this, they setled their affairs and came to Rome. But in coming Lucumo a happy Omen which is known over all the World; al∣so supposing you have heard what happened unto him as he was in the Coach with Tanaquil, I will on∣ly tell you how an Eagle hovering in the Air came gently to him, and took off his Head a Cap which he wore, according to the Tuscan mode, and after the Eagle had soared with it as high as the Clouds, she came down and put it upon his head again: And. I must tell you that Tanaquil being a Tuscan, and ha∣ving some skill in Augury, she was so extremely joyned at this happy Presage, and so assured her self it would be seconded with happy effects, that she im∣braced her Husband and told him, that there was no grandure so high but he might hope for it. So as Lucumo suffering his Ambition to be flattered by such sweet hopes, he entred Rome; where he no sooner was but he went to the King, and offered him his per∣son, and all he had for the service of the State; and the truth is, he disbursed much towards the Wars upon divers occasions. And to be suitable every way unto the Custom of Rome, he quitted the name of Lucumo, because it was the Roman Custom to have two names, whereof one is particular and the other is the name of the family.

So he took the name of Lucius for the first name, and of the Town Tarquinia where he was born, he made the name of Tarquinius; so as he called him∣self Lucius Tarquinius; and left off the name of Lu∣cumo. Moreover he was affable, civil, and popular; he Courted occasions to do men courtesies, to the end he might oblige them; and he got such credit during the reign of Ancus, that this Prince deter∣mined upon nothing without him; also he was very powerful in the Senate, and extremely beloved of the people. The King left him Guardian of his Children by his Testament, so as making use of this favourable conjuncture to satisfie his Ambition, he did openly labour for the Crown before Ancus was dead: Declaring that though he was a stranger, yet that ought not to be any obstacle, since Tatius and Numa were such and yet Reigned. But to the end his design might take effect, the day that the people were to elect a King, he sent the young Princes unto whom he was Guardian to a hunting, lest their pre∣sence should put the People in memory of the great qualities of their Father, and invite them to elect one of them two. And the common opinion was, that but for this trick Lucumo had not been King as he was: The truth is he was a very glorious King, for he acted nothing but great things ever since he was chosen: His very pleasures were magnificent, for it was he who instituted the Circensian Games, so famous throughout all Italy, and who built that which we call the Circle, which is between the Mount Palatine and the Mount Aventine. He was wont to say, that in all things there ought to be a difference between Kings and Subjects, even in their very Plea∣sures; and that it was absolutely necessary, there should be a character of Royalty upon every action of a King, be it in great or little matters, As for Martial matters, he is eternized, for his Acts a∣gainst the Latines were all glory; he triumphed over the Sabines, and brought the City of Collatia unto subjection, as he had before the City of Appiola; afterwards undertaking a second War against the people of Latium, he became Master of all their strong places one after another; for he took Corni∣cula, Ficulnia, Cumeria, Crustumerla, Ameriala, Medulla and Nomeuta.

After all this he employed himself in building pub∣lick places of eternal memory; and he built one pur∣posely to keep the people from being idle: After many great and good works which he did, either for the conveniency or Ornament of the Town; he laid the foundation of the Temple of Jupiter, which is within the Capitol, only to fulfil a vow which he made during the War against the Sabines. But be∣fore I speak of his death, I must tell you several pas∣sages purposely to make you the more hate Tarquin the Proud when I shall come to relate his life, and acquaint you with his Crimes. Know therefore, that at the taking of Cornicula, there was among the Captives, a woman, (whose Husband died at this Siege) who was said to be very handsome and of good quality, and who was preferred unto the Service of Tanaquil; also she being big with Child, she was brought to bed in the Palace; for both being fair and witty and vertuous, Tanaquil did love her, and took a care of her: So as being delivered of a Son, he was brought up in the Palace; where they said this Child whose name was Servius Tullus, had his head all environed with a flame always when he slept, This Prodigie making a great noise, the King went to see it and Tanaquil also; who would not suffer any Water to be cast to quench the flame, but assured her Husband out of her knowledge in presages, that this Child should one day be the light of the State, and the greatest support of the Royal Family. The King remembring what Tanaquil said concerning the Eagle, and that all came truly to pass; he gave cre∣dit unto her this second time, as at the first; he took so great a care for the good education of the young Servius Tullus, that he grew to be so excellent in e∣very thing, as the King gave him his Daughter in marriage. But after this, the Son of the Predecessor unto Lucius Tarquinius, who pretended that he had hindred him from Reigning, being much incensed to foresee that Servius was like to Reign in his pre∣judice, he resolved upon a revenge for him, from whom they thought the injury proceeded: And in∣deed, they caused him to be murthered by pretend∣ed people, who upon a pretence of going to ask Ju∣stice of the King, did kill him in his own Palace; but since all the assassinates fled after the fact, Tanaquil not using any fruitless Complaints caused the Gates of the Palace to be shut, to the end this News should not be divulged, she encouraged Servius Tullus to mount the Throne; she spoke unto the people out of the Windows, and told them that the King was not dead; but that he recovered, and that ere long they should see him; and that in the mean while Servius Tullus should do them Justice: And Servius Tullus being gone out of the Palace in the Robe Roy∣al, which we call Trabea, he did render Justice unto each one in particular, seeming as if he referred all to the King, as if he were not dead: indeed both Tanaquil and Servius Tullus did carry all matters so cunningly, as the death of the King was concealed many days. During which time, the Children of Ancus Martius, who had caused the Successor of their Father to be murthered, retired unto Pometia; for those whom they employed in the crime being taken, and perceiving the power of Servius Tullus establish∣ed, they knew not what course to take: And the truth is, Tullus having all the Patricians for him, was declared King, without any insisting upon the Suffra∣ges of the people. 'Tis true, he was in very great esteem, and so generally beloved that this Ceremony was useless. Thus Tullus mounted the Throne; and with so much glory as none of his Predecessors did ever exceed him. For it was generally agreed by all sides, that he was the owner of all the virtues, and not of one vice. He had also the good fortune to have the advantage in Martial affairs, for he won a famous Battel against the Vejentines. And at his re∣turn to Rome he did an act which merited immortal Praise: For hearing how those who envied the gran∣dure of his fortune, did say, that he was only cho∣sen by the Patricians, and that the People had not contributed their suffrages, he resolved though those who said so were not in any capacity to hurt him, yet to surrender his Authority; and publickly declared that he would not stand upon the legs of Patrician e∣lection, but that if the people would not have him Reign he was ready to quit the Crown. But believe it, in thus descending a step lower, he ascended a step higher upon the Throne; and by submit∣ting to quit a Crown, he fastned it upon his head.

For the people being always much taken with sur∣prising actions; the people of Rome were so charm'd to see a King submit unto their suffrages, that he was

proclaimed King the second time, with more accla∣mations and applauds than ever any of his Prede∣cessors. However, as soon as he was settled in the Throne he shewed his Authority; for it may be said that he shook all the foundations of his State, by the several Laws which he made, be it either by re∣gulating all qualities, or distribution of Goods, or contribution of all particulars towards publick af∣fairs, or Military Discipline, or by the general Rule of the whole Kingdom. He enclosed the Mount Viminal, and the Mount Quirinal within the City, he built a Temple unto the honour of Diana, and many other publick edifices.

All this while, he found great happiness in the society of Tanaquil; and much more in the rare virtues of the Queen his Wife: But his sorrow was that he had only two Daughters; and to hear that Tarquin the Proud who Reigns at this day, and a Brother which he then had should murmure in se∣cret, that they being Children of the late King, should be so far from the Throne. So as Servius being all goodness, generosity, and prudence, he be∣gan to look upon him with a very favourable eye, and to speak, as if he intended to bestow his two Daughters upon those two Brothers. But before I tell you any more, I must describe unto you these four persons, of whom this History is composed, to the end you may the more clearly see the crimes of Tarquin. Know then, that the two Daughters of Servius Tullus, were then both of them very fair, though they were different one from another in e∣very thing, yet the name of them both was Tullia; but for distinction in our Court, the Elder was called the Princess without her name, and the younger the Princess Tullia. But to tell you truly, the Elder was the Elder in all things; for she was fair, full of wit, sweetness, modesty, civility, virtue, and infi∣nitely charming. Her beauty was brown, but love∣ly, especially by reason of a certain kind of sweet langnor which she had without any affectation, which inspires tenderness, and moveth love, far sooner then a sparkling and sprightly Air. Her stature was of the middle size, her eyes sweet, all the composure of her Face was lovely, and there was an unconceivable charm in every part of her person. Her humour was equal, and her Soul tender; she affected glory, and she would not buy any grandeur, at the rate of any baseness; for she did not think it impossible, but one might be happy, and not be a Queen. The Princess Tullia was nothing like her, for she was big, fair, and that very fair, but her beauty had that fierceness in it, as resembled an Amazonian Air, and it may be said, she was fair, but not lovely; her looks were bold, her actions disordered, her voice shril, her spirit imperious, her soul ambitious, and she was so naturally inclin'd, never to submit unto any, that from her very infancy, she always made her Elder Sister stand in awe of her, whose disposition was rather to obey, then obstinately to resist. Moreo∣ver the Princess Tullia was ever full of dissimulation, malice, and disguisement, and above all she was am∣bitious; so as though the Princess her Sister was one of the most sweet and charming Persons in the whole World, as I have heard a Cousin of mine say, who had the honour of her acquaintance, yet she did most horribly hate her, without any other reason in the World, but only because she was Elder, and be∣cause she imagined that Servius Tullus loving her the better, her fortune would be better. And on the other side, Tarquin and the Prince his Brother, they also were very unresemblant, and as much unlike, as these two Princesses were unto each other. But it was after another manner, for the younger of these was fair, handsome, of a sweet, moderate, and a∣greeable spirit, and all his inclinations were noble, and though he did affect glory, yet ambition was not the predominate passion of his heart, but was more inclinable unto Love then that turbulent passi∣on. But as for Tarquin he did not resemble him in any thing; for he was big though far from a hand∣some stature; his Physiognomy was gloomy and fierce, his looks were melancholy and disdainful, his mind base and poor, but he had the boldest heart in the World, the greatest spirit upon Earth, and the most prodigiously ambitious, that ever was any. Moreover, his fancy was quick and ready, which made some turbulency appear in all his actions, so as one would say he was always upon some grand de∣sign. As for matter of pleasure he never seemed sensible of any, and doubtless his supreme felicity consisted only in this, that he could see nothing a∣bove him, so as it may very well be said, that he lo∣ved grandeur only for it self, and not at all for those diversions which follow it. He would always make use of any thing which might conduce to the satis∣faction of ambition; when he thought it conveni∣ent to express some signs of his Piety, to blind the people, he would then send offerings unto Delphos, he would build Temples, and his prophane intenti∣ons would imploy all sacred things, when he thought them conducing to the execution of his designs. But on the contrary when he thought there was no need of any pretences, cloaks, and colours to dazle and blind the people, then he would make no scruple at ruining of Orphans, and both by Steel and Poison murther Innocents; and indeed, he never thought that to be a paricide, and ungrateful, were crimes. This Artemidorus, is the true Character of Tarquin, as he was, and as he is: The Elder of the two Prin∣cesses was fair and virtuous; the younger fierce and ambitious: and in contrary to this order, the Elder of the two Princes who were designed for them, was ill-favoured, proud, and wicked; and the youn∣ger was pleasing, handsome, and virtuous. So as ac∣cording to the order of Nature, he who had no vir∣tue, was to marry her who was virtuous; and he who had all noble inclinations, was to marry her who had all the ill; but to take the matter a little further off, be pleased to know, that before the King had ex∣plained himself concerning this marriage, Tarquin and the Prince his Brother, had ever a great famili∣arity with these two young Princesses. For the Queen, who was the Daughter of Tanaquil had so dearly loved the first of the Tarquin's who was her Father, that she took a particular care, these two young Tullia's should live very respectively with these two young Princes who were of the same house, But there being a great suitableness between Tarquin and the Princess Tullia; and the like also between the Princess and the Brother of Tarquin (who was called the Prince of Ameriola, because he had preser∣ved that Town by discovering a Conspiracy) so it was, that the Virtuous loved the Virtuous, and am∣bition had a natural inclination to ambition. Yet notwithstanding, since he was the Elder, and she was not; and since he observed that the King loved the Princess, better than the Princess Tullia, he con∣cealed his inclination. But on the contrary, the

Princess Tullia conceiving it would be more advan∣tagious to her to marry Tarquin, then the Prince of Ameriola, because he was the Elder, and more ambi∣tious then his Brother, she used all her endeavours to get him for her Husband. In the mean time, there being a sympathetical conformity of humours, be∣tween the Prince of Ameriola and the Princess, they knew that they loved one another without telling of it; and there was such a violent inclination to each other, that they were not able to hide it. And indeed, there was always such a conformity of mind between them, as they were never seen to differ in any opinion. On the contrary Tarquin and Tullia were always so opposite unto them, that no two con∣traries could be more; for never any conference hapned, though of matters never so indifferent, but the Princess Tullia would be sure to contradict her Sister and the Prince of Ameriola; also Tarquin and the Prince his Brother, were never of one o∣pinion.

I remember one day above the rest, when these two Princes and Princesses were all together, that the conversation of that day were upon such subjects, as made the various opinions of these two Princesses and these two Princes most manifestly appear. You must know, that the King who bore a particular ve∣neration unto the Vestals finding that those four who were already instituted, had much ado to keep in the sacred fire, would have two more added unto the number. And this Ceremony not being often to be seen, the two Princesses had a mind to see it, and did so the day before this conversation which I am to relate unto you. Indeed this Ceremony was worth the sight, and therefore worthy of my rela∣tion unto you. At the first, the High Priest makes choice of twenty Virgins of quality, all under ten years of Age, and all without any defect either in body or mind: Then casting their names into a Lottery, the first who is drawn is the new Vestal: Then the Parents committing her into the hands of the High Priest, they cut her Hair off with a great deal of Ceremony, and after do go and receive her at a certain Tree destined unto this use, which we call Lotos. And afterwards they put upon her the habit of a Vestal, which is; a great, long, and high Caul, from which hangs negligently, variety of Ri∣bonds and Tassels: then they put her such a Veil as the Vestals use to wear when they sacrifice, which is buckled under their Chins with Lockets of Dia∣monds: As for their Robes, they are white, plated, and very ornamental; and over all they wear a purple Mantle which renders their dress very hand∣some and noble. And this habit being given them with a great deal of Ceremony and observance: there are always much company to see them. And when the Vestal is once within the Temple of Vesta, no more of any passages is to be seen; for they on∣ly are priviledged to enter except the High Priest. So there being two Vestals chosen at once, it was the whole discourse; and the two Princesses according to their several inclinations discoursed upon this Ceremony. For my part (said the Princess Tullia) I conceive, that since they will have Vestals, they did very wisely to make choice of them under ten years of Age, and before reason had imprinted it self in them; for maugre all the fine priviledges they en∣joy, and all the honours which are done unto them, I had rather be any thing then a Vestal. For my particular (said the Princess then) I am not of your opinion; for I do find something so noble and glo∣rious in the Function of the Vestals, that I never see them, but I do envy them. For it is only in them, that our Sex is held in any Rank and Consideration, since in all other conditions, they do not hold their own rank, but only that of their Parents: If a Wo∣man be not married, then she is more or less valued according to the rank of her Father, and if she have a Husband, it is according to his quality that she is more or less honoured. But as for the Vestals their consideration is from themselves; and they are honoured by all that is greatest in Rome, since they are honoured by the King. What the Princess saith (replied the Prince of Ameriola) is so judici∣ously spoken, as I conceive, none can contradict her. Though there was no other reason (replied Tarquin) to make me think the Vestals but a sort of miserable things, then that they must dream out thirty years, and still be nothing else but a Vestal, and never aspire higher, this I say, keeps me from envying their condition; for I care not for a dry and unpro∣fitable passion, which can never be serviceable to me. For my part (said the Princess Tullia) I am clearly of Tarquin's mind, and say again, that since they will have Vestals, they do very well to take them before reason comes into them; for I am so far from establishing new Laws and Slaveries, as I do freely allow the same Liberty unto all which nature and custom have allowed Women: And if I should freely say, what I think, perhaps I should tell you, that were it in my choice either to be a valiant Soul∣dier, or a Vestal, or even what I am, I should make choice of being rather valiant, than either a Vestal or a Princess as I am, so little am I satisfied with my own Sex. How Madam, (replied the Prince of A∣meriola) can you renounce your beauty and the Em∣pire which it gives unto your Sex over the hearts of Men, to be a silly Souldier, rather then a great Prin∣cess? Yes (replied she sharply) and I am sometimes so ashamed at my being born a Slave, that were my Fetters such as could be broken, it should not be long before I would break them. Oh Sister (replied the Princess) doubtless you know not what you say; for methinks our Sex hath a thousand advantages a∣bove that of Men; for first it injoys an eternal peace, since we are not obliged to go unto the Wars, and the same honour which invites Men unto it, forbids us. Beauty, as the Prince of Ameriola well obser∣ved, is our supreme Prerogative; we have the de∣stinies of Men in our hands: Also we are dispen∣ced with, for taking the pains in obtaining the Arts and Sciences; ignorance in us is no fault, there is no necessity of being valiant, a little wit, and much modesty will serve to make a complete Wo∣man; but on the contrary to make a complete Man, there must be a thousand great qualifications both na∣tural and acquired. It is confessed (replied Tarquin) that there is much wit in your language; but for all that I am of the Princess Tullia's mind, and had ra∣ther be a private Souldier then any Woman. For to tell you truly, a Souldier may become a King, but a Woman can never become free. I pray tell me (said the Princess Tullia) in what condition can we find liberty? When we are first born, we are not on∣ly Slaves to our Parents, who dispose of us as they please, and make Vestals of us when fancy takes them; but we are slaves also unto custom and de∣cency; for as soon as reason begins to make us di∣scern things, they tell us that we must submit our

selves unto the custom and fashion. Also we are more miserable at Rome than any where else, where the Ladies have a fancy, that because the Romans are more valiant than other people, therefore their women must be more severe, more reserved, more ignorant, and more solitary; it is true as my Sister said, that a few good qualities will serve one of our Sex to get much reputation, but it is as true also that this is an infinite shame unto us; for it is as much as to say, that we are not capable of more: Oh Madam, replied the Prince of Ameriola, I must needs be the defender of your Sex against you; for I am fully per∣swaded that Ladies are capable of all the virtues, and that they have more wit than we. For if we do care∣fully observe both men and women in places where their education is alike, as in the Country, we shall find much more wit in the women than in the men, and conclude, that Nature hath given more unto you than us.

I do grant all this to be true (replied Tullia) and to speak in general we have better fancies, and fuller of imagination than men; but it must be confessed withal that we do want courage and hearts; we are contented to be the chief Slave of the house, and oftentimes worse used. Nay we have not so much li∣berty as to make choice of our Masters, for we are oftentimes forced to marry against our inclinations and it is commonly seen that all the great wit which the Gods have given us, is employed only in trivial talk, and those who are most esteemed amongst us, do make least use of their wit but conceal it as careful as they can, and endeavour to be owner of only one virtue which in my opinion is very difficult to be pra∣ctised. Mean time, because the world hath a fancy that women are weak, aad that they are put to a great deal of pains to keep themselves from loving those who love them, they are forced to live with so much constraint and wariness; as in my opinion this ver∣tue which is thought so requisite amongst them, is no great glory to them: Truth is, they must set a guard upon their own eyes, they must shun the com∣pany of those men they like, and they must not go any whither alone. Lying abroad is forbidden us, solitude it self is sometimes ill interpreted, and we are so unfortunate that when it is not known what we do they think we are doing ill; and we must always have some body to answer for our actions, or else they will be ill interpreted. So that as the world goes, we are born with passions which inchain us; for we are not allowed either to love or hate any thing: Ambition is unto us of no use, obedience only is our share; judge therefore whether I have not reason to chuse rather the being a valiant Soldier than what I am; and I assure you there is not a day passeth, in which I do not envy the Sex of which I am none. When I see a man walking alone, I envy his liberty; when others travel my envy goes along with them also; nay some that are angry and can revenge them∣selves have my envy; for men may revenge, but wo∣men be they never so much wronged must not com∣plain; or if they do, it must forsooth be so tamely, that their complexion must not alter, nor their eyes lose their languor, as if nature had made us insensi∣ble, and all by vertue of the Laws of Decency, which I assure you I cannot chuse but murmur against, and those that made them. For my particular (replied the Princess) I do think my self very happy in the calm mediocrity of my spirit; and I find that my Sex hath a thousand advantages over the other, since of the virtues the least difficult are required from us; and I do find it much more glorious to Reign without force than by violence, and that it is the easiest thing in the world to submit ones spirit in matter of De∣cency. It is unquestionable, that Ambition is not a passion fit for Ladies; but it is a passion so full of tu∣multuous turbulencies, that I think it a great advan∣tage to be without it. As every one loves to be ar∣guing according to their own humours (replied Tul∣lia sharply) so I do not think it strange we should not be of one opinion. For as you Sister, do find diver∣sion in walking under shades, in gathering of flow∣ers, in making Nosegays, in hearing the birds sing, and listning to the murmur of Rivers, so I am often tired with that which diverts you.

The Princess being accustomed to indure a hun∣dred such contradictions from her ambitious sister, she turned her discourse another way, lest Tullia should have uttered more then she desired to hear; for she was accqnainted with the impetuosity of her hu∣mour. So as insensibly falling upon other discourse, they began to talk of Passions, and to examine whe∣ther Love was a more Noble Passion than ambition; and in case both chanced to be in one heart, one of them must yield unto the other.

So as since this question had some congruity with the Fortunes of these four persons, because Tarquin was in love with Tullia, yet his Ambition required that he should marry the Princess her Sister, rather then her; and on the other side the Princess loved the Prince of Ameriola, yet ambition and conveniency re∣quired she should marry Tarquin; each of them ha∣ving a secret interest in the business, they spoke ac∣cording to the present state of things, rather than according to their own thoughts; for had they spoke their thoughts, the Princess would have said that am∣bition ought to be made a sacrifice unto love: The Prince of Ameriola would have said the same: And the Princess Tullia doubtless would have said that Love ought to submit unto Ambition.

But since she would that Tarquin should marry her, though she was the younger, she found her self a lit∣tle gravelled at this rencounter. Also she spoke less than the rest, but as for him he did not dissemble his thoughts, but maintained against his Brother, that Love ought to yield unto Ambition. For, said he, love is to be looked on only as a fading passion, which seldom lasts out a life; but Ambition is a Passion which continues unto the last gasp of breath, and it is glorious to die so; and it hath this particular qua∣lity, that it is a remedy against Love; for it is so bu∣sied, and hatcheth so many several designs, as the o∣ther Passion which is both hatcht and nourished by idleness, can hardly ever subsist with it. But though perhaps Ambition doth not quite extinguish Love, yet it ought always to sacrifice it self unto Ambition, since one is not always certain to love his Mistress, but sure always to love Grandeur. For the favours of Love are limited, beyond which there is no pretend∣ing, and as soon as one is come unto the highest point it can arrive at, Love lessens: but it is not so with Ambition, for fortune is a Mistress whose favours are inexhaustible, who as she satisfies her Lovers aug∣ments their desires; and who hath no sooner given them one thing, but she shews them a thousand more which still are in her gift: So as continually shewing them guilded baits to catch new desires, Ambition hath always the force of a new passion. 'Tis true (replied the Prince of Ameriola) that Fortune hath

more to give than Love. But let me tell you, her favours are not so sweet, and the torments which she causes are not accompained with a thousand se∣cret Consolations which unhappy Lovers have in the midst of their sufferings. Oh Brother! (replied Tar∣quin hastily) these Chymerical Consolations which you talk of, are not considerable in comparison of that pleasure which one finds in trampling ones ene∣mies under his foot, and raising himself over the heads of others; and did you know what sweetness there is in plotting an Ambitious design to see it thrive happily, you would not speak as you do. I who have a heart sensible of this Passion, I must con∣fess I do wonder how any can be without it, and how one can disclaim it for matter of Love; for I will af∣firm that few miserable people ever make any Lovers and to speak rationally, Love ought to be the con∣sequence of Ambition. And truly if Love be with∣out its pleasures; if the sports, the mirth, and all its graces do not accompany it, it is a very pitiful thing. And I think it to be extreme folly in those who cannot satisfie both their Love and their Ambi∣tion, not to prefer the last before the first, what joy can be expected from a poor Lover who wants an e∣state? how is it possible his Mistress should discern the sighs for the poorness of his Fortune, from those sighs which are caused by his Love? how miserably does he divide himself between his cares to please her and his cares to maintain himself? he cannot be liberal but he beggars himself; he cannot be merry unless forcedly; he dares not ofttimes thwart his Rival, lest he should prejudice his Fortune; and he entertains in his fancy so many things which are not within his reach of Gallantry, that of necessity he must needs be a troublesome Gallant. So as I must conclude, that it appertains only unto Ambitious, happy Ambitious men, to have any thing to do with Love: And those who quit the interests of their for∣tune, to content their passion, deserve to be forsa∣ken by their Mistresses, for whom they have forsa∣ken all things: And were I a Lady, and should see at my feet one of those faithful Lovers, who would sa∣crifice all the interests of their Ambition unto their Love, I would advise him to go and get the favour of Fortune, before he pretended to get mine: and would tell him that a greater injury cannot be offered unto a Lady, than to desire she should love him before he be happy. At the least I know (said he, and look∣ed upon Tullia) that were I in love with a person of a high and heroick heart, and could not enjoy her unless I ruin'd my fortune; I will tell her ingenuously, that both for the love of her and the love of my self, I would think no more upon her: for I am sure if she be such a one, she will esteem me the more, and in her heart prefer me before such Lovers as will tell her, that they had rather live in a Cottage with one they love, than upon a Throne without her. But for my part I am none of those, and openly declare that I could never be happy, if I could reproach my self with an act of that nature. For my particular, said the Prince of Ameriola, I must confess I have no thoughts so Ambitious, since I think it not impossi∣ble but one may be happy in the poorest Cottage with a person I could Love; and since I could not be so upon a Throne unless she were upon it with me. Whilst these two Princes were talking so, the two Princesses who heard them had thoughts very diffe∣rent: For the Princess thought, the Prince Ameriola was in the right; and she gave such an interpre∣tation upon his words as he desired she should.

But as for the Princess Tullia, though her ambi∣tious humour did concur with the opinion of Tar∣quin, yet she was angry with him, because what he said was not consonant with her designs. Her Wit did not furnish her with many arguments against what he had said, but since she would contradict him in something, she agreed with him that one ought to sacrifice all unto ambition; but she said after that the great difficulty was to know, what one should do to content it. For there are sometimes some Loves which may serve Ambition as well as prejudice it, if all advantages be well considered. Tarquin hearing what Tullia said, he made a right application of it; but he seemed as if he did not understand her, because he was not then perswaded that it was advantageous for him to prefer her before the Princess; and that on the contrary he believed, that if he married the eldest Sister, he should the sooner be King: Not that the Crown which Servius Tullus wore was a right of Succession, and that Eldership was any nearer Ti∣tle to Reign.

But Tarquin was perswaded, that the tenderness which this Prince did bear unto his eldest Daughter, would move him to get the Senates Consent for him unto whom he should marry her; and that this would be a shorter, and more sure way to get upon the Throne. Also the People loving the Elder much better than the other, he preferred her out of Ambi∣tion, before her whom his own inclination did pre∣fer as most amiable.

And therefore without any direct answer unto what Tullia said, he said that there needed no exami∣nation of any particular adventures; for he maintai∣ned onely in general that it was requisite to sacrifice Love unto Ambition. And I maintain the contrary (said the Prince of Amcriola) that one ought to sa∣crifice Ambition unto Love. For my part (said the Princess and turned aside, lest she should meet the eys of the Prince of Ameriola) since I have nothing to do either with Love or Ambition, I know not what to say unto this dispute: All I can say is, that if any loved me, I would not be sacrificed unto any other in∣terest. You are so fit to satisfie both Ambition and Love (replied Tarquin) that you are not in any dan∣ger of such an adventure. Tullia hearing what this Ambitious Lover said, she was in such a chafe, that she rise up and broke off the discourse: And imagining which way she might be revenged upon Tarquin, and satisfie her own Ambition, she conceived her self mi∣staken when she thought that it would be more ad∣vantageous to her to marry him, then to marry the Prince Ameriola. For (said she, in that angry mood) Tarquin is indeed more ambitious then the Prince his Brother. He is more busie and daring, and able to surmout all considerations that may bring him to his proposed end; but he would be his own chuser of the way by which he would come to the Throne: and if he rest upon his own choice, perhaps he may be mi∣staken and lose his way; for in all probability he will not know how to manage those opportunities which Fortune shall present unto him: Whereas, on the contrary, the Prince of Ameriola is of a more sweet temper, and more agreeable to the People then Tar∣quin is, and I may become Mistress of his spirit, ei∣ther by the way of Love or Fear: And when I be in that state, I shall make him do as I please, and shall be then much more happy then If I were tied to the Fortune of this ambitious Lover. For the Prince of

Ameriola is questionless most accomplished to Mount a Throne.

Tullia arguing thus with her self began to flatter the Prince of Ameriola, and to disguise some part of her thoughts. Yet he stood constantly faithful un∣to that Princess who also entirely reserved her heart for him: But the fidelity which they had unto each other, conduced to render them the more misera∣ble; for they understood presently after, that Ser∣vius Tullus was fully resolved that Tarquin should marry the Princess, and that the Prince his Brother should marry Tullia. Not but that this wise King knew well enough, that there was no great corre∣spondency of humour between the Princess and Tar∣quin, nor between Tullia and the Prince of Ameriola, but in lieu of joyning Virtuous with the Virtuous, and the Ambitious with the Ambitious, he thought on the contrary, that since he made these two mar∣riages only out of policy, and to keep these two Princes from raising any stirs in the State, he ought to separate interests, the Ambitious from the Am∣bitious. And he resolved upon it the sooner, when he knew the discourse which I have related unto you. for by it he came to know what the humour of Tar∣quin was. If Tarquin and Tullia be joyned together (said he one day unto a Senator) there is no violence which they will not attempt; and unless I should set them upon the Throne upon their marriage day, it were folly to make the match; for both of them are ambitious spirits, both violent, bold, and scru∣ple at nothing; but in separating them, perhaps I shall correct their tempers; and in giving unto the ambitious Tarquin a person who hath no ambition, who is fair, sweet, and virtuous; one who loves and fears the Gods, it is probable she will sweeten the harshness of his temper, and will keep him from all attempts against justice: Also it is likely that in gi∣ving unto the Ambitious Tullia, a Prince who is hand∣some, generous, and incapable of any injustice, he will win upon her heart, and alter her mind. Also he having a legitimate authority over her, she can∣not attempt what she would, as she might if she had a husband of her own temper. Servius Tullus being thus resolved, the Prince of Ameriola seeing all hopes of changing his resolution taken away, he was in ex∣treme despair.

On the other side, the Princess having employed the Queen her mother, to endeavour the alteration the Kings resolution, she found by her that the King of was unalterable, so as she was extremely sad. But the most particular of all this Passage was that though the Prince of Ameriola did most passionately love the Princess; and though the Princess had exceeding tender thoughts of the Prince of Ameriola; and though they knew each others thoughts, yet they did never tell one another that they loved. For the Princess was so full of modesty, her Lover was so full of respect, they both of them saw so little hope of happiness, Tarquin kept such a vigilant eye upon his Brother, the two Princesses were so seldom a sun∣der, that the Prince of Ameriola never met with any favourable occasion to express his thoughts unto his Princess. He had told her a thousand times that she was the person whom he most esteemed; he had told her that she was the most lovely Princess upon earth; but he never told her in plain terms that he loved her, However when both sides had received such intelli∣gence as put them out of all hopes, then melancholy did so much damp their spirits, as they were scarcely knowable: Yet they set the best faces upon the matter that they could, and did the same things they were u∣sed to do. Not long after the Princess using to walk al∣most every evening, in a Garden which was in the Palace of Servius Tullus, by the Mount Palatine which he built, because he thought his Lodging at that house near the Mount Esquiline was not convenient, so it hapned that they going thither to walk accord∣ing to their custom, the two Princes whom they were to marry were there also; and as chance would have it, Tarquin which ingaged to talk with Tullia; for he knowing her to be extremely ambitious, though he had no mind to marry her, and though he was resolved to sacrifice his love to her unto his ambition, yet he desired to appease her a little.

Tullia as fierce as she was, had a desire to see whether she could work any change in his mind by a private conference: So as having engaged Tarquin to talk with her, he durst not deny her; and by this means, the Princess and the Prince of Ameriola, whose sorrows were extreme, had the liberty of talk together. But being both of them equally melancholy, they were no sooner separated some few paces from those who were the troublers of their felicity, but looking up∣on each other, they saw so much sadness in each o∣thers eyes, as the Love which they had unto each o∣ther was thereby much augmented, for they did ea∣sily divine the cause. So the Prince of Ameriola be∣ing grown more bold by the melancholy which he saw in the fair eyes of his Princess: Oh Heavens! Madam, said he unto her, I beseech you tell me tru∣ly, whether or no you think I may not wish, that those two persons which I see together, may never part; and whether you will give me leave to tell you, that if I have not my wish effected, the grief which I see in your eyes will be my death? and that a death most desperate, unless to make me expire the more calmly, you will permit me to believe that I have some share in those sorrows which I see in you. For truly Madam, you know that I love you; I think you can∣not love my Brother, and I am so presumptuous also as to think, that you have less aversion unto me than unto him. Your language doth so much distract me (replied the Prince and blusht) as I know not how to answer you; unless this, that at at this time I dare not tell you what I think.

Oh Madam (said the Prince of Ameriola) I am in∣finitely obliged unto you for this answer. And I be∣seech you, give the most miserable Lover alive, leave to imagine what those thoughts are which now you dare not tell him; and believe that the pureness of my passion doth merit so much indulgence from you. I know very well that as the state of things stands, it is hard to find a remedy, against that evil which af∣flicts me. But however, one may dye more quietly one way than another, and therefore Madam, I must conjure you not to deny me this. Since I am very in∣genuous (replied the Princess) I will tell you that I have a very high opinion of your virtue, and I think you are well perswaded of mine: I must confess that there is a natural antipathy betwixt your Brother and me, which makes me wish that the King had not com∣manded me to marry him; and I will confess further, that there is such a sympathy of humour between you and me, as I wish either that Tarquin resembled you, or that you were in his room. Also I am perswaded that you do hold me in some esteem; and I must tell you truly that I do much esteem you. But when I have said this I have said all, unless this, that when I

have done all that Decency will permit me to break my marriage with Tarquin, then I must resolve upon obedience, and to be the most miserable person up∣on earth. But I beseech you Madam, (said he unto her) if Ambition be not the predominate passion of your Soul, as it is in the Princess your Sister, why should you marry my Brother? leave him to the am∣bitious Tullia, let us not oppose their fidelity as they do ours; I am originally of Corinth, let us go and seek that security in Greece, which we cannot find in Rome: Do you abandon Tarquin as I will Tullia, and take up a resolution worthy of the Love I bear you and of your own virtue. For, Madam, I am confi∣dent, that as soon as ever you are the Wife of Tar∣quin, he will move you unto such things which your generosity will never consent unto. I know very well, that as his Brother, I ought not to tell you thus much, but as his Rival, it is permitted me to tell you any thing that may serve my self.

Also Justice requires it, that I should not smother a truth from you, which may be of such a conse∣quence, as the well-being of the King may depend upon it. The truth is Madam, I know that my Bro∣ther dares not love you, and that he doth love the Princess Tullia: Nor would he ever marry you, but that Ambition hath a greater prevalence with his heart than love hath. Imagine then Madam, what such a man is able to do who can act against his own felicity. Expect and fear all that is ill from him, Ma∣dam, and beware whilst it is time: Moreover I know of an infallible certainty, that the Princess Tullia doth love my Brother and cannot love me; but I value not the last of these, for knowing that I shall never love her, and that I shall ever love you, Madam, I should be unjust if I should take it ill from her. But I be∣seech you consider, that I am in a most miserable state, for knowing that the King is fully resolved that I should marry Tullia, and that you should mar∣ry Tarquin, I know not what course to take. If I re∣fuse this honour which he would do me in giving me his Daughter, then I must go out of Rome, and must never see you again: And if I should stay with you, then I must marry a person who hates me, and whom I do not love, and must see you enjoyed by my Bro∣ther, who thinks it no happiness to injoy you.

Imagine therefore, Madam, if I have not great reason to beseech you, that you will be pleased to take these things into your consideration, since they may produce such dangerous consequences: I do ve∣rily believe all that you say (replied the Princess) but I believe them without seeing any remedy against them; for my honour will not permit me to go with you into Greece, and though a resentment of glory should not give a stop unto it, yet my tenderness of the King and Queen is sufficient. Also I think my self obliged to advise you to marry my Sister, be∣cause I think she stands in need of your virtue, to temper her ambitious humour, and to restrain her from any unjust attempts. Oh! Madam (said the Prince of Ameriola then) I perceive I was much mi∣staken, when I thought you did not hate me; for where there is any tender affection, there cannot be so much wisdom; but one shall have more compassion upon the miseries of the person whom one loves. Since I have none for my self (replied the Princess) you would be unjust, if you should murmur that I have none for you: Then Madam, I beseech you (said he unto her) reflect upon your own condition; should I do as you advise, and marry Tullia who loves not me, nor I her, but should still continue my love to you, then Tarquin would marry you but love Tul∣lia; and it may so chance that you may love me then, more than now you do, and that I my self should contribute unto your misery; for I cannot think it possible you should see me so full of misery as I shall be, and your heart nothing touched with Compassi∣on: Think well therefore upon what I say, Madam, and afterwards favour me so far as to tell me, what course you would have me take; I would have you (said she) submit your mind unto your for∣tune, since you cannot make Fortune submit unto your mind; and I would have you (if I could speak it without a blush) be as miserable as I shall be; that you should marry Tullia with as much aversion as I shall Tarquin, and yet live as well with my Sister, as I am resolved to live with the Prince your Brother. But I would have you to believe withal, that if I could banish you from me, I should do it this very hour, and believe also, that this day is the first and last that ever you should tell me of your love. I should take it as a singular favour if you would change your passion into amity and friendship, and to love me on∣ly as a Sister. Oh! Madam (replied he) it is impos∣sible I should ever love you any otherwise than as a Mistress; and you have brought me into the most pitiful condition in the world: For I must love you without the least spark of hope; I must hate my bro∣ther as a Rival; and I must hate the Princess your Si∣ster as a perfidious woman, all whose inclinations are opposite unto mine. Take heed Madam, and fear lest my virtue should forsake me. I should fear it in any other but you, (replied the Princess) but judg∣ing of you by my self, I fear no violence nor injustice to proceed from you; for I know very well (if I can speak it for shame) that I can never love Tarquin, and that I can never hate you; but I know withal, that I shall never do any thing but what I ought. After this, the Prince Ameriola talked unto this virtuous Princess of many things; in a language full of passio∣nate expressions, unto which she answered with as much tenderness and virtue: So as finding new cau∣ses of admiration at each others great and noble thoughts, they still continued loving one another very tenderly. But for all that their virtues were still much stronger than their Loves; and say what this Prince could he could not obtain any thing fur∣ther from this Princess. And truly, though she made him absolutely desperate, yet was he not tran∣sported so far as to attempt any violent resolution. But whilst these two were talking thus, the Ambi∣tious Tarquin, and the no less Ambitious Tullia, were discoursing after another manner: For they were no sooner at liberty to talk, but Tarquin) who knew that Tullia had intention to disswade him for her Sister) he spoke the first, and began to complain of what he himself did: Well Madam (said he to her) what do you think of capricious fortune, who disposeth of us in such a cruel manner, and will have me (for your interest) deprive my self of a thing which is infinitely dear unto me? Yet resolve upon it I must, and yet there is no remedy against this mis∣fortune: Did I speak unto one whose heart were in∣feriour unto yours, I should not speak thus; but knowing the Grandure of your Soul; I dare tell you how I am perswaded, that all the Kings favours will follow him who shall marry the Princess, and that the King hath as great an aversion to you, as he hath affection to her. So as if I should let my Brother

marry her, and I marry you, then we must both of us prepare our selves to be their Slaves. Therefore Generous Tullia, I must marry the Princess, purpose∣ly to keep you from being her Vassal. And you must resolve to marry my Brother; for he being naturally of a sweet and compliant temper, you may mould him unto my interests which shall be always yours, for my marriage shall not keep me from loving you as much as ever I did, and as between a Wife and a Mi∣stress, the Mistress is always most dear; so it shall be you who shall be really the Queen, if I be King. Tullia hearing Tarquin say so, she did not answer as her virtuous Sister would, if it had been her case; but on the contrary, perceiving she had yet some share in Tarquins affection, she used all possible expres∣sions to flatter up both his Love and his Ambition: But seeing it would be more advantageous for him to marry her Sister than to marry her, she went not a∣bout to alter his mind. So as this most abominable woman seeing she could not be his Wife, and fore∣seeing that perhaps she should have all the authority, she rested her self contented with the hopes of be∣ing his Mistress, though he married her Sister, and she married his Brother.

Thus out of a resentment both of Love and Am∣bition, together with their want of virtue, these two resolved not to marry, and yet not to break off. After which, they went and joyned with the Prin∣cess, and the Prince of Ameriola whose thoughts were quite opposite, since all that virtue could in∣spire were theirs. In the mean time, since Servius Tullus, required that these two Marriages should be solemnized out of hand, they were married within fifteen days after this conference, and done with all possible magnificence Royal; but with such sensible grief to the Princess, and the Prince of Ameriola, as I have heard say, that the day before the marriage they thought they should have died with sorrow, and that they did bid each other adien, in the saddest manner imaginable. But afterwards, their virtue being stronger, they recovered themselves, and set the best face they could upon the matter, and beha∣ved themselves with so much Wisdom, that few did perceive their despairs.

As for Tullia, her mind was full of tumultuous tur∣bulence, but upon her consideration of things, she imagined, that perhaps she should be able to induce Servius Tullus to do as much for her, as for her Sister: And at worst, if she could not reign in the person of her Husband, yet she should in the person of her Lover. As for Tarquin, though he loved Tullia, yet he was glad his Brother had married her, be∣cause he was sure of her heart still, and because he looked upon his marriage with the Princess, as ma∣ny steps nearer the Throne. Thus this great solem∣nity was passed over with thoughts very different a∣mongst these four persons. Mean time, though Tarquin loved Tullia in his heart, and Tullia him a∣gain, yet did they secretly prejudice one another in things wherein there was any interest of Ambition. For if the Prince of Ameriola could be King, Tullia had rather been his Wife than Tarquins, because his mildness made hope to have all the Rule and Autho∣rity. Tarquin on the other side, who knew the humour of Tullia, was not sorry that he could be King without her assistance; yet they dissembled their thoughts, since their marriage kept a great league of correspondency. As for the Princess, and the Prince of Ameriola, it was not so with them; for though this vertuous Lover asked nothing but the friendship of the person he loved, and though she would not grant him any more, yet as far as civility would give her leave, she shunned all occasions of speaking wIth him in private. On the other side, the King who equally feared both Tarquin and Tullia, was very cautious how he inclined more unto one side than a∣nother; and lest he should incense Tullia, he shew∣ed no greater favour unto Tarquin, than unto the Prince of Ameriola; and lest he should incense Tar∣quin, he shewed no more unto the Prince his Brother than unto him.

But in thinking to be very prudent, and striving to carry even on both sides, he contented neither Tarquin nor Tullia; for never were two spirits great∣er enemies unto all equality than those two. And indeed it was most insupportable unto them to see the King favour both alike: Mean time, since they perceived the intention of Servius Tullus, they gave no rest unto the persons whom fortune had tyed them unto; for Tullia was continually persecuting the Prince of Ameriola, because he stirred no more both against the King and against Tarquin; and Tarquin would never let the Princess his wife be in rest, pur∣posely to oblige and move her to draw some unto him and her self from that tenderness which the King had over her; and would needs force her to negotiate against the Prince of Ameriola. So as by this means Tarquin was perpetually acting against his Brother, and against his Mistress; and he would needs have his Wife act against her Sister and her Lover. Tul∣lia for her part, her whole thoughts were how to ruine both her Lover and her Sister; how to pull the Crown off her fathers head; and to persecute her Husband, purposely to force him to do all he could against his Brother, and against the person he lov'd above all the World, and all to throw Servius Tullus out of the Throne: But let the Ambitious Tarquin, and the Ambitious Tullia do what they could, the virtue of these two illustrious persons did not stag∣ger: for the Prince of Ameriola never did any thing which could displease the King, nor which might anger Tarquin, nor which was against the interest of that Princess whom he loved. But as for that admi∣rable person, her vertue went further; for in such things as could not be done without injustice, and which were advantageous to her Husband, and dis∣advantageous to her Lover, she never medled with them; yet at the very same time she bore a most hor∣rible hatred against the one, and a most violent af∣fection to the other; she served him whom he hated, and hurt not him whom she loved. 'Tis true, this was but upon certain occasions, where reason requi∣red it; for when Tarquin moved her by any unjust ways, either against her Father, or her Sister, or the Prince of Ameriola, she denied him with incom∣parable constancy; though yet it was always with a sweetness full of respect, able to allay even cruelty it self. However, out of her excess of virtue, and knowing that the thoughts of her Husband were ex∣tremely violent, that he stood not in any fear of the Gods, and that he scossed at the Laws of men: She did much endeavour to get his love, and win some credit in his thoughts, in hopes to sweeten the sharp∣ness of his humour. On the other side, the Prince of Ameriola, who ever bore a violent affection unto the Princess, and a most horrid hatred unto Tullia, did constrain himself; and for his own honour, be∣cause it should not be said he had a Wife who could

be accused of any wickedness, he did what he could to correct his, by a million of examples of goodness and complacency, which he daily shewed. But it was in vain for these two virtuous persons to think of sweetning the natural fierceness of Tarquin and Tullia; for do what they could it did daily encrease. So as Tarquin despairing of ever inspiring any Am∣bition into his Wife; and Tullia seeing no likeli∣hood of ever making her Husband to commit any Crimes, though to get Crowns by it, they began to scorn and hate them, and all that were not of their own minds. They began, I say, to love one another more then ever they did, and to repent they did not marry each other. But the chief reason of their repentance was because if they were married, then they should the sooner arrive at their desired ends; so as the fire of Love and Ambition both joyning together in their hearts, it broke out in such vio∣lent and unjust flames, as the most innocent talk, they had never ended under a promise of commit∣ting some crime or other, to unite their loves the more firmly.

Truth is, they talked of nothing but things most terrible; for sometimes they would say, that it was the most egregious folly in Men, to lose a glorious design for a little scruple of virtue, or out of a fond Chymerical imagination of Glory; or for Men not to establish themselves unless by actions of genero∣sity, which are absolutely incompatible with the ex∣ecution of great enterprises. For my part (said Tarquin one day unto Tullia, as I understood by a witty Wench who waited upon this Princess) I take this for a most undoubted maxim, that those who will keep themselves within those bounds which the vulgar use to prescribe unto Justice and Generosity, they shall never arrive at any great matters by the way of Fortune: And unless Men will make bold with Laws they shall never exalt themselves above others; nor had there ever been any Kings, King∣doms, or inequality of conditions. And there∣fore without any further dorring at Laws, which those who made them will not keep, let us make use only of such as will serve our own turns, and never precisely insist upon it whether the thing be just or unjust.

These (generous Artimedorus) were the discour∣ses of those persons at that time, and many more such, which I will not now relate; because here∣after, I shall tell you of things much more execrable. Mean time, since they had not always sit opportuni∣ties of talking together, they began to write very often unto each other: And as it is not easie for Persons of their Quality, that they should long conceal themselves, the Princess came presently to know, that there was a secret correspondency held between her Sister and her Husband: and the Prince of Ameriola also knew the like between his Wife and his Brother. However, out of a resentment of virtue and prudence, the Princess would not ac∣quaint the Prince of Ameriola with the irregularity of his Wives courses, because this persidious Wo∣man was her Sister, and because that Prince was her Lover. The Prince of Ameriola on his side, it was long before he would discover unto the Prin∣cess, the infidelity of her Husband, thinking it would grieve her to no purpose.

Thus was he in a pitiful Condition; for it went against his mind to discover the Crimes of his Wife; he could not think of any revenge upon his Brother, because he was Husband unto her whom he loved; who being all virtue, would never have looked upon him again, if he should kill her Hus∣band. And therefore he did hide the matter as much as possible he could; yet since he knew the humour both of his Brother and his Wife, he was desirous to know the very bottom of their corre∣spondency. And to that end, though he was ne∣ver jealous, yet he employed all his diligence to di∣scover it, and he carried the business so well, that the Slave who carried their Letters was absolutely his. So causing a Seal like unto theirs secretly to be made (for their Seals were both alike) he met with a Letter of Tarquin's unto Tullia, and the Answer of Tullia unto Tarquin. But these two Letters being the most horrid Letters of Love that ever were writ, and al∣so being made publick, there was not a Man in Rome who was a hater of Tarquin, which knew not of them. And I knew them better then any o∣thers, and more hated the injustice of them, than any whosoever.

But before I acquaint you with the Contents of them, you must know, that the Prince of Ameriola was so surprised, as now thinking it not fit to dis∣guise any longer, but that it was absolute requisite, the Princess should know the state of things, he re∣solved to go and acquaint her. And having taken Copies of these two Letters, he went unto the Prin∣cess, though he did not use to visit her in private, be∣cause she had forbid him, and he went in such a hap∣py hour that he found her alone. Also he had the advantage not to fear his being interrupted either by Tarquin or Tullia; for the one was gone out to Hunt, and the other kept her Chamber, being a little sick. So as finding the Princess alone, accord∣ing to his wish, he was very glad of it, though he had none but sad stories to tell her. But as for her though she still loved him very tenderly, yet was she troubled at the sight of him: So as this Prince per∣ceiving it, I see, Madam (said he unto her) this my visit doth more displease than oblige you: But, Ma∣dam, I beseech you do not condemn me before you hear me, and the cause of my coming: For truly I have so accustomed my self to obey all your com∣mands, and to deprive my self of the happiness in seeing you, that those respects I have ever paid un∣to you doth merit a grant of that audience which now I desire. Since the Princess knew the great virtue of the Prince, and since she found something in his looks, which told her, that he had some matter of importance to impart, she granted his desire; so as bidding him sit down by her, she began to lend an Ear unto what he would say.

It grieves me to the Soul, Madam (said he unto her) that what I have now to tell you, is of the most dismal consequence imaginable; but it doth so much concern you to know it, as I am fully resolved not to conceal it, that the discovery makes me ashamed. But before I explain this sad Enigma unto you, I beseech you give me leave to conjure you into a belief, that I aim at no other advantage in all I shall tell you, but in preserving the life of the most fair and virtuous Person in the World, in preserving yours.

Alas Generous Prince (said she unto him and sighed) I know not whether that be any great ser∣vice or no: But however, I am much obliged unto you; and therefore I beseech you impart what you have to say. I will not tell you, Madam (replied

he) that if Tarquin were not my Brother, nor your husband, that you should have heard of his Death before you knew his Crime; for I hope you are bet∣ter acquainted with that heart wherein you have long reigned, then to believe it capable of so much baseness, as to let Crimes of that Nature go unre∣venged an hour. But Madam, to hold you no longer in suspence, I beseech you read this Letter from Tul∣lia to Tarquin, and also this Letter from Tarquin to Tullia. You may perceive, Madam, that these two Letters were preceded by many others, which per∣haps treated concerning your Life and mine. After this, the Prince of Ameriola giving the Copies of the two Letters unto the Princess, she took them, and opening that of Tullia's first, she read these words.

Tullia unto the most Generous and most Ambitious Prince up∣on Earth.

SIR,

I Have told you a hundred times, that if you will Reign in my heart, you must make me Reign in Rome. For as you would have me sacrifice all things unto your love, so you must sacrifice all unto my Ambition: Not but that I know this Passion is as much in your Heart, as in mine, and that you love me more, as I am Ambitious than as I am Fair: But yet methinks you are a little too slow in your Business. Make hast therefore and presently fix upon the day destined for our Liberty: And believe it, that it cannot be sooner than I desire, and that I have not a greater desire to see you Master of Rome, than to see my self absolute Mistress of your Heart. Be quick therefore, and sacrifice those two victims, which must render both Love and Fortune equally propitious; and be assured, that for my part, I shall not fail in any thing which I have promised.

Whilst this Letter was reading, the Princess changed colour above twenty times; and after she had attentively read it over again, she shut it up, and restored it back unto the Prince of Ameriola, who told all at night, unto him, who told it unto me: Then lifting up her Eyes, and taking the other Let∣ter, Oh! ye just Gods (said she) is it possible that my Sister should be so abominably wicked? Afterwards opening Tarquin's Answer, she found thus.

Tarquin unto the Fair Tullia.

YES my dearest, and most Ambitious Tullia, I shall e're long do all things requisite to make you Reign in Rome, that I may Reign in your Heart: And before the next Ides be over, we shall be free, and in a condition to subject all others. Mean time, appoint you the day which you have designed for the sacrificing of those two Victims, which will secure our rest, for all things are ready for it. Adieu, be still your self, I conjure you, that is, incapable of any weakness, of any scruple, and of any repentance.

Well Madam, (said the Prince of Ameriola unto the Princess after she had done reading the Letters) what do you think upon these two Letters? and what is to be done for the avoiding of those misfor∣tunes which threaten us? for you may plainly see, that you and I are the two Victims that must be of∣fered, and who must set Tarquin and Tullia at liber∣ty. They cannot mean the King and the Queen, since if they were dead, they cannot be in their pla∣ces, nor yet free; therefore I must conclude they mean both you and me. Since Tarquin is your Hus∣band, and Tullia your Sister, I will not make my self a judge of their crime, though Tullia be the most per∣sidious Wife in the World, and though Tarquin be the most wicked and ungrateful Brother upon Earth. Speak therefore Madam, I conjure you, and consider that it concerns your Life; as for my own interest I do not value it: and if there be a way to save your Life by exposing mine unto a thousand dangers; I would be sure to take it: and the truth is, since I must never injoy you, Madam, death is as welcome to me as Life, and I cannot die with more glory, than in dying to do you service. Speak therefore, Ma∣dam, and speak quickly; for minutes are precious upon such an important occasion. Alas, Generous Prince (replied she) what would you have me say, or what can I say in this trouble, that I am in; for I am so affrighted at the crimes of Tarquin and Tullia, that did I not know you to be most sincere and ge∣nerous, I could hardly believe what I see. How is it possible I should think the hearts of two persons so Illustriously born can be capable of such black, wick∣ed, and horrid thoughts? how is it possible Love should inspire them with designs of such a Nature? which way can Love (I say) subsist with such a turbu∣lent passion as Ambition? who can believe that a Daughter of Servius Tullus, that is the most virtuous Prince in the World, should ever offer to pull her Father from his Throne, and murther both her Si∣ster, and her Husband? how can the Brother of the Prince of Ameriola ever contrive his death and mine? Alas, Madam, (replied the grieved Prince) 'tis not now a time to consider how things are possible; but to consider how we should preserve your life. It is so hard a matter to find out harmless remedies (re∣plied she) that I think the best way is to seek for none, but resolve to die. Oh! Madam (replied the Prince of Ameriola) I am never able to consent unto your ruine; and if you do not find out some way to save your Life, I will rather go presently and Po∣niard my Brother and my Wife; then hazard the seeing of you die by the cruelty of two persons who are so nearly related unto me. But Madam, there are examples of Marriages being broken off; one of our most famous Citizens have authorized what I say; and if ever it were expedient to sepa∣rate two persons whom Marriage hath united, it is most sitting to separate you from Tarquin, and me from Tullia: And therefore, Madam, if you please, we will take one of these two courses; either tell the King your Father all we know, to the end, that by his Regal Authority he may break off your Mar∣riage and mine, and banish Tarquin aud Tullia; or else without making any great noise of the matter which cannot help us, because the King is very slow in his resolutions, let us steal away from the violen∣ces of Tarquin and Tullia; your Marriage and mine may be broken, as well when we are not here, as when we are: We have no reason to mistrust the gods; and we have our own virtues to guard and comfort us against the cruelties and calumnies of Men, if you will but be pleased to fly unto some safe

Sanctuary. And to testifie unto you, Madam, how pure, and un-interested my Love is, if you think it not permittable I should be your Husband, since you have been my Brother's Wife; I am contented to be with you as a Brother, who would protect and defend you as his Sister, and never pretend any fur∣ther. Thus without shedding the blood of an in∣humane Brother, and an unjust Wife, and without your consenting unto the ruine of an Ambitious Husband and cruel Sister, we may sit safe in some Sanctuary where their cruelty cannot reach us; we may be there in security and live happily, if you will but hold me in the degree of friendship; for I do find my Love so subjected unto my reason and your virtue, as it will never move me unto any thing that will anger you, nor say any thing that will displease you. Consent therefore, Madam, I beseech you unto this happy Exile, if you will not consent unto the ruine of Tarquin and Tullia. No, no, generous Prince, (said she unto him) I will neither consent un∣to the one, nor the other. For if I should go as you propound, doubtless I might save my life; but since I cannot do it and save my reputation also, I must not entertain the least thought of it: For what Calumnies will not the unjust Tarquin asperse upon me? and what scandal will not the cruel Tullia belch out against me? Pardon me, Madam, I beseech you, replied the Prince of Ameriola, if my zeal to your service will never suffer them to ruine you. To take the medium between these two extreams (replied she) we must indeavour to let the King my Father see one of those Letters, either that from Tarquin to Tullia, or that from Tullia to Tarquin; to the end that by his Prudence and Authority, he may shrowd us from these two dangerous persons. Per∣haps he will think it convenient to put me in some place of safety for a while, upon some pretence which he will invent, and will command you to tra∣vel into some Country, until such time as reason hath wrought upon the spirits of our enemies; or else he will find out some other way to se∣cure us.

But Madam, (replied this Prince) whilst you are contriving ways how to let the King see these Letters, you may perish; and not to deceive you, I beseech you do not think, that as things stand I am able to be far from you: And therefore, Madam, if you do not approve of either of these ways which I propose, you must let me go this very hour unto the King your Father, and impart all I know unto him; and I advise you that under some pre∣tence or other, you do not eat at your own house, nor lie there; for I cannot tell whether it be by poison or sword, that the inhumane Tarquin and the cruel Tullia would have us perish. But if you should go unto the King (replied she) and are not able to prove what you inform, you will thereby make such a noise as perhaps will forward our deaths, in lieu of preventing them. And therefore, if you will be advised by me, have a little patience: Perhaps, those who desired our deaths have repented, and since the slave who useth to carry their Letters is for you; since you have a Seal like unto theirs, and since you can see all they write, we are yet in safety. For Tarquin would know from Tullia, the day which she will design for our deaths; so as when you see that, then let us take heed unto our selves; and since it is lawful for any to defend their own lives, I give you leave to use all your endeavours to save ours; but I will never allow of any violent remedies; for I had rather die for want of prudence, and by excess of goodness, then to ruine others by too much un∣just precipitation. But, Madam, (replied he) can it be any injustice to prevent ones death? However (replied she) Death is not so terrible to me, that to avoid it people should say, I had ruined my Husband; and I had much rather that Tarquin should be eter∣nally branded with my death, than I should be su∣spected to contribute unto his. And generous Prince (said she and blusnt) since my heart tells me that it hath a tender share of friendship for you, I ought to be more circumspect then otherwise I should; and it is fit I conjure you to be gone, lest this long conference (should it be known unto our enemies) should give them a colour to hasten their wicked designs into execution. However, I con∣jure you to take a care of your self, for it would grieve my Soul to hear that I should have a Sister who was the cause of your death. Oh! Madam, (repli∣ed the Prince) I beseech you never think of me; but think how to prevent I may never hear the dis∣mal news that a Brother of mine hath been your death. After this, abundance of tender expressi∣ons, passed between these two virtuous persons; ne∣ver proceeded so many heroick, so many passionate, and so many innocent thoughts from any two upon Earth, as from them; they resolved at parting to communicate unto each other what they discovered: After which, the Prince of Ameriola went unto the King, in such a profound melancholly as it was im∣possible for him to hide it, and it was observed by all the people, and the King himself. As for the Princess, as soon as the Prince of Ameriola was gone, she went unto her prayers, and prayed both for Tar∣quin and Tullia; and in lieu of praying for their ruine to hinder her own, she only prayed they might repent. But whilst the Prince of Ameriola had been with the Princess, it happened unluckily, that Tarquin who was gone to hunt, returned sooner than he intended; and in lieu of going to his own house, he went unto Tullia's, who kept her Chamber that day: The reason of his so sudden return was, that resting himself under a Tree while they were mending his Bridle, which was broken by riding through a thick Wood, he began to read over Tul∣lia's Letter unto him; and in reading of it in the open light, he plainly discovered that it had been opened, and that there was some small difference be∣tween his Seal, and that wherewith it was sealed. So as being naturally suspicious and violent, he made no question, but that it was either the Prince of A∣meriola or the Princess who had opened it. And judging others by himself, he feared being prevent∣ed, if a remedy were not immediately applyed. But lest the business he was about should be too much no∣ted, he seemed as if he intended to hunt out the day, as soon as his Bridle was mended he got on Horse∣back, and upon the first handsome opportunity, he stole away and came with all speed to Rome. In lieu of going home, he went as I told you to Tullia, where he heard, that the Prince his Brother, was with the Princess his Wife. So as according to his natural impetuosity, his thoughts ran upon nothing else but what poison he should chuse to give them. With these thoughts he entred into Tullia's Chamber; he told her that his last Letter had been opened, and desired her to look whether hers had been so also; and indeed this cruel Woman with Tarquin looking

upon it, they plainly saw that it had been sealed with a counterfeit Seal; which no sooner spied, but Tullia speaking first, well (said she) had I not good reason to say that you were too slow in your courses, and that you must make all hast possible to remove all these obstacles which hinder our happiness? Yes my dear Tullia (said he unto her) you are in the right, and I am in the wrong; but to make amends I will make the more hast, and therefore without any more delay, these two persons who hinder our happiness must be poisoned this very day. It hath been so long resolved upon, and their ruine is so requisite unto our rest, and unto the Grandeur of Rome, as it it is injustice to deser the execution any longer. Make sure work on your side, as I will on mine; be not so simply weak as to repent; and be sure your eyes do not betray the secret of your Soul: Look unto your self (replied the wicked and violent Tullia) be sure the fair eyes of your Wife do not change your heart: Never think upon either gods, or Men, or Laws; but think only upon the Crown which you aim at: Remember how Romulus got the Crown by the death of his Brother, and that by this death the people will rank you among the gods. Consider how those who make a long War to get a Crown, do sacrifice many more Victims then you shall; and a∣bove all consider, that Tullia will be yours, as soon as the enemies of our happiness are dead. For ge∣nerous Artemidorus, you must know, that though Tullia was not capable of any scruple, nor any Reli∣gion, nor any virtue, yet she would never let Tar∣quin enjoy her, until he was in a condition to mar∣ry her; for her fears were, that if he should satisfie his Love, he would not be so diligent to satisfie her Ambition: And therefore desiring that the passion of this Prince, might help on her Ambitious de∣signs, she was very reserved in that point, though she expressed as much affection to him, as he to her.

Mean time you must know, that Tarquin and Tul∣lia having both of them impetuous spirits, and shrill voices, and their souls being wholly taken up with the grand Crimes which they were to commit, they were not so cautious, but a Woman over-heard them; one who had been brought up with the Princesses, and waited upon Tullia in particular, only since she was married, she heard this dismal discourse; and plainly understood how Tarquin told Tullia at part∣ing, that he would send her the poison as soon as he came home; insomuch as this Woman who loved the Princess, and had some goodness in her, she had so much horrour against the crime of her Mistress, as being desirous to prevent the death of these two innocent persons, whose sentence of death she heard pronounced, she went unto her Chamber, where she writ two notes, the one to give the Prince of Ame∣riola when she saw him, and the other to send unto the Princess. But since some time was taken up in writing, and some in seeking out a slave trusty e∣nough to carry a note of that consequence unto the Princess, her good intentions took no good effect; for you must know, that Tarquin after he had been a while with the King, because he heard the Prince of Ameriola was there, and after he had observed that melancholly in his eyes which every one saw, he went home in all hast to send poison unto Tullia, and to give it unto his Wife. But as ill fortune was for that virtuous Princess, this Tyrant came in be∣fore she was acquainted with the conference of Tullia and him; and he came in so just in the nick to hin∣der her, as the Slave (who had the note which would have saved her Life had she received it) was speak∣ing unto one of her women in the Anti-Chamber, as he came in. He offered to take the note from him, the Slave refused to give it, saying he was to deliver it unto none but the Princess; but Tarquin being naturally suspicious, and thinking he was interested in all manner of whispers, he took it from him, and said, he would take upon him to deliver it; you may well imagine that the Slave and the Woman were much surprized.

Yet Tarquin was so terrible unto all that knew him, as that they durst not murmure, though they were extremely troubled; for the Slave knew the note was of some great concernment, because he had such a charge with it, and the Woman thought so as well as he, seeing the obstinacy of the slave to part with it, unto any but the Princess. However, they must be patient, the slave went away, and the Woman went into the Chamber of her Mistress, whilst Tarquin was reading the Note, where he found what he imagined; so as seeing that if the business were not quickly dispatched, it would be difficult to effect; he presently sent away the poison to Tul∣lia: after which he went into the Chamber of the Princess, who was not a little troubled, for the Wo∣man who had told her what Tarquin had done. So as since the Prince of Ameriola, and she had agreed to advertise each other of all they heard, she be∣lieved, knowing the slave who brought the note was his, that it was this Prince who had written unto her. So as being extreamly jealous of her glory, and valuing it above all things else, she feared lest this note should induce Tarquin to think that she held some criminal correspondency with his Bro∣ther. But he rested not long in those fears; for this cruel Tarquin intending to delude her, and judg∣ing by the sorrow he saw in her eyes, that she knew more then she spoke, he went unto her with more freeness of spirit than usual. And to execute the violence which he had used in taking away the note from him that would have given it unto her, he told her with a laugh, that he would have her guess from whom it came, and what it concerned, adding that if she could not guess right, she should not have it until the morning: The Princess seeing him so pleasant, suffered her self to be deceived, not but that she knew Tarquin could dissemble as well as any Man living; but as commonly persons that are high∣ly virtuous can hardly believe that any can be ex∣treamly wicked, so she thought the note to be of no great importance; and she thought moreover, that the Prince of Ameriola and she had given too bad an Interpretation upon the Letters; or else that surely Tarquin had repented. So as setting the best side outward, the indeavoured to guess from whom this Note should come, which he would not shew unto her, though she knew not whom to name, for she would not mention the Prince his Brother, and Tul∣lia was not used to write unto her. But after this forced mirth had lasted a while, supper was ready; and Tarquin that he might have the satisfaction to see her take the poison, he would sup with her. I have heard a Man say, who saw her that night, that though she was melancholly, yet she never in her life looked fairer; and he assured me, that Tarquin him∣self was a little troubled, and that when she called for drink, and he knew it to be the poyson, which he

had prepared, he changed colour. But when he found that the sight of so great a beauty did mollifie his heart, this cruel Man turned away his head, that he might not see her drink the poison: And indeed he talked unto one of his Servants whilst she took it: After which, glorying that he had surmounted the weakness, and foolish qualms of his heart, he was so impudently inhumane as to look upon her as be∣fore, and so cruel as to jest several times with her during this fatal repast. But to the end, that the poison might have the more leisure to work its ef∣fect, he seemed to have some private business to com∣municate unto her; so as carrying her into his Clo∣set, he obliged her to be there near two hours, though she began to find her self ill within half an hour after she entred; for the Man of whom he had the poison, assured him, that if no Antidote was applied within one hour after the taking, all remedies after would be in vain, and the party would certainly die. So as though this fair and vir∣tuous Princess did complain at first of her being ill, yet this Tyger Tarquin did keep her there, telling her it was nothing; and talking to her of divers things which he desired her to tell the King. But at last, after he thought the poison had wrought its effects, he seeming very busie in helping her, he would be always by her, lest if she should suspect the cause of her death, she should not discover a∣ny thing unto the by-standers. Thus this admi∣rable person did, so her Murtherer seemed to inte∣rest himself in the pain which she indured. And indeed, when she went out of the Closet, her Wo∣men seeing a mortal paleness in her face, did per∣swade her to go to bed: But she answered very mildly, that ere long they should carry her to her Grave. And as they were very earnest to send for the King's Physicians; I pray do, (said she) see they bring intentions with them to make me die more easily; for to cure me (added she and sighed) they cannot, nor do I desire they should. Mean while, amidst all the hatred which she might well have against her Husband, and her Sister, and not∣withstanding, the Love she bore unto the Prince of Ameriola, yet she used not one sharp word against those who killed her, nor one sweet expression of him whom she tenderly loved; but she whispered one in the Ear, whom she trusted with all the se∣crets of her Life, and commanded her to tell that unfortunate Prince, that she desired him not to re∣venge her death, but to preserve her memory: Af∣ter which she asked twice to see the King and Queen; but though Tarquin said he had sent unto them, yet she never saw them, because he hindred any from going, saying it was too late of the night and that he hoped the Princess would pass it over, and that she her self would be sorry they should obey her. The Princess having a great Soul, knew very well she asked in vain, nor was she very earnest up∣on it, but lifting up her eyes unto Heaven, let me die then (said she with a deep sigh) in hopes long to stand in need of no Consolation. After this her pain encreased, and she grew very weak, but when the Physicians came, they did a little revive her, but they hoped never the more for that, but on the con∣trary said they could not save her; and in saying so, one might have seen by their eyes, that they durst not tell the cause of her death, and that they ima∣gined Tarquin would not have them to tell it, but they spoke in ambiguous terms, enough to make it known. Mean while, this cruel Murtherer stood by still; and he had so much dissembling inhumanity as to feel the Pulse of this deplorable Princess, that he might guess how long she had to live: So as this languishing person did in a manner pull back her Arm, and being out of all patience, turned towards Tarquin, with a languor able to inspire compassion into cruelty it self, I ask you pardon, Sir (said she un∣to him and blusht) for being so long a dying, but it is not my fault (said she and turned another way) for I took all the poison that was given me, and ne∣ver looked for any remedy; yet these words were not heard by any but Tarquin, and that Lady who knew all the secrets of this deplorable Ladies heart. But she was so full of sorrow as she could not speak, and Tarquin who was as bold as wicked, beginning to speak, he said she began to swound, and that she would never recover out of it. And indeed, losing her speech, a little after she fell into a Trance which last∣ed four or five hours. But as soon as Tarquin saw her swounded, and thinking she would never speak again, he sent to acquaint the King and Queen, who coming in all hast were extreamly grieved to find the Princess in that condition; yet they never thought her to be poisoned, nor of any thing else but reme∣dies, but all in vain, for she died some two hours af∣ter the Sun was up: Afterwards the unjust Tarquin bethought himself how to render her all imagina∣ble honours after death. But whilst this inhumane Butcher was sacrificing this fair Princess unto his Love and Ambition, the cruel Tullia was offering the same sad sacrifice that he was, and as soon as the Prince of Ameriola was returned home, and accord∣ing to his custom went into a Bath, he began to find himself ill; for Tarquin had made up his Dose of such a Composition, as when Tullia had put it into the Bath, the very vapour of it did stifle him, and took away the use of his reason as soon as he was in.

The two Servants who waited upon him, being privy unto Tullia's Conspiracy, they had Antidotes to keep this vapour from hurting them; and Tullia had cunningly sent away all others that were not of the confederacy: But after this poison had wrought its effect, and the Prince in that condition, the cruel Tullia her self took him out of the Bathe, and put him into Bed, causing those who were of this horrid plot, to say that he desired to sleep, and had forbid∣den any to enter into the Chamber. She her self seeing he did not die so soon as she desired, she would not go to Bed that night, and going often into the Chamber of this unhappy Prince, her im∣patience was such, as she caused him to be strangled with two Handkerchiefs tyed together, to the end there might be no signs of a violent death, and that it might seem he was choked with a Fluxion of Humours. However it was, this Prince died the same night with the Princess whom he loved, which made so great a noise in Rome, rhat nothing else was talked of. Yet Tarquin and Tullia were so terrible unto all the World, that People durst only whisper what they thought concerning the sudden death of these two both at one time, though none called the cause of their death by the name of any disease: These most cruel and inhumane Barbarians, did well enough forsee that causing them to die so both at one time, people would think as they did; but they foresaw more danger to themselves, in causing them to die at several times; for if the Princess had survi∣ved

the Prince of Ameriola, she would have told the King her Father what she knew concerning his death: And Tulliia would not poison her Husband until she was sure that Tarquin would poyson his Wife; lest after he was rid of him who might dispute with him about the Crown, he should not go on in his business. Tarquin for his part would not poison his Wife, had he not been sure of his Brothers death; for he was sure that if his Brother survived the Princess, he would revenge her death, so as seeing much less dan∣ger in the mutterings of the people, they resolved to commit these two horrid Crimes both at once, with as much boldness as cruelty.

And as Tarquin did render all imaginable honours unto the Princess, as soon as she was dead; so did Tullia unto the Prince of Ameriola, as soon as he was expired. This cruel person had the impudence to go and comfort Tarquin after the death of his Wife: And Tarquin also sent this Complement unto her, that he was more sorry for the Prince of Ame∣riola's death, as he was her Husband than as his Bro¦ther. All this while the wise and prudent Servius Tullus was strangely amazed; for though at the first he did not suspect that the Princess his Daughter was poisoned; yet he was of another mind after the Prince of Ameriola's death, and knew that Tarquin and Tullia were they who sent them into another World, which grieved this good King to the very heart: These two virtuous Persons who were dead, were extremely dear unto him, and their deaths struck deep into his sorrowful Soul; Tarquin and Tullia after this horrid Crime were a horror unto him, but they were a terrour also and he feared the same treatment to himself, which he saw used unto others. Yet this Consideration had not kept him from publishing his resentment, had not a reason of honour restrained him. For (said he unto one whom he trusted with all the secrets of his heart) why should I stain my own glory, by accusing my own Daughter for poysoning her Husband and her Sister? Why should I accuse my Son in Law for murthering his Wife and his Brother? When I have accused these two persons can I prove their Crime, or am I assured that I can punish them? for it is likely that Tarquin and Tullia would never have attempted a thing of this nature, unless they were sure of some great par∣ty in the Senate. Besides I know no further than by conjectures; and say I had a certain knowledge, it is hard for a Father to punish his own Children, un∣less they be obliged unto it, for conspiring against the Senate; for in that case the general interest ought to be preferred before the particular, and ones Country before Nature. But this is only to be re∣venged for the death of a Daughter, and a Son in Law, Rome hath no interest in the business, or if it have it is in a different manner: For I conceive it is a shame unto all Romans to have a King that shall convict, his Son in Law for poisoning his Wife, and that shall convict his own daughter for poysoning her Hus∣band. I conceive it better to dissemble it, and look upon Tarquin and Tullia as innocent. This certainly is ••he best and most safe way for my self; and certain∣ly the most advantageous unto Rome: for unless I should poyson Tarquin and Tullia as they have others, they will raise a Rebellion in the City which may ha∣zard my Crown, and therefore it is the best way to dissemble my Resentments. You may imagine Sir, that the man unto whom he spoke, did not contra∣dict what Tullus said; for besides the strength of reason which was in what was said, it had been a hard tale, to tell a Father that he ought to put a Daughter and a Son in Law to death; knowing well that there was no middle way to take, and the ba∣nishment of such persons was not enough. So as this being the resolution, the King did dissemble the mat∣ter so well, that all the World were constrained to dissemble with him, and seem as if there was not any suspicion either of Tarquin or Tullia, for causing the deaths of that illustrious Prince and Princess. But Sir, not to relate what discourses Tarquin and Tullia had, nor what kind of Love this was, which was begun by the impoysoning of so great a Prince and so great a Princess. Give me leave only to tell you, that as soon as the time of mourning was past, which amongst us lasts Ten Months, Tarquin did marry Tullia, and Tullus could not hinder it.

Not but that this marriage appeared most horrid and execrable unto him, as oft as he considered that Tarquin poysoned his Wife purposely to marry Tul∣lia, and Tullia poysoned her Husband only to marry Tarquin; but Tullus having begun to dissemble and cover their Crimes, so he would continue it. Also since it was extremely expedient for him to unite the family of the Tarquins with his own. Policy allow∣ed of that which vertue and justice would not, so as suiting himself to the times, this abominahle marri∣age was made up with all magnificence: For the King knew very well that Tarquin as wicked as he was, had gotten much credit in the Senate and minds of the people: Not but that, as is said before, the Crimes of Tarquin and Tullia were most horrid in the eyes of all the World; yet the people being incon∣stant, changing every minute, and equally forget∣ting both vertues and vices, the memory of this cur∣sed act did insensibly wear out, as if the people of Rome quite forgot it. For you must know, that since the death of the Prince of Ameriola and the Princess, Tarquin seeing himself a step nearer the Crown, and desiring all might be forgotten, he be∣came that out of policy which naturally he was not, for he grew exceedingly civil, and was more forward to salute the common people, than persons of qua∣lity; he always went through the most popular streets, purposely to meet with more occasions of shewing his civility unto those, from whom he ex∣pected one day a Crown. Moreover, he would ve∣ry earnestly interest himself in private business; he would needs be the only Pacificus, and taker up of all Quarrels; he would be the Arbitrator and ender of all differences; he divided those whom he thought might prejudice him, and united all such as he con∣ceived fit for his service; he lent money unto some; he gave money unto others; his Gates were open un∣to all comers; he itched to serve such as he called his friends; and was infinitely zealous to do all good Of∣fices: Again, he would sute himself most admirably well unto the humours of any, when he was in pri∣vate with them: And unto such as were religiously devoted, he would seem religious even to a very scru∣ple; he was a very Libertine with the Libertines; he would scoff both at the Gods of the Grecians and the Gods of the Romans. He was voluptuous with those that were so, and he was a Philosopher when he met with men of that profession. Yet I have heard say, that for all these various forms into which he would transform himself, he was still Tarquin, and when he would be the most sweet and courteous, he had still a sullen, gloomy, and fierce look: But for all

that the people looking more upon his Civilities than his Physiognomy, he deceived them; and this most abominable Tarquin did get great credit, under the Reign of the most virtuous King on earth. As for Tullia, it was not so with her, for her spirit was not able to vary into so many several shapes as Tarquin was. But on the contrary she thought her self above all she saw, that all the world was her Vassals, and that she owed not observance unto any; that Fortune owed her a Crown, and that she needed not to endea∣vour the pleasing of any, or getting their Loves. She did extremely slight all Women, and would not ad∣mit of any conversation but men. As for her repu∣tation she did not care for any; and when any told her that if she carried hee self as she did, unto all the Ladies who did visit her, she would procure their hatred; she would then return answer, that so she could make her self feared, she cared not for being loved. And indeed, she never used any of those tri∣vial obligements, which Custom hath established as a Law among Ladies. Not but that she loved to be commended, though she said she did not care for it, but she could not endure to commend or flatter any: And indeed she was never commended or flattered by any, but out of fear; and certainly they had great reason to fear her, for her actions were all violen∣ces, and she was terrible to all the world.

It happened once that she put a most horrible af∣front upon the Wife of a Prime Senatour, who being of a high and sensible spirit, could not chuse but complain as soon as she was out of that Princesses Chamber. For meeting with one of her intimate friends, she no sooner saw him but beginning to speak; Good Friend (said she) rejoyce with me, for being delivered during all my life from one of the most scurvy visits in the World; for I am fully re∣solved never again to go unto the Princess Tullia, no not though she should become Queen. She is so accustomed to be uncivil, (replied her friend) that you need not wonder at her; but I am so little accu∣stomed to suffer incivilities, (replied this incensed Lady) as I cannot endure them. But do you know one (added her friend) that ever went unto Tullia, who received no affrout from her? and do you think it is a shame for you to endure what all others do? I think (replyed she half angry) that such as do endure them are people of poor and base hearts, and that I am sure mine is none such. If I could not live un∣less I went unto Tullia, were I born her Slave, or at least, did my fortune depend upon her; were I sure she would do some great matters for me, then per∣haps it might be said, I was too delicate and nice, and that I were to blame if I did not go unto her: But since none of these things are so, for I can live and never visit a Princess who is void of virtue, I am none of Tullia's Slave; my fortune depends not upon her, nor will she ever do any thing for me, and there∣fore my best and shortest course is never to come at her; for I am not troubled with the disease of those Ladies, who when they have been with Tullia on one of those days, when she did not treat them very ill can go all the rest of the day from house to house, bragging, whether to the purpose or no, that they were to see her, and that she spoke to them. And I remember one whose whole discourse was of that nature, and who had such an art of bringing in all she had to say, to make it believed she was high in Tullia's favour, as I wondred how she could link her discourse together. For at every word, I came from from the Princess, the Princess told me, I spoke of that business unto the Princess, the Princess took me unto the window to talk with me in private, the Princess made me promise her to come again to mor∣row; and the Princess did at every word so fill up her discourse; as if that word had been taken away all the rest had been non-sence. However she was very well pleased with her self, and thought her self very happy. But I who cannot pay any open respect unto any who are not virtuous, or such as affect incivili∣ties, I will never visit any but such as receive me as I conceive they are obliged to do. And this is my way of behaviour, when I am amongst my inferiours, I am as careful as I can to use my Civilities unto them, when I am amongst my equals I use to measure my ci∣vilities with theirs, and I care not how they carry themselves to me so there be no strangers in the Com∣pany, though I conceive that familiarity and affabi∣lity, never ought to banish Civility; but when I am in the company of women whom fortune hath set a∣bove me; I am very circumspect, and have an eye upon their very looks, I cannot endure to be Brow∣beaten, and if those of that quality be not civil, they have naughty hearts and ill wits; for as the world goes it is so easie a matter for them to oblige every one that sees them, or if they do not, it must be con∣cluded they have no wit, or else so foolishly proud, that they think all their inferiours not considerable. And I do openly declare, that I would not be Tullia with all her Grandure upon a condition to have all her ill inclinations. This Lady being in the heat of her anger, did not take any notice that she spoke before some people who were not obliged to be faithful un∣to her: And indeed this discourse being reported unto the furious Tullia, she threatned her in such a ter∣rible manner, as the Lady was glad to go out of Rome, purposely to avoid an ill turn. However the secrets of the Gods being inscrutable, the marriage of Tar∣quin and Tullia, as abominable as it was, seemed to be concordant to their wills, for all things prosper∣ed according to their wish: Tullia had three Sons and a Daughter; abundance was in their House, Tar∣quin and she were never sick, and every thing prospe∣red unto them; Tarquin did signalize himself by his courage upon several occasions in War; and one would have thought that the great Governour of the World had forgotten their Crimes, so happy did they seem in every thing, and yet it was but a seem∣ing happiness; for because they were not upon the Throne, and Tullus lived longer than they would have him, they thought themselves very miserable. And indeed Tarquin from the very first day of marri∣age with Tullia, never durst attempt any thing against his Father in Laws life; but rather endeavoured to make the people forget that Crime which he was ac∣cused of, and get a strong party in the Senate. But the most cruel Tullia being of a more impetuous tem∣per, and having less prudence in her Ambition than he, she thought the way which Tarquin took to as∣cend the Throne to be too long; and that if he would have his design to prosper, he must take a near∣er cut. She would have been glad if her Father would have been so good natur'd as to have given over the Government into Tarquin's hands; But she saw quite contrary, that this vertuous King did not intend he should Reign; and that if he did part from his Royal Power, as some reports went; yet he intended it should be upon conditions, that he should not be King: So as not seeing in Tarquin all those virtues

that were requisite to be in a good Prince, he kept the Royal power in his hands, and used it with such moderation as deserved to be a pattern for all the Kings upon earth.

But as it is very hard for Kings to hide their thoughts, so Tullia quickly discovered that the King her Father did not intend to put the Crown upon her Head: So as being in a mighty rage, she made it reflect upon her Husband, who did not act accord∣ing to her mind in the speedy compassing of her de∣sired ends; and not being able any longer to dissem∣ble the thoughts of her heart, she began to look up∣on Tarquin with eyes full of extraordinary fury. And this Prince being of his own nature very sensible, he asked her from whence this alteration in her humour did proceed? It proceeds (said she) from your tame sitting still, and from your putting your self into such a state, as you shall never be able to remove; for truly Tarquin to be plain with you, I did not consent unto the death of my Sister, nor Poyson my Husband to become the Wife of a bare Citizen of Rome; for the Daughter of Tullus needed not to employ such violent means to find a Husband of that quality, but I thought to find in you a Prince worthy to wear a Crown, and one that would do all things necessary to get it. Know then that if your thoughts be high, you will remember that you are of the Blood of the first Tarquin; you will aspire to sit in his Seat, and out of an heroick impatiency of Reigning, you will force Tullus to surrender his seat unto you, and will not tarry until death drive him out, or till old Age make the Scepter to drop out of his hand. Know, I say, that if you do this day begin to make the first step up the Throne, if you do it with a firm resolu∣tion never to retreat but go on, and either dye or Reign; and if you will do all I bid you, then I will hold you for my Husband and my King: But know withal, that if your thoughts go less I will hold you for my Slave; for my Slave that is Criminal; for Tarquin I must repute those culpable, who commit Crimes to no purpose: And therefore I conclude, that if we do not sit upon the Throne, we deserve to be reproached with the death of those two per∣sons, whom we sacrificed unto our Love and our Ambition: But on the contrary, all Crimes will be blotted out, when they are followed with happy success. Make hast then Tarquin; and keep the pro∣mise which you made when you married me; you are in so fair a way, that I wonder you should go no faster. You came from Corinth, and are descended from Tarquinia to make your self King of a strange people, as the first of the Tarquins did: you are of a Royal Family, you see in every publick place, Sta∣tues erected unto the first of the Tarquins, you dwell in the same Palace which he built, you see the same Throne which he did sit upon; you have the same heart, spirit, and ambition; you fear neither any thing above your head nor about you; the authori∣ty of the Laws nor servile fear of Imaginary Penalties do not affright you; you have friends in the Senate and among the people, and if you had not been o∣ver prudent, you had been upon the Throne alrea∣dy; and if you should continue still upon this preju∣dicial Prudence, all that you have already done is to no purpose; what good will all your extraordinary Civility, which you have used unto the most base and abject of the People do you? unto what end serves all your cringing complacency unto all the Patrici∣ans? why have you lent out some monies, given o∣thers, and been unprofitably Prodigal, will all your Ambition and turbulent Pangs of Soul serve to no end? Truly Tarquin, if you will make no more hast, I will even advise you to return unto Tarquinia and Corinth, and to seek out for felicity, by some other way than by Ambition. But as for me, since Tana∣quil who was a stranger, was so bold and happy as to dispose of Crowns, either in the person of her Hus∣band or her Son in Law, I will see what I can do, and not stay till Tullus refer it to the Senate, who will not render it unto you; nor will I stay so long as till he die, which perhaps will be a long time: Speak then Tarquin will you be a Slave, or will you be a King? In telling you that I will be worthy of you, (replied he) methinks I tell you as much as need; but to let you see that you accuse me wrongfully, I will discover unto you those reasons which move me to defer the execution of so great a design. And in∣deed, Tarquin told Tullia all his several plots, which he had in the Senate and among the People, but say what he could to move her unto patience, and not to go precipitately to work, he was forced to pro∣mise her, to make more hast than well he could; for every minute seemed an Age unto this Ambitious and cruel person, which was employed in the advance∣ment of her abominable design. However she went unto the King, and asked and obtained favours for men unto whom she would not have done them, but upon conditions to serve her against that Prince who did them, whensoever she should need. Thus this ver∣tuous King did by his own benefits contribute to his own ruine; for not a day passed wherein Tarquin or Tullia did not obtain something from him for those whom they had engaged in their wicked designs.

In the mean time Tarquin lived the most wretched life in the World, for he rested neither night nor day: he had always a hundred several matters which tended all unto one end; for labouring to engage all sorts of people in his design, he held all manner of correspondencies, some men under pretence of eat∣ing at his Table came to confer with him, others whom he never saw but at the Temple, other also unto whose houses he went; and some in the Kings own Palace whom he treated with to ruine him: Moreover, scarce a night passed but he went out of his own house in a disguise, to confer with some of the Senators who were of his Intelligence, during which time it was given out that he was gone to Bed. Also he employed the most sacred things to serve his abominable ends; for he engaged some of the Sali∣an Priests, and he made an under hand Proposition unto the Grand Vestal to enter into his interests, but she would not, though he promised to secure her from all danger. Mean while, the common opinion was, that he courted her to extinguish the sacred fire, to the end it might be said, that Rome was me∣naced with some great misfortune, and that this ac∣cident did signifie the authority to be weak in the hands of so old a Prince as Servius Tullus; for he knowing very well the nature of the common People, he knew that matters of Religion make a deep im∣pression in their spirits, and that a silly scruple aptly applied to the multitude, will work more with them than all the solid reasons in the World. Moreover, though Tarquin was always full of tumultuous busi∣ness, though he scarcely ever slept, though his mind was perpetually unquiet, and though he saw himself al∣ways upon the very brink of a dismal precipice, since if his design was once discovered, he was utterly

ruined; yet he was as healthy and as vigorous, as if he had enjoyed the greatest tranquillity of any man alive. But for the better advancement of his design, he asked divers things of the King, particularly con∣cerning Rome, which were of such a nature, as nei∣ther ought nor could be granted, so as they were de∣nied him; and he asked them, purposely that he might have a pretence of murmuring against Servius Tullus; and at the same time he began to complain, those whom either he or Tullia had suborned began also to declaim against the government, and to belch out a thousand bitter invectives against the best of Kings. And it is very observable, that Servius Tul∣lus who was the first of our Kings who made money, and brought in the use of it amongst us, did thereby make the way of suborning those whom Tarquin had need of, more easie. For thereby gifts might be given in private, and without a noise unperceived, which before could not be. Also Tarquin had in∣gaged abundance of all sorts; there was not any Trade or Art, but he had some in it ready to do what he would, he had a Party also working among the very Slaves; so as it was easie for him to scatter what reports he pleased against the King, some said there∣fore, that he was but a Slave born of a Slave, who after the death of the first Tarquin had usurped the Crown by the Artifice of a Woman, who got him made King without the suffrages of the people. O∣thers told the Senators, that Servius smelling of the baseness of birth, had taken the goods of all the rich Families, and divided them among the poor; others told the People, that the King had taken from them the nomination of all their principal Officers, and bestowed them upon the great ones, to the end they might oppress the weak: And others said, that this Prince who had caused the particular Estates of eve∣ry one to be numbred, had done it onely to know un∣to whom he should address himself, when he had a mind to undo his Subjects and inrich himself.

So as every one going the way of his own interest and cunning, dispersing several reports amongst the dull multitude (who are not able to discern justly, and who always are apt to murmur against Authority, especially against an old King) they were presently perswaded, that the most just Prince upon earth, was Tyrannical. Tarquin and Tullia seeing so happy a beginning in their enterprize, they were beyond measure joyed; yet it was a joy not communicable unto others; for the discourse at Tullia's house was onely such as were of the intrigue. And I have heard say, that they would sometimes pass away a whole afternoon in nothing but whispers; for all that came thither had some secret or other to tell Tullia, or Tullia them.

But atlast, the fatal Puncto of time destined for the ruine of Servius Tullus, and the Grandure of Tar∣quin being come, Rome was a witness of the most hor∣rid adventure, that ever happened in any place of the World. Be pleased to know, that this Ambitious Prince, having ordered all things for the execution of his Barbarous design, and being fully resolved to kill the King, he went that fatal day unto the Cham∣ber of the Devillish Tullia; for he had passed away all the night in going from street to street in a dis∣guise, and from house to house, to make sure of all those who were of his damned Faction. He was no sooner there but that detestable Princess went to meet him with eyes ful of joy; and speaking first, courage Tarquin (said she unto him) you have but one step now to make, before you are upon the Throne, ascend it boldly, and render your self wor∣thy to be the Husband of Tullia by an act so heroick: Leave tenderness and pity, and such puling qualities to the dull vulgar, and know that I permit you to sacrifice all unto your Ambition, not excepting the King himself. Go then this very day, and with un∣daunted resolution either ascend the Throne or de∣scend into your Grave; for as the case stands with you there is no middle way to take. No, no, Ge∣nerous Tullia (replied this Prince) you never need to fear I will startle back, nor need you doubt the hap∣py success of my design, be assured you shall be a Queen before the Sun set, and you shall never see me again unless upon the Throne. After these expressions, this inhumane Prince left her, and went with a great number of armed men unto a place close by the great Theatre where all the publick Assemblies were held. But in going thither the common Crier who was gain∣ed by that Prince, did command all the Senators in a tumultuous manner to assemble themselves, and come before King Tarquin to know his Will. Mean time, you must know Sir, how that which the soon∣er advanced this Princes design was, that the first of the Tarquins had augmented the Senate unto a very great number; so as all the last addition of the Sena∣tors were of the second faction, and were much di∣sposed unto a Revolt. And there was not one who did not obey the summons of the publick Cryer, and came to Tarquin.

Those of the ancient Senators who had been gain∣ed by him came also; the friends of Servius came likewise, some out of fear, others out of a perswa∣sion that Tarquin did act by the consent of Servius, who during his life would have him sit upon the Throne; for they could not believe that any Son in Law unto such a virtuous Prince would offer to pull the Crown so violently off his head. So as both friends and enemies did all equally obey, and followed Tar∣quin, who without more a do did sit down in the Roy∣al Seat.

This action seeming very strange, and there be∣ing a great multitude of the consplracy gathered to∣gether in that place, so it chanced that this great Croud of men and the great noise of the thing, did in an instant draw thither a vast multitude of people and that which Tarquen did was so strange unto them▪ as those who were of his faction themselves, could not chuse but shew wonder in their Countenances; so as never such a general consternation was seen. Mean while, the arrogant Tarquin assuming a new pride, as soon as he was set in the Royal Chair of State, he began to accuse Servius Tullus as an Usur∣per, and told the people all that he had caused to be infused into them before: After which, he began to aggravate the great virtues of the first Tarquin, he treated Servius as a Slave, and spoke in such bold and arrogant eloquence, as if Tullus had been the Ty∣rant and he the legitimate King. So as there arising a great noise of acclamations amongst those who were hired to it, and a great murmur amongst those who did not approve of what was done, the confu∣sion of voices was such that Tarquin could not be heard. Things being in this Condition, Tullus be∣ing advertised of this disorder, he came upon the place, at the least to die upon the Throne which he had so worthily enjoyed. When this venerable King was within four paces of Tarquin, he looked sted∣fastly upon this Arrogant Usurper who insolently

took his place; and beginning to speak, Tarquin (said he unto him) how durst thou be so bold as to assemble the Senate, and to sit in my Seat? Thou art mistaken Tullus (answered this cruel Usurper) for the Royal Chair wherein I sit, belongs unto the first of the Tarquins, from whom I am descended; and thou art only an old Slave whom Fortune only hath elevated, and whom I will put into Fetters that I may take from the Romans the shame of having such a Master. At these words the noise redoubled, and there was such a hurly burly as Tarquin might plain∣ly see, all the World was not for him: So as fearing lest the sight of this old and good King, should turn any of them who were for him, and lest so great a number of people should come, as that he should not be the stronger party, he resolved to execute his resolution in case he found any resistance; for he being tall, young, nimble and strong; and Servius Tullus being old and weak, this Tyrant without any respect either unto the quality of a legitimate King or unto his Father in Law, or as the Grandfather of his Children, he did most insolently lay hold upon him, and throw him down with a most horrible vio∣lence from the top of the steps to the bottom.

Thus the unfortunate Servius Tullus as his last and greatest misfortune, saw himself forsaken by his Guards, and almost all his friends; except my own father, who preserving a most constant fidelity, did help this miserable King to rise, and to get unto his own Palace, for he could hardly walk: But alas, he was no sooner got unto the end of that street, which then was called the Cyprian street (and which the people ever since called the detestable street in spite of all Tarquins Tyranny) but this miserable King was pulled out of my fathers Arms who desended him, as long as he could: and presently after was killed by some whom the cruel Tarquin had sent purposely to that end. And my father after he had striven in vain to incite the People unto a revenge of the Kings death, was forced to retire home. Mean while, the cruel Tullia who had given orders to advertise her every moment of all that passed, she no sooner heard what inhumane Tarquin had done, but she took Coach in all hast, to go unto the place where the Senate was assembled; and sending to call her Husband, she told him that she was come to render him the first homage, and salute him as King of Rome. But he having bu∣siness of neer concernment in hand, he advised her to stay no longer among the croud of people, where Peace was not yet established. Tullia returned to her Coach; and when the Coach came to the further end of the Cyprian street, and the Coachman ready to turn upon his right hand towards the Mount Es∣quiline, he espied the body of Servius Tullus all blood and dirt: and spying this pitiful Spectacle he stopped his Horses out of respect and humanity both, and turning towards this cruel Princess whom he did drive, he shewed unto her the body of the King her Father, thinking the sight would have obliged her to stay: But the pitiless Tullia inspired with cruelty it self, did chide him for his respects, and with incon∣ceivable inhumanity and anger, commanded him to drive on without any stay, for any way unto a Throne was good: So as the Coachman not daring to resist her, gave the Bridle unto his Horses, who being ful∣ler of pity than the Barbarous Tullia, did out of horror at the sight of the dead Corps, avoid treading upon the feet of this great King; but the Wheels of the Coach touching the body of this great and unfor∣tunate Prince were all bloody, this sad horrid specta∣cle not moving the heart of cruel Tullia unto the least sign of Compassion. But on the contrary when she was told that the Coach had gone over the body of her Father, she turned her head to look upon it, and was so far from any sorrow as she looked upon it with joy. Thus smeared with the blood of her own fa∣ther, she was so impudent as to return unto her Do∣mestick Gods; but to speak truly Tullia regarded neither Domestick Gods nor any other; and indeed it is not to be wondred at, for she being naturally cruel and wicked, she was not capable of any huma∣nity, but all signs of joy were to be seen in her eyes and all her actions. Mean while, Tarquin being the stronger party, he imposed Laws upon the weaker, and commanded so absolutely the very first day of his Reign, as if he had been the peaceable Possessor of that Throne out of which he had thrown his Father in Law, he could not have carried it otherwise than he did: But to shew his inhumanity to the height, he would not suffer a burial to be given unto the Corps of the late King, lest it should move the people to compassion: saying in most cruel rallary, that Romu∣lus who was ranked amongst the Gods had none: And that his cruelty may appear beyond all that ima∣gination can conceive, the Widdow of this unfortu∣tunate King went in the Night, (accompanied with my Mother, who was the only woman that did not forsake her) unto the place where the Corps of this Prince did lye, and being assisted with some old Do∣mesticks, she got the Corps as far as the Palace, which the most cruel Tarquin and Tullia hearing of, they sent to strangle her; at least, it is certain that this deplorable Princess having sent my Mother to take some course for the private Funerals of the King her Husband, she found her dead at her return, but could not discover any further, for the Kings Palace was grown to be a desolate Desart, presently after he was assassinated.

However, all Rome was in a most horrible con∣sternation; for most of those who had served Tar∣quin, no sooner saw him upon the Throne, but they repented that ever they helped him up, and found that in lieu of having a King they were like to have a Tyrant. For as soon as Tarquin was Master of Rome he flattered the people only to get so much power from them as to lessen the Authority of the Senate; and therefore he was resolved not to augment either their Authority or their number; he made himself Master of all the strong Forts in the City, and kept always a strong Guard about his Palace. After which intending to become terrible, and to Reign by fear, he put to death a great number of the most illustri∣ous Senators, he exiled many, and became such a ter∣ror, as not any were able to oppose his will. Nor did he content himself with putting to death and exi∣ling all those who were in a capacity to hurt him; but he charged divers Citizens with supposed crimes, purposely to pick or make holes in their Coats, and so inrich himself by their Ruines. He took away all medling in matters of State from the Senate; he made both Peace and War, as he pleased; he con∣tracted Leagues and Alliances with his neighbours, according as he fancied; he was himself sole judge in all criminal causes wherein the honour of many noble Families, and lives of many illustrious Citi∣zens were deeply concerned, and he did so unite all the Authority in his own single person; that he was more absolute Master of R••me than ever any was.

This Tarquin who was so sweet, so civil, and so cour∣teous in appearance, who did salute the people so humbly, favoured so many men, helped so many poor, and was so complacential unto all, now he had got upon the Throne, did not desire or indeavour to be beloved, but all his care was how to be feared: For (said he one day) it is the maddest folly in the World for those who Reign, to pretend unto love of the People, since it is the onely way to be scorned; but on the contrary, Prudence and Wisdom bids him make himself a terror unto those from whom he ex∣pects obedience. For a people who obeys a Prince only out of Love, will descant, and deliberate upon the Commands which are put upon them; but when the Commander is accustomed severely to punish such as do not obey, and hath rendred himself ter∣rible, as soon as ever the command is heard of, the imagination is so taken up with the thought of pu∣nishment, in case of disobedience, as that the people for their own interest will blindly and presently o∣bey, without any examination or deliberation upon the matter: And therefore I conclude, it is better to make himself feared then loved. And I am perswa∣ded, that none do love any that are above them∣selves; but that which is called Love among the peo∣ple, is only a Love of their own Liberty, which is alwaies greatest when they have an easie and weak master, one who is not absolutely enough, nor knows how to make himself feared and obeyed. This Sir, is the true character of Tarquin, unto whom the sirname of Proud was given; but it must be said to the shame of all Romans, that they all did sit still, with their hands in their Pockets, and all submitted themselves. For, except Clelius, the Father of Horace, and my Father, and a man of noble quality called Publius Va∣lerius, who couragiously maintained the interests of the Senate and People, all obeyed the Tyrant. But at last, the three first of these, whose courages for two years together did resist against the violences of Tarquin, they were banished by this Usurper. But Clelius is there still; as for my Father, and the Father of Horace, they died presently after they went out of Rome. The truth is, that in dying my Father did an act so extraordinary as is worthy of a relation, which if I do, I shall do an act extraordinary also, since I needs must make an Elogy in praise of him unto whom I ow my life; and since the knowledge of his vertues will help you to hate Tarquin and Tullia the more, I shall without any seruple let you know them. Be pleased to know then, how that virtuous person whose name was Sevilia, was one of the fairest wo∣men in all Rome, and one who after she had been a∣dored and courted by the most illustrious persons in all our City, did marry my Father, followed his Fortunes, went with him into exile, with such admi∣rable Constancy, as she was not allrighted at the trou∣bles of travel; nor the sufferings of such as are exiled. For besides that Sevilia had a great and high soul, and was so perswaded that her duty was to be preferred before all things, she never made any difficulty to do what she thought she was obliged unto; especially when it was a duty which amity imposed upon her. And her Amity was ever so un-interested, as she con∣sidered only the persons whom she esteemed, never considering her self; and if it was more advantagi∣ous for them, whatsoever it was she consented unto, she generously consented unto it; so joyning toge∣ther, a great beauty, a great spirit, and a great wis∣dome, it is not strange, if when she went out of Rome with my honoured Father, the People should mur∣mur, and say openly that Tarquin had banished vir∣tue in banishing Sevilia. But to return from whence I digressed, be pleased to know, that my Father fall∣ing sick, and perceiving he should not escape it, did speak unto Sevilia, like a man who feared not the approaches of death; so as my mother seeing his Constancy, and desiring not to dishearten him by shewing all her sorrow, she concealed a part of it, and striving with her self, she spoke to him with extra∣ordinary Constancy. It may be, Sir, (said she unto him) that the Gods will hearken unto my Prayers; but in case they are not pleased to let me injoy the happiness of your life: I would gladly know, what your pleasure is, I should do? and what education you would have me give unto your Children? for they be∣ing very young (added she and shewing me and two others unto him) perhaps I may be able to inspire them with such thoughts as you desire: Tell me, I beseech you, in what part of the World you would have me live, until they are grown able to follow those ways of virtue which I shall shew them? I would have you re∣turn unto the place from whence we are banished re∣plied my Father) to the end my children may be affectionate unto their Country, and may not learn strange Customes, which may keep them from hating the Tyrant of Rome. I would have you use all the in∣genuity you can, to infuse into their hearts, the Love of virtue and the hatred of vice. But, Sir, (replied she) should we return to Rome, we must be known unto Tarquin, we must obey him, and ask his per∣mission to enter: Consider well (I beseech you) whether honour will allow me to do what you desire, and whether it were not better do die out of Rome, then enter into it upon such conditions? However (said my Father) I would have my Children brought up in Rome, to the end they may hereafter be Thorns in the sides of the Tyrant; and that I may die with so much comfort as to hope I have left behind me, Children who will contribute unto the Liberty of their Country; as for the waies of getting them thi∣ther, I do refer them unto your Prudence, for I can∣not divine what will happen when I am dead. After this, Sir, my Father grew weak upon a sudden, and could say no more, for he died the same night. Sevi∣lia's intentions, were to obey her dead Husband as exactly, as if he were living, and she carried her self with so much Prudence and Wisdom, that her kin∣dred and friends who lived in Rome, did get her leave to return, and bring her Children, Tarquin himself not believing that she desired it, not that she was any thing obliged unto him for it. Yet her firm Con∣stancy was such, after she returned to Rome, that she would never go and see the cruell Tullia; and she hath inspired such generous and noble thoughts into me, that I were the most ungratefull of men if I did not publish and acknowledge it. I remember one day when she understood that I had been solicited to be one in a Plot against Tarquin, and coming to me in my Chamber when I was alone, you know Herminius (said she unto me) that hitherto I have punctually obeyed your Father, whose last words you did hear, and that I have laboured to inspire your heart with the Love of your Country. But to tel you truly, my care hath been more to make you hate the Vices of the Tyrant then the Tyrant himself: And I have ever thought, that attempts to ruine him are not lightly to be undertaken, lest by indeavouring to set your Country at Liberty, you should bring it more

into Slavery. Do not therefore ingage your self to no purpose, not so much for fear of exposing your life which is so dear unto me, as for fear of exposing Rome unto a more cruel servitude; for Trees that are onely shaken with the Wind, and not blown down, will take deep root.

This, Sir, was the sage advice of Sevilia, which I did blindly follow, yet was she but ill recompenced: For there was no persecution which that vertuous Person was not put to suffer; but the truth is, she did not suffer alone; for to return unto Tarquin, it may truly be said of him that since the first day he ascended the Throne, unto this hour, he never did any act in which there was not some injustice, or some cruelty, or some cousenage in it. All the Wars which he made have also the same character, and one may more properly call the Towns which he hath taken, rather thefts, then conquests; and subtile craft, and deceit have the greatest share in all his actions during his Reign. After he had made Alliance with the La∣tines, he deceived them, in mixing their Troops with his own, when they had no Commanders of their own Nation. He caused a man whose name was Herdo∣nius, to perish upon a bare surmise, he caused him to be loaded with Chains, and thrown into a place where he was drowned. 'Tis true, he took the City of Po∣metia with some honour, and he shewed himself a great Captain in that Recounter: But afterwards he took the City of the Gabians by such a terrible piece of craft, as if it did not more relate unto the Prince Sextus his son, then unto him, I would tell you the whole passage; but after he had made that City de∣solate, and put all the Riches of it into the hands of the People, except what he reserved for himself, he indeavoured to taste the sweets of Peace and to blind the People: And for a guise upon all his injustices, in ruining so many, he set himself to finish that stately Temple of Jupiter, whose foundation the first of the Tarquins had laid. But there being many other Tem∣ples in building near the Tarpeian Rock, where the foundation of this was laid, and Tarquin having a mind to make this greater than the Prince who laid the first foundation intended, he made no difficulty of pulling down all those Temples, and not to in∣cense the People by it, he made a shew, as if he would first observe the flying of the Birds; but certainly the Augures were hired, and though the Gods had given such an evident sign as should have restrained him, yet he would have done it. There was yet one Temple standing which was dedicated unto the God Thermes, and Tarquin desiring to make use of all, seemed to give credit unto the predictions of the Tuscans, to the end, that giving this example, the People alwaies follow the mind of the Prince, might also beleeve with him, and be perswaded of what he thought good; and as they were digging up the earth to lay the foundation of this stately Temple, they found the head of a man whose face continued still in form; and Tarquin to make some use of this acci∣dent, he sent into Tuscany; and procured the Divines with whom he consulted to say, That it was a most certain sign, that Rome as Tarquin had ordered it, should be the chief City of all Italy, and Mistress of all the World; and indeed, they gave unto that place the name of Capitol which it bears at this present. So as after this, he pressed forward the building of this Temple; after this he made Seats and Scaffolds about the Theatre, at an extraordinary expence. He established two new Colonies; but in doing all these things, he still was doing injuries, injustices, and cruelties. He put the eldest son of his own Sister to death, he had not married his own Daughter but with an intent to be perfidious; and he omitted nothing which might merit the Title of a perfect Tyrant. All this while, Tullia in the midst of all her Grandure, she never had any content since she was upon the Throne; for she was still so jealous of authority; as she did not think that Tarquin gave enough unto her, and that having more inhumanity to wards Tullus then he had, she thought that she might at least divide with him in the Soveraign Power. So as time wearing out of her heart, that lovewhich she bore unto Tarquin, she grew most horribly jealous; for as soon as she saw this Prince regarded her no more than another woman, she be∣gan not to regard him, and treated him so ill, that sometimes she made him go out of Rome. Also, she was so horribly hated there, as when any took the li∣berty of speech, they called her the detestable Tul∣lia. As for Tarquin, in spight of all his Guards and Power, every one called him Tarquin the Proud. At the first, he did not take this well, and did most severely punish such men, as had no other Crimes but calling him so; but afterwards he was so insensi∣bly accustomed unto it, as he thought this Title not injurious, nor did he take it ill, men should call him so. And to merit it he grew so abominably terrible, as those who were his most private confidents of all his Cruelties, were sometimes so terrified them∣selves, that they durst not come near him. That fa∣mous Sibyl who came unto him, did yet bring him to her ends for all his cruelty, and it hath been wor∣dred a hundred, and a hundred times, that a Prince so violent as he was, did not treat her as sharply, as he was used to do others who denied him any thing. Yet this Sibyl whose name was Amalthea did bring him unto her Bow, though he thought to bring her unto his; for when she had presented unto him the nine Books which she had composed, and which were said to contain such high matters, as soon as he denied her the price she demanded, she burned three of them: Tarquin thinking her to be out of her wits, and having a Curiosity to see those which remained; he asked her what she would have for them? but A∣malthea answering him that she would have as much for those six, as she would for the nine, this Prince took her for one that was absolutely mad; but Amal∣thea without any astonishment at all, took three more of the Books and burned them as she did the first; in∣somuch, as Tarquin being more astonished, he changed his mind, and admiring the Constancy of this Wo∣man, he asked her the third time, what she would have for the last three Books? and she answering as before, Tarquin did verily believe that they did contain some great matters, therefore he assembled the Augurers; for though he made a mocking stock of Religion, yet still he observed the Ceremonies. But those whom he had assembled thinking it fit, he should buy those Books at any rate, he gave the Sibyl her demands for them, after which she went her way. Yet the People say, she vanished; and those who knew things best, did say that Tullia commanded her to get out of Rome. However it were, these Books were to be keept as sacred, and consulted with upon eve∣ry thing; but that Rome might feel all sorts of mise∣ries, it was infected with a most contagious disease, which was so mortall, especially amongst Children, as there was not a family in Rome which had not some

subject for tears. So as since Tarquin had always the outside of Religion, he sent two of his Sons unto Delphos with grand offerings. A Nephew of Tar∣quins called Brutus went with them, though his true name was Lucius Junius, but they called him Brutus because his blockishness did resemble that of Brutes. Yet he was in such a condition to be envied by those of the wiser sort, and his folly made him more safe under the Tyranny of Tarquin, than all their wis∣doms could. He had a father of a great spirit whom Tarquin put to death, but for this man he being harmlesly incapable of hurting any, Tarquin was contented to take his estate which was very great, without sacrificing him unto his cruelty. I shall not insist any longer upon a particular relation of all his wickednesses, nor his reasons which moved him to banish me; for that would be to relate the whole History of my life, which I will not mix with the story of so wicked a man. Yet I must be so just, as to confess that of four Children which he hath, three of them deserve to have a Father less cruel, and a Mother more virtuous, for the second of his sons who by his first name is called Aruntius, and after∣wards named the Prince of Pometia, because he did signalize himself at the taking of that Town, is a Prince that is every way admirable, the third who is called Titus is also a man of very noble inclinations, and the Daughter of Tarquin who is married, hath all the sweetness and modesty of a good woman. But as for the Prince Sextus, who is also called the young Tarquin, he is much different from his Brothers, though he be not so very bad as Tarquin the Proud; for he is handsom, of a good mind and a pleasant spi∣rit, he is naturally eloquent; his Ambition is not unmeasurable; he is merry, frollick, and of a quick fancy; his inclination is to love all manner of plea∣sures, without any distinguishing of the innocent from the Criminal; and of the two, he loves those of a Licentious Debauchery, better than those who are not so: So as having a smack of his Fathers fierce∣ness, and a little of his Mothers cruelty, and mixing these two with his Libertinism and Debauchery, it may well be said that he hath a hundred dangerous qualities for one good one. This Sir is the Chara∣cter of Tarquins Family at this day, and this is the character of Tarquin himself, who now intends to besiege Ardes; and who maugre all his Crimes, is so terrible and considerable unto all his Neighbours, as no Prince in all Italy more; and this Sir, is the o∣riginal of the famous City of Rome.

Herminius having ended his Relation, was thank∣ed by Artemidorus, by Aronces, by Amilcar, and by Zenocrates, for the pains he had taken, and the pleasure they found in his History of the greatest Ci∣ty in the World, and the greatest Tyrant that ever was. After which reasoning upon all they had heard, and considering that Love and Ambition were the chief causes of all these miseries; Artemidorus wish∣ed, that there were no passions in the hearts of men. Oh for Heavens sake (said Amilcar and smiled) make no such dangerous wish; since I conceive that if men had no passions, in lieu of wishing to live they would wish to dye; for nothing is more odious than to have a sluggish luke-warm life, without either desires or fears, a life that is no more sensible than that which we see in Flowers or Leaves. I conceive indeed (said Herminius) that all pleasures have their rise from passions: That is so true (said Amilcar) that if all the wise men of Greece should rise again, I would make them all confess, that all their wisdom were not worth a straw, if there were no passions in the hearts of men, and that wisdom were a treasure which they knew not what to do with. I dare go further than so, (added Aronces) for I am perswaded that all the he∣roick acts which have been done in all ages, had ne∣ver been done had there been no passions. I do a∣gree unto what you say (replied Artemidorus) but yet you must confess with me also, that without the same passions few or none of all the great and abomi∣nable Crimes had been committed. I do confess that (replied Amilcar) but I must tell you withal, that as we do gather Roses though they have some sharp pricks, admire the Sea, though she causes many Ship∣wracks; love the light of the Sun though sometimes it burns, and love the earth though she produces dangerous as well as wholesome Plants; so I say the same of Passions and all the evils of them; that I should be sorry they were quite taken away from men for if they were, all pleasures and delights would he taken away with them, as Herminius well observed. But yet I would gladly know (added he and addressed himself to Zenocrates who had not spoke a word in this dispute) what opinion you are of? had I known what my self (replied he very pleasantly and smiled) I should ere this have told you, but to be sincere, I know not, for since I am very sensible of Love, I would gladly reserve that passion; but otherwise I am so naturally lazy, as I should not be sorry if there were no other passions in the World, because I fancy that if there were none, all would slumber in a con∣tinual languor of spirit, and a pleasing phantasm of idleness, which would be exceedingly charming. As for matter of idleness you are in the right (replied Amilcar) for if there were no passions, all brave men would have nothing to do; if there were no Ambi∣tion, millions of men would come and go in and out of the World without any thing they had to do in it: Take the passion of Love from a Lover, and he's but an idle creature; take from a brave man that which gets him honour, and he will never go to the Wars, Kings without Ambition might have subjects enough, valiant men not having the passion of get∣ting glory would all sit still undistinguished from Cowards; I believe likewise, that the fields would all lye fallow, Cities and Houses would not be built, men would remain dispersed in the Fields, not seek∣ing for any other lodgings than Grots, such as nature shall make them. And as for Ladies, if there were no passions in the World, I know not what they would do; for they being the weaker Sex, if their beauty did not cause Love in the hearts of men, and that beauty hold them in obedience in lieu of force, I had rather be a handsome Butterfly than a fair wo∣man; for besides their being certainly Slaves, they would live in a most irksome idleness; since they would not know how to spend away that time which now they employ in dressing themselves; do but look upon a fair Woman in a place, and at a time when she thinks none will see her, nor she see any, that would be enough to make one think that if Ladies did know they could never cause Love, they would never take so much pains as to spend all the day in dressing them∣selves, to be undressed again at night. I once knew a Woman in Africa whom I never saw but twice, yet I saw her very different; for the first time I saw her, she was so well drest and so handsom as she charmed me, though she was but of a mean Beauty. But a

while after, this Lady being gone into the Country, in a place where she never thought to see any; and being alone with her Husband, I happened to come upon a sudden, and I found her so negligently drest, so ill-favoured, and so different from what she seem∣ed before, as I knew well she did not much care for pleasing her Husband, and that if all passions were taken out of the World, all handsomness, and all that makes women appear fair would be taken away also. So as though I went with intentions to offer incense unto her, and perhaps my heart; yet I was cooled and offered nothing, but brought away my heart and my incense again, of which I was very glad, for within a few days after, I knew not how to employ them better.

But to return unto passions, judge you if it would not be the greatest loss that is imaginable, if Passions were taken away; for if there were none then all Ladies would be less lovely and never loved; but as they would not be loved (replied Herminius) so they would not be hated; for it is only love that makes them hated, and commonly only ill treated Lovers, or jealous Husbands do hate them. 'Tis true (replied Amilcar) that they would not be hated, but yet if they be not loved their lives would be strangely tedious to them, and I am confident there is not one woman that is young and fair, but she had rather be hated by a hundred ill treated Lovers, and as many jealous Husbands. than not to be loved by one complete Gallant whom she affects, or to be in such a condition, as to be neither in love nor be loved by any. Let us not complain therefore against Passions, since they are the whole business and the greatest de∣lights of men. Yet I must tell you (replied Artemi∣dorus) it is a business of great difficulty to overcome them. 'Tis true (replied Amilcar in his usual free∣ness) but since it is so difficult do not strive against them, submit unto them, and in lieu of striving to overcome them, rather seek to satisfie them, and then you will not be so tormented. For my part, I do not wonder that Passions should so tyrannize over the hearts of all men, for every one can say, they must strive against them and subject them, the lesson is written both in Verse and Prose, the Philosophers teach it, the Sages command it, Fathers teach it their Sons, Husbands their Wives, and Mothers their Daughters; so as these poor Passions seeing so many enemies, do more couragiously strive not to be over∣come, but to reign in the hearts of those who with so much injustice would drive them out. And indeed this is their original, they could not subsist other∣wise, they afford infinite delights to those who seek to satisfie them, and seldom do any hurt, but unto such as would destroy them. For my part (replied Zenocrates) they never tormented me in that sort; for since I am perswaded that it is very difficult to o∣vercome them, I had rather submit so as my reason and my Passions never jar, for when my Passions are stronger than my reason, my reason submits unto them; and when my reason is stronger than my Pas∣sions, it slatters but would not destroy them.

You know so little what great passions are (repli∣ed Herminius and smiled) that it appertains not un∣to you to speak of them; but if you were possessed with a very violent passion of Love, or if your own desires had caused you to endure a thousand torments, or hopes had raised in you a thousand inquietudes, then you should be permitted to speak of the force of Passions; for had you but experience of one, you might easily imagine what is the tyranny of the rest. 'Tis true (said Aronces) that whosoever knows the force of Love may easily comprehend that of Ambi∣tion, and all the rest of the Passions. Yet I am per∣swaded (replied Herminius) that one cannot judge of the passion in others rightly, or ought to speak of any but his own; for though they are still passions all over the World, and love is love in Greece as well as in Italy, yet the hearts of men do differently re∣sent it, and variety of tempers do produce several effects out of the same passion, for love in the heart of Tarquin makes him commit a thousand Crimes, and the same passion in the heart of Aronces, makes him to perform a thousand Heroick actions. 'Tis true (replied Artemidorus) but still I must maintain that in what heart soever Passions do Reign, they cause abundance of trouble to him that will content them; and I must maintain still (replied Amilcar) that without Passions we cannot be happy. This dispute had not ended so soon, if a great noise of horsemen had not interrupted them, and caused them to look who they were, but they were quickly satis∣fied; for they understood that they were Troops, which were marching to be Posted about Ardes, on that side towards the sea, within a mile of the Town.

They understood likewise that Tarquin was to set out of Rome the next morning, and would go unto the Camp: Mean time since Herminius would not be known unto those who commanded those Troops of that Prince, he would not look upon them; only Aronces, Artemidorus, Amilcar and Zenocrates, who since they could not be known, they saw them pass by. But after they were past, Aronces was extreme∣ly impatient for the return of Celeres, and the Slave he went unto Ardes, because he feared that when Tarquin was come to the Camp; the Town would be so be set, that he could not get in if the interest of Clelia should require it. But to his happiness, his impatience did not last long; for Celeres who was the most diligent and zealous friend in the World, did return about midnight, and confirmed what he heard before concerning Tarquins departure; and told him further, that it was not believed Tarquins design was to force Ardes, but only to take it by famine, and therefore he might easily get into the place if he heard that Clelia was there. He added further; that the Prince Sextus, the Prince of Pometia, and the Prince Titus would follow the King unto this Siege; and that their Equipage of War would be so magni∣ficent, that every one was so full of Curiosity to see them go out of Rome as if it were a Triumph. As for the Prince of Pometia, (replied Herminius) I shall not fear being his Prisoner, for he is much my friend, and I am sure he will not expose me to the crualty of his father, but would release me; as for Tarquin I would as soon take poyson, as fall into his Power. After this Aronces being pricked on by his love, he had a mind to be going towards Ardes, and not stay for the Slave; but Amilcar, Herminius and Celeres did so perswade him that the interest of Clelia requi∣red his stay until the Slaves return, that he resolved to stay until the next day towards night. But after that (said he unto them) I will not stay, for very pro∣bable the Slave is taken either in going or coming by the Troops of Tarquin, and so will not return.

This being probable, the friends of Aronces did not contradict what he said, but gave themselves unto their rest that night. But Aronces was waked

with joy; for when the Sun was an hour high, the trusty Slave whom he expected so impatiently did arrive; he knowing that his Master would take it well if he waked him, because his business did con∣cern his love unto Clelia, he did awake him, but he awaked him by pronouncing the name of that ad∣mirable person, imagining that he could not inter∣rupt his rest in a more agreeable manner. Sir, (said he unto him) I have seen Clelia in Ardes, and—how (said Aronces and interrupted him, rubbing sleep from his eyes) hast thou seen Clelia in Ardes? yes, Sir (replied he) I saw her in the Temple, and I know the house wherein she lodgeth, but I could not speak unto her nor let her see me, do what I could; for Horatius being continually in her com∣pany, I durst not approach; for as you know he knows me, and I was in fear that had he seen me he would have Arrested me. However, I know that he carries himself with much respect towards Clelia, though he guards her very closely; for the goes no whither but unto the Temple, and then he follows her. She hath a Woman with her who waits upon her very carefully, as I understand by those who informed me. They say also, that Horatius is very earnest in perswading those of the Town to use all their endeavours for their own de∣fence, which they seem resolved to do, that every day he proposeth some new fortification to be made, and he seems to be very angry with those of Ardes, for thinking that without all those, Tarquin can never take it; for besides his interest in Clelia, he is in great fear (as they say) to fall into the hands of Tarquin, who being an inveterate hater both of his Father and him, will infallibly put him to death. And Sir, since I was afraid that if I staid any longer inquiring after the designs of Horatius, I should not have liberty to get out, nor you to get into the Town, I returned as soon as possibly I could.

After this Aronces dressing himself with all hast, he began to consider with himself what he should do or not do; but at last, he resolved to entreat Amilcar (who had matters to negotiate in Italy con∣cerning the interests of the Carthaginian Prince) that he would go unto Tarquin with those two Gre∣cians, whilst he went unto Ardes with Herminius and Celeres; to the end, that if Tarquin did take that Town, he might oblige that Prince to protect Clelia not letting him know that she was the Daughter of Clelius; for he pre-supposed that if Amilcar would he might get the love of that Prince. And indeed this resolution being pitched upon after serious ad∣vice, they went about the execution of it. Hermi∣nius and Celeres did well see that it was an odd bu∣siness for Aronces to go and shut himself up in a Town where his Rival also was; but they hoped that offering themselves to defend the besieged, they should be protected, and that since they had no∣thing to fear but Horatius; Horatius was also in as much danger as Aronces, since Aronces was no less valiant than he. So as then separating themselves, Amilcar, Artemidorus, and Zenocrates wended to∣wards the Camp, where they pretended to meet Tarquin: Aronces, Herminius, and Celeres, took a blind way which their guide directed them, to the end they might sculk in the Woods which were not far from Ardes, until it began to be dark, concei∣ving it more easie to get in at that time then by day light; but the time being come, in which they hoped to get into Ardes, by a blind way, where the Troops of Tarquin were not Posted, they went out∣of the Wood, and went down a little Valley full of Osiers, which grew by the side of a little Brook, which turned and wended it self through a plea∣sant Meadow, they saw at a distance Armed Men a fighting, and they heard the Voices of Women mingled with the noise of Horses and Arms. A∣ronces thought he heard the voice of Clelia; so as riding on towards the place where they heard this voice, he saw two Coaches, and he saw Clelia under a Tree with four or five other handsome Ladies complaining in a very doleful manner; whilst ten Men, in the head of which was Horatius, were fight∣ing against twenty. Aronces never studying what to do, went strait towards Clelia being followed by Herminius and Celeres. He was no sooner with her, but without any insisting upon ceremonies, whoso∣ever these are that be fighting (said he unto her) I believe they are all against us; and therefore, Ma∣dam, let me carry you away whilst they are busied in vanquishing each other, or else let me have the honour to die in defending you. Clelia being ex∣tremely joyed to see Aronces whom she loved so tenderly, and also to see two friends whom she much esteemed, did not stick upon it; but abandoning her self to the Conduct of Aronces he set her upon one of his Horses; but for all this hast, she told those Ladies who were with her, that she wished them who fought for them victory, and having de∣sired them to pardon her, if having enemies on both sides, she accepted of this relief which the gods did offer unto her: After which, being mounted on Horse-back, and Aronces also; a Woman who saw this and was given her by Horatius, began to cry out so loud that this valiant Roman hearing her, and looking about to see what the matter was; he saw Clelia on Horse-back riding first and conducted by a slave, and followed by three Men on Horse-back also, who by their Tires seemed to be Men of Quality, though he did not see their Faces; when he saw this, he prepared himself to follow Clelia: Aronces and Herminius turning their heads to see if they were pursued, there chanced the strangest ac∣cident in the World. For Horatius knowing his Rival did spur his Horse, to take away Clelia the se∣cond time, and cryed unto those of his party that they should follow him. In the mean time, a Man whose Name was Hellius, who was Commander in chief over those who fought against Horatius, and who was much in favour with Tarquin, he know∣ing Herminius, also knowing how the virtues of that excellent Man were odious unto the Tyrant, he be∣lieved that he should be a made Man for ever, if he could bring him alive or dead unto Tarquin; and therefore commanding his Men to follow after Her∣minius, at the same time when Horatius did go to re∣lieve Clelia, so it was, as without any compact be∣tween them, they changed their designs of fighting to go and fall upon the Protectors of the admirable Clelia, who then found her self to be in a most piti∣ful condition; for when she saw both Tarquin's Men, and those of Horatius come thundring with all vio∣lent impetuosity upon Aronces, Herminius, and Celeres who turned head against them, though they could not pretend unto any other glory then to sell their lives dear, and to die with honour. So as the ad∣mirable Clelia seeing these three Men who were so dear unto her, in a condition to be assaulted by thir∣ty,

and imagining them already dead, she did an act which was worthy her great Soul, for turning her Horse upon her left hand, and lifting up her hood. Oye Cowards, said she unto them, are ye not asha∣med being thirty to fall upon three Men, who have no other design but to set me at liberty? this great and generous action did so surprize Horatius, Aron∣ces, and the Commander of Tarquin's Men, and wonder did so suspend their thoughts as they stop∣ped, and staid a while before they could tell what to do. But at last, Aronces putting on his Horse, and followed by Herminius and Celeres, he advanced to∣wards Clelia in the presence of all his enemies, tel∣ling them with a menacing action, that they must kill him, before they carried away the fair Person as a Captive. Horatius then finding himself separated from his own Men, and chance had mingled his with the Men of Tarquin, he did not think himself in a capacity to fall upon Aronces, and take Clelia from him, for he conceived that Hellius, who endeavour∣ed to have her in the power of Tarquin, would take her from him again; and therefore he would have had Hellius begin the Combat, apprehending that Hellius aimed at Herminius as well as him, so as Helli∣us being moved at that great action of Clelia, and the resoluteness of Aronces, he began to speak, and advancing in the head of his Men, whosoever you are (said he unto Aronces) who thus resolutely ha∣zards your Life upon the hazard of infallible ruine, I promise to treat you well, and this fair person also; upon condition I may secure my self of an enemy unto Tarquin, whom I see with you: Herminius hearing Hellius say so, began to speak before either Aronces or Clelia, and looking sternly upon Hellius; if thou desirest to carry my head unto the Tyrant thy Master, and not take me Prisoner (said he unto him) I am contented it should be the ransome of that fair one: But as for Aronces, I advise thee to take heed what thou doest; for didst thou know him, thou wouldest fall down upon thy knees and ask him forgiveness. Horatius hearing what Herminius said and fearing least he should make his Rival known, he fell furiously upon Aronces, who warding the blow without any leisure to return answer unto Hellius, he returned another blow, whose weight made Ho∣ratius to stagger. But whilst these two furious Ri∣vals were fighting, Hellius gave command to make sure of Clelia, and that she should be guarded with the rest of the Ladies, which was an easie matter to do. For Herminius and Celeres, seeing some of Ho∣ratius his Men making towards Aronces, they went to him with their Swords drawn; so as Hellius then intending to compass about both Herminius and Ho∣ratius, there began such a confused fight as none could know friend from foe; for the Men of Ho∣ratius fought sometimes for Aronces and Herminius in fighting against Hellius. Aronces, Herminius and Celeres they fought also for Hellius in fighting against Horatius; and Hellius he fought for Horatius in fight∣ing against Aronces, and the confusion was so much the greater, because night came on, and would not let them know one from another, so as there was the most carrible disorder that is imaginable. For the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of those who fought were so different, as it seemed they could not every one drive on their own: in deed Aronces would if he could have deli∣vered Clelia, both out of the hands of Hellius, and out of the hands of Horatius, because it was more dangerous to be under the power of Tarquin, if she were known then under the power of her Lover. Moreover, he had a mind to defend Herminius, and kill Horatius. As for Herminius, his wish was that Clelia was in the hands of Aronces, that the two Ri∣vals were at Peace, and were united to fight against one of the Ministers of unjust Tarquin's cruelties. As for Horatius, he wished himself dead, he was so desperate to see he was like to lose his Mistress, and not able to kill his Rival; and also like to fall into the hands of Tarquin: As for Hellius, his aim was to take Herminius, to take Horatius, to secure Clelia, and the rest of the Ladies, and to know who Aron∣ces was: However, night was the cause they could not do as they would. Things being thus, they all heard a great noise of horses coming as if from Ar∣des; so as Hellius fearing to lose all, in desiring to get all, he commanded that all the Ladies should go into their Coaches, and be driven towards Rome. Aronces hearing this, not being in a condition able to hinder it, nor to discern his Rival, he designed to dis-ingage himself and follow the Coaches, and to go and make himself known unto Tarquin, to pro∣tect Clelia, rather then suffer her to be a Slave. This design had many dangerous consequences in it, but the time and place would not let him examine them; so as being prompted to do only as his love invited him, he dis-ingaged himself and so happily that Herminius and Celcres knowing his voice, they joyn∣ed, and made good their retreat fighting until they got into a little Wood which secured them. They were not got a hundred paces within this Wood, but the bridle of Aronces being broken, he alighted to mend it: During which, Hellius understanding that those Troops which he thought did come from Ar∣des, did belong unto Tarquin, he went unto them; but finding neither Horatius, nor Aronces, nor Her∣minius, he was extremely sorry that he had lost so fine an opportunity, and was forced to be contented with the taking of Clelia, and those Ladies who came out of Ardes, because they would not stay in a Town which in all probability would be taken. Thus Hellius sent them to Rome, supposing that Tar∣quin would not set out before the next day. But in the mean time, the Moon rising, and beginning to shine, Celeres could the better help Aronces to mend his Bridle, yet it was not long before he could finish it, for commonly in such things, the most hast the worst speed; but during that time, Herminius asked Aronces what he intended to do? and he answered that since Clelia was under Tarquin's power, he could not chuse but go unto him, and meet with Artime∣dorus, Amilcar, and Zenocrates, to the end he might procure her liberty, not telling who she was, nor that he was the Son unto the King of Clusium, unless the interest of Clelia did force him to it. Not but that I consider (said he) it goes against the grain of my heart, to go and serve a Prince who hates Her∣minius, and who would have murthered the Father of Clelia; but yet since that admirable person was under his power, he was forced unto it. You have good reason for it, Sir (replied Herminius) and the worst is, in all the design, that I cannot wait upon you to Rome. And therefore, I conceive it my fa∣fest course to go into Ardes, and fight against him that seeks my Life, and is an enemy unto all virtuous Men. As soon as Herminius had said so, Celeres who helped Aronces to stold his horse did hear the voice of one who lamented; and all of them being the more attentive, they did plainly hear a Man making

most lamentable complaint. So as Aronces being got upon his Horse, he told Herminius and Celeres, that he would go towards the place from whence the sad sound did come; for said he, it is the duty of miserable people to help those who are in the like condition. The heart of Herminius being no less sensible of compassion then Aronces, he consented un∣to the motion, and Celeres did not contradict them, and so all three made softly towards the place, from whence they heard this doleful exclamation. But at last, when they were so near as to understand what this Complainant said, Aronces knew it to be the voice of Horatius. So as stopping his horse, and imparting his knowledge unto his friends, they all began to hearken, and plainly heard that indeed it was Horatius who lamented. Alas (said he unto a friend who was with him) into what a miserable condition am I reduced? I am wounded by Aronces and he knows not that he is revenged upon my in∣gratitude; for I knew him by his voice when he gave me such a blow, as made me stagger, and my horse being wounded fell down dead in this Wood, where I found you in a worse condition that I am; and yet I must deny what I said, for I have lost my Clelia and am in danger to fall into the power of Tarquin. Thus my Rival triumphs over me, my Mistress is escaped out of my hands, and I am like to fall into mine enemies, not being able to rid my self from all these miseries by a generous death, since my sword is broken, and you have lost yours. 'Tis true (replied his friend) you are in such a miserable condition, as I am perswaded that if Aronces saw you in it, he would have compassion upon your ill fortune. Oh my dear friend (replied Horatius) you are much mi∣staken; for as generous as Aronces is, I am confident he would carry my head to the unjust Tarquin, there∣by to deliver Clelia. Thou art deceived (cryed out Aronces and went towards him) and to make it ap∣pear that my virtue is greater then thou thinkest, I will entreat thy old friend, to take thee up behind him, and carry thee into Ardes. Horatius who was leaning against a Tree and wounded in the hip, was so surprized to hear the voice of Aronces and to see him (for the Moon shined) and both Herminius and Celeres did so admire the virtue of Aronces, as they were a long while before they could speak. As for the friend of Horatius who lay upon the ground mortally wounded, he was so charmed at it, as stri∣ving to express himself; Oh Horatius! said he un∣to him) how happy are you in your misfortune in having such an enemy? No (replied Horatius) but on the contrary I am much more to be pitied; yes, Aronces (added he) I am so much ashamed by your generosity, as I should think my self more happy, if you would take your sword and run me through, ra∣ther then thus to loaden me with shame by your virtue. Were you in a condition to defend your self (replied Aronces) I should deal with you as with an enemy, who hath done the most unjuct act in the World in ravishing away Clelia from me; but being as you are, I will not upbraid you with unprofitable reproaches, but will keep you from falling into the hands of an enemy, who would neither spare your life nor mine. But (replied Horatius) still I must say again, and again, that you do too much; for do what you will or can, I must still love Clelia, and shall love her until I die. As long as she is not in your power (replied Aronces) I care not if you do love her; but if ever fortune should give her you again, I would pursue you all the World over, though I owe you my life. Ah cruel Aronces (cryed out Horatius) cannot you remember what I have done for you, but you must also remember what you have done for me? No, no, you cannot but up∣braid me with ingratitude. After this, Celeres tel∣ling them that it was equally dangerous unto them both, to be long in that place, they took his ad∣vice; and though Herminius did love Aronces infi∣nitely above Horatius, yet he undertook to conduct his Rival into Ardes, and took side with the party opposite unto that which fortune had engaged A∣ronces to take against his inclination, and which both honour, revenge, and virtue did engage him to take. And as they were taking care for the help of him who lay upon the ground, they perceived that he was expired: So that after Celeres had set Hora∣tius behind Herminius, Aronces and he conducted them until they came to a little blind path, by which Horatius said they might get into Ardes without dan∣ger, because there was a little River between them and the enemy. Thus the friendship of Aronces unto Herminlus, together with his own generosity, moved him to be a Convoy unto his Rival. After∣wards, one taking the way towards Ardes, and the o∣ther towards Rome, they carried with them such tu∣multuous thoughts in their hearts, as the way seem∣ed much longer then it was. They never thought of those dangers unto which they were exposed by the way; for they had interests which took up their souls and spirits more sensibly, then any dan∣gers could.

The End of the Second Book of the First Part.

CLELIA. The First Part. BOOK III.

THe truth is, Herminius in carrying Hora∣tius back to Ardes, went from-wards Rome with extreme repugnancy; for since Aronces was to be there, he could say that all the object of his friendship and love, was there also; for he had a most passionate affection to the place, he had a Mother there whom he most dear∣ly loved, and he had a friend there in the person of Clelia, whom he esteemed infinite dearly. But for all that, his hatred of Tarquin was so great and well grounded, as it did surmount all the tenderness of his Soul. As for Horatius, the virtues of his Rival were his greatest torments, except the love of Clelia which was above all, and though he did hate Tar∣quin, yet his jealousie was such, that he had rather be a slave of that Tyrant, than to be delivered by his Rival. Again, Aronces as he drew near Rome his thoughts were confused,; for he would never have gone thither, but that by serving Tarquin during the Siege of Ardes, he might oblige him to release Clelia: So as the aversion which he had conceived against that Prince, ever since he would have murthered Clelius at Capua, and since Herminius had related the story of his Life, did cause in him a strange repug∣nancy to execute his design, if the interest of his love had not surmounted it. On the other side, when he thought that Clelia perhaps would be treat∣ed as a slave, and that if ever she were known to be the Daughter of Clelius, her self would be in great danger, then he was almost out of his wits, and gave himself wholly over unto sadness. Nor as a Cordial to himself durst he hope that Clelia had preserved her affection intire for him, or if he had any glimps of such hope, it was so weak, as he was nevertheless miserable. He seared also that he should be obliged to make himself and his quality known unto Tarquin, that he might thereby be the better able to serve Clelia; for he conceived that if he should make his love appear, and that it should be known unto the King his Father, who afterwards would know that Clelia was enemy unto the Daugh∣ter of Tarquin, with whom he had received such a solemn All••ance, that his Father would not approve of his love; but perhaps would make it known un∣to that Prince who she was, purposely to ruine her. Not but that he knew the King his Father to be a Man of much virtue, but yet his love making him to fear every thing, he feared lest the beauty of Cle∣lia should add unto her miseries; for considering how Herminius had described the Eldest Son of Tar∣quin, he thought it impossible but he must fall in love with her, so as the miserable Aronces went to Rome with such unquiet thoughts, as Celeres had much ado to comfort him. The reason why he went to Rome rather then the Camp was, because he heard Hellius had commanded those who conducted the Ladies, to go unto that famous City. But that he might not be there without some acquaintance, Herminius at parting from Aronces, did give him such particular tokens to deliver unto the virtuous Se∣vilia his Mother, as he doubted not but she would be ready to do him any good Office. Since it was not above eighteen Miles betwixt Ardes and Rome, and the place where they parted being near Ardes, they had arriv'd at Rome before the Sun had been up, if they had not lost their way, and been stopped; but having no guide they went much about, and were forced to rest their Horses and them∣selves at least three hours. So as they arrived not at that Gate in Rome, which they then called the Gate Carmentale until the Evening. This Gate was not that, through which they use to go from Rome to Ardes, for that is close by the Capitol, quite con∣trary, but Aronces and Celeres having lost their way, they came in at this Gate, and went to lodge at a place where formerly they lodged, when they were at Rome only out of curiosity. They were no soon∣er alighted from their horses, but they went to en∣quire of Clelia, and to find out Artemidorus, Amilcar, and Zenocrates, whom they thought to be in Rome, because Tarquin was there, though it was told Ce∣leres, that he would set out the morrow after he was there. So as imagining (knowing the humour of Amilcar) that they should find them about the Palace of Tarquin, Aronces went thither with Celeres: but in their way thither, he was much surprized to see two Coachfuls of Ladies, guarded by Soldiers, who entred into Rome at the Port of Janus, and go∣ing to the King's Palace. The cause of his wonder was, that he spyed Clelia in the first of them, it is true he saw her without her seeing him; for she be∣ing very melancholy no objects invited her looks, not imagining that Aronces should be in Rome, for considering the danger wherein she left him, she ima∣gined more probability of his death or being a Pri∣soner, then to be in that place. However, notwith∣standing

all her melancholy, her beauty was of such a lustre, as the people only followed the Coach to look upon her. As for Aronces he no sooner espyed her, But he shewed her unto Celeres, and was joyed be∣yond all imagination. he was joyed to see her and to see her sad, because he thought he had some share in her sadness. But also he was infinitely sad to see her a Captive, and a Captive unto the most mortal ene∣my of Clelius her father. As he was divided between his joys and his sorrows, he saw two Vestals, who walking with all the Ceremonies usual when they go through the Town, they stayed and asked whither they carried those Ladies? and being answered that they were Captives, and carried to be presented un∣to Tarquin, the elder of the Vestals whose name was Verenia, commanded the Officer who had the charge of them to stay the Coaches.

The Vestals being held in great veneration at Rome, the Officer did as she commanded, and speaking very reverently unto Verenia, he asked what her plea∣sure was? My Pleasure is (said she unto him) that according to those priviledges which have been granted unto us from the first Kings of Rome, and which have been confirmed by all their Successors, you set those Ladies at liberty; for since there were any Vestals they never met any prisoners, but they set them at liberty. I once saved the lives of some Criminal persons, and may much better release in∣nocent Prisoners. I do believe (wise Verenia replied the Officer) that your priviledges are such as you say, and that they extend unto Captives as well as unto Criminals; but since you know it is not in me to de∣cide a business of this importance, I beseech you come your self and maintain your right before the King, and let me wait upon you thither, as well as upon these Ladies; for I assure you that if I could release them into your hands without danger of my life, I should do it with joy. Verenia finding the Officer to speak reason, and having consulted a little with her Companion, she went towards the Palace which was not far off. But this contest lasting a little long, there slocked abundance of people about the Vestals, and about these two Coaches; so as Aronces took hold of this opportunity, and pressed so near, that at last the eyes of Clelia found him out, who was so over∣joyed to see him, as she could scareely contain her self, yet since she knew not whether or no it was ex∣pedient to take notice of him, she restrained her self, and was contented with shewing him the thoughts of her Soul by her eyes, also she looked upon Celeres in a most obliging manner. Yet this mute discourse lasted not long, for Verenia going on, the Coaches followed her. And this being a matter of Novelty, all the Croud that was gathered together in that place, did follow also to see what Tarquin would do in the business; so as Aronces and Celeres crouding in amongst the rest, they followed also, and not to be altogether useless, they got as near the Vestals as possibly they could; and as an encouragement unto them to insist more stiffly upon their Priviledges, A∣ronces and Celeres did applaud unto the Heavens their design of delivering these Ladies. Mean time, A∣ronces remembring that Clelius told him he had a Sister who was a Vestal, he asked a Roman next him of what families these two Vestals were? and the Roman answered, that the grand Vestal was Sister unto a banished man whose name was Cle∣lius, and that the other was of the house of Aquilines. So as Aronces now knowing that the grand Vestal was Aunt unto Clelia, he consulted with Celeres whether it were not expedient to make it known unto this Vestal that Clelia was her Neece, before she spoke unto Tarquin? and conceiving she would be more zealous if she knew it, they resolved to trust her with this important secret. To that end, when she came near that great and stately Frontis-piece, before the Gates of Tarquins Palace, and descending from that Chariot wherein she was carried, Aronces after he had asked leave of one that waited upon her, did ad∣dress himself with all reverence unth her, and told her in a low voice and few words, that there was a∣mong the Captives one who was the daughter of her Brother, and conjured her by the name of Clelius to protect her and be silent. Verenia knowing how her Neece was stoln away, she did more easily believe what Aronces told her, and the beauty of Clelia having attracted her looks, she did find in her the Air of her Family; so as promising to be secret, and to insist importantly upon the Priviledge, she ranked her self in the Front of all those Ladies, who came out of their Coaches, and being Ushered in by that Officer who conducted them, she asked to speak with Tarquin, who being then in the Chamber of the cruel Tullia, commanded that the Vestals and the Captives should enter. But though the Curiosity was very great, all those who followed could get no further than the Anti-Chamber, except some few whose minds were too high to be denied entrance into the Kings Chamber. So as Aronces being as handsome a person as any was in the world, he en∣tred and Celeres also. But they were much amazed when they saw Amilcar, Artemidorus, and Zenocra∣tes close by the King; especially to see the first of these in such great familiarity with him, though there were many considerable Romans with him, and that though Collatine and the Prince Sextus were present, yet the King talked only with Amilcar, and that with as much familiarity as if he had known them all their lives, though it was but two days since they came unto him. But as Aronces and Celeres were a∣stonished to see Amilcar, Amilcar was much more at the sight of Clelia, Aronces, and Celeres; also Arte∣midorus and Zenocrates wondred to see Celeres and A∣ronces, yet they concealed their several thoughts, and every one kept their places to see the business. And indeed the business was worthy of Curiosity; for Verenia was a person who had been admirably fair, and yet had a most comely mind, the Vestal who ac∣companied her was not above five and twenty years of age, and one of the most pleasing persons in the World: So as these two Vestals approaching the presence of Tarquin, all the Captive Ladies ranked themselves behind her, in expectation of their doom, whether Liberty or Fetters; so as this was a very de∣lectable Object, for all the Ladies were fair and plea∣sing; it is true the beauty of Clelia did so much dim the Lustre of all the rest, as only she was looked upon. Things standing thus, the grand Vestal began to speak with as much boldness as eloquence, and ad∣dressing her self unto Tarquin, Sir (said she unto him) we address our selves unto you with a Petition so just, as I need only to tell you what our pretensions are, without seeking for any reasons to uphold them; I shall not insist Sir, upon telling you our original; for you who are knowing in all things cannot be igno∣rant that it is much more ancient than Rome. But I must take the liberty to tell you, that since Romulus brought us from Alta unto this day, no Kings that

ever Reigned in this Town, did ever offer to infringe the least of our Priviledges; and that we have ever been so considered by Kings and People, as both the one and the other have looked still upon us as the nearest cause of publick tranquillity. The first of the Tarquins did rather add unto our Priviledges than di∣minish them: We have received no causes of com∣plaint since our first institution neither from People, Senate, or Kings; and I am confident Sir, that you will give us none, but that you will grant liberty unto all these fair Captives, whom I met by chance; for you know Sir, the Law is, that if a Vestal acciden∣tally meets any who are carrying unto execution, she saves his life and releaseth him; provided she will swear that she did not seek to meet him: And Sir, I can safely swear that I never knew of these Ladies, until I accidentally met them. I know you may tell me Sir, that these Ladies are prisoners of War, and not Criminals; but since they are innocent they are more worthy of favour, and according to all Laws and reason, those who can do the greater things can do the less; and therefore I conclude, that since we can save the lives of Criminals, we may save the in∣nocent from imprisonment, and give them liberty. I know also, that the chance never yet was, when Vestals met Prisoners of War, as divers times they have Criminals, but still I say the Law ought to be expounded as I say, and the conjuncture is so favou∣rable for us, as I cannot think you will lose an occa∣sion of doing a thing of so great a glory; for I do not ask the liberty of any heroick Captain, or of a∣ny valiant Soldiers, but only for five or six silly mise∣rable Ladies, who never did any thing against you, nor knows not how if they would. Grant therefore Sir, what we ask, we conjure you unto it, by the sacred fire which we so vigilantly preserve, and by all that is most holy and venerable amongst us. When Verenia had done speaking, Tarquin who heard her with a mocking smile, answered her in these terms. As you are a Vestal (said he unto her) I have willing∣ly hearkned unto you but as you are the Sister of Clelius, all that you say is suspected. It is very pro∣bable, that there is some craft in your Proposition, for being sure that I would deny you, you think that you may justly tell the People, I have infringed the priviledges of the Vestals, that the sacred fire will quickly go out, and that the Gods in revenge will ruine Rome, nor do I know whether out of a preme∣ditated design, you have let it extinguish already. But however it be, I do declare that no Vestal under my Reign shall ever deliver any Prisoners of War, and these Ladies whose Liberty you demand shall not obtain it. Get you gone, and look well to your sa∣cred fire, if you would not be under Guard your self, and in lieu of tteating you as a Vestal, I treat you as Sister unto my most mortal and ancient enemy. As I am a Vestal Sir, (replied Verenia boldly) you ought to respect me; and as I am sister unto Cielius, all the people of Rome ought to arm themselves in my de∣fence; especially since you would have oppressed my Brother, by your unjust violence and power. Though the Laws (replied Tarquin in a fury) do not condemn Vestals to be buried alive, but for one kind of Crime only; yet I shall make you try what punishment it is, for a Crime of another nature, if you continue inso∣lent a little longer. Get you gone I say once more, and look to the sacred fire unto which you are ap∣pointed, and believe it that if Clelius or any that re∣lates uno him, do ever fall into my power, and I send him or them unto execution, you shall not save him though you meet him with all your fellow Vestals; Go, go, Verenia, for I find that if I see you any lon∣ger, the Purple Mantle which you wear, will not hinder me from seeing the Sister of my enemy in the person of a Vestal, nor can I be any longer Master of my own resentments. Oh Sir, (said she unto him) your injustice goes too far; and after I have spoke unto you as a Vestal, I must tell you as the Sister of Clelius, that I think it a greater glory in being the Sister of him who opposed you, than if I wore the Crown of those Kings from whom I am descended. Tarquin seeing the resoluteness of this Vestal, and not daring to follow the impetuosity of his resent∣ments, because there was nothing in greater venera∣tion amongst the people than the Vestals, he only commanded that the Captive Ladies should be car∣ried into a Chamber in the Palace, until he should fur∣ther dispose of them. And without any more regard unto Verema, he addressed his talk unto Tullia, Col∣latine, Artemidorus, Amilcar, and Zenocrates, and scossing at the Vestals, he made it appear, that though the sacred fire did extinguish, yet he should not be troubled at it.

So that Verenia was constrained to retire, and leave her Neece under the power of a Tyrant, who would infallibly put her to death if he knew who she was, and yet there was no remedy. As for Aronces he was troubled beyond measure, and he admired the won∣derful Constancy of Clelia; for though she heard what Tarquin said, yet did she not change colour, but hearkned unto all he said, as if she had no inte∣rest at all in it: and her spirits were so free that as she went out of the Chamber with the rest of the Captives, she did strive to pass handsomly by Aron∣ces, to the end she might the better tastifie by a sign with her head, that she had much consolation in see∣ing him. As for Aronces, he was so sadly afflicted that he was not Master of his own Spirits; and he was so taken up with sorrow, as he followed Clelia when she went out; and if Celeres had not restrained him, he had followed her unto the Chamber where they carried her, and would have made himself known to be of her acquaintance. Mean while, the Prince Sextus who had a general inclination to all beauties, he looked upon Clelia as he was wont to look upon those whom he could not look upon with eyes of indifferency, and his mind was so much upon her, as he went out presently after her, to bid those who had the conduct of those Ladies to treat them very well, and he came to Clelia who walked last; whosoever you are Madam, (said he unto her) I do verily believe you give more heavy Fetters, then those you wear. Be they as light as they can (repli∣ed Clelia) yet they do much trouble me, for I am not used to carry any, and if those which you say I give, do trouble those who wear them, perhaps they are miserable without any merit of pity. Sextus had a mind to say something else, but Clelia being entred with the rest of the Ladies into the Chamber where they were to be, he durst not follow them for fear of incensing Tarquin who was jealous of his Authori∣ty, even in the most trivial things. Mean while, Aronces and Celeres did walk before the Kings Palace, expecting Artemidorus, Amilcar, and Zenocrates, i∣magining they would not stay long before they came out. But in expecting them how full of doleful ex∣pressions was the sad Aronces? Good Celeres (said he) confess by way of comfort to me, that I am the most

miserable man in the World; do but consider how wilful is my wicked fortune, and in what danger Clelia is, were she less fair there was some hopes she would not be known; but being so glorious a star as she is, every one will be gazing and enquiring of her: Methinks also, that though she speak the Ro∣mans Language very well; yet one may know that she hath the accent of an Affrican, though when we were at Capua I did not think so. I am afraid lest those Ladies who are with her, should tell that Horace was with her at Ardes; nor dare I trust unto her great spirit and prudence; for I fear that she will not disguise her name; but that the name of Clelia will make her known to be the daughter of Clelius: for doubtless the Tyrant is still inquiring of him, and would have murthered him at Capua; he knows that he hath a daughter, that she is fair, that her name is Clelia, and that Horace carried her away. Those that are so over Prudent (replied Celeres) are doubt∣less more miserable than any others, for in all pro∣bability Clelia will disguise her name: The Ladies with her perhaps knows not what it is, nor know who Horace is, and therefore the best way were to wait, till time tell you more.

As Celeres said so, Amilcar came out of the Palace, and came to them with Artemido us, and Zenocrates, but he was as blith and jocund in countenance, as Aronces was melancholy in heart. But coming to them, Come, (said he unto him) come and fear no∣thing; I have already tam'd the Tyger which put you all into terror; it shall be long of your self, if you do not see what I say is true, and if you be not ere long in a condition to protect Clelia, if he would offer to hurt her, which I do not at all believe he will; for I am extremely mistaken if he do not think Clelia to be very fair, and if Tullia do not observe it as well as I. I left her telling Tarquin that he did ill in treat∣ing the Vestals so ill; and that since it was only for the delivery of Women; he ought to have consent∣ed unto it. So as since I know that Tullia ••s not over∣scrupulous in matter of Religion, and observing that ••he sees as well as I, how Tarquin thinks Clelia to be the fairest of all the Captives. I must needs conclude, that Tullia will ere long get her released. Tullia is so unaccustomed to make use of any harmless reme∣dies (replied Aronces) as I fear, that if she be jealous she will rather put Clelia to death, than set her at li∣berty. To cure you of any such apprehensions (re∣plied Amilcar. I will get into favour with Tullia. That will not be much difficult (said Zenocrates) for you have already so great familiarity with her, as I believe if you will you may quickly be the Confident of all her Crimes. For my part (said Artemidorus) I do wonder how it is possible Amilcar should in so short a time as since we came hither, do so many things; for he hath shewed us all the Town, he is very much in favour both with Tarquin and Tullia, and much more with the Prince Sextus; the Prince of Pometia and Titus do court him, he knows the names of all the beauties in Rome: The Eldest of the Salians believe him to be a Salian, so well is he versed in all their Ceremonies; and if you had heard his discourse with an Augurer you would have been affrighted. It is not possible (said Celeres) that Amilcar could shew the one half of Rome unto Artemidorus and Zenocrates. To shew you that they tell me no lies (replied he) ask them if I have not shewed them the four Ports of Rome, the Carmental, the Roman, the Pandane or the Romulide, and the Janiculan? ask them if I did not bid them observe how that City was a Quadran∣gle? if I did not shew them the Capitol and the state∣ly Temple which Tarquin built? if I did not shew them the place where the Vestal Tarpea was buried? and if I did not shew them the little Temple of the God Thermes, whom the people would needs adore, maugre all the Power of Tarquin? ask them still whe∣ther I have not shewed them the Mount Palatine and the Mount Quirinal where the Temple of Romulus was built? whether I have not shewed them the Mount Celius, the Mount Aventine, the Mount Vi∣minal, and that of Janicula? ask them still whether I did not let them see the Ruminal Fig-tree, where Remus and Romulus were found? whether I did not let them see the Sublician Bridge? whether I did not exactly shew them all the magnificence of the Amphi∣theater and Cirque? whether I did not carry them unto that Grove which is consecrated unto the Mu∣ses? if I did not tell them in that place some things that were uttered by the Nymph Egeria, such as as∣pired Numa with those admirable things which he did? ask them on, if I did not go with them into the famous Temple of Janus, which is seldom or never open but in times of War? if I did not shew them that Temple which Romulus vowed unto Jupiter when he fought against the Sabines. Further, let them tell you if I did not shew them the first Prison which was ever built in Rome by Ancus Martius? if I did not shew them the sacred street, the street Cyprion∣na, where the Palace of King Numa is, and where Tullia went over the Corps of her Father? if I did not let them see the Bulwarks which Tarquin finished? several Temples of Vesta, of Jupiter, of Hercules, of Diana, and of many other Divinities? For my part (said Celeres) I do not so much wonder you have shewed them so many things in so short a time, as I do to see you in such familiarity with Tarquin and Tullia, and the Princes their Children; for they are almost all of different humours. That which did it (replyed Amilcar) was my remembrance how Hermi∣nius described them; so as going confidently unto Tarquin, in the Prince of Carthage's name, and pre∣senting Artemidorus and Zenocrates to him as two of my friends, not telling their names or who they were, I was so happy as at my first conference to get into some credit with him; for he having a desire of being instructed in the present condition of Carthage, knowing well there was some difference of interest between Sicily and that Common-wealth, I recalled into my memory all the Policies and Intrignes of those who reigned the most absolutely, and all that I had learned upon this Subject in all my Travels and books. I did highly applaud Periander King of Corinth, who knew so well how to make himself obeyed by force; I preferred Semiramis above Cyrus, because she was more stern than that illustrious Conquerour, and mixing some ingredients of half prophanation with my politicks, in an hour I got to be high in the fa∣vour of Tarquin. As for Tullia, when I was alone with her, I let her understand how all the World said that Tarquin was a debtor unto her for the Crown, and that she merited a Million of Praises, for knowing so well how to set her self above her own Sex, by not dorring at such seruples as Ladies of low and common capacities use, who had not hearts so great as hers. As for the Prince Sextus, remem∣bring his inclination unto all women, I talked unto him of nothing but our African Gallantry, and of the pleasingness in Grecian beauties. And knowing

that he was not over Regular in his loves, I made a Satyrical invective unto him, against all such pu∣ling lovers who use to sigh a whole year, before they will tell they love, and who are so constant as to vow their services unto one Mistress. So as he believing these to be my thoughts, he was as open unto me as any voluptuous person who neither believed the Gods nor feared men, could be unto his dearest friend, when he would relate the manner of his life unto him. But he did open himself very pleasantly, for one could never meet with a more amiable Liber∣tine than Sextus; and my greatest wonder was, con∣sidering his quality, that he was acquainted with all the handsome women in Rome, even from the Vestals to the very worst of Slaves. But after you had so well gotten the opinions of Tarquin, of Tullia, and of Sextus, (said Aronces) what did you to enter into the favour of the Prince of Pometia and Titus? these two Princes being of contrary humours to their Bro∣ther (replied Amilcar) they had no commerce toge∣ther; so as seeing them asunder, I talked with them after another manner, and without any blaming of the Prince Sextus for his irregularity of life, I com∣mended them so highly as they had a very good opi∣nion of me; and falling into a discourse of gallantry and love, I quickly observed the heart of the Po∣metian Prince, was full of such great and tender thoughts, as did become a noble Passion: So as tel∣ling him all that I had gathered from others, and was sensible of my self, concerning any amorous matters, he was ready to open his very soul, and to tell me that he was in Love.

As for the Prince Titus, he being naturally of a cold and reserved temper, he did not so freeely open his heart, and yet I perceiv'd that he had a great dispositi∣on to love me. Amilcar did one thing extraordinary more (replied Zenocrates) for there was one of the Kings Nephews, whose name was Brutus, who seem∣ed to be a very Block-head, and in whom one should never find the least glimps of any wit; he being be∣hind those Princes whilst Amilcar talked unto them, did hearken very attentively unto him, and Amilcar talking with a sprightly and agreeable Air, Brutus did laugh twice so pertinently, as it was observed a great wonder and a miracle of Amilcars wit. And a Cavalier did say unto another who stood by him, in a low voice, that Brutus was very happy in giving this sign of his understanding when Tarquin was not present. It is most true (answered the other Cava∣lier) for I am confident that if he had seen him laugh so opportunely and pertinently as he did, he would have put him to death as well as his Brother; for he lets him live only because he thinks him to have no wit nor spirit. I must tell you (said Amilcar then) that Brutus is not so senseless as is believed; for I ha∣ving an universal curiosity to know all things; and sometimes taking as much delight in seeing the seve∣ral follies of men, as their several wisdoms, I began to talk with him a quarter of an hour, and since eve∣ry one had described him to be extremely stupid, I put a hundred foolish questions unto him, which I perceived did displease him, and unto which he would not answer. They say (replied Artemidorus) that he speaks so little, as that it cannot be taken for an effect of his reason, but for an effect of his stupidity; for I have heard of men many times, who could hide their treasures; but I never heard of any who could hide their spirits and wits. However it be (said A∣milcar) he hath more wit than he is thought to have: I know not that (replied Amilcar) but I am sure that you have more than is possibly to be believed. Had you but heard him yesterday you would have won∣dred (added he and spoke unto Aronces) when he discoursed with an Augurer near the place where the Sibyls Books are kept; for he made the man believe that he was far more knowing in matters of Divina∣tions, than himself; and they were so great in fa∣vour together, as he promised to talk concerning the sacred Chickens, and told him that he came from Negrepont, which is the place from whence they say, those come who are most able to presage the truth. But (said Aronces to him) since you are so cunning and happy in all things, I pray what can you do to help me unto a fight of Clelia? It is requisite (repli∣ed Amilcar) that to morrow I present you unto Tar∣quin, under the notion of a man whom I was acquaint∣ed with during my Travels, and as a man of courage who would be glad to serve him in the siege of Ar∣des; but we must endeavour to let Clelia know, that she must give it out and say she was born at Noles, and that Celeres is her Brother: And after this is hinted unto her, I will present Celeres unto Tarquin, who shall beg leave to see his Sister, and we will intercede for him; by this means she will not be thought the daughter of Clelius, but the principal difficulty is to speak unto Clelia. I know not (replied Artimedorus) how is it possible to find a way how to instruct her in all you desire she should know. Perhaps more possi∣ble than you imagine (replied Amilcar) and when I return at night from the Palace, I may chance find out an invention for it. When Aronces heard Amil∣car say so, he conjured him very importunately, to use his best endeavours in doing him this good Office, and Amilcar taking the business upon him, Artemido∣rus, Zenocrates and Celeres went with Aronces to visit the virtuous Sevilia, who at the very name of Her∣minius, did bid them most heartily welcome; and Amilcar went to Tullia, where he found the Prince Sextus, with whom he tampered as if he would be the Confident of all his pleasures. And knowing that he should please his genius if he talked of Ladies, he fell into discourse concerning the fair prisoners, and extolling them to the skies, he asked Sextus if he would make a visit unto them at night? For Sir (said he unto him and laughed) in matter of love, it is good always to be the first man; and therefore if there be any of those Captives which pleaseth your fancy, make hast and tell her that she hath given you Chains more heavy thrn her own. It being an easie matter to perswade Sextus unto a business of this na∣ture, he told Amilcar that he would go presently with him, and accordingly making use of Tullia's name to see them, those who guarded the Prisoners did let them enter; but they found them in several humours, for two of them did so extremely droop in their Captivity, as if they were almost dead; and another who being of a more blith composition, was a looking her self in a Glass, and mending something about her dress, as pleasantly as if she had been in her own Chamber; also there were other two, who were not very melancholy. But as for Clelia, without either the despair of the two first, or the insensibili∣ty of the other three, she was only serious, and grave∣ly sad, and looked as if she were a most perfect Mi∣stress of her self. All this while, Amilcar not desi∣ring to be known, he saluted her after such a manner as at the first made her to understand that she was to take no notice of him. And Sextus at the first entrance

talking to one of those Ladies who came from Ar∣des, and seemed the most considerable, he had time to make such signs unto her, as signified his intenti∣on. And he had so much time also as to ask her in a low voice whether there was any of those Captives whom she durst trust? And Clelia pointing unto one who was called Cesonia, he left her as soon as Sextus came towards her, and he went unto that Lady, to whom she pointed, unto whom he told all that was agreed upon with Aronces, to the end she might tell Clelia. Thus he let her understand that if any ask∣ed who she was, she should say that she was born at Noles, and that she had a Brother whose name was Celeres. But after Amilcar had said all that related unto Clelia, he began to cheer up all the Lady-Priso∣ners, and he was so pleasant in talking unto those who seemed so dejected at their Captivity, as he did suspend part of all their sorrows. Mean while, Sextus, unto whom the beauty of Clelia was infinite∣ly pleasing, let her understand (following the coun∣sel which Amilcar gave him) that he thought her sitter to give Fetters then to wear them. But she answered him in such a manner, as did something cool the impetuosity of his fiery temper. So as this Prince, who till now never loved without hope of obtaining them, and who knew not what either fears or respect did mean, did find his heart so stricken with a reverent and respectful fear, as re∣strained him from talking unto Clelia, as he used to do unto others; so as calling Amilcar to his aid, there began a discourse more general which was ve∣ry pleasant; for as there could be no talk so far from any matters of Love, but Sextus would apply it that way, so after he had pitied the misfortunes of these fair Captives, and protested that he would protect them as much as ever he could, he began to say, he believed their Captivity did make many sad hearts both at Ardes and at Rome. Truth is, Sir (said Amilcar) since there is not one of these Captives, who is not fair enough to make Cap∣tives, I am confident there are many sad Lo∣vers at Ardes, and e're long will be many ill treated ones in Rome.

The Romans have such a reputation of glory (replied that person who indured her Captivity so well, and whose name was Plotina) as it is not credi∣ble there is any one of them that will be a Slave to a Slave. Oh Sir, (said Amilcar after his natural and sprightly freedom) this is the finest opportu∣nity in the World for a Roman that hath a mind to make any gallant declaration of Love, and were I one, I would not let it slip; for certainly there is nothing more difficult then to do it handsomely, and gallantly; at least I am sure that since I was first a Lover, I think I have made a hundred, and a∣mongst them all there is but two which ever plea∣sed me. It is true said Sextus and laughed as well as Plotina) that for these regular Lovers who woe in print, it is difficult for them, to find out such a happy minute, wherein they can, with a good grace, say I love you. But as for my part, I never wooe so; for I am so perswaded that the very thing it self is pleasing, as I cannot believe it will make one angry be it told never so ill-favouredly; and therefore I use to out with it boldly, whenso∣ever any occasion is offered. Were one a great Prince as you are (replied Amilcar) were one hand∣some and had wit at will, then I think indeed, that the difficulty would not be great, to tell you love, and to tell it well; but when one is no Prince, nor handsome, and but of a mean wit, and but indiffe∣rently in love, then I assure you it is a business more difficult then you imagine, to make declarations of Love; unless unto fair Prisoners, for in such a case I find no difficulty. For indeed (added he and smi∣led) these words, Slave, Captive, and Prisoner, do furnish one with a thousand gallant thoughts, and Fetters, Chains, and Torments, are so naturally ap∣plicative unto what one would say, as one shall find out a thousand several ways to express their minds. But when one is but cold in love, and hath no great Talent of Wit, (as I said before) then there is no greater difficulty, then to say I am ready to die for Love. But (replied the pleasant Captive) if one be neither in love, nor have any Wit, why should he ever torment himself with seeking of declarations of Love, and talk of that which he is not sensible off? Alas, fair Plotina (said he unto her) if one should never talk of love, but when the heart is full of it, one should never talk of it above once in all his life; for one cannot be twice violently in Love. And all his discourse would be very cold and lan∣guishing, since to tell you truly, when any one is long with a Woman, he must needs talk either of her love unto others, or her causing others to be in love with her; for I am most confident that the gravest and most demure Matrons of Rome, when they were young would be very weary of the best accomplished Men, if they should never talk unto them of any thing but Divinity, of the Vestal Ce∣remonies, of the Laws of the Land, of the order in their Families, or of the news of the Town: A fair and young Lady takes no delight in hearing one tell that such a one is dead, such a one hath made his will, such a one is married unto such a rich Man, this Man is gone into the Countrey, that Man hath a suit in Law, and this Woman hath a very rich Gown; and therefore it is the only way to be al∣ways talking of Love, be it either in earnest or in jest; for follies of this nature handsomely spoken a∣mongst Ladies, do please them better then any mo∣ral or politick discourse whatsoever, or any news. I am so much of your opinion (replied Sextus) that even in visits of consolation after the death of Friends, I would find out some invention or other to speak of love; for be it unto a Woman who had lost her Husband, whom she most dearly loved; she must be pitied principally because she hath lost him she loved; or be it so that she did not love him; she must be comforted by giving her some hopes of having a Husband whom she shall love. Yet I believe (replied Clelia modestly) that they use to talk of Love less in Rome, then any where else; they use to speak of it more mysteriously (replied Sextus) but for all that it is spoken of in all parts of the World; and it will for ever be spoken of as long as there are such beauties as you are. It were e∣nough to say (replied Amilcar) as long as there are any Men; for since there are very few beauties com∣parable unto her you speak unto, you leave over little room for discourse of Love. Whilst Sextus and Amilcar were talking thus, there was one of those melancholy Ladies, who of her own nature was very proud, and a little capricious, and who not being able to indure any discourse of this na∣ture, she began to quarrel with Amilcar; but being very handsome, and seeming witty, he answered her very civilly, though in a very ingenious way of

Rallery; on the other side, that jocund Lady whom Amilcar had much pleased, she opposed her friend and told her that she was much too blame in offe¦ring to make Amilcar as melancholy as her self, so as there grew a very pleasant contest, yet it lasted not long; for it growing late Sextus and Amilcar went away; but Amilcar having done the business he came for, as soon as he had waited upon Sextus to his Chamber, he returned unto Aronces. Yet be∣fore he went from that Prince, he observed that Clelia had taken his heart; and he made him confess that he thought her very fair; and that the only fault that he could find in her, was that he thought her too good and over wise. However, the friend∣ship which was between Aronces, Amilcar, and Cele∣res, would not suffer them to part Lodgings, but they all three lay together, as Artimedorus and Ze∣nocrates did: Aronces was not looked upon as a King's Son, nor Artimedorus as a Prince, for the state of their fortunes would not permit them; but Amilcar knowing them both, he desired they should know what one another were; So as after he had told Aronces what he had done, and had filled his heart with joy and hopes, he obliged Aronces to dis∣cover himself unto Artimedorus, and Artimedorus to discover himself unto Aronces; who no sooner heard of his true Condition, but he knew him to be a Brother unto the Princess of the Leontines, un∣to whom he was so much obliged; so as imbracing him then with abundance of tenderness, he begged his friendship, and promised his most faithful ser∣vice, not speaking a word of the Princess his Sister, until he knew what opinion he was of, and whether what he thought of the lovely Zenocrates was true or no.

However, it being very late, and having talked away most of the night without any sleep, they si∣lently gave the rest, unto their rest: And in the morning, as it was resolved upon the day before, Amilcar went unto Tarquin, to present Aronces and Celeres unto him, as two friends of his whom he knew very well in his Travels; and as two Men who came to offer their service at the Siege of Ardes: Adding afterwards a most humble petition for the release of Clelia, whom he called by another name before Tarquin, then that she was called at Ardes, saying that she was carried thither by her Lover a∣gainst her will; and that being born at Noles in Campania, and being Sister unto a Man who would die in his service, she deserved to be treated better then the rest of the Captives, who were Daughters Wives, and Sisters unto his enemies. At the first Tarquin received Aronces and Celeres very well, and hearkned unto the Petition which Amilcar made in behalf of the pretended Sister unto Celeres; but Clelia seeming in his eye to be very fair, and having a desire to keep her, he told Amilcar that indeed his petition was very just, and told Celeres that his Si∣ster should not be a Prisoner; but withal told him, that he must desire a savour from him also, which was that she might remain as a Prisoner until after the Siege of Ardes: For (said he) it doth exceed∣ingly concern me, that it should not be thought the Vestals have any right in releasing Prisoners of War, as they have of Criminals; for if this Privi∣ledge should be granted them, there would be in e∣very street a Vestal, when any considerable Prisoners of War were brought into Rome. But Sir (replied Aronces) since this Prisoner for whom we intercede, is no inhabitant of Ardes you may release her, with∣out any thought that it is by virtue of the Vestal Priviledge if you do declare, that you release her only upon this account that she was not born among your enemies. What you say (replied Tarquin) is very judiciously spoken; but for all that the people will think her to be released by the Vestal authority; and therefore it is absolutely requisite, that this fair one stay where she is, until after the Siege of Ardes: But lest her Captivity should be troublesome unto her, or that she should pass under the notion of a slave, I will entreat Tullia to be civil towards her, as perhaps she may like being in Rome, as well as in Campania.

Celeres, Aronces, Amilcar, Artimedorus, and Zeno∣crates, did use many more arguments unto Tarquin, to make him change his mind, but he began to give them such sharp answers, as they fearing to incense him, and make him suspect something of the truth, they did not importune him any further; and Cele∣res carrying himself as Clelia's Brother, he gave Tar∣quin a thousand thanks for promising her to release her after the Siege of Ardes, and in the mean while to treat her well. And indeed Tarquin commanded that some of Tullia's Servants, should the very same hour go and wait upon her, and that they should let any see her who would: So as Aronces making use of that liberty, he went unto her that afternoon, but was carried thither by Celeres, who went to see her as his Sister, Artimedorus, Amilcar, and Zenocra∣tes, went also with them, to the end this visit should not render her in the least suspected.

Clelia was that day in her negligent dress, but yet in the midst of negligence so handsome, as it was ap∣parent that she was naturally so, and so when she had no company. There being then none with her but the Captive Ladies who loved her dearly, she had so much liberty as to receive Aronces as a Man whom she was glad to see; yet she had restrained her self by reason of Artimedorus and Zenocrates, had not Celeres in presenting them unto her, hinted that she needed not to stand in fear of them. So as this meeting, notwithstanding the pitiful condi∣tion wherein they were, was very comfortable un∣to them. And to the end they might have the more freedom of discourse, Amilcar who had seen all the Ladies but the day before, began to talk with them as familiarly as if he had been acquainted all his life, for being between the pleasant Plotina and the lovely Cesonia, who carried out their misfortunes with more constancy than the rest, it was an easie matter for him to turn discourse in a more merry mood. As for Artimedorus, he durst not talk over-much be∣cause he was no Roman: And as for Zenocrates, though when he pleased he could speak the Lan∣guage very excellently well, yet it was never his cu∣stom to talk much upon the first acquaintance; yet he listned with such ingenious attention, as made it apparent that he knew what wit was, and that he was a Master of it himself. As for Celeres he ad∣dressed himself and his discourse unto those Ladies who were of the most melancholy mood; so as by this means Aronces talked with Clelia in private, with whom he had not had a minutes discourse never since that terrible Earth-quake, which separated them upon the Banks of the River Vulturnus; and he was so transported with joy at the opportunity, that it did appear in his eyes, in his actions, and in his voice. I beg your pardon, Madam, (said he un∣to

her) for that joy which perhaps you find in my face; for considering the condition wherein you are, I may seem much too blame to express joys; yet I must needs tell you Madam, that at this time I am not a Master of my own thought; but am so over∣joyed at the sight of you, to see you out of my Ri∣vals power, and to find some sparks of goodness to∣wards me yet in your eyes, as I cannot chuse but a∣bandon my heart and soul unto joys. But Madam, to plump up joys into a fuller strain, I beseech you tell me whether you are any thing joyed at the sight of me, and in seeing me fuller of love then I was, when I had the happy honour to be the most amo∣rous person upon Earth. If the very sight of you did not please me (replied Clelia) truly Sir, I should think my self so unreasonable, as that I should be extremely ashamed at my self. Oh Madam, (said he and interrupted her) I beseech you do not Sir me so, for I am still the very same Aronces, whom the fair Clelia was once pleased to call her Brother, when she began to cast a favourable look upon him as her Lo∣ver; and be confident, Madam, that I shall most joy∣fully renounce the Quality of a King's Son, rather then you should take from me that glorious Title of your Slave. Treat me not therefore, I beseech you in a ceremonious manner; imagine your self to be upon the Throne, and me in Fetters at your Feet, and use no such offensive Sirs unto me; for my thoughts are so tender and so full of respects unto you, as if you do not call me as you were wont to do, my joys at the sight of you will lessen. Since you will have it so, my dear Aronces (said she unto him) I shall live with you as I was wont at Capua, and I can assure you that you are to me no more con∣siderable, since I know you to be a King's Son, then you were before; for truly, fortune in giving you a Crown, hath not given you any thing which I can put in comparison with your virtue. Oh Madam (said he unto her) I beseech you commend me less, and tell me a little more plainly, that you do love me as you were wont to do; and without any telling me of my virtue, tell me only, that the tenderness and constancy of my love, hath moved your heart: That my Rivals hath made no impression in it, and that you would be glad to reign still in mine. In telling you, I am the same in Rome, I was in Capua (replied Clelia modestly) surely I shall tell you as much as you can desire: After this, Aronces used the most tender expressions in the World unto Clelia; and in the transports of this passion, he talked to her of compleating their Marriage, though she was a Prisoner, though Clelius could not come to Rome, nor think of carrying her unto Clusium. Also he himself perceived that his reason was not sound, and was glad that the prudent Clelia did set some limits unto such tumultuous desires, as made him think upon things both unreasonable and impossible.

After which, he gave a short account of all the passages which had happened: And she also did tell him all she knew; for she told him how Horatius went unto the place where the Earth-quake was, which gave him the occasion of his voyage, that was so variously talked of at Capua; she told him how strangely she was amazed when she saw her self without any relief in the hands of Horatius, who yet did treat her with very much respect; she told him afterwards, how when the Earth-quake was ceased, Horatius carried her into a house which was not shaken down, which belonged unto one of those that were with him, when he carried her away; that there he got a Coach, how he procured a Woman to wait upon her; and how after he had written unto Stenius after he was at Capua, he was forced to seek his fortune: She told him afterwards, how Horati∣us resolving upon Perusia for his retreat, he took that way. But Madam (said Aronces to her) when I saw you in a Bark upon the Lake of Thrasimenes, and when Horatius defended himself against the Prince of Numidia who assaulted him, then you were not in the way to Perusia. It is true (replied Clelia) but chance so ordered it, that in this voyage Horatius did meet with the Son of him who com∣manded, in one of the Isles of that Lake, which is beyond that, where they then kept the Queen your Mother; so as contracting friendship with him, and having trusted him with all his secrets, Horatius changed his intention, and resolved to carry me into that Isle, where the Man assured him to find a safe Sanctuary. And accordingly, he did put me into a Bark with him, his Men and with those of him he met, we were no sooner upon the Lake, but the Prince of Numidia appeared upon the Shore with Armed Men, and having found another Bark he and his Men went into it, and fell upon Horatius as you saw; and I am most confident, that if these two had not stood in fear of hurting me, the meeting had proved mortal to them both. But I beseech you Madam (replied Aronces) how came the Prince of Numidia so just in the nick with his Armed Men? I conjecture (answered she) that I was the cause of it; for you must know, that meeting accidentally with a Pencil and some paint, when I fell into the power of Horatius, I writ upon all places where I passed, on doors and walls, both my name and the place where they carried me. And understanding that Morning we should go unto this Isle, I writ these words in a Window.

If any Friend unto Clelius chance to pass this way, let him know, that they carry Clelia unto one of the Isles upon the Thrasimenian Lake.

So as supposing, and with reason, that the Prince of Numidia passing by chance that way, and finding this writing, he took these Men and followed me. However, after the Combat with Horatius, and this Prince who was wounded, we came unto this Isle where he presently recovered. But hearing of that express command which the Prince of Perusia had sent to seek me and Horatius in all his Domini∣ons. He who promised unto Horatius a safe San∣ctuary in this Isle, recalling his word did oblige him to depart; so as then seeking out for a place of shel∣ter from the violence of Tarquin, and for a protecti∣on against all the World, he carried me to Ardes, which he knew was in no correspondency with the King of Reme. And indeed, he was there very well received; but as for my part, melancholy was much my disease: yet I was so happy as to find much com∣fort in the Company of Cesonia, whom you see there with Amilcar, and whom I found to be a most gene∣rous friend; for when Horatius saw that in all pro∣bability Tarquin would be prosperous in the Siege of Ardes, and resolved to get out, Cesonia at my request came out also, and perswaded all the rest of these

Ladies to come with her. As soon as Clelia had said so, the Prince Sextus entred, and caused the discourse to alter; but Amilcar knowing that Clelia pleased the Prince very much, and having a desire to take him off, he went unto him, and speaking in a low voice, Sir (said he) this fair Prisoner whom I see you look upon more then any of the rest, is indeed the fairest of them all; but let me tell you, that the pleasant Plotina, whom you see on my right hand, is far the jocondest, and more easie to be wrought up∣on: It is true (replied Sextus) but her beauty is infi∣nitely more charming then any of the rest: I grant it (replied Amilcar) but the worst is in gaining her, you must sigh, and cry, and cringe, and pule, a long time for it; but in all likelihood the conquest of the other will be obtained with a laugh and a plea∣sant jest.

After this, Sextus sitting down, and finding what Amilcar had said to be very pleasant, he made it the subject of discourse, but in such a manner, as it was taken only for general discourse, wherein none of the Company had any particular interest. After he had stated the Question in hand, it is not (said he) to know whether a fair and merry Mistress, be more amiable than fair and melancholy, or a fair, proud, and capricious Mistress, but the question is, which of them is the most fit to cause Love? Oh Sir (re∣plied Celeres, not knowing Amilcars design) a fair and merry Mistress makes men in love with her, but will not be in love her self, and I know nothing more intollerable than a sprightly blith humour, who will oblige one with a thousand civilities; concur with one in a hundred pleasures, let you tell her what you will, and will her self be very free; who the very first day you see her will laugh, sing, dance, and play with one as freely, as if he were of Twenty years acquaintance, who will desire you to come and see her, who will bid you extremely welcome, and who will give one the greatest hopes in the world, and all to no purpose. And as soon as ever ones back is turned, she will never think on what he said, or what she answered. For my part (replied Amilcar) I wonder why you should complain so; for I conceive nothing more sweet than to find some hopes growing with ones Love; to find some recompence as soon as he begins to profess affection, to meet with that pleasure in the beginning of a Passion, with others never meet with but in the end; and all the while never to shed any tears but those of joy: As to that which you say concerning the forgetfulness of a fair and merry Mistress, I say, pay back oblivion for ob∣livion; and if she will forget what you said, do you forget what she said. Were I of Amilcars temper, (replied Celeres) I should without difficulty do as he says; but I assure you (replied he) the matter is not so easie as you imagine, for I have seen all sorts of Lovers; I have my self loved persons of a blith, jo∣cund, and frolick temper; I have loved melancholy, proud, fickle, fantastical Mistresses, I have loved the little, the great, the black, the brown, the fair, and all sorts. Since so, said the Prince Sextus, you are the most experimentally able to tell us, whether it be more sweetness in loving a pleasant, merry Mistress, or a Melancholy or a fantastical. It is very true (replied Aronces) Amilcar is fitter to speak un∣to the Question than any other; yet he himself is of so pleasant, equal, and merry a composition (said Artemidorus) as I fear his partiality will make more against the melancholy, than against the proud and fantastical fair ones. To shew my freeness from partiality (replied he and laughed) chuse which of these three you will maintain, and I will undertake to defend the other. Oh I beseech you (said the pleasant Plotina) do not forsake the cause of the mer∣ry ones, and let him take part with the merry and fantastical; you will defend that side so well your self, both by your beauty and agreeableness of hu∣mour (replied Amilcar) as you need none to take your part, yet I consent to be the Protector of the fair and merry ones.

For my particular (said the Prince Sextus) I will pretend to judge: As for my part (said Aronces) I will not put that in any doubt which my heart hath been so long resolved upon. And for my part (said Ze∣nocrates) since I am yet much unresolved in matters of Love, I still pretend unto no side, but only to be an Auditor. Since so (said Celeres) I will make choice to defend the melancholy Ladies: And to undertake a task more hard than that (said Artemidorus) I will maintain, provided you will pardon the defects of my Language, that there is more pleasure in being loved by a fair, proud, and fantastical Mistress than any other, though I must thus far agree that there is much more sweetness in being loved by a melancholy beauty who is not fantastical. As for your Grecian accent (replied Amilcar) I will excuse it, but I be∣seech you give me leave to speak first, for I cannot endure to take so much pains as to answer the reasons of others. But consider, I pray, (replied Amilcar) that others had rather reply upon your reasons: Per∣haps (replied Plotina) his reasons will be found so good, as none will be so bold as to reply unto them, or shew their own. Since you are the only she in all the company (replied Cesonica) who can pretend un∣to this quality of mirth, perhaps others will also find their Protection as well as you. I assure you (replied Amilcar) it will not be an easie matter to find it; for to enter in the Argument, hath not love its rise and life out of joys, out of pleasures, and look∣ed upon as the greatest felicity in the World, the most amorous sighers that are, never sigh but for joy, all the sobs and sorrows of a Lover are caused by his hopes of being happy. Is it not much better then to meet with love in delights and joys, than to seek it by sad sighing and difficult ways, in such as will never let one laugh but after they have cried? Had I been called unto Natures Council when she in∣vented all these several sorts of Flowers which she produced, I should never have given any Prickles un∣to Roses; such a Lover am I of all delights as I would have them without any mixture of sorrows; and I am such a professed enemy unto all gloomy and melan∣choly Lovers, who will always go the most painful ways unto love, and had rather sigh with the Turtle, than sing with the Nightingale, as I cannot chuse but sigh to think upon their follies. Oh Amilcar (cried out Plotina and laughed) you defend our cause me∣thinks so faintly, as I fear you have a will to be baffled in it. Experience is so much above all reasons (re∣plied Amilcar) as we shall be able to defend our cause against all the protectors of the proud and melan∣choly Mistresses; and if to give them a most sensible example, you will be pleased to let me love you, and you love me again this will be reason enough, to prove that it is better to be loved by a fair merry Mistress, than either a melancholy or a fantastical. When you have shewed your reasons (replied she and smiled) we shall see whether we shall authorize them

by our example. I must tell you then again (replied he) that I know nothing more vexatious than to Court a melancholy, or a proud fantastical Mistress, nor any thing so sweet as to belov'd by a fair and plea∣sant merry Mistress: For first when one Courts a me∣lancholy Deity, he must be full of all familiarity, he must pay all possible reverence, he must sigh and pule a long time, he must be extremely circumstan∣tial in the declaration of his love, be must pay both great and small services, he must be full of applauds, of sweetness, of tenderness, of rapture, of assidui∣ty, and amongst all these one ingredient of despair. And when all is done, you must either be loved or not loved, if you be not loved then there is abundance of time lost; and if you be loved, commonly it is but a little; for of a hundred melancholy Mistresses, there are not two to be sound who are not both jea∣lous and hard to be obtained, and who does not drive into despair by their continual complaints. So that often one is much more miserable in obtaining their affection then in being denyed it. As for the proud and fantastical (added he) they are yet worse, for one knows not where to find them. At first, they will hardly look upon those hearts which are offe∣red to them, one would say that they wronged them in adoring them, or at least one is infinitely obliged unto them, for doing so much honour as to receive their offering; they will disdainfully turn away their head, because one shall not look them in the face, and will sometimes so behave themselves, as if you were to render them all humble thanks for that they have not killed you. I know very well that there are some good fantasticks, and that some days one shall oblige them, by telling them such things as angred them the day before: I know also, that at another time the same things will displease, which before did please, so as you can never be at any cer∣tainty with them in matter of love; nor be sure you can keep that love which you get the day before; how can one be ever at any quiet, or enjoy any de∣light in them? for my part I cannot endure to be smiled upon one day, and brow-beaten the next; I know these proud ones and fantastical ones, will sometimes go further then others will, but I know withal that they will repent it, and what is gotten with a great deal of pains, is kept but by chance, for one will never enjoy their affection with any tranquill delight. Therefore I do conceive it much better to court the love of a fair, jocund, frolick, and merry Mistress: For first, the Conquest is much more easie, one shall enjoy it in peace; if she should have any tang of jealousie or anger, she is pacified with a serenade, and all quarrels are but trifles which will be reconciled at the next treat, or diversion; I know very well that these merry Mistresses perhaps do not love so zealously; but withal, they do not expect one should love them so extremely; so as gi∣ving as much liberty as they take, both parties will be well agreed. They will require nothing from you but such things as are pleasant in themselves; for they will walk with you, they will laugh, they will rally, sing, and dance, and to do all these for the love of them, are no difficulties: and therefore is it not much better to serve such, then others who are so full of the morals and politicks of love, and who require if you will get their loves that you also do exactly know them, who rank sighs, sobs, and tears instead of pleasures.

I have divers more arguments to use (added Amil∣car) but I shall not stand in need of all my force a∣gainst such enemies, as I fear not, since their cause is so bad, and mine so good. Though I want your e∣loquence (replied Artemidorus) yet for all your Art, I hope Justice will carry it against your specious rea∣sons which have no solidity in them. For the que∣stion is not whether hath most or least trouble in loving a merry Mistress, or a fantastical, or a me∣lancholy; but the question is, which hath most sweets in it. And I do very confidently affirm, that of all the several tempers which a Mistress can be of, none is so fit to move great and sensible delights as she that is fair, proud, and a little fantastical. For it is most evident, that whosoever does take away resistance and all difficulties from Love does murther Love; or at the least doth take away all the sweet and pleasing transports which makes all Lovers hap∣py. And I must also affirm, that to be compleatly happy in Love he must mix with his love, the glory to make it fervent, and must have an amorous kind of ambition, to redouble the violence of that pas∣sion; it is a most high delight after a Man hath been long a slave unto a Mistress, to be at last a Conquerour, and to deserve that glorious title he must have met with such resistance; he will imagine it most glorious to have vanquished that heart which seemed invincible, and he must be able to tell him∣self that he deserves to vanquish.

Moreover, though a resentment of glory were not necessary to render that passion the more ardent, yet it must be confessed that Love is either hot or cold: And it must be concluded as impossible, that those desires which a merry Mistress creates in the heart of a Lover, can ever be so sharp as those in∣spired by a proud beauty, which seem more delicate because they are more difficult to obtain. Not but that a well accomplished Man who is resolute in his Love may be assured to vanquish, if he doth but know how to manage all occasions, and to make use of several favourable and critical minutes which may be met with in the conversation of all proud and fantastical Mistresses; there are some hours when it may be said there is an interregnum in their hearts: I must also maintain that the most sensible favours, are more often obtained by humour, and fancy, then by tenderness and acknowledgements: and a proud fantastical Mistress wins more in an hour, then a merry Mistress can in a year. I grant it (replied Amilcar) but commonly all proud and fantastical Mistresses, do within an hour repent themselves of all the favours they have done; they will even hate themselves for loving you too well: and sometimes they will punish you for what they themselves did voluntarily grant: and their repen∣tance for doing any thing over obligingly moves them unto a thousand more angry words. 'Tis true (replied Artemidorus) sometimes quarrels do arise when one loves a proud beauty; But oh, Amil∣car, how sweet are the reconciliations? and what delight is it to see them repent and pay with usury those favours they suspended; and to confer fresh favours to repair the wrong? what pleasure is it I say, to see this lofty and noble pride to stoop and make excuses, and give many marks of submission? what high delight is it sometimes when they would favour you, to see them vex and fret at themselves, and their hearts out of obliging weakness, to pant so as they are forc'd to be favourable unto you? when one hath obtained any favour from a proud beauty,

her pride will be the sweetest thing in the World unto you: for her pride unto others will make you give hearty thanks, she is not so to you; whereas an equal tempered Mistress who is universally mer∣ry and affable unto all, she does rather vex then please one. Therefore I conclude, that there is more glory and delight in loving a proud fantastical and coy Mistress, then one that is pleasant, merry, and affable, and though perhaps one may be happy, in a melancholy and in a merry Mistress both; yet the conquest of a proud Mistress is more easie, then the conquest of one who gives hopes the very first day that one begins to love them.

If Celeres (replied Amilcar) do defend the cause of fair and melancholy Mistresses, as you have of the proud, I shall stand in need of the fair Plotina's help, to maintain the cause I undertake. Grecians being before all others in eloquence; replied Celeres, and Artemidorus having a most vast will; Perhaps my reasons will not found so well as his; Not that his side and that which I am to defend are much op∣posite, for few proud and fantastical Woman who are very merry; and few also who have not some touch of melancholy; but it is a certain kind of sweet and charming melancholy which makes most violent and tender passions grow in the heart of a Lady. When I speak of a fair and melancholy Mi∣stress (added he) you must not imagine I mean such as are of a gloomy, frowning, fretting and angry humour: for I make a great difference between Sad∣ness and Melancholy. But I mean such a sweet and charming melancholy as is not an enemy unto all pleasures, and gallant diversions. I mean, I say, a melancholy which has a sweet languor and passion in its looks: which makes the heart great, gene∣rous, tender and sensible; and puts into it such a zealous disposition unto love, as those who know not what a melancholy heart is, do not know what love is; and I am confident that a Lover who is acquaint∣ed with all the delicacies of this passion, does find more delight in a certain kind of languishing and passionate lustre in the eyes of his Mistress, then he shall in all the mirth and jollitry in the World: He will not value those eternal laughers who think themselves worthy of pity if they do not laugh from morning to night: and certainly the most sensible delights of that passion, are not those de∣lights which move laughter: And if after a thou∣sand sighs and secret groans, a Mistress afford but one favourable word which gives any spark of hope, a Lover will not hearken unto it with more sensible delight, then unto all the ingenious rallery in the World: not but that he has his joys; but they are such joys as are rather languor then mirth; such joys as are peculiar only unto love, and melancholy is so particularly proper unto that passion, that his very pleasures have a tincture of melancholy. His studies and musings, which seem so dull and heavy, are infinitely pleasing unto him: and at his faintings of spirit are preferrable, before all diversions in the World; and though there appear no blithness in his eyes, nor ever laugh, yet he thinks himself ve∣ry happy. I know very well that at the first ac∣quaintance, a merry person is extremely pleasing: and that it is much easier to get acquaintance with such, then those more serious. For, as Amilcar said very well, one shall get familiarity with them the very first day of acquaintance; they will laugh, sing, dance, and tell a thousand merry stories: whereas on the contrary, one must go more slowly to work, with those whose temper, most take me; for com∣monly, upon the first acquaintance with them, one shall see but the out-side of their beauties and wit, nor will they shew all their ingenuity of a long time; and when you do know all, still you are to seek their hearts; so as discovering every day fresh graces, you have every day fresh delights; but it is otherwise with jocund and pleasant persons; for at the very first they shew you all their beauty, their hearts, and all their affections; and certainly if you love them not at the very first, you will never love them. And also, if she love not you at first, she will never love you, nor afford you any but common fa∣vours.

And the very truth is, they only who have passio∣nate Souls, do know how to take every thing as a favour, who only can invent innocent delights, and can make hope last, after they have given you their affections. For my part, I must ingenuously confess that I do love the merry better then the melancholy; but I must withal tell you, that I would not spend all my life in mirth. I would have my friends of that temper, but not my Mistresses, for there is nothing more cruel then to love one who never minds nor observes any thing but pleasures: It is otherwise with a passionate melancholy Mistress; for if you give any obliging language she remembers it a hun∣dred times, she repeats it unto her self in secret, and she will make you glad to see she remembers it, by hinting something or other handsomely which will let you know it. If you play a lesson on the Lute un∣to her, and there be any passionate Ayrs in it, which seems sutable unto your love of her, she will resent it with tenderness; she will make application unto her self, and answer you with such sweet and lan∣guishing looks, as shall most sensibly delight you: But on the contrary a merry Mistress never minds any passionate Ayr, but begins her self to sing some song or other which signifies nothing. If you send any passionate or amorous Epistles unto her, she runs over it in reading; or if she have any diversi∣on in hand, perhaps she will put it in her pocket and not read it, till she be more at leisure; and when she hath read it. perhaps she will burn it, or may be throw it into her Cabinet, and never read it at all. But when a serious, passionate, and melancholy Mi∣stress receives a Letter from her loved servant, her heart beats when she takes it: she opens it with a blush, and she reads it with care and secresie; she reads it over and over an hundred times, and seri∣ously ponders upon every syllable, and though she remember every word, yet will she read it again and again. The truth is, there is nothing so sweet as when one is loved by such a melancholy virtuous person, to see how she will be troubled in denying any slight favour which you shall ask of her, and will deny it in such an obliging manner, as a merry Mistress would oblige you less in granting it, then she in denying. I do know very well, that such use to love very ardently, and desire also to be ardently loved, and therefore they use to complain very often, but what though? is there anything in this World so sweet as to see a Mistress complain she is not loved enough? can she possibly give you a more apparent testimony of her Love? a merry Mistress indeed complains sometimes that you do not e∣nough divert her, but she will never find fault that your passion is not strong enough; yet quite con∣trary

with a melancholy Mistress, for she will complain she will grieve, and will even be sick for sorrow and anger, she will break off with you by all means though God knows she cannot, and when you have once ap∣peased her, she will fill up your Soul with infinite joys. and you will find in her all the favours and ardency of a new affection, nothing is so sweet as these reconci∣liations in Love.

You shall also have this advantage by loving a Mistress of a serious and passionate temper, as never to hazard any thing as you shall often in loving a merry and fantastical humour, for if you find the last of these in a good mood, when she hath not power to deny her heart unto those who divert her, she will give her heart unto you, but yet she gives it rather by chance than choice: a proud and fantastical Lady will often do the like, and love you more out of an humour than out of any inclination. But a vertuous melancholy Mistress, who hath a tender Soul and a noble heart, she is long in denying you, and will not bestow her affection, but when she cannot chuse but give it, but yet when she doth give it she giveth it freely; and yet she gives it not all at once as the o∣thers do, she shews her heart by degrees; and when you do see the bottom of ir, you shall be so happy as to see none but your self in it. Indeed a passionate and melancholy Mistress, hath love in her head as well as her heart; she can remember and repeat every passage, and wheresoever she is, her mind is still with her Lover, she thinks upon all the places where she hath seen him, and would never be out of his sight, she hath continually a hundred thousand things to tell him, which yet she never does; and there is in this kind of Love such a sweet miscellany of joys and inquietudes; as she is continually in the one or the o∣ther. For not to be mistaken, I must affirm, that to know all the delights of Love, one must know all the bitters of it, and whosoever cannot make a great misery out of a trivial matter, shall never take any great delight in a great favour. But if one will be happy in love, he must pick out great pleasures from slight favours, and must have a heart so sensible, as the very sight of a place where once his Mistress hath been, must fill his heart full of joy, as such joys as must grieve him; his heart must be full of thoughts upon her, he must think upon nothing else; and he must think upon her, sometimes with delight, and sometimes with grief. But the fair and merry Mi∣stress, and also the proud and fantastical never use to have any such tender thoughts, It is onely the char∣ming melancholy which is able to inspire a zealous, lasting, and pleasing Passion; As for a merry Mi∣stress, it may be said she rather lends you her heart than gives it; for she never gives it so absolutely, but she can recal it as often as she finds any one that can di∣vert her more. As for a proud and capricious Mi∣stress, it may he said that one can never get her heart without a ravishment, unless perchance she cast it up∣on you out of anger, rather than give it you of good will; and you can never be so sure in possession of it, but you may lose it again by the same capricious toy which gave it you. But as for a melancholy Mistress, when she gives her heart, she gives it wholly and ab∣solutely, and gives it in such an engaging manner, as (when one knows all the delicacies of this kind of affection which so few do know) it is impossible there should ever be any change in love: And if it were lawful in Rome to use so sacred a comparison with a prophane, I would say, that melancholy is the Vestal which preserves the fire of Love in the heart of a Lover, since without it, a zealous and lasting Love cannot be.

Good Celeres (said Amilcar) say no more, for though I have undertook to be the defender of merry Mistresses, and mirth, yet I think if I were not near the lovely Plotina, you would convert me. The truth is (said Artemidorus) that Celeres and his expres∣sions have tendered my heart. But the wonder is (said Aronces) that Celeres who hath so eloquently discoursed upon Love, yet never had any of those great and violent Passions, is able to instruct others so well. It is true (replied Celeres) and though I was never any more than a pidler in Love matters, yet I am very well acquainted with the Passion: And had I not thwarted my own temper, or had ever met with a lovely Melancholy Mistress who would have loved me, I should have been the deepest in Love of any man living. For my part (replied Amilcar) I can scarcely believe you; for since my first beginnings in matters of love, I have begun a hundred several loves, which have made me so knowing in that Pas∣sion, as I have been loved two or three several times with all imaginable violence. For ought I see (re∣plied Sextus) if one should desire you to tell us the Hi∣story of your life, they should desire more than one single History. True Sir (replied Amilcar and laugh∣ed) and to speak properly, you must desire me to re∣late the History of my Adventures. For my Part, said Plotina then, I have a great desire to know them: I think, added Cesonia, that this curiosity would be general if there were any hopes of being satisfied. For my particular, pursued Clelia, I cannot tell whe∣ther or no I am deceived, but I think Amilcar had ra∣ther relate the adventures of any other than of his own. It is very true Madam, answered he, there is nothing more unhandsome than to relate ones own worth; for if one be modest be will not enough com∣mend himself, and if one be not he will commend himself too much.

But I perceive (said Plotina unto Sextus) That the dispute is ended, and no judgment is given, whether the merry or the melancholy, the proud or the fan∣tastical, have the advantage. Though I took upon me to be Judge (replied Sextus) yet I should be very presumptuous if I should pronounce any sentence be∣fore so many beauties whom I know so little: perhaps there may be more of them merry than I imagine; and those who seem melancholy, are so out of some accidental Cause, and not out of temper; and there∣fore I think it much better to entreat Amilcar that he would be pleased to relate unto us, some of those be∣ginnings in love which he spoke of. Oh Sir, repli∣ed he, I am not fit to be my own Historian: But if you desire to have a Relation of some such Adventure, I have had a hundred friends in my life who have had many gallant and extraordinary adventures; which I am acquainted with as well as my own; and you need only but to tell me what kind of Story you would have. Since it is fitting to divert Prisoners, (replied Sextus) I pray let us have no tragical stories: With all my heart, replied Amilcar: for I am the least acquainted with them; but still I would gladly know a little better of what nature you would have a History. I would if it be possible, replied Sextus, have one that should not end either with a death or a marriage: Oh Sir, replied Amilcar, I can fit you, for I have a friend who has run through adventures e∣now to afford a hundred Stories; which never ended

so. All the Company laughing at what Amilcar said, and at his manner of saying it, they began to press Amilcar unto a Relation of one of these hundred Hi∣stories which he spoke of; so as he thinking it to be good service to Aronces if he kept Sextus from talking unto Clelia, he set himself to relate an Adventure, in which he was very perfect, and which for its singula∣rity deserved to be told unto so noble a company: and therefore with eyes full of jollitry, he began to speak in as free an Air, and little troubled as if he had but three words to speak: But as he was turning towards Sextus, with intentions to address his speech unto him, that Prince desired him to make his address unto all the Ladies in general: And Amilcar obeying him, began thus.

The History of Artaxander.

SInce I was ever very sincere; I must at the first tell you, that the names which I shall name in the Relation of this adventure, are names only suppos'd, That I shall also vary from the true places where the things were done, and that I my self do not well know, whether he whom I shall name Artaxander, was big or little, black or fair. But yet I can assure you, it is not more true, that you are all of you the fairest Prisoners in the world, than it is that all I shall now tell you did really happen in some place of the world or other, and that not long since: For I cannot endure old stories of three Ages ago; but what I am to tell you is an amorous adventure, a new adventure, a gallant adventure, and a most certainly true adven∣ture. I must further tell you, that Artaxander who ere he be, being come to Crete, a Town which har∣boured the most fair and gallant women upon earth, and having quickly gotten the most accomplish'd men and fairest women for his friends, not then having any engagement of love upon his soul; he went out to walk with one of his friends in a Garden out of the Town, which is one of the most delectable places in the Isle, and the Isle you know is one of the best in all the Aegean Sea. And this Garden being from the Town two miles after the Italian measure, they went on horseback. In coming thither they saw two Coaches before the gates; And Artaxander presently enquiring whose they were, he understood that one of them belonged unto a Lady whom I will call Cephi∣sa; and the other unto a Lady who had a Neece which lived with her, whom I will call Pasithea, be∣cause indeed she resembled one of those Graces who owned that name. But he no sooner heard this, then he was very glad of it: for he had heard much talk of Pasithea, though he had never seen her, for she had been in the Country ever since he came to Crete: so as turning towards his friend, whose name shall be Philiontes: well friend (said he unto him) I shall now see her whom I have heard so much of. Doubt∣less you will (replied he) and I am not the most mi∣staken man alive, if she be not as well pleased with the sight of you, as you will be with the sight of her. After this Artaxander whose action was all freeness he entred into the Garden; and no sooner in but he spied five or six women about a Fountain, who talk∣ed very loud and with much joy. Among the rest, Artaxander fixed his eyes upon one who was of a mid∣dle stature, and a most rare beauty: her Action was sprightly, her Garb pleasing, her eyes shining and merry, the smile in her Looks and the blithness of her behaviour, seemed as if she did counterfeit some body as she talked unto one of those Ladies whose name was Cephisa. And indeed, Artaxander and Philiontes staying behind a Hedge and looking upon all this good Company, they perceived that Pasithea was counterfeiting a Lover of the old fashion, who was then in Crete: and one who had a kind of forced ridiculous Air with him, whirh rendred him intolle∣rable, though otherwise he had wit enough. Pa∣sithea did counterfeit him so admirably well, as though Artaxander and Philiontes did not hear the name of him whom she did imitate, yet by her tone, her walk, and her action, they knew very well whom she did so perfectly personate. So as Artaxander, who was excellent good at the same faculty, and who was a particular friend unto all those Ladies ex∣cept Pasithea, he undertook a piece of Gallantry, which hit very happily: for knowing him very well whom Pasithea did counterfeit, he came from behind the hedge, walking as the man used, and putting himself into the same garb and posture as he used, when he would be pleasing: After he had saluted all the Company in general, he accosted Pasithea in par∣ticular, in a language so like that which she was imi∣tating, as all the Company were very pleasingly sur∣prised. But as for Pasithea, she was so astonished and took such delight in this kind of gallantry, that af∣ter she had heartily laughed at this passage; I beseech you Sir (said she unto Artaxander) let me enjoy your friendship and acquaintance; for having a great de∣sire to see my self, and know how I behave my self, and how I speak, I will then entreat you to personate me as well as the man which you now did imitate: As for my friendship Madam (said he in his own or∣dinary tone) I cannot well tell whether you can have it or no: for the truth is, you are too fair for friend∣ship: Oh Sir, replied she, I shall be very well con∣tented with your friendship, and let love alone; and therefore to be my friend is no such difficulty as you imagine: Whatever it be Madam, (said he unto her) let us leave the future unto the will of Love and Fate, and give me leave to tell you thus much, that though I never had the honour to see you until this quarter of an hour, yet I have expected a sight of you this fifteen days with much impatience: And let me tell you fur∣ther, (added he and laughed) you are obliged unto me, for not giving away my heart unto one of these fair ones, until I had the honour to see you: lest I should have been forced to have recalled it when you came: 'Tis very true indeed (said the amiable Cephi∣sa) Artaxander as great a Gallant as he is, has not yet made any addresses of Gallantry unto any of us: I must confess my self much obliged unto him (replied Pasithea) and to return civility for civility, I can as∣sure him that in all my voyage I did not accept of one heart which was offered unto me. And yet I must confess I was somewhat near it, when Cephisa spoke to me in your behalf; for I make no doubt but that you are the same Artaxander, of whom she hath spo∣ken so nobly. Yes Madam (said he unto her) I am the same Artaxander, but the difficulty is how I should make good the commendations of Cephisa, as Madam, you are able to make good those praises which all the world gives you. But Madam, give me leave to tell you, that though I have professed I would not have any to throw away their loves upon me, yet I think my self obliged to give my heart to you in recom∣pence

of your not accepting any heart for my sake. Though I should not give it, yet you have power to take it away from me whether I would or no; and therefore to keep you from theft, I had better be li∣beral and give it. Did you know my good humour (replied she and laughed) you would not speak as you do: for my foolish fancy is to love that which is stoln better than that which is given me: If so Madam, replied he, I beseech you give me my heart again to day, and steal it from me to morrow. After this all the rest of the Ladies and Philiontes also mixing in the discourse, it became extremely pleasant: for Artaxander having a new design of pleasing, and Pa∣sithea the like, they did exceedingly divert themselves and others also. For they did put into practice all that I had said concerning mirth and merry people in the height; and if Artaxander had been acquainted with Pasithea all his life, he could not have been more familiar with her than he was: before they parted, Pasithea and he were whispering their conceits of all the company; he taught her one Song, she him ano∣ther; he composed a Copy of verses ex tempore, up∣on a Posie of Flowers which she gathered and threw unto him; and she again replied. Moreover she gave him her hood and gloves to hold whilst they were at a Collation in a green Arbour; she gave him also some of those fruits which were upon the Ta∣ble; and letting a Ring accidentally fall; which was of no high price, and which he reached up she let him wear it, yet asked it of him at first: but when he told her that he loved to keep that which he found, as well as she did what she stole, she answered him that he should not have it unless he staked something a∣gainst it and won it; then if you please Madam, (said he unto her) I will stake and lay my self against this Ring, that you are the fairest in the world; and be∣cause we will not put it unto chance; Judges shall be chosen to divide the wager. So this pleasant wager was laid, and the Ring was adjudged unto Artaxan∣der. After this, they all went to see the house unto which the Garden belonged, there to rest themselves and where all this fair company did sit down and en¦joyed a pleasant prospect out of a Closet with an open Balcony. But Pasithea entring last because she stayed ••alking with Artaxander, all the places were taken up except two before the Balcony. I perceive (said Pasithea and laughed) they know I am not like those Ladies who will be always in the shade, since they seat me with the Sun in my face. Those who have such a complexion as yours (replied Artaxander) who are so young, so fair, and eyes so sprightly cannot be seated better than you are: especially (added Cephi∣sa and smiled) when they would shew themselves. I must confess indeed (replied Pasithea) that I desire both to see and be seen: but withal I must tell you I am not so affectedly foolish as some Ladies are, who will at any rate be always shewing all the beauty they have, and whose minds run wholly upon such setting them∣selves off as makes them ridiculous to all beholders. And it is very ordinary (said Artaxander) for I never came in any place where I did not find some Ladies in placing themselves in an advantageous light as any would be in placing of a picture. I know one Cretan, replied Philiontes, who is the most ambitions woman upon earth; so very extreme, as I think she would not appear fairer than others, but only out of her ambition, and without the least smack of Gallantry: This Lady was one day put to a pitiful perplexity, for be pleased to know, that this Lady who had a thou∣sand quarrels in her days about matter of place, and would contend for it with such as were much above her quality, this Lady, I say, came one day to one of her friends, whose chamber was so contrived as the highest place in the Room was the worst in the world for a beauty to be in: for the purest complex∣on there seemed to be yellow, by reason of reflecti∣on from a window opposite to a plot of yellow flow∣ers, which caused that yellow reflection. Also the composure of this Ladies face was such, as if she were in an advantageous place, her eyes seemed hollow and ill-favoured, so as knowing this place was not favourable to her, she was then much perplexed be∣tween the interest of her ambition, and the interest of her beauty; for she knew well that if we took up that place, she should look pitifully upon it; and if she did not seize upon it, then another Lady would sit above her: so as not knowing upon a sudden what to do, because it was a thing she could not foresee, for the Chamber was new built, and she had never been in it, she fell into a miserable perplexity. But I pray Sir (said one of the company unto him) if she had never been in that Chamber, how could she know it had that ill quality? The Question is ingeniously asked (replied Philiontes) and as easily answered. For you must know that when this ambitious Lady first entred, she saw one standing in this dangerous place; upon whose face she saw what would reflect upon her own, if she were in her room. So as not knowing whether she should take it or no, to gain a little more time of consideration she stepped back, and seemed as if she had some private business with one behind her, she carried her unto the other end of the Cham∣ber to talk with her; but the best jest was she knew not what secrefie to talk of, insomuch as the other was as much amazed, to hear her talk of so many senseless nothings, as that Lady was in finding out an expedient, how to avoid this disadvantagious place. But at the last, after much talk to no purpose the o∣ther Lady did guess the cause; for she began to find fault with the Chamber, and say her own was far be∣yond it, she said this was ill scituated; she could not find a convenient place to set a bed in it; she would alter all the doors and windows; purposely to make better lights, such as would make her seem fair, and and to satisfie her Ambition, she would turn the very course of the Sun, she would have the whole house pulled down, though it was a most stately Fa∣brick, rather than expose her self unto a light which was disadvantageous unto her beauty. I know a La∣dy in the place from whence I came (replied Pasithea) who would do as much, if the occasion should pre∣sent it self; but I know others at Crete who are as ridi∣culous; for there is a woman whom Cephisa knows as well as I, who because she hath very white hands; is continually doing something or other which may give her an occasion of shewing them. For one while she will be mending somewhat about her own dress, and another while she will be so officious too, to be mending something about her friends; sometimes she will purposely let fall her hood, that she may take it up and so shew her hands; and when she is at any gal∣lant Collation, she will always eat of that which is far off her, and not that which is near, because she would have a pretence to reach forth her hand and arm, and so shew their fairness. Fie, Pasithea, (replied Cephisa) you have said too much: No truly (replied she) I have not said enough yet; for there are some who think themselves so fair, as that they do not on∣ly

shew their hands unto others, but are continually looking upon themselves.

For my part (said Artaxander) I know a Lady who indeed hath admirable white teeth, who most cer∣tainly had never laughed, if her teeth had not been so; for all the composure of her face was serious and melancholy, yet knowing the whiteness of her teeth, she laughed in spight of natures teeth, and got an artificial smile which is the most rediculous thing in the World; for her mouth is alwaies ope∣ned with a laugh though there be no signs of any mirth in her eyes or face; and her lips are so used to shew her teeth, as I am confident that she sleeps open mouthed. All the company laughing at this plea∣sant description which Artaxander made of that La∣dy, it was confessed that such things were often to be found, and that it was a weakness which beauties ought to correct themselves for, since nothing is more ridiculous then affectation. And yet nothing is more ordinary (replied Cephisa) especially amongst young people; nothing is more fantastical than to rowl the eyes by Art, and yet many women consult with their Glasses, only to learn the trick of it, but the truth is, a woman should not use any arts to please, but only such as belongs to the handsome dressing themselves, and chusing such colours as best becomes them, but I cannot endure any should practise to make faces, nor to shew any parts of their beauty with so much affectation as if they had a design to sell them. The Tirian and Sidonia•• Merchants do not use more care in shewing their rich Dies and Tapestries, than many great Beauties in shewing theirs. For my part (said Pasithea) I am resolved none shall ever upbraid me with any fantastical affectation. I believe it (re∣plied Cephisa) but yet you may be upbraided with that jocund humour which will not let you think upon any thing else, they wrong me who think my mind runs not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 upon pleasures (replied she) for indeed I will always love that which pleaseth me, the way then to get your love (replied Artaxander) is always to please you, It is true (said she and laughed) and if you please me always as well as you have pleased me this day, we shall always agree very well. Oh! sweet Pasithea (replied he) I am much joyed to hear you say so; and that you may know me better, give me leave to tell you I am nothing like those men who cannot be Masters of their own minds; who are some∣times merry and sometimes sad, and cannot speak out of their humours: As for me, I have four or five several sorts of spirits, and I am able to chuse which of them I please at any time; therefore since that in which I am this day doth please you, you shall see me in it as long as I live.

And indeed after this, Artaxander and Pasithea grew as intimately familiar as any two in the world. Pasithea told him where she dwelt, Artaxander asked leave to come and see her, she granted, and when he went, he stayed always very long with her. They parted always with so many signs of friendship, that never any growing affection appeared more sensible than between these two. And since the first day of vi••it they were almost always together; for the hu∣nour of Artaxander much delighting Pasithea, and th•• humour of Pasithea much pleasing Artaxander, an 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of pleasure did unite them, and caused them 〈◊〉〈◊〉 continually together; so as in a few days Artax∣ander perceived that his heart was wounded with the ••he p••st darts of Love; it is true, his Passion met with no bitter rubs, but he might in reason and with∣out vanity, have as much hope as love; for Pasithea was so sweet towards him, and he knew so well that he pleased her, as he was almost sure of being loved. And indeed within a few days Pasithea gave him as many signs of affection as she possibly could; she per∣mitted him to talk of his love, and did not forbid him to hope; a while after she let him believe he was beloved: Indeed the hearts of these two were so ac∣customed unto pleasures, as perhaps they did not so sensibly as others, gust the happiness which they en∣joyed; and it must be granted that when any do come out of a state of sorrows into a state of joys, they are the most sensible, but happy they both were, and if Artaxander contrary to his custom had not taken a fantastical conceit in his head, his love of Pasithea had lasted longer. But the better to make you under∣stand the business, you must know, that when Ar∣taxander was most pleased with Pasithea, and most confident of his being pleasing unto her, he fell in talk with Cephisa, who was no hater of him, and ag∣gravating his good fortune, he opened his whole soul unto her; but conceiving this, Cephisa did lend but an hollow ear unto him, nor did think him so hap∣py as he thought himself, he asked her the reason, wondring very much she did no more congratulate his good fortune. For truly, (said he unto her) Pasithea is wondrous fair, her humours are infinitely pleasing, I please my self in pleasing her, she esteems me beyond my merit; she loves me almost as well as I would desire, and we see one another continually. You do very well Sir, (said Cephisa) to mention this last thing, for without it all the rest would not make love subsist. For certainly, if Pasithea were but one month out of your sight, as pleasing as she is she would easily forget you.

Melancholy people (replied Artaxander) are so confidently parswaded that merry people will find Consolation in all conditions, as I can hardly believe what you say, unless you can give me an example of it. If that will convince you (replied Cephisa) I shall easily find one; but since you may perhaps think I disguise the truth, I pray ask Philiontes who is your particular friend, what passed between Pasithea and a most handsome man who died about four months since, and for your further satisfaction desire Pasithea her self to relate the adventure of that illustrious dead man: to the end you may engage your heart no further than she engaged hers. Artaxander was very desirous that she would tell him further, but she kept firm to her resolution, and therefore as soon as he was parted from Cephisa, he went unto Philiontes. As soon as they met, he asked him whether Pasithea had lost a friend or a Lover within this four months? As for a friend (replied Philiontes and laughed) Pasi∣thea can never lose him, for people of her humour can never have any; but as for a Lover, she did lose one whom she loved as well as she could love, and whom she ought to lament as long as she lives: But pray why did you never arquaint me with this Adven∣ture (replied Artaxander) I perceived you so well pleased with Pasithea from the very first, (replied Philiontes) as I thought it not sit to acquaint you with a passage which the knowledge of it could not be ad∣vantageous to you: And I should never have spoke of it had not you spoke first. But I pray (replied Artax∣ander) what was the name of him she loved, and what kind of man was he? he was so very handsome and of so noble a mind, (replied he) as my eye never yet saw a better? his Quality was much above Pasithea's;

they began to love when they were Children play∣ing together; this lovely Lover gave a thousand heroick Testimonies of his Love unto this Lady, he ventured his whole estate for her sake, he ad∣ventured his life for her several times; and it was impossible to express more love then he did to her. Pasithea also, in requital of his affection, an∣swered him in all that virtue would allow; and I am confident that Philocrates, as long as he li∣ved had no cause to complain; for he being con∣tinually in her eye, he did continually please her, yet did not know her heart to the bottom. How (replied Artaxander then) was it Philocrates, whom I saw about four months since? who died in the same place where I was? was it that same Philo∣crates who loved, and was loved of Pasithea? The ve∣ry Philocrates (replied Philiontes) the very same Philocrates, who though he was most dearly lo∣ved all his life, yet was soon forgotten after his death. Oh Philiontes, (replied Artaxander) unless there were some great disgust between Pasithea and him at parting, it is impossible a Man of his merit should be so soon forgotten: you are so far in favour with Pasithea (replied Philiontes) as you may easily make her tell you all passages between them; and therefore I will tell you no more; and in le••d, do what Artaxander could, he could not get Philiontes to tell him any more: so as curiosity augmenting, by the difficulty of finding satisfaction, the fancy took him in his head to go unto her, and know how it was possible she could comfort her self so soon, after the death of a lover who had so much merit. So going unto her, ac∣cording to his custom; and finding her alone, he seemed at the first not to know any thing of Philo∣crates his love to her, but only named him as one who was his Friend. He had no sooner named him, but Pasithea began to speak, how (said she without any extraordinary distemper did you know Philo∣crates? Yes, replied he and he died in my Arms, for whom I much lament, for he was a Man of great parts. For my part, replied Pasithea, he has di∣verted me many a time: but as for you Artaxander, I believe you have no great reason to lament him: for had you seen him in Crete, I believe you would not have been good friends. I understand you ve∣ry well Madam, replied Artaxander, and to speak truth you are in the right; for it is not usual for two Rivals to be friends. You know very much for a stranger (said she unto him) I cannot tell what I know as a stranger (replied he) but I conceive that I know not enough as a Man unto whom you have given your heart; and therefore I beseech you lovely Pasithea, tell me ingenuously all the passages betwixt you and Philocrates until he parted from Crete; and fear not that I shall be jealous, for you may imagine there is no danger of a dead Rival. At the first Pasithea was something shy in satisfying the curiosity of Artaxander; for, said she, I cannot endure to trouble my self with talking of past things unless they were serviceable to things present, or things to come. But at last, being overcome by the perswasion of Artaxander, she began to relate all the passages of Philocrates his love unto her, especially all the Diversions, Treats, Feasts, and Merriments, which he had given her; so as they being all pleasant passages, she laughed as heartily in re∣lating all these things, as if the Man who gave them all unto her, were not dead, at least not dead so lately. But the wonder was, that in this relation, she confessed ingenuously that she did most tenderly love Philocrates; that he never gave her the least distaste, and that they parted as most dear friends, and that she was much obliged unto him after his death, because by his last Testament he had given her a great part of his Estate: Sure then Ma∣dam (said Artaxander to her) the memory of Philo∣crates must needs be very dear unto you; I assure you (said she) I do think upon him sometimes with much delight, for we have laughed together many a merry time; then remembring some things which she had not told before, she began to tell them with such freeness of spirit, as if she never had any inte∣rest in what she told: so that as long as this Relati∣on lasted, Artaxander could not see the least grief or sorrow in her eyes, or face. But on the contrary, there was such extreme joy in her words, in her voice, and in her eyes, that as well pleased as he was to see his Rival's death, did not move the heart of his Mistress, yet he was very sad.

Thus Pasithea supposing that he would think she did too obligingly remember him whose adventures she had related, she affected to shew her insensibility, by shewing her jollitry. And to that end she began to talk of a hundred merry passages; and she rela∣ted to Artaxander some things which her dead Lo∣ver had spoken unto her: He told me the day be∣fore his departure (said she unto him) that though death was alike to him in all places, yet he should grieve more to die far from Crete, then to die near me. Believe me (said I unto him) I do not under∣stand your reason, since I profess unto you, that if you were very sick in danger of death, I would not see you: For what delight soever can be taken in the sighs of a dying Lover, I profess I would not be present at your last groan; and thereforee I cannot see any reason you have to desire dying in Crete, more then the furthest part of Africa. Yes Ma∣dam (said he unto me) if I die in Crete I shall have a Tomb, and I should hope that the sight of my Urn would hinder you from engaging in a new affe∣ction. And therefore, Artaxander (added she and laughed) if you take any care for the burial of your Rival, you do not know that you do a thing against his intention, and a thing which hereafter will be serviceable unto you.

However, since it was his Fate to die, I am very glad it was in Africa; for I should have been trou∣bled in passing by his Monument; and I cannot endure any sad objects; for I do not know any greater folly in the World then to grieve, when it is a thing cannot be helped by grief. Believe me, Madam, (replied Artaxander very discontentedly) in this you are the wisest Woman in the World: You speak in such a tone (said she) as if you took it ill I did not cry for the death of your Rival. I know not, Madam (replied he) whether I should take it well if you should cry; but I confess I think it strange you should so little grieve; and to be plain with you, I will do what I can to perswade my self, that it is my self who gives Consolation to you after his death. But Madam, it is impossible I should ever be so perswaded; for the first time, I had the honour to see you in the Carden, where you were so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 personating that ridiculous Lover, 〈…〉〈…〉 were a•• after the old mode, you had 〈…〉〈…〉 and blithness in your eyes and mind then ever I saw you since; yet it is so

short a time since my Rival died, and as one can hard∣ly imagine him to be dead. Thus I must conclude, with sorrow to my self, that it was not I who did comfort after your loss, but that it is only your own natural temper, which is to love the diversion, and not the divertor, unless it be for such diversions as proceed directly from his person; so as such as think to be tenderly loved by you, will be much de∣ceived, and miserable; for since my Rival could not attain to any perfection of love from you, no Man else can ever pretend unto it; and to be plain with you, I think it wisdom in any person to dis-en∣gage himself from such a one as you, who is not ca∣pable of any violent passion.

Since you think that you have found out a new fantastical, and pleasant way of complaint (replied she) I wonder not you should make your self a lit∣tle merry with it, and since I think my self a little good at Rallery, as if I did believe you spoke your real thought. Seriously Madam (replied Artaxan∣der) I am much afflicted to see you so much incapa∣ble of loving aright, and that you should so little love the most lovely Man upon earth. I assure you (said she) that I loved him as well as ever I could, and that I do not love you better then I did him. I do believe it, Madam (answered he) and believe it easily; for my Rival was a Man incomparably above me in all things, he hath done you a million of servi∣ces; a million of services more then ever I did, and I make no question but that you loved him more than you do me. And therefore you need not think it strange, I should grieve at the small affection which you had unto him. For Madam (I must tell you a∣gain) that I wish I had been the Man who had com∣forted you, and that I had seen you weep the first time I had the honour to see you, in lieu of seeing you laugh, I wish that I had wiped away your tears. But had you seen me crying (replied she and laugh∣ed) you would not have loved me, and so far would you have been from courting, that you would have fled from me, and therefore I see no reason you have to complain. I complain, Madam (replied he) be∣cause you did not well enough love my Rival; for being perswaded that you did not love me so well as him. It much concerns the happiness of my life, to think that you loved him very well; and therefore it is not so santastical as you imagine, that I should grieve that you grieve no more for his loss. I do not tell you (replied she) that I love you less then I loved him; but out of my plain sincerity, I told you that I loved you no better then I loved him. I do believe you, Madam (replied he) indeed I do be∣lieve you, and I do too much believe you for my own tranquillity; for when I do consider that an absent Lover, and a dead Lover are both alike unto Wo∣men of your humour; and when I consider, that as soon as I am out of your sight, you will forget me as one whom you never saw, my vexation is more then I am able to express. Moreover, my imagina∣tion is so weak and apprehensive, as I cannot chuse but think that if I were either dead or absent, you would within one month contract affection with some other, and would relate unto him all our adven∣ture as merrily, as you have related unto me, the ad∣venture of my unfortunate Rival. And therefore to be downright plain with you, I am resolved to the utmost of my endeavours to dis-engage my heart; and considering your extreme insensibility, if I could revive my Rival I would do it, to the end he might upbraid you with your affection unto me. Oh Sir (said she and laughed) if you could work that won∣der, you would put me to it indeed; for then I think I should quit you both together, and perhaps make choice of a third, before either of you two. As Pasithea said so, much company came in, so as the discourse of necessity became ge∣neral.

But as chance would have it, the discourse did fall upon the very same subject; for Cephisa, began to talk of a Lady, who after the Death of her Hus∣band did strange things to testifie the excess of her sorrow, and who afterwards did so chear up self, as if she had quite forgotten him. For my part (said Pasithea then) I think these things the greatest follies in the World; for when any hath received a loss of this nature, all a whole Town will run to comfort the party afflicted: If you chance to meet one of them, and ask whither he is going? they will an∣swer, that they are going to comfort forsooth; ask another, and they will answer the same; and yet those they go to comfort would not be comforted unless they came, as if the tears of others were the Pearls that must inrich them; but there is no greater folly in the World, then excessively to∣grieve when there is no remedy, and the great∣est wisdom is to chear up presently as soon as one can; and I assure you it is my maxim, that when I lose any whom I love, I will do all I can to forget him.

Indeed I have heard say (replied Cephisa craftily) that when Pasithea lost a person whom she loved dearly, and from whom she had his Picture and seve∣ral Letters, she presently burned all his Letters and threw away his Picture. I do confess it (replied Pasithea sharply and blusht) and so both I and all else ought; to what purpose is grief for the dead? And to what purpose is your affection unto a living person, replied Artaxander, since it is a thing im∣possible to be sure of it? Do you think (said she) that the affection of these death-lamenters, is more sure then mine? for I am most confident, they cry, and pule, and lament more out of temper than affe∣ction. I grant they do cry out of their tempers (replied Artaxander) but it must be granted also, that they do love zealously or coldly, by the same rea∣son, and you are of a temper to love nothing but pleasures and joys, you are incapable of any sor∣row or affection. I would gladly know (said a La∣dy in the Company what precise limits are to be al∣lowed unto sorrow: If you will believe Artaxander at this time (said Pasithea) he will tell you, that you ought to live ever upon the grave of the party loved, or at least to cry Eternally, and make Foun∣tains of your eyes. And if you will believe Pasithea (replied he) she will tell you that you may dance upon the grave of your friends that sorrow is a fond weakness, and that the loss of a fair day to take the Air in, deserves to be lamented more, then the loss of the most perfect Lover or the most faithful friend in the World.

For my part (said Cephisa) I love not extreams in any thing: I think a middle way may be taken, and that without either despair or insensibility, we may grieve, and comfort our selves in a reasonable man∣ner. I would gladly know (saith Pasithea) how you mean it, that when one hath lost a Lover, they may know whether they may make another; if when one hath lost a Husband, she may marry again; and

if when one hath lost a friend, one may get another in his Room. You ask many things at once (repli∣ed Cephisa.) And which is most strange (added Artaxander) though you should make the most just Laws in the World. yet she would break them all. Since I cannot deny Pasithea (replied Cephisa) I will indeavour to content her though I am as well as you perswaded that she desires to know more then she would learn, at least put in practice. Though I should break all your Laws (replied she) yet I should do no such work of wonder, since the Laws of the greatest Kings are broken every day: Speak then Cephisa (said she and laughed) and teach me the art of crying handsomely. You know so well how to laugh handsomly (replied Artaxander) that I cannot beleeve you will ever learn to cry: if I had known how to laugh so well as you say, you would have taught it me since I first knew you (replied she) but good Cephisa, answer unto all my questions one after another; and to begin with the first, tel me whether when one hath lost a Lover, one must bury them∣selves with him, or make a vow against being fair, and use ones eyes in nothing but crying? for if it must be so, I promise you I will never permit any to love me, unless he can lay in good security that he is immor∣tal, lest I should be put to die with him, or else lead a life so melancholy as is not worth the living.

To give you my opinion clearly (replied Cephisa) one should never be ingaged in any particular affe∣ction; but since an innocent love is allowed, and one hath the misfortune to ingage the heart to love one whom death takes away, one ought never to in∣gage again, without any excessive sorrow; yet since it is so natural to be so comforted with time in the most sensible sorrows, I will not absolutely condemn one whose heart shall be moved the second time unto a particular tenderness; but if any woman shall go beyond twice, I profess I shall hold her to be neither reasonable nor virtuous. Then you allow one to have a second Lover? replied Pasithea, after one hath lost the first: It were much better never to have any or at least no more but one (replied Ce∣phisa) but to suit my Laws with humane imbecillity, I will allow one to have two Lovers, provided there be a long interval between the death of the first, and the beginning of the second love, also upon condi∣tion that the second Lover be worthy to succeed the first; and that one should defend ones heart a∣gainst the second more resolutely, then against the first; that one should be secretly ashamed of any new ingagement; and that one should not ingage until time and reason, have allowed some comforts: I would not have any new Lover banish the first out of the heart of a Lady: but I would have it to be time and reason which should comfort her, and to put her into a Condition of loving the second time: And I dare boldly say that any woman whosoever which shall ingage her self in any new affection, pre∣sently after the death of the first Lover, as a most un∣faithful person, more unhumane and more insensi∣ble then if she were unfaithful to her living Lover. It is manifest (replied Pasithea, that all your Lovers are living and well; but if you were in fear they would dy before you, then perhaps you would not speak as you do. Yet I am contented with this Ar∣ticle; and therefore tell me whether it is lawful to have two husbands, as well as two Lovers? Since Custome hath allowed it (replied Cephisa) I shall not contrary it; but if you would have me tell you ingeniously what I think, I must positively confess that I would more willingly pardon a woman who admits of two Lovers, then her that admits of two Husbands; for it less wounds a delicate Genius, to bestow the whole heart twice for a time, then to give it for all the life. And indeed, if some strong resentments of Love or Ambition will not excuse a woman that marries twice, she is inexcusable: At least I am sure it is better to be a proud nice Mistress then to be one of those wives who as soon as ever they have buried one Husband are in bed with ano∣ther, and never lament his loss, but in hopes that their tears will prefer them unto another more a∣greeable to their fancy. Yet those who are onely possessed with two innocent passions, they have much more to say in excuse of their imbecillity; for it cannot be denied but that there is some sweetness to reign in the heart of a well accomplished man, and to be zealously loved; and the delight to have a faithful and obedient servant, may in some sort excuse her who after a long lamentation for the loss of the first, does desire to have such another Captive; but I cannot conceive what delight a woman can take in taking a new Master: And I should not be∣leeve it possible, if experience did not every day shew us examples of women, who without any Am∣bition or love or reason for it, do marry themselves again onely to marry, without any other reasons for their marriage. Nor will I ever trust those great mourners, who would shut themselves up in the Tombs of their dead Husbands; for I have seen so many of them so soon comforted, as I like much bet∣ter a sorrow that is more wise and lasting, and will sooner allow a woman two Lovers then two Hus∣bands. As for that (said Artaxander) I beleeve Pasithea will not contradict you: I do confess it (replied she) and I will dispense with her from the pains in telling whether she may take new friends in lieu of others that are dead. I do believe, re∣plyed Artaxander, that you have no mind to know it. I confess that also, said she; but it is because all my friends are well, and I would not trouble my self so far as to consider upon any others. You should have said, replyed Cephisa, that you know well e∣nough already how to use them; for have you not lost Philocrates? 'Tis true (said she without any blush, or shame) and I have taken Artaxander in his place: I know not Madam, replied he, whether I am in the place of Artaxander; but I think his place to seem better then mine, but it is much better to be at rest in a grave, then to be in the heart of such an humo∣red woman as your self.

But methinks (replied Pasithea and laughed) that Cephisa hath not ranked Philocrates aright: For he was my Lover, and she has ranked him amongst my friends. After this the spirit of Artaxander was so incensed against the insensibility of this hard hearted woman, as he returned her a hundred sharp expressi∣ons: And then the company parting, Artexander carried Cephisa to her lodging, who doubtless bore him so much good will, as was very likely to become love; and therefore she was not sorry to see him so incensed against Pasithea: but rather on the contrary did blow the bellows to kindle a grea∣ter dislike; for she acquainted him with an hun∣dred particularities of her former gallantry which Pasithea had not told him, because she did not re∣member them. And indeed Artaxander with all jollities, was much grieved that Pasithea should so

indifferently resent the death of his Rival: and he could not have grieved more if she had loved some other then he was, that she loved not him enough: For truely (said he unto Philiontes) what security can I even have in the affection of Pasithea; since I have it from her own mouth, that she cannot love me better then she did Philocrates, whom she loved not at all since she can be so soon comforted. But you have not loved many others, replied Philiontes. who loved you no better then she doth, and yet ne∣ver torment your self. 'Tis true (said he) but I loved them no better then they loved me: but my affection unto Pasithea, for I intended towards her such a violent passion as might have been set for an example unto all Lovers: yet now I see, my best course is, not to love her at all; and methinks I owe so much respect unto my dead friend, that I ought not to contribute unto the pleasure of one who does so little lament him; Also I should serve Pasithea but right, if I did make her lament Philocra∣tes. The way to know whether this jocund Lady do love you better then she did her first Lover (re∣plied Philiontes and laughed) is to let Artaxander die. Oh Philiontes, (replied he) that remedy is too vio∣lent: when you understand me well, replied he, you will find it a better remedy then you imagine; For my meaning is, that Pasithea shall not find it in you for a certain time, that same Artaxander who loved her, and who had the art to please and divert her. Cease therefore if you will be ruled by me, from be∣ing so complaisant and sweet unto her; never see her unless it be to chide her; be reserved and me∣lancholy; and make that pleasing Artaxander whom she loved to die, and see if she will love him after death, and use all her endeavours to revive him: And indeed Artaxander smothering all his joys, he seemed to be a very sullen and melancholy man, and behaved himself as one who cared not a rush for di∣verting her: he never saw her but with a sour face; he talked not as he was wont: he did not laugh at what she said, he moved no delight, but when he spoke he complained against her, so as Pasithea be∣gan to think it much better if he were dead, then to be present with her in such dumpish humours. And one day she told him her mind; for as he began to upbraid her with her cold affection: I pray Artaxan∣der (said she unto him) either assume your good humours again, or else I shall be worse to you then to Philocrates: for I do but forget him, but I shall hate you most horridly. Oh Madam, said he unto her, I do defie you: for I am confident that you can neither love nor hate: and therefore I cannot hope to be loved, so I do not fear being hated. But Madam, if you will not have Artaxander to trouble you, you must not do more for him then you did for Philocrates. Truly, said she, I cannot; for I did as much for Philocrates as virtue would permit me, and neither will, nor ought do more. Then, Madam (replyed he) I must love no longer, since I cannot be contented with such an affection as you had unto Philocrates. Were I inspired onely with a bare piece of gallantry, a light Love, such as I have seen a hundred in my daies, you should not speak thus: But, to my misery, I was resolved to love you other∣wise than so; and since there is no medium, you must either love me more than you did Philocrates, or else I must not love you at all. Artaxander (said she) as I cannot do as you would have me, so if you can do what you say you would I perceive Madam (said he unto her) that you think I cannot; but perhaps I shall shew you, that it is possible to break any chaines which you can give; and to try whether I am master of my self, I will deprive my self of the happiness in seeing you. And indeed Artaxander did presently rise up, and went away from Pasithea: Al∣so to make it appear, that his design was to break off with her, he sent her back her Picture which she gave him, and went the next morning into the coun∣try with Philiontes, at whose house he lay; for Phi∣liontes being the onely son, and a very well accom∣plished man, he was almost master at home, though he had a Father and Mother, and having a very no∣ble and pleasant house in the Country, he carried Artaxander with him for a month who by the help of himself and the Muses doe cheer up himself after the loss of Pasithea, and all this voyage was as plea∣sant as any man alive. Thus this beginning of love did end, neither by death nor marriage, nor hatred, nor jealousie. But to pass from one into another, you must needs know what accident fell out that same night Artaxander and Philiontes returned un∣to Creet. But first I must acquaint you, that since their departure there was come a Lady to the town, whom Artaxander never had seen, which Lady had a daughter who passed for the onely rare beauty in the world.

This Lady having formerly lodged in the house of Philiontes Father, and had contracted a great league of friendship whith his Mother; they came thither very often in the absence of Artaxander and Philiontes, their house being just over the way. But to come speedily into this other beginning of Love which I promised, and to acquaint you with that which absolutely chased Pasithea out of Artaxanders heart, you must know, that there being much compa∣ny at supper with Philira (for so will I name the Mother of the great beauty whom I will name Cyne∣sia) as ill luck was after all the company was gone, those servants who should have extinguished the lights, and made clean the room, were so negligent, as that within an hour after the house was on fire; and so violent at first, that Philira and Cynesia fearing their lives more than any thing else, went out and went unto the house of Philiontes his Father which was over the way, and so far off the fire, as there was no fear of catching: but by the help of neighbours the fire was quickly quenched, yet Philira and Cynesia durst not go home, for all the houshold stuff was car∣ried out in hast for fear of burning; and the Mother of Philiontes desired Philira and Cynesia to take a lodging in her house: and she with more conveni∣ence offered this piece of civility because Artaxan∣der and Philiontes being out of town, their chambers were ready prepared to receive these Ladies. And so Philira was carried into the chamber of Philiontes, and the fair Cynesia unto that of Artaxander. But as commonly in all such disorders, things are not done regulary, and as Cynesia had not her own wo∣man to wait upon her, so the servants of the house did but half shut her door, and making hast to go in∣to bed and regain the time of sleep which they had lost, they left a candle burning in the chamber of the fair Cynesia, who was not at all sorry for it, be∣cause being frighted with the accident of fire, she thought she should not sleep; but she was mistaken; for silence, rest and weariness, did lul her into a deep sleep as well as all the rest of the house. Mean time, you must know, that the weather being very hot

and night's much better to travel in then daies, Phi∣liontes and Artaxander to avoyd the excessive heat, did take Boat at Sun-set, to return unto Creet, giving order unto their men to come by land the next day; for the Moon shining all night, fancyed much plea∣sure in returning thus; for the night was clear, the sea serene, the boat covered over with Orange and Mirtle branches, which gave a most admirable o∣dour; they had cushions to lean upon, if a desire of sleep came upon them, and the Rowers were excel∣lent at the art, neither was the boat so little, but they might talk and not be hard by the Rowers; so as I have heard both Philiontes and Artaxander say, that they never passed a more lovely night then that; for two such such wits could not want discourse: some∣times they would sing, sometimes muse, sometimes make verses, sometimes rally with the Rowers; they admired the beauty of the Sea which the sparkling of the Stars did silver; they lent a pleasing ear unto the murmur of the waves in the silence of night, and at last harkning to the stroaks of the Oars, which are very apt to cause sleep, they slept; and when they waked they enjoyed the most pleasant prospect in the world at their approach to Creet: also they had slept so soundly, as they imagined they had slept as much as ordinary, and as much as they needed: At last they came to Creet, and the town having no other wals but the sea on that side, they might easily goe to their own house; and they went through all the City and met not a man in the streets, for it was very late, and about an hour after Philira and Cyne∣sia were gon to bed: Mean time, as they could not imagine that their chambers were taken up, so they went directly home; and indeed they were much a∣mazed to see some signs of burning in their neigh∣bourhood. But at last knocking gently at the gate for fear of waking the Master and Mistress of the house, a slave who lay close by, heard the knock, so as imagining that perhaps it was some of Philiraes servants who came to speak with their Mistress, he did rise up, and half awake, and half asleep, he went unto the door; at the which he no sooner was, but knowing the voice of his Masters son, and of Artax∣ander, he opened the door in all hast: As soon as they were entred, this slave would have called up some men to wait upon them and light a candle, but Philiontes would not let him wake any, and the Moon shining as light as day he forbad him, but bade him go to bed again: The slave obeyed, and being one whose office was only to open the door, and beside, a dull fellow, he knew not that Philira and Cynesia had taken up the chambers of Philiontes and Artax∣ander: He knew well that they were in the house, for he saw them come in, but his business not being a∣bove stairs, he never enquired where they lodged, so as Philiontes and Axtaxander parting, because their chambers were not both up the same stairs, they went each of them to their own. But Artaxander was strangly surprised, when coming to his chamber door he saw it open, and a light burning in it; but much more was his wonder, when he saw such night dresses as Ladies use, lying upon the Table; but a∣gain his admiration was incomparably great, when he saw one of the greatest beauties in the world ly∣ing in his bed, who did lye in the most advanta∣geous posture to appear fair, and make Artaxander in love with her; For the weather being very hot, the Purple Curtains about her bed were all drawn open, and gave him the liberty to see and admire her beauty, which seemed the more wonderful, by reason of his surprise at such a fair object. Cynesia; who was of a notable tall stature, did ly upon her right side, and the cloths upon her being very thin, one might see the whole shape of her body; her head leaned upon one arm, and the other lay loose upon the pillow: also having undressed her self in a kind of tumultuous hast, a part of her dresses were unti∣ed, and her black locks lay curled upon her most admirable white neck: As for her left arm, it lay bare upon her Pillow, and shewed its delicacy. Ar∣taxander found every part of her face most rarely excellent; and though her eyes were shut, yet he judged of them by the rest. She slept with a lovely smile; and though complexion does not use to shew it self much in sleeping, yet Cynesias was as fresh as any rose; her lips so red, and her curled hair so black, together with her pure complexion, was the most inviting object in the world. Artaxander be∣ing strangely surprised at this fair apparition, he knew not what to think; and his wonder was the greater because he knew not Cynesia: He judged her to be a person of quality both by her dress, and a Carkenet of Diamonds about her neck, which she had forgotten to put off, and also by a Case of Pict∣ure which was tyed about her left Arm with a black Ribband, though the Case was not a very rich one yet Artaxander knew that none wore any such but people of quality.

Artaxander being then in this Condition, he knew not what to do; for he had a good mind to waken this fair one to see whether her eyes were as fair as he immagined them; but fearing to procure her hatred, if he should affright her when she waked, and sound her with a man in that place, he durst not attempt, but bethought himself of a more re∣spective and gallant a course. For having in his Pocket by chance the case of a Picture, much more rich and handsome then that which Cynesia had tied about her Arm, he went softly towards the fair one, and kneeling down, he untied the black Rib∣band about her arm extreamly nimble, and tying his own case in lieu of that which Cynesia wore, he ne∣ver awaked Cynesia. But I forgot to tell you, that this Case which Artaxander tied upon Cynesiaes Arm, was made to put Pasitheaes Picture in; and ever since he had sent her back the Picture he wore the empty Case: So as having a Silver Pen and Ink a∣bout him, and having a quick fancy, he writ these four Verses within the Case, before he tyed it unto Cynesiaes Arm.

Night's better than the Day Such Mysteries to discover, As you my Love know may And yet not know the Lover.

He had no sooner written these four Lines in the Case and had tyed it unto her fair Arm, but he heard some coming up the stairs. So as fear left he should wake this fair one he went hastily to the place where he heard the noise, and went so gently as he did not awake Cynesia. He was no sooner at the stairs top, but he met his friend, whose adventure was much different from his; for in lieu of finding a great beauty in his bed he had sound the Mother of Cynesia, whom time and age had withred into ex∣tream ugliness. Yet he knowing her, because the Moon shined as light as day in the Chamber, he made

a gentle retreat without any disturbance to her rest, and came to his friend: So as meeting upon the stairs top, and relating to each other their several adven∣tures, Artaxander whose sleeping beauty had weak∣ened his spirits, he intreated his friend to go out a∣gain with him; they commanded the Porter to speak not a word of their returning, went to lye both to∣gether at a friends house. And Philiontes finding it a pleasant conceit, that Cynesia should not know how her Picture Case came to be exchanged, he consen∣ted unto his friends Proposition. And so all was done as Artaxander desired, for they went out of the house; they charmed the Port for speaking of their return out of the Country, and went to lye all night at the house of a Cousin unto Philiontes. But to the end, they should not go to their own house until night, they sent to meet their men who were to come by Land, commanding them not to come to Town till the latter end of the day, and charging them to keep it secret, that they came by Water; but on the contrary to say that they came by Land and with them.

But the most pleasant part of all the adventure was, that Artaxander having slept sufficiently in the Boat, and being very fresh and lively, he fell into discourse with Philiontes concerning his sleeping beauty, and to ask a hundred several Questions. For Heavens sake (said he unto him) do not hinder me from loving her; and you cannot do me a bet∣ter Office any way in the World, then to contribute something which will make me in love: But to tell you truly, I would not have this fair one of Pasithe∣a's humour but would have Pasithea with all her jol∣lities so vexed to see me captivated by another, as she shall grieve more for it then for Philocrates. I assure you friend (replied Philiontes) you have found out any excellent expedient for it: For first all fair ones in generall cannot indure to lose their servants, and Pasithea in particular will be vexed no the Soul if you should love Cynesia. Moreover, be assured that this fair one is of a far different temper from the other; for her temper is melancholy, though she be very pleasant in Company, and hath a most merry Ayr with her: But withal, she is sometimes a little fantastical. Yet having a Passionate Soul and a tender heart, her capricious fancies never last long. Oh my friend (said Artaxander) this is e∣nough; for Cynesia being fair, witty, pleasing, me∣lancholy, and a little fantastical, I shall hope even out of variety onely, for a thousand delights in lo∣ving her; but you do not love her yet (said Phili∣ontes and laughed) Truly friend (replied Artax∣ander) though I do not yet, yet I shall do ere long, and did I but once see her eyes open, I should not doubt but to be in love with her: However (ad∣ded he) I am ingaged to be so, since I told her as much by the Verses which I writ in the Case that I exchanged with her; and therefore though I should not be in love with her, yet I must seem so a while. But if you be not in love with Cynesia said Philiontes) and she keeping your Picture Case, your gallantry will cost you somewhat dear: If she keep it (repli∣ed Artaxander) she will do me such a favour as will make me in love, for I must tell you that favours and beauty have a strong influence upon me. But how can she know (replied Philiontes) that it was you who made the exchange? she may easily guess it (re∣plied he) for I intend this evening to wear the Case which I took from her in such a place as she cannot chuse but see it. In saying so, Artaxander took the Case out of his Pocket which yet he had not opened, because his mind was wholly taken up with this ad∣venture. But he was astonished, when at the ope∣ning he saw the very same Picture of Pasithea which he had sent her back, when he quarrelled with her. At the first he believed that these two Ladies were friends, unknown to him; and that Pasithea had sent Cynesia her Picture whilst he was in the Country; but he was not long in this belief, for Philiontes told him that they were enemies; so as not knowing what to think upon the adventure, he was extream∣ly perplexed. For my part, (said Philiontes unto him) I am apt to believe that Pasithea being of no reserved humour, she hath giving this Picture unto some new Gallant that hath sacrificed it unto Cyne∣sia. But if that be so said Artaxander) it must be concluded that Cynesia hath some Lover whom she doth not hate; for those who take such pledges do ingage themselves as much as they think to in∣gage others. What you say (replied Philiontes) perhaps is but imagination, which I will think to be but upon an ill foundation; for since you are resol∣ved to be in love, at what rate soever, I must take heed of telling you any thing which may hinder you. The truth is (replied Artaxander) love is an excellent Antidote against wearisomeness, in a place where one hath nothing to do; for there the sen∣ding of a common Message, or the receiving of one, doth pass for a whole daies work; if you be in love, you will have no sooner done one thing, but you will be thinking upon another; your own very mu∣sings will please you; and nothing doth so sweetly take up the spirits of a gallant love; as for great and violent passions, they possess them over much. For my part (said Philiontes) I conceive one should either not be in love at all, or else love in good ear∣nest; for certainly the greatest Passions procure the greatest pleasures. It is true (said Artaxander) but withall, they bring with them the greatest sorrows: I must confess it (answered Philiontes) but I am of such an humour, as I would have all or none: I value not those slight affections, which require as much pains about them, as a high Passion; they will take you up as much time, but will not recompence the labour. For a thousand of these half loves will ne∣ver be able to conquer a whole heart; and therefore if you will be ruled by me, either love not Cynesia at all, or else love her in the hight. So I am resolved (replied Artaxander) though it were onely to be revenged upon Pasithea for caring so little to lose me, and bestowing her Picture so quickly upon ano∣ther, as it is very likely she hath. But whilst Ar∣taxander and Philiontes were thus talking, the fair Cynesia slept soundly, and it may be well said, that by her sound sleeping, she prepared new Arms for the Conquest of Artaxander. For when she awaked, her complexion was more fresh, and her eyes more sprightly. But in awaking, she was all wonder to see a Case about her Arm all set with shining Dia∣monds in lieu of her own, and which was incompa∣rably more rich; she no sooner saw this surprizng change but she blusht; and raysing her self upon her bed, the held her Arm out to the light, as if she had been mistaken; but the more ••he looked upon this Case▪ the more sure she was that some came into the Chamber whilst she was asleep, and did imagine it to be a man, thinking such a kind of gallantry could not proceed from any Woman. So as a resentment

of modesty, did for a while raise some inquietudes in her mind. Yet upon second thoughts of the adventure, she concluded, that he who made that advantagious exchange, had a noble heart, so as she hath since confessed, that she was then fuller of cu∣riosity then care. Her greater wonder was that she knew there was not any Man in the house but on∣ly Philiontes Father, who being very old, could not be suspected of such a thing.

She knew very well that he had a Son, for she was acquainted with Philiontes. And she was not igno∣rant that Artaxander also had lodged in the house, for though she knew him not yet she had heard talk of him. But she could not dream of them, because she heard say, that they were in the Countrey, and no speech of their return. As she was in this amaze a particular Friend of hers whose name was Cleophi∣la, came in to see her, and to rejoyce with her that the fire in her Mothers house had done no greater hurt. But as soon as she saw her, and saw her so fair: Oh Cynesia (said she unto her) it appears by your eyes that you have rested very well, for all the trouble of the night: But for my part, had I been in such a fright, I should have hid my self all the day after. For my complexion would have been so dull, my eyes so hollow, and my heart so saint, that I should have swounded with fear; yet I see that you had not the least fear of being burned. It is true (said Cynesia) I have slept as soundly this night, as if no accident had happened, or as if I had not changed my Bed. And to make it appear true, I will tell you of the strangest piece of gallantry, that ever you heard of: After this, Cynesia told Cleophila all the passage, and that she might better see the Case, she held out her Arm, entreating her friend to untie the Ribbond. Cleophila had no sooner untied it, but Cynesia opened it; but she was extreamly sur∣prised at the sight of those Verses which Artaxander had written, and so much, as that she could not read them aloud, but first read them to her self, and then recited them unto Cleophila in this manner.

Night's better than the Day Such Mysteries to discover, As you my Love know may, And yet not know the Lover.

Afterwards, she looked upon Cleophila, who was not less surprised then she: And upon serious con∣sideration, Cleophila concluded, that it must of ne∣cessity be Artaxander. Not that I can discover it by his stile in Verse (said she) for he useth to write much better; but since they were doubtless writ upon a sudden, they may very well be his; for I have known sometimes when ex tempore he hath writ no better; and therefore I will conclude that it was Artaxander who is the Authour: That it was he who saw you asleep, and that it is he who is in love with you. But Artaxander is in the Countrey (re∣plied Cynesia) Artaxander then is in more places then one (replied Cleophila) for I tell you it can be none but he: And I must tell you that to conquer such a heart as his sleeping is no small glory to you. Alas (replied Cynesia) as for his heart I cannot pretend unto it, for hearts are never taken sleeping. I do assure you (replied Cleophila) that though you had fewer charms then you have, yet Artaxander loves you. For this beginning of acquaintance and ad∣venture, is in such a pleasant way, as I make no que∣stion but he will answer it as pleasingly. It vexeth me exceedingly (said Cynesia then) that he who writ those Verses, hath lest me such a ••ox as I will not keep; and the worst is, that the Picture of Pa∣sithea is in it which he took from me. So as those who know not how the case stands, but are igno∣rant that she and I are enemies, will think that I have shewed it out of ma••ice; for as the case is between us, they cannot imagine she would give me her Picture. How? (said Cleophila) had you Pasithea's Picture? and was it in the Case which is taken from you? Yes (replied she) and that is it which most troubles me, for I cannot endure to be suspected of being guilty of any malice: But I be∣seech you (replied she) how came you to that Pi∣cture? Ah Cleophila! (answered Cynesia) I shall blush to tell you; yet know it I must (replied she) if ever you will know any thing of me. Since you will know it (replied Cynesia) I will tell it in two words. So I know it (said Cleophila) I care not whether it be in two, or a thousand words; but lest we should be interrupted, I pray tell me quickly. You know (replied Cynesia) that Clidamis hath a long time born a little good will unto me; and you know also, that all the World has laid it in his dish, that he hath been an unfortunate Lover all his life long. 'Tis true, (answered Cleophila) for Clidamis had been in love with above a hundred Women, and not one of them ever loved him: and yet he is handsome, and has wit and spirit enough: yet I thought that his mis∣fortune would have ended in you, and that you were no hater of him: for I know he has been often with you in the Country. 'Tis true, replied Cynesia, but it is as true also, that the more I saw him, the less I loved him: And in my opinion, the reason why Clidamis makes no better progress in his loves, is, because whosoever sees him one day shall see him e∣ternally the very same: he is always equally hand∣some; always equally civil and respectful; he will never love you more nor less; nor never hath any spirit and wit more one day then another. So as I believe people are so accustomed to see him al∣ways the same, as their opinion of him is also always the same, and he shall be no better lo∣ved at the end of the thousand visits then he was at the first.

But be what he will be (added she) that's no matter, and to return from whence I digressed, know, that Clidamis one day being extreamly ear∣nest with me to tell him why I did not love him, I answered again, that the reason was, because I knew that he was never loved by any. The truth is (Cli∣damis (said I unto him) though I would, yet I dare not love you: for after all your baffles in matter of love: I should be ashamed to be more indulgent then any other unto you: and I am so addicted to do as others do, that I never was the inventer of a∣ny fashion: you may imagine then, that▪ who will not so much as wear a Ribbond which others do not, will never give my heart to an unfortunate Lover, unto whom never any gave any heart unto: And therefore if ever you would have me love you, you must first make your self loved by some other; that having an example to follow, I may the more easily be perswaded to follow: but A adam (said he unto me) should I court another to love me, I should seem as if I did not love you. Seem what you will (said I unto him) but I assure you I shall

never love you unless some do first begin, and un∣less all the World do know it. I believe Madam, said he unto me, that all this is but ingenious ralle∣ry; for you being perswaded that I cannot love a∣ny but you, and that none will ever love me unless I love them, and therefore it will be very difficult for me to procure that example which you require; and though I should procure such an example, yet you would not follow it. Seriously Sir, said I unto him and laughed, I believe I should love you more then I do, if any else had loved you. We'le see that Madam (said he unto me) for I will go immedi∣ately unto Crete, with a full resolution to try whe∣ther I can make any beauty love me, upon condition you will not take it ill, if I do dissemble with her in seeming to love her. Since my aim was only to be rid of Clidamis, and believing that he would not be loved in the future more then in time past. I told him that I consented unto the condition. So he lest me in the Countrey, and went to Crete, just as Ar∣taxander broke off with Pasithea, because she did not lament the death of Philocrates. As chance would have it Clidamis heard of the difference between them, and hearing of Pasithea's humour, he appli∣ed himself to her; and he sound her heart so in∣clinable to him, as either to be revenged of Ar∣taxander, in letting him see she could as readily for∣get him living, as Philocrates dead, or for some o∣ther cause, she received him very well; she gave him her Picture, which he sent unto me yesterday, sum∣moning me to keep my word, and assuring me that Pasithea loved him, and that he still loved me. As chance was, I tied this Picture to my Arm, intending to restore it unto Clidamis the next time I saw him; and so it chanced that it was taken from me in man∣ner as I told you.

I profess, replied Cleophila, it is a most excellent adventure: for if Artaxander have this Picture, as I am confident he hath, it will amaze him to think how you should come by it: for it is not possible he should be ignorant of the enmity between you and Pasithea: Also the Adventure may be more plea∣sant yet: for if Pasithea be drawn with a garland of flowers upon her head, very likely it is the same Picture which she gave him, and which he restored back to her. At least I am sure, the Limner told me that he did draw Pasithea's Picture after the same manner.

I assure you (said Cynesia) the Picture is so drawn, so as if it be Artaxander who took it from me, he will wonder extreamly, to see a Picture which was once his in my hands. However it be (said Cleo∣phila) I am confident you would not be sorry to see Artaxander your Captive. So as it would spite Pasithea (replied she) I must confess I should not be very sorry. Truly, replied Cleophila, though it should spite no body, you could not be sorry, for Artaxander is so brave a Man, as that to conquer such a heart must needs rejoyce one. But I beseech you (said Cynesia) let us talk no more of Artaxander, for perhaps it was not he who came into my Chamber: and though it were, yet perhaps my eyes when he sees them will blast the adventure. Your eyes are so lovely (replied Cleophila) as you may assure your self that though the heart of him who saw them sleeping, was not captivated, yet waking, he will be. However since it is very likely, that you will see him this day, who saw you in the night, I advise you to dress up your self as handsomely as you can. As Cleophila spoke this smilingly, Cynesia smiled al∣so: And as I have been told since, did dress her self with a little more design of being handsome, then if her aim had been only a general design to please every one. But being not at home, as soon as her Mother and she were ready, they returned thanks for their entertainment, and went to their own house. Yet Cynesia did not shew her Mother the Picture Case which Artaxander had left in lieu of her own, lest the adventure should become too publick. Cynesia was most perplexed to think what she should say unto Clidamis, who she imagined would come to see her; for she could not restore Pasithea's Picture unto him. Nor would she have him think that she kept it as a sign of her love. So as to gain time, upon a pretence of setting their house in order after that tummlt of fire, she desired her Mother to pass away that afternoon at a friends house, and not to stay in her Chamber to receive all the visits which would be made after that accident. So as by this means Cynesia was not at home until night, and so Clidamis would lose his labour, if he came. Mean time, Artaxander and Philiontes being advertized that their Men were at the Gates of the Town, they went through a back lane to meet them and crossing over a great plain, it chanced that they passed just before the Gates of that Ladies house, where Cynesia, her Mother and Cleophila did pass a∣way the day: So as these three Ladies came out, at the very same time when Artaxander and Philiontes passed by in their Countrey habits, as Men newly come to Town: Cleophila was much surprized at this; For all she spoke unto her Friend, was only her imagination, yet she shewed her Artaxander, who took no notice of these Ladies no more then Philiontes, because they were talking together very carnestly: So as they being on Horse-back, and the Ladies on Foot, they lost the sight of them: for since it was not far from home they were entred in, before they could come to the door. However, since Cleophila was full of curiosity to know the truth of this adventure, and since the arrival of Ar∣taxander did much perplex her, she got Cynesia to entreat her Mother, to desire Cleophila, that she would lie that night at her house. And indeed so it was, These Ladies had no sooner supped, but Clidamis with other Ladies of the Neighbour-hood came to visit Cynesia and her Mother: And all were no soon∣er set, but Philiontes and Artaxander entred. The first of these presented his friend unto the Mother and the Daughter, as a stranger which their Town had gotten during theis absence▪ Philiontes spoke so highly of Artaxander unto these two, that they re∣ceived him very civilly. But Cynesia was strangely amazed, to see the Picture Case which was taken from her, tyed with a lively coloured Ribbond, and worn by Artaxander in such a place as was most ob∣vious to the eye of Cynesia. But as she was amazed at the sight of it, so Clidamis was much more; for he could not imagine by what adventure, this Case which he had sent unto Cynesia, could come into the hands of Artaxander whom she never saw before, but was presented unto her as a Man absolutely un∣known unto her. However Cynesia could not doubt but that it was Artaxander who came into her cham∣ber when she was asleep, & therefore out of modesty could not chuse but blush; but to hide it, she began to talk with Cleophila in a low voice, who being very glad that she had guessed aright, begun to ask her in

a merry manner how she liked her new Lover? I am so perplexed at the perplexity of Clidamis (replied she) as I have not leisure to answer your foolish que∣stion. Why, said Cleophila, you need not perplex your self about Clidamis; for since he knows that you are a stranger unto Artaxander, he cannot think you to have any hand in this pleasant adventure. After this every one taking their places, Artaxander did so well order the matter, as that he fate next Cynesia, and talked with her, so as Clidamis could not hear what he said; for Philira the Mother of Cynesia having set her self to relate unto him the ac∣cident of fire which happened, and being extreme earnest in telling how frighted she was, he was almost all the night taken up with hearing, and could not put in a word to interrupt her; for she was an eter∣nal talker, and would never give over her tale as long as she had any breath. But whilst poor Clida∣mis was hearkning to her much against his will, and whilst all the rest of the Ladies were hearkning also, Philiontes talked with Cleophila, and Artaxander with Cynesia, whose intention being earnest to restore the rich Case unto Artaxander which he had left with her, and to get back that which he had, that she might restore it unto Clidamis, she was very glad of the opportunity of talking in private with him; hoping to find a fit occasion for compassing her ends; yet it was not so easie as she imagined; for Artaxan∣der turning the talk another way she could not bring it about, and he according to his ordinary jollity, be∣gan to chide her for being so long in the Country, as familiarly as if he had been her most intimate and ancient friend, and he made the most pleasant and satyrical invective against a Countrey life that ever was heard. But (said Cynesia unto him) why should you complain against me? for you knew me not yesterday, and hardly know me to day. That's the reason, Madam, why I complain (replied he) for if I had had the honour to have known you sooner, I should never have had the shame of bearing any other chains but yours, and perhaps by this time, I should have had the glory of getting some place in your heart. But, Madam, that you may not think me one of those common slatterers, who use to talk, and often knows not to whom, I beseech you give me leave to tell you, that you are not so unknown to me as you imagine; and that within these eighteen hours I did admire you, and something more. But first (added he, and looked earnestly upon her) give me leave to rejoyce that I find your eyes more love∣ly than I did imagine them; though I must tell you, I did imagine them to be the fairest in the World; and certainly I had great reason for it; for it was nothing likely that the gods should bellow upon you, so many several excellent beauties, and not give you fair eyes also. And I assure you, most charm∣ing Cynesia, as soon as ever my good fate brought me to the place where I saw the most lovely sleeper that ever eye beheld; I presently conceived you to have the most dangerous and captivating eyes in the World. Oh I beseech you Artaxander (said she and turned away her head) do not make me blush. Oh I beseech you Madam (replied he) think your self beholding to me for staying so long as eighteen hours before I would see your lovely eyes; and as great as my desire was to see them, for being so re∣spective as not to waken you. The truth is (repli∣ed Cynesia, and blushed) your boldness made me more ashamed then ever I was in my life. Ah Ma∣dam (said Artaxander) I was happy then, but not bold; and if you will be so good as to pardon my boldness, in telling you that in all likelihood I shall be extreamly in love with you, I shall acquaint you with the whole adventure. Since I am of opinion (replied she) that there is not so much power in me as to make any in love, I cannot easily believe you have any inclination that way: but I will confess, I would forgive you any thing, upon condition you will ingenuously tell me what made you so liberal when you plaid the theif; yet I must declare unto you before-hand, that the Picture Case which you took from me was none of mine, and that which you left in lieu of it shall never be. I assure you, Madam (replied Artaxander) I know not any thing you have of mine but my heart, which I beseech you seriously not to restore; for I am confident it can never be in better, or more fair hands. Howe∣ver it be (said she) tell me by what enchantment this adventure came about? You phrase it right, Ma∣dam (replied he) in calling it an enchantment: for since the time that Cupid was in his Cradle, never a∣ny fell in love so until now. I pray (replied Cynesia) let Cupid alone with his Mother, and only acquaint me with the accident. So Artaxander began to make her a faithful relation of the whole passage, and so happily for himself, and pleasingly unto Cynesia, as she took some delight in it: yet she always inter∣rupted him, when he told her how fair he thought her. It is enough Artaxander (said she) it is enough; for I desire to know no more then so much as will justifie you; and to make it appear that I am not unjust, I am contented to treat you as an innocent person, and will think my self obliged unto you. Though it would be most glorious unto me to be ob∣liged unto you, Madam, (replied he) and more then for you to be obliged unto me; yet I must assure you that there is nothing in the World which I would not do for your service. If so, said she, then I pray restore unto me the Picture and the Case which you have, and I will restore that which I have unopened; for as I told you before, that which you have is none of mine, and that which I have of yours shall never be. As for the Picture which is in the Case I took from you, Madam (replied he) I shall without much difficulty restore, since it has not the honour to be yours, but upon this condition, that you will tell me whose it is; for I should be very glad to know unto whom Pasithea gave it. But Madam, as for the other Case which you have, since you say you did not open it, I beseech you do; and know that what is written within it, is more true now then when it was writ∣ten. Did I not know Artaxander any other way (replied Cynesia) I should think him to be all Rallery; but since I do know his humour, I will make a better Interpretation of him; and to testifie it (added she) I will trust my self with you, and confess that the Picture of Pasithea, belongs unto Clidamis. How, Madam? replied Artaxander, is Clidamis my suc∣cessor? thanks be to the Heavens he shall never be my Rival, unless he be in love with you. You speak with so little seriousness (replied Cynesia and smiled) as I hardly know whether I did well in trusting you with a confidence of this Nature However, since divers reasons make me desirous to let Clidamis have his Picture again, and to keep him ignorant by what strange accident you come to have it, I entreat you if he talk with you, to tell him, that upon your re∣turn you sound it upon the Table in your Chamber,

where I had forgotten it I will tell him as much, Ma∣dam, replyed Artaxander, provided you will like∣wise tell me, why Clidamis did put this Picture into your fair hands; for he can't be ignorant that you and Pasithea hold no correspondencie of friendship, and so if he be in love with Pasithea, he is very un∣wise to trust you with her Picture. We have been so small a time acquainted (replyed she) that I were out of my wits if I should tell you all you ask. Then Madam (replyed he) you have driven me out of my wits; for though I have known you as little as you have me, yet I am ready to trust you with all the secrets of my heart and soul. But to return unto Clidamis (added he) I perceived that he looked up∣on me from time to time with much curiositie; and he look'd upon after such a manner, as moved to think that if he were my successor in the heart of Pasithea, he might perhaps also be my Rival in the heart of Cynesia. As Artaxander said so, Cleophila, who had gotten Philiontes to tell her all the adven∣ture of the night before she came unto them; and Philiontes joyning also, the discourse between these four persons was very pleasant. For my part (said Artaxander) I am more then ever perswaded of the infallibility of Destiny; for if Fate had ordered, that the fair Cynesia had layn in Philiontes his Cham∣ber, then perhaps it would have been he who should have faln in love with her, and not I. For heavens sake (said Cynesia pleasantly, and inter∣rupted him) do not think your self engaged to say you love me, because you have told it me in four verses; and least you should (added she, and offer∣ed him the case) I pray take it again. But, Madam (said he unto her) you said even now you did not open it. 'Tis true (said she) but as I am willing to pardon all the flattering untruths which you told me, in talking with you, so you may very well pardon me this. Oh Madam, replyed he, I will pardon you with all my heart; provided you will believe I cannot flatter when I speak of you. After this Cynesia still demanding the Case which he took, and offering to restore his, he told her that he could not do that all in one day; but beseeches her to stay the restitution of that which he had from him, untill he had so far advanced himself into her favour, as to obtain her Picture: And indeed, do what Cy∣nesia could, she could not make him take it that day, but was contended with his restoring that which be∣longed unto Clidamis, who was so astonished to see such private discourse betwixt Artaxander and Cy∣nesia, that he knew not what to think upon it. But it bring late, the company parted; and Cynesia being desirous that Clidamis should not be too much trou∣bled at this adventure, she entreated him to wait upon Cleophila home; and that Lady undertook to restore the Picture and Case unto him, and to tell him (as it was contrived) that Artaxander sound it by chance upon the Table in his Chamber; and that he need not trouble himself about it, because Cynesia never told Artaxander that the Picture was his.

As for Artaxander, he found Cynesia more charm∣ing awake then asleep, and returned home with his friend with a strong disposition to love her: And indeed he did easily apprehend this growing passi∣on; for though it was never wont to break his rest, yet now he slept not a wink all that night; for when he fancied himself in the same Chamber where he had seen Cynesia, and in the same bed where he saw that fair one asleep, his imagination did so per∣fectly represent her, as he could not possibly rest although he had some pleasing slumbers. On the other side, Cynesia hearing that Artaxander was ne∣ver hated by any, she thought him more amiable then Clidamis who was hated by all; and she was no∣thing sorry, that she had gotten this new acquain∣tance. But since she was resolved not to keep his case, she sent it unto him the next morning; and so hansomly that he could not chuse but receive it; for she caused it to be left with one of his servants for him, the servant not knowing what, or from whom it was: And Cynesia being a person unto whom such presents were not to be presented: he durst not any further importune her to keep it. This his gal∣lantry passed for a noble piece of Liberality, and cost him nothing; but to speak the truth it cost him something that was dearer to him then the Case; for had he never seen Cynesia, he had not lost his heart and his liberty; yet at the first, he was not sensible of his misery, but on the contrary he thought him∣self so happy in this affection which was growing in his heart, as he could not hide the joyes which she had. Moreover his thoughts of revenge upon Pa∣sithea, did kindle in him much satisfaction; for he had such a hatred unto the follies of that Lady, as made him consider that if Cynesia did not make him quite forget her, it was not impossible but he might renew again with her. On the other side, Pasithea who never looked for any thing in love but what would divert her, and who thought that Clidamis did love her, she valued not the loss of Artaxander, though every hour in the day did allow her one mi∣nute of sorrow for it, because she could not meet with any who could divert her as well as he. As for Clidamis, he was in a most miserable condition; for he was not loved by her whom he did love, and was loved by one whom he did not love. Thus did he receive all the favours which love could confer upon a lover, and yet was not happy. Also he was sensible of all those sorrows which that passion could inflict upon a lover; for he was loved where he would not be, and not loved where he would: He was jealous, and knew not directly the cause: The new acquaintance of Artaxander did fret his heart; he was vexed that Pasithea's Picture had been in his hands: he knew not whether he should cease coun∣terfeiting love, or whether he should seem to cease loving Cynesia, and see whether she would recall him: And indeed his perplexity could not be greater. As for Cynesia, she also had some secret disgust of heart; yet since those disgusts were not very dis-agreea∣ble she was not much disquieted: But for Artaxander, he was so glad at his being in love, as not being able to hide his joyes, he shewed it unto Cynesia within the space of five dayes, from his first acquaintance; And being alone with her he began to give most humble and hearty thanks and that with such earnest expressings, as she did really believe that she had either said or done, something which had obliged him, though she could not remember it. And she began to rub up her memory, and find out the reason why he should so emphatically expresse his gratitude: Upon a recollection of all her thoughts, she could find nothing, unless it were that she ha∣ving spoken much good of him unto some she had conversed withall, he might come to the know∣ledge of it. Yet not thinking this cause enough to oblige unto so many thanks, she asked him, what

she had done for him to deserve them? At the first he would not tell her; for truly, Madam (said he unto her) I am afraid lest you should repent of your goodness unto me, and lest that repentance should lessen my joyes, if I should tell you. It is not my custome (replied she) to repent of any thing done that may please such men as I esteem; and I assure you, the principal reason why I am so desirous to know what it is, is onely to the end, that I may do the same again.

Oh Madam (said Artaxander) then I must tell you what it is you have done for me, not because it will oblige you to do it again; for you cannot chuse but do it whether you will or no, you will do it as long as you live, and the thing which you will do is absolutely the most pleasing thing in the World un∣to me. For Heavens sake Artaxander (said Cyne∣sia then) tell me what it is I have done which so much pleaseth you, and which I cannot chuse but do again? You have made me in love, Madam (re∣plied he) and in so doing you have done me the greatest pleasure in the World, you have delivered me from a most drowsie idleness, and I thank you heartily for it, for otherwise I know not what I should have done in Creet: Thus, Madam (ad∣ded he, and would not give her time to answer) you have infinitely obliged me; for you have rou∣zed my spirits out of a dull sluggishness of mind, which is the most unsupportable thing in the World. Though I should grant, I have caused you to be in love (replied she) yet I cannot confess that you ow me any thanks: For (added she and smiled) un∣less you were sure of a favourable reception, I can∣not see you have any reason for your thanks, which I am sure you cannot know, because I know it not my self. Oh Madam (replied he) it is a most high happiness to love you; and love hath such a secret and charming influence upon me, as I do prefer all its torments, before all other delights whatsoever; and therefore, though I know not whether you will be sweet or sharp unto me, yet I must thank you, for making me in love, as much as for the most obliging favour you could bestow upon Artaxander. Though I know very well (replied Cynesia very sweetly) that it is not handsome for me to entertain any Lo∣vers, yet I think my self obliged to treat you less se∣verely then any other; for since you think that to be in love is sufficient to make you happy: one need not to fear the being too much importuned with your Complaints. I did not say, Madam (replied Ar∣taxander) that to be in love is the height of happi∣ness; but my meaning was, that I should be most miserable if I were not in Love; and that I should be less miserable by being in Love, then by not be∣ing so.

After this Cynesia answered him with all the mo∣desty becoming her Sex, but yet without any bit∣terness or incivility; and though she did forbid him any more talk of his Passion, yet it was in such a man∣ner, and made him not fear being hated, though he did not obey her. And Artaxander did continue his expression of Love, and so often, and handsomely as he perswaded her to hear him. Artaxander as pleasant as his humour used to be, yet he could be of a very serious temper when he would; and he found in Cynesia all qualities requisite to please him: such as expected mirth from her did always find it, they who looked for Melancholy found it in her also, for she could suit her self unto every humour; moreo∣over, she was exceedingly modest, but such a mo∣desty, as did not muzzle up the spirits of men, but allowed the fancy so much civil Liberty, as made her Conversation very pleasing; Sometimes she would have some little and delicate fantastical quirks which did marvellously increase love; but these fantasms never appeared unto any but her Lovers, and not at all in common Conversation. The worst in Cyne∣sia was, she was extream subject unto her own incli∣nations; and so very much, that if she had not been very virtuous, her reason could not restrain her. However, it is without all question, that Cynesia was as amiable a person, as was in the World; and Artaxander loved her extreamly, who hoping to be loved again by degrees, and desiring to spite Pasi∣thea, did use all such indeavours as are expedient to win upon Cynesia, and to be revenged upon his first Mistress. As for Clidamis, Cynesia did treat him so coursely since her acquaintance with Artaxander, as he sought for all occasions to vex her, since he could find none to get her love: And for Pasithea, no ma∣licious stratagem was un-invented, and un-sought af∣ter, to spite both Artaxander and Cynesia. But in lieu of spiting them she did very much delight them; for Artaxander was very glad to find a greater share in Pasithea's heart then he imagined; and Cynesia al∣so was glad that she had gotten a Slave from that mer∣ry fair one. So as joyning all these petty circum∣stances together, they began a most tender, gallant, and publick love between Artaxander and Cynesia. For Clidamis and Pasithea did watch them so circum∣spectly, as that they to vex them did publish every trivial thing that passed between them. They ne∣ver walked together but it was divulged; they ne∣ver held any long private discourse but it was told; and Artaxander was generally as well known by the name of Cynesia's Lover; as by his own, but so far from being vexed that he was very glad of it; for Cynesia being known to be a most illustrious person, her honour was not in any danger; and indeed, she was noble every way, her quality was high, she was admirably fair; she had a most sublime wit, and those who said Artaxander was in love with her, then said also that he was not hated.

Things being upon these terms, a chance happe∣ned which wrought a great change in the heart of Artaxander, who then certainly did love Cynesia most tenderly: But before I directly tell you the cause of it, I must let you know; that there was a man in Creet whose name was Alphidemon, whose mis-fortune was to be esteemed of none; Yet he was not very unhandsome and to speak truly of him he was not worse then a thousand others, of whom people use to speak neither well nor ill. His quality was high enough, to excuse his mediocrity of merit if he had been discreet. But however, he was ranked a∣mongst those who were unpleasing, even by those who were unpleasing themselves, and was not at all esteemed. Artaxander at his coming to Creet had seen him amongst others, and had rallied with him a hundred times, never thinking he should hereaf∣ter have any further interest in him. But Artax∣ander being upon such terms as I told you with Cyne∣sia, he went to walk one evening in a Garden with Philiontes, unto whom he talked concerning the joys he had in loving Cynesia, and of his hopes of being loved, aggravating the great delight he took in having moved the heart of so noble a person. Af∣ter a long time of walking they entred into a green

Arbour, intending to rest themselves; but as they entred they found Cephisia and Pasithea there. At firsts they would have retired as if out of respect; but Pasithea being that evening in her merry and malicious humour both, she called unto Artaxander. I pray, Sir (said she unto him) do not shun Cephi∣sa who is your friend, in expectation of your new Mistress. Since I do not love to molest the plea∣sures of others (replied he and laughed) I would have retired lest you should expect there my Succes∣sor, unto whom I will yield in every thing. I as∣sure you (replied she sharply) it is more honour for you that Clidamis should be your Successor, then for you to be the Successor of Alphidemon: And to be plain with you, it is more advantageous to me, to be upbraid for not loving a brave man, then it is for Cynesia for loving a man of so low a merit: And I think it a greater shame for you to succeed Alphido∣mon; then for you not to be loved more then Philo∣crates was. This discourse did so surprize Artax∣ander that he knew not what answer to make; for he knew, that she durst not be so bold as to speak thus in the presence of Cephisa and Philiontes, if there were not some ground of truth for her accusation which she made against Cynesia. Yet he smothered his resentments and did not appear any thing moved at what she said; Did you know (said he unto her) what advantage I draw from all this you speak a∣gainst Cynesia and me, you would never have told it; but you would rather give Clidamis a thousand commendations, then to blame Cynesia whose merit and virtue cannot be blemished.

I speak not concerning the merit of Cynesia (re∣plied she subtilely) for I know it is much, and that's the reason I blame her, since she loved a man of no merit. As Artaxander was going to answer, though he knew not well what to say (for I know all his thoughts as well as himself) A great company of La∣dies with Alphidemon came into this Arbor. As soon as they were entred, Alphidemon bolted out such poor expressions, as Artaxander was forced out, and went presently to enquire, whether it was true that Cyne∣sia who was a person so full of wit could ever love such a man. As soon as he came into a solitary walk which was not far off, he looked upon Philiontes who followed him: and beginning to speak, I pray Phi∣liontes (said he unto him) deliver me out of this perplexity of mind; and tell me ingeniously, whe∣ther that which Pasithea said concerning Cynesia, have any ground of truth in it? For since I am but a stran∣ger at Creet, I am ignorant in the History of it; and therefore I conjure you by our friendship to tell me whether Cynesia ever loved Alphidemon? All I can say (replied Philiontes) is, that all the town doth say it, and all the world believes it. But Philiontes. how comes it to pass, replied he surlily, that you did not acquaint me with it when I began to be ac∣quainted with Cynesia? because you did earnestly entreat me (replied he and laughed) to say no∣thing unto you which might hinder you from loving her, and told, that I was a very bad friend if I did. And to tell you truly, I did not think it fit to ac∣quaint you with a past adventure which was not ad∣vantagious unto Cynesia whom I esteemed very much, and who is a Lady of infinite merit. And when all is done, though she did love Alphidemon, yet she loves him not now; and scandal it self could never say there was any criminal affection between them two. Oh Philiontes (said Artaxander) a woman of any wit could never be innocent, if she could love such a man as Alphidemon, though she were as modest and chast as Diana: And I had much rather he suc∣cessor to a brave man who had obtained some consi∣derable favours from the person I should love, then to be the successor of a fool: and truly there is some∣thing in this adventure which doth so cruelly wound my imagination, as from this very minute, my heart which was such a subject unto Cynesia, begins to re∣volt. But what does it concern you (replied Phi∣liomes) whom Cynesia did love, so she love you now? It concerns me so much (replied he) as I do not think I can love her, any longer, at least I am sure that having such an opinion as I have of Al∣phidemon, and since Cynesia hath loved him, and all the world knows it, it is impossible she can confess any favour which can oblige me, or be honourable unto me: For when I remember all the fond gros∣sities and foolish absurdities of Alphidemon, and all I have heard say of him, and all I have seen him do, I am so ashamed to succeed him in the heart of Cynesia, that as charming as she is, she ceaseth to be so unto me, as soon as I consider she could love Alphidemon. Truth is, I shall value her heart as a prophane place, wherein I would not raign; nor shall I now think her eyes lovely, since she has looked favourably upon him: And me thinks she has done me a manifest in∣jury in loving me after Alphidemon. I profess (re∣plied Philiontes) this is a most pleasant adventure, that after you have broke off with Pasithea, because she did not enough love a brave man, you should break off with Cynesia; because she did love a fool. Oh Philiontes, replied Artaxander, this last adventure is much worse then the other, for it blasts both honour and love. For to tell you truly, the hatred of Cynesia would be more honourable to me then her love, since she can be∣stow her love where no merit is: and I think that I should suffer less if Cynesia had been perfidious to me by dividing her heart with some of my Rivals, who were a brave man, then I should in her being faithful unto Alphidemon: And if I can but once cure my self of this Passion which I have to her, I will make a vow never to engage my self in love with a∣ny other before I am very well informed whom she hath loved: For to be the successor of a Fool in mat∣ter of affection is the worst quality upon earth. I think it a less shame to have a Fool to ones Father then to succeed Alphidemon: for I cannot help the one; it is none of his fault; but in the other case the fault is all his own; he might have chosen whe∣ther or no he would offer his heart; or he might make a retreat after the offering, if he hear that he cannot be loved unless he be the Successor of a Fool. But since many things are spoken which are not true, I will know from the mouth of Cynesia whether it be so; as I did from Pasithea also the passages betwixt Philocrates and her. So the next morning Artaxan∣der sought for an opportunity of finding Cynesia a∣lone; but as ill luck for her was, he could not find it, for she was not within: so as Artaxander, go∣ing to visit some other of the neighbour-hood in expectation of her return, he heard nothing but speeches very disadvantagiaus concerning Alphide∣mon. One said he was ill-favour'd; others that he was dull; some said his wit was but shallow; others that he was too rough; other that he was a clown; and every one had such a terrible cry upon him, as made Artaxander extreamly sorry: For though com∣monly

men love to hear faults found in their Rivals, and to hear them ill spoken of, yet Artaxander had other resentments, for he thought that all which was spoken in disadvantage of Alphidemon, did re∣flect upon him; and that every ill quality which was attributed unto Alphidemon, was shameful unto himself: so as his mind being extreamly incensed, he went the second time to Cynesia, and found her alone; for Philira was gone another way and not returned; she received Artaxander with all those joys which she used at her first seeing him: but as for him, he had such anger in his eyes, and a kind of fullenness in his humour as quickly moved Cynesia to ask the cause. So as without pumping for any set speech to satisfie her desire, he began to speak: Madam, said he unto her, I do conjure you to be sincere, and promise to answer directly and truly to what I shall ask. I do promise it (replied she and blusht) for I am confident you will ask me nothing, unto which I may not answer. Nay, nay, Madam, said he, do not deceive your self; for the thing which I shall ask is of such a nature as it will never be told unless you be engaged by oath; and there∣fore before I ask the Question, I will have you swear to tell me truely. If you do well consider, replied she, the strange manner of your importu∣nity, you may well think that I will not engage my self by oath, for you tell me that you would have me promise to tell a thing which I ought not to tell unless I be engaged by oath; how can you think then that I should promise to tell you that which reason forbids me to tell? Think better with your self, and without any oaths or obligations upon me to promise any thing, tell me what you would know; and afterwards I will see if I can satisfie your curiosity or no. Oh Madam, (cryed he out) If you were clearly ingenious, I would promise what I desire: but in telling me nothing, you have told me all, and I have no more to ask you. Ar∣taxander spoke all this in such a surly and angry manner, that Cynesia being troubled at it, and knowing that she had done nothing since she was acquainted with Artaxander which could anger him, she promised to tell him truely whatsoever he should ask her. Then I conjure you Madam (said he unto her to tell me ingenuously whether you ever loved Alphidemon? Alphidemon (replied she and blusht) was of my acquaintance so young, as it may well be said, we began to see light, and be acquainted both together. The matter is not, replied he, when you began your acquaintance; but to know whether you loved him or no: what caused you to love him; how it came to pass you loved him no longer? and what reasons did induce you to change your mind? you ask me these Que∣stions with such an arrogant tone, replied she, and they are so troublesome to be answered, as if I were not exceedingly indulgent towards you, I should not answer them at all: but since perhaps you may think I conceal'd some crimes if I do not satisfie your curiositie, therefore I will ingeni∣ously answer to your demands, and tell you that as soon as ever I began to open my eyes, I began to be acquainted with Alphidemon; and I will confess that from the very first dawning of ••ny days, I had a strong inclination towards him and permitted him to love me. And that you may see my great confidence in your discre∣tion, I will confess farther, that the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and assiduity of his courtships, joyn∣ed with my own inclination, brought me at last to love him; and should have still loved him, had he not been guilty of such a lightness as dam∣ped my spirit, and obliged me to break off with him. And the truth is, though I well enough knew Alphidemon to be a man of no great reputa∣tion in the world; yet should I have continued faithful unto him, had he been so to me. For I must in my own justification tell you, that the world doth much wrong Alphidemon; and that he is much more amiable, then is beleeved, to one he loves; being certainly very sweet, and compla∣cential. Oh Madam (said Artaxander) Alphide∣mon is less amiable towards those he loves then to∣wards those he loves not, because he sees them oftenest; but certainly he is not less amiable towards those of whom he is loved; and that's the reason you find him not so disagreeable as all the world doth. As I have already confessed, that I bore affection to him (replied she) so I must with the same ingenuity tell you, that I do not love him. I would willingly believe it, Madam (replied he) but that you did love him, is enough to make me the most miserable of all men: And such is my mind, as I should think my self much less misera∣ble, if you had loved one who was worthyer of you then I am, to know that you loved the worst, and most unworthy of all the lovers you ever had. I must confess, Madam, I wonder how it was pos∣sible I should win any thing upon your heart, since Alphidemon did; for I am nothing like him, my making is not like his; I do nothing that he does, I speak not like him, nor are my thoughts the same with his; and indeed I know no two greater con∣traries then Alphidemon and Artaxander. How was it possible he should please you and I too? How could you love him and me likewise? I wonder that the man whom of all the world I most des∣pise, should be the man whom you the most of all esteem. As for that, I shall give you satisfaction (said she) by explaning the affection which I had unto Alphidemon, and the affection I bear unto you; for I loved him by inclination only and you by inclination and knowledge. Oh Madam (said he unto her) blot out your inclination to me, for I will have nothing in common with Alphidemon.

I will blot you out of my heart also (replyed Cy∣nesia sharply, being angry at Artaxanders surly tone) for men may render themselves unworthy as well by phantasticalness, as by want of merit. When I began to love you Madam (replyed Artaxander) I gave you most hearty thanks for making me in love, as for a very great favour: But since I under∣stand you have loved Alphidemon I must confess Ma∣dam, that if you should take me out of love again, I should thank you much more; for I know nothing more cruel then to be successor unto Alphidemon. Since certainly Madam, this happy Alphidemon could never have won upon your heart but by telling you a thousand simple and ridiculous fooleries, and as many impertinencies, and by doing the same things before you, which have made all the Town despise him. Judge Madam, I beseech you, what honour it will be unto me to make the same conquest he did? Cynesia being much offended at Artaxander, though she could not give one good reason to excuse her af∣fection unto Alphidemon, yet they quarrelled untill the return of Philira who turned the discourse. At

his going from thence he went unto Cephisa, who as I told you, bore such good will unto Artaxander as was likely to grow over tender, if she had not striven against that growing inclination: So as when Artaxander, who loved her very well, did relate unto her the squabbles 'twixt him and his Mi∣stress: But first, since she had not seen Artaxander, since Pasithea in her presence had vexed him by calling him the successor of Alphidemon, she no sooner saw him come into her Chamber where she was alone, but beginning to smile, Artaxander (said she) you are very much obliged to me; for though that which Pasithea said unto you before me, was enough to make any one laugh, yet I did not laugh at all; but no the contrary, I did chide her for what she had said, and almost fell out with her in your behalf. I do confess my self obliged unto you (replied Artaxander) and should be much more, if you could make me out of love with Cynesia. Oh Artaxander, replied Cephisa, you do not consider what you say. I consider but too much (an∣swered he) for the more I consider, the more I find it a shame to be the successor of Al∣phidemon: And I am so weary of my two last ad∣ventures, as I am almost resolved to alter my course of life. Indeed (pursued he) if you will give me leave to love you with such a tender amity as shall be a medium between love and common amity, and will endure I should turn weather cook, and relate unto you all my follies, I will absolutely renounce all those high passions which they say do only af∣ford great delights: For my part (said Cephisa) I am willing to accept of your offer, but to tell you truly I do not think you are able to do as you say. I am not indeed (replied he) but in all likely∣hood I shall be ere long; for I assure you I cannot find either pleasure or honour in Pasithea's love, since she could not love a man of much merit long enough. Neither can I endure Cynesia's love, since she could love a man unworthy of her affection; and to tell you truly, the affection of a woman to a fool can∣not be innocent: It is men of wit, ingenuity, and gallantry, who can only devise a thousand innocent delights to entertain their Mistress, between the time of their first being in love and the time of con∣summation. As for a fool lover, as soon as ever he has grosly told his Mistress that he loves her, he tels brutishly that he presently expects a recom∣pence of his love, and if he find it not presently, two to one but he casts off his Mistress. Truly Ar∣taxander (said Cephisa) me thinks you go a little to far; for Cynesia is virtuous. I think she is, when I think well upon it (replied Artaxander) but when I do not, I sometimes doubt it; for what can a man of ingenuity say unto such a man as Alphidemon? and what innocent delights can you imagine from a lover that hath no smack of gallantry in him? Ne∣ver ask what delights one can find in love (replied Cephisa) for love brings its delights with it: and as soon as a heart is possest with this passion, the mind is also prepossessed: it cannot see things as they are, but sees them only as love will have them: So Cyne∣sia, being very young, and having a strong inclina∣tion to Alphidemon, love will not let her reason see his faults; not but that I do condemn her; for I can∣not indure one should love that which is not amia∣ble. 'Tis true (replied Artaxander) and if one will love, let them love where they may have rest, and not as I did; though I can say to my comfort, that any other then my self might have been catched; but how could I guess, that those things which do afflict me, should have done so: My fears also at the beginning of my love to Cynesia, were wrong pla∣ced; for I feared her wit would have been too de∣licate and high, that she would have thought me a Man not sufficiently accomplished; that my Gallan∣try would have seemed to her of too merry a strain; and that she would be insensible of my passion; but the truth is, I feared those things which I needed not to fear; and I did not fear that thing which only I ought to fear; 'tis true there was no shadow of a∣ny cause to fear it; for how could I possibly ima∣gine that Cynesia, who stood upon her wit and glory, should ever love Alphidemon, whom all the World despised, and who indeed deserved no esteem? The truth is (said Cephisa) this could not be divined or believed, unless there had been a hundred such cir∣cumstances as would have put it out of all doubt. For my part (said Artaxander) I am better informed then any else; for Cynesia hath confessed to me that she loved Alphidemon, even with the same breath that she spoke kindly unto me; unto me, I say, who does not a jot resemble nor never will, nor will ever have to do with any thing that ever was his.

After this, Artaxander began to walk about the Chamber and muse, as if he had been alone, though Cephisa was with him, naming sometimes Alphidemon, and sometimes Cynesia, as they came into his mind; and he was above a quarter of an hour in this dump; Cephisa would not disturb him, because she thought it good sport, and indeed because she was not sorry that Artaxander's heart was dis-engaged from the love of Cynesia. But at last, perceiving himself, he rouzed out of his study, and had many pleasant conceits upon his being Alphidemon's successor. Af∣ter which, he returned to his Lodging, and in his way he met Alphidemon, whose very sight did much incense him; for he was very unhandsome and slo∣venly, he saluted clownishly, as if he were a Man of poor quality; and when he came to the house of Philiontes his Father, he there heard a hundred sim∣ple passages of Alphidemon. So Artaxander being more and more exasperated, and conceiving that it was not fit he should any longer love a person who could love Alphidemon, he resolved to break off with Cynesia. For (said he unto Philiontes, who would have disswaded him) I shall have this satisfaction that those who will say, she would have made me Alphidemon's successor, will say also, I refused it, and renounced the succession. If you quit Cynesia (re∣plied Philiontes) you will so rejoice Pasithea, as if you be of any vindicative temper, you will not leave her. I am fuller of revenge then you imagine (re∣plied he) but I will not be revenged upon my self; and if I should continue loving Cynesia, only because I will not joy Pasithea, I should be extreamly ashamed of being Alphidemon's successor. But (said Philion∣tes) can Men love when they list, and cease when they will? I know not that (replied he) but I will try. And indeed Artaxander went no more unto Cynesia, but went every day unto Cephisa, chearing up himself with his Amity for the loss of his love. Mean time Clidamis, who quickly heard how squares went between Artaxander and Cynesia, he returned to her and quitted Pasithea; but Cynesia not liking him so well as she did Artaxander, she gave him bee cold entertainment; imagining that Artaxander

would take it well. On the other side Pasithea was vexed to the soul to see Clidamis forsake her, and that it pleased Artaxander whom she would glad∣ly re-call.

As for Cynesia she could not imagine what course to take to cure Artaxander: It was in vain for her to say that she never loved Alphidemon, because she had confessed it: nor would she make Alphidemon more esteemable or esteemed than he was. So as she had no other way, since she stood much upon her ho∣nour, then to seem as if she cared not for Artaxan∣der's slighting her. Mean time Artaxander being quite out with all manner of gallantry, the friend∣ship of Cephisa was a real Cordial to him; for be∣ginning the rules of friendship with her, he found himself in a very good condition, and did not alter as long as he was at Crete: He gave Cephisa an ac∣count of all his follies, and took more delight in telling, then he ever did in the acting them; for Ce∣phisa being of an excellent and pleasing spirit, ha∣ving also much good Will unto Artaxander, and he likewise to her, their Conversation was with such a friendly liberty as made it very agreeable: And when Artaxander left Crete, he was more sorry to part from his friend, then from all his Mistresses; and I am confident he lived in more content with Cephisa, then ever he did with Pasithea and Cynesia with whom he had those beginnings of love which you desired to know, and which I have told you with so little Art, as I have reason to fear that all these Illustrious persons who have heard me, will repent of their curiosity.

For my particular (said Clelia, seeing Amilcar had no more to say) I am far from repenting, for I do think these two beginnings of love worth a whole History. For my part (said the Prince Sextus) I am very affectionate unto Artaxander, because methinks he resembles Amilcar. Truth is (replied Aronces) Artaxander is set out in an excellent Character: I concur with you (said the merry Plotina) but yet me∣thinks if Amilcar had been in Artaxander's place, he would either not have quitted Pasithea so slightly, or else he would have returned to her, after he had quitted Cynesia; for I do not think him so fit for a friend, as for a Mistress. I have yet been so little known unto you, Madam (replied Amilcar) that me∣thinks you judge too rathly. However (said Ceso∣nia) I much desire to know what this Artaxander is? my desire is the same (said Artimedorus) for my par∣ticular (said Zenocrates) I would gladly know both Pasithea and Cynesia; my curiosity is for Cephisa (ad∣ded Clelia) for methinks a friend that gives more comfort then two Mistresses, must needs be of much merit. I profess (said Plotina) I would give any thing to know the true names of all these persons: Truly all your Curiosities are to no purpose (said Amilcar) for if you did know the Names you do not know the persons. If you will (said Celeres in a low voice unto Plotina) I will give you the Key unto this History, upon Condition you will seem as if you had it by Inchantment. Plotina having a pleasant and merry wit, she thought it would make good sport, if Celeres would be as good as his word; so as pressing him very obligingly unto it, he told her the true Names of all those whom Artaxander had introduced in the adventure which he had related; and then retired handsomely from Plotina, of whom Amilcar took no notice when she whispered with Ce∣leres; for his design being to keep Sextus from talk∣ing with Clelia, he applied himself in talk wholly un∣to that Prince: So when Celeres was gone from Plo∣tina, she began again to entreat Amilcar he would be pleased to tell them the true Names of Artaxander, of Pasithea, of Cynesia, of Cephisa, and all the rest of whom he had spoken; and he still persisting in his denial, she told him that she requested a thing from him which she could tell, as well as himself. And to testifie that I sought only to be obliged unto you, if you will promise me to confess the truth, I will engage my self to write such a Key as all the Compa∣ny shall know the true names of every one they de∣sire: Ah lovely Plotina (replied Amilcar) if you can make that good, I will not only engage my self to tell you whether your Key be true, but I will en∣gage to be in love with you as long as I live, though you should too little love another Philocrates, or too much love another Alphidemon. I desire no more (replied she) so taking Pen, Ink, and Paper out of her Pocket, she went unto the Window to write the Names which Celeres had told her. And after she had written them, she gave the Paper unto Zeno∣crates to read: So as all the Company flocking about him, he began to read what Plotina had written, which was in these terms.

The true Key unto the History of Artaxander.

Artaxander.—	Amilcar.
Pasithea.—	Belisa.
Cynesia.—	Lindamira.
Cephisa.—	Liriana.
Alphidemon.—	Phelinix.
Clidamis.—	Alberites.
Philiontes.—	Timaides.
Crete.—	Sydon.

Zenocrates had no sooner done reading, but every one was earnest to tell Amilcar that they knew him to be Artaxander. Well (said Amilcar) I will be Artaxander if you will have me; for I am as merry a Man and Complaisant as lives: But I would glad∣ly know, by what Inchantment Plotina did find it out. After this, Amilcar mused a while, and then looking upon Celeres who could not chuse but smile: Ah Celeres (said he) it is you who have betrayed me, for I have heretofore made you the Confident of my Follies. Yet I would gladly know (said Cle∣lia) why you took so much pains in changing all the Names of all these persons and your own? for we know neither Belisa nor Pasithea. It is true (repli∣ed he) but you do know Amilcar) better then you do Artaxander, and it was for his sake only that I put a guise upon the rest.

But the wonder is, that in my hast of changing names I have committed a merry errour and none takes any notice of it; for I have given a Grecian name unto an Affrican. For my part (said Sextus) I see no reason more than the rest of our Company, why you should conceal your having interest in the Company, why you should conceal your having in∣terest in having what you have related. I told you already, Sir (replied he) before I began to re∣late

the story, that I did not love to be my own Hi∣storian, and I must tell you again, that I never will, and that those who will write such Books as that fa∣mous blind man did, whose works all Greece adores, must always introduce some persons to tell the ad∣ventures of others. For then the Relator com∣mends or condemns those of whom he speaks accor∣ding to their merit. They will impartially des∣cribe the persons whom they do introduce, they will descant upon things, and mingle their own thoughts with theirs; but when any are their own Historians, all that they shall say in their own ad∣vantage is suspected; and it is so difficult to do, that if it be a woman who tels her own tale, she cannot handsomely say, I made him in love with me; and if it be a man, he cannot well say, that he was lo∣ved, or that he was valiant; and therefore it is a thousand times better to have the Story told in the third person then in the first. There is reason in all you say (replied Aronces) yet some men would think it strange that a third person should know so many particulars of things, wherein he himself hath no interest. I am perswaded of what you say (re∣plied Amilcar) but yet it may be an ill grounded perswasion; for some men do better know all the advantages of others then of their own, because they may come to the knowledge of them from the months of persons uninterested, yet true it is, that those who read, ought to enter into the very thoughts of the Writer, and so the relator of the person whose story is related; but upon the whole matter, I cannot indure to hear a Woman tell of all her Conquests, or a man of his exploits; sometimes when they are forced upon it, I will allow them to do as well as they can: and to put in practice what I speak of others, I make a promise unto my self, never to relate any thing that hath happened unto me, unless to one person only at once, and as sel∣dome as possibly I can. I am very glad of this reso∣lution (said Plotina and laughed) for since it is very likely that we shall have some adventures together, I shall be safe, and need not fear that you will ever tell what passeth between us; unless it be under such dis∣guised names as will keep me safe from my dange∣rous interpretations. I do believe (said Cesonia) that you would not be glad to have your adventure told in that manner: but am perswaded that if it were, you your self would find out a key for it as you have done unto the History of Artaxander. For my part; (said one of those melancholly Ladies, who fretted at her captivity) I wonder much at the excessive curiosity which I have observed in all the company to know the true names of the persons whom Amilcar brought into his Story: for since it changeth nothing, neither in the adventure nor in the thoughts, what matter is it whether the persons were Grecians or Affricans? And why should so much ado be about that which cannot afford any real diversion; for my part if Amilcar had said at the be∣ginning of his relation, that he was going to relate an adventure which he had invented, I should have hearkened with as much delight as I did, and should have more admired the ingenuity of him who could so handsomely invent an adventure. Whatsoever you are pleased to say (replied Plotina) certainly there is more pleasure to be taken in hearing a thing which is known to be a truth, then in hearing a known falshood. There are some truths (replied Clelia) which are so unpleasing, and so far from probability, and there are some inventions so full of delight and likely, as it may be said, that some∣times a lye is more pleasing then a truth, and resem∣bles truth, more then truth it self doth. Since e∣very one speaks after the rate of their own beauty, I will not dispute by reason, to uphold that which concurs with his own inclination.

You speak very well (replied Sextus) and there∣fore pleasures are not to be condemned in any who∣soever, and my humour is such as I will never con∣demn them in others; but I cannot endure that o∣thers should condemn them in me. For my part (said Zenocrates) that sometimes I see many things which do not please me; but the natural irksome∣ness which I have to all things which do not delight me, cannot make me condemn them, but pass by, and say nothing. For my particular (said Amil∣car) I always condemn those who condemn others. Certainly (said Aronces) one ought to be very re∣served in giving his opinion upon the pleasures of o∣thers. And yet it is so little used (replied Celeres) that nothing is more subject to censures then plea∣sures. Tis true, replied Artimedorus, but it must be confessed withal, that nothing does better disco∣ver the bottoms of mens hearts; and therefore it is not without cause that some should so accustome themselves to observe them: for in solid and serious affairs, the mind is close, and cannot be known; but in matter of pleasures, ones hearts and spirits lie o∣pen; they are discovered to the bottom: And by them best are mens manners and inclinations known. Tis ordinarily seen (said Clelia) that by little things great ones comes to be known. For my part, said Amilcar, men may be much deceived in judging of me, by my pleasures: For I take them so many seve∣ral wayes; when fortune brings me to a place, where I cannot have them, I make pleasures of my business, rather then want them: The truth is, one cannot live without pleasures; and those who seem never to enjoy any, but are naturally sober and grave, most certainly they find delight even in their own Melan∣choly. After this, Sextus finding by the silence which Clelia and the rest of the Ladies observed, that they thought it time to end discourse, he did rise up; and went away with Aronces, Artimedorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, and Celeres: Who after they had waited upon Sextus to his lodging, they went every one to their own: But the sweetest part of that night unto Aronces was, that when Sextus did rise up, and Amilcar had cunningly engaged him in talk with Plotina, Aronces found an opportunity of a little talk with Clelia, when none could hear but her self: So as this pretious opportunity made him pass away the night in much delight. Mean while since the siege of Ardes drew on, and since the pre∣sence of Tarquin was necessary he must prepare him∣self for a departure. Yet he had found Clelia so fair, that he could willingly have deferred it some days, if his ambition had not been so prevalent with his heart: For though Tarquin had never any violent inclinations to love, yet he found some∣thing so extraordinary in this fair prisoner, that see her he must in the Morning; giving orders that she should be waited upon very diligently; and confer∣ring many favours upon others for her sake. Mean while, the proud and cruel Tullia, knowing it, she was very importunate in behalf of the Vestals, with Tarquin to release them; she caused Verenia to come the second time unto that Prince: But he was more

moved against her this second visit, then the first: For he told her, that to recompence her endeavours of raising a Rebellion in Rome, he would send to seek her brother all the World over, that he might send him and all his Family into another World. Af∣ter which preparing for his departure, he did de∣part the next morning: Followed by the Prince Sextus, the Prince of Pometia, the Prince Collatin, the young Sons of Brutus, two other young men of quality of the Aquiline Family; all the bravery of Rome, Aronces, Artimedorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, Celeres and many others. This departure was so sudden that Sextus could not see the prisoners: But Celeres, passing for the Brother of Clelia, he went to her, and carried Aronces with him, who had the happiness to bid her adieu; But this adue was so sad, as it may be said they did onely communicate sorrows, and make an exchange of grief. For when Clelia considered, that she was under the pow∣er of Tarquin who did most horridly hate her Father; when she thought that this proud Tyrant did too fa∣vourably look upon her; that the Prince Sextus did the same: That the cruel Tullia had shewed no civilities unto her: That Aronces was going to the Wars where he might die: The Celeres who passed for her Brother, might perish also as well as Amil∣car; and that she was to be left without any help in the hands of most wicked people, it was impossible but she should be extreamly grieved. On the other side Aronces who more sadly resented the miseries of her he loved, then his own, never considering what might be said of him in the King his Fathers Court, he thought upon nothing but the pitiful con∣dition of Clelia. Yet since Tarquin had promised to deliver her, when the siege of Ardes was ended, this hope did something moderate his sorrows. But the truth is, his fears of her being known to be the daughter of Clelius did take away the greatest sweet∣ness of his hopes. Also the very grief of being from her, and leaving her under the power of that Tiger Tullia, did so extreamly afflict him, as it may be said, this onely was enough to make him worthy of compassion. Also they expressed themselves unto each other, the most sadly that can be imagi∣ned, whilst Celeres and Amilcar who was with them this visit did take their leaves of the other Ladies, But the adieu of Plotina and Amilcar was as merry as the other was Melancholly, and at parting were as full of their pleasant frollicks as ever. Yet Amilcar set a more serious face upon the matter, when he took his leave of Clelia: For maugre all his mirth, he did most obligingly resent the misfortunes of this fair one. But after they had left her, Aronces, Celeres, and he, durst not go and see Verenia, lest if it were known, Tarquin should suspect them: But they went secretly unto the virtuous Sevilia, pur∣posely to oblige her to let Verenia know, that her illustrious Neece had in their persons, some defen∣ders against the Tyrant. After which they went unto that Prince, as well as Artimedorus and Zeno∣crates. Mean time, there might be seen go out of Rome that day; the most magnificent equipage of War, that ever was seen since the first Foundation of that proud Town; for under their former Kings the Romans either out of poverty or moderation, ne∣ver used any superstuities. Moreover Amilcar being equally agreeable unto Tarquin, unto Sextus, unto the Prince of Pometia, and unto Titus, he shared him∣self amongst them during this march; for he was sometimes with one, sometimes with another, and though their humours were all different, yet he plea∣sed them all. As for Aronces, he was so full of sor∣row, that he entertained only himself. Artimedo∣rus he talked with Zenocrates, for they two had e∣nough to talk on in matters wherein none else had any interest; and for Celeres he entertained Collatin in discourse of the siege. However Tarquins Quarter being betwixt Rome and Ardes, the Camp was so near that Famous City: as one might goe and come betwixt them in a day, but reason did forbid Aronces from doing so, lest he should render himself sus∣pected: So as it might be said, that he was as mise∣rable as if he had been further off from Clelia, since he durst not go and see her. But Tarquin was no sooner come to the Camp then he gave out orders concerning the siege; he went to view all the seve∣ral Posts, and would have the strangers with him to the end they might see that the way of Roman War had great congruity with the Grecian and Afri∣can way. As for Aronces he accompanyed Tarquin, he reasoned so rightly, and gave such good advice unto this Prince, he began from that day to look upon him not as an ordinary man: But as Tarquin and this brave Troop were upon a hill which Aronces said was requisite to be made good, they of Ardes made a salley: And so advantagiously for themselves at first, as by the favour of another hill upon the left hand Tarquin was set about before he was aware. So as then he was very happy in having so many brave men about him: For maugre the vigorous assault of his enemies, who doubled them in number, they re∣pulsed them, and did such prodigious things that day, as made all who saw him admire: For know∣ing that Horace was in Ardes, he bore a secret ha∣tred unto those who defended him; yet when he considered that Ardes was the harbour of his noble friend whom Tarquin hated only for his virtue, his heroique heat, which made him do such great ex∣ploits did began to slack; But for all that when he considered that at the end of the siege Clelia was to be delivered, he thought upon nothing, but what might conduce to the taking of this Town; so as bestirring himself that day to defend him who besie∣ged it, he did defend him as if he had infinitely esteemed him, as if he had most dearly loved him, and as if he had been incomparably tender of him, though at the bottom of his heart he had a most hor∣rible aversion against this proud Tyrant. So as desiring to signal him self upon this occasion; he did as I told you before, such marvellous things as made both his friends and enemies admire him. Al∣so all they who followed Tarquin did acts worthy of eternal memory; and one would have said, that the Romans, the Grecians and the Affricans did vie va∣lours with each other in vanquishing those who as∣saulted them. So as all these brave men fighting to∣gether, they beat the other as brave and as strong as they were, and did drive them to their very gates, after they had killed many, and took more prisoners than they themselves.

But amongst those who Aronces took with his own hands; hee found two who told him things very different; for after some of Tarquins Troops were come up to relieve them, and that they could retreat without fear of any sallies, he asked these pri∣soners concerning the state of the town, and the number of men to defend it? Sir, said one of the souldiers, there are men enough to find you work;

and if the valiant Horace doe escape his wounds; as it is hoped, he and Herminius, joyning together, will make you pay dear for your victory. How? (said Tarquin, and blusht for anger) is Horace and Her∣minius both in Ardes? Yes, Sir, replied the coura∣geous souldier; and had they been in the head of those troops you have beaten, perhaps you had found a sharper business of it. Tarquin being incen∣sed at the boldness of this prisoner, commanded him to be put to death; but since it was Aronces that took him; oh Sir (said he to Tarquin with ex∣tream generosity) since this prisoner belongs to me, I beseech your Majesty not to be so cruel unto him, for I think my self obliged to defend his life; and I assure you he did so stoutly defend it, that he me∣rits better usage. I will give him to your valour (replied Tarquin in a rought one) though his inso∣lency deserves death; for how durst he in my pre∣sence commend two of my most mortal enemies and enemies whom I hate as much as Clelius, and Horace and Herminius deserve it.

After this, Tarquin casting his eye upon the other captive, whom Aronces took, he began to ask him who he was? for he seemed to have the ayr of a stranger. Sir (said he in very broken Roman lan∣guage) though I am taken amongst your enemies, yet I am not so; for I belong unto the Prince of Nu∣midia, who sent me into Ardes to know whether a daughter of his who was stoln away was there. He had no sooner said so, but Aronces, Amilcar, and Celeres did know the man, and that he did belong unto the Prince of Numidia, therefore their hearts began to beat extreamly, fearing he would tell some∣thing which might give Tarquin some cause to think that Clelia was the daughter of Clelius; but as good luck was, the man had heretofore been servant to Amilcar, who turning his eyes towards him; he made such signs to hold his peace, and in such a me∣nacing manner, as the poor fellow not knowing what to say, or not to say, he said just nothing. Tarquin seeing him to be a stranger and ignorant in in what he desired to know, he let him go amongst the rest of the prisoners, at which Aronces was very glad; but desiring to know a little more concerning the Prince of Numidia, when Tarquin was gone to his quarters, he went unto him who kept the priso∣ners to speak with this African who might satisfie his curiosity; and he went with Amilcar, who made the man to tell, that the Prince of Numidia desiring to get into that party which was opposite unto that which Horace took, he had a desire to know whether he was in Ardes, as it was reported he was; so as Aronces was likely to see his Rival arrive in the Camp of Tarquin, and to arrive in such a manner as to be known who he was: However he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dissemble his resentments, and for Clelia's sake comply with all the pleasures of the Prince Sextus, because it was he above all the rest, from whom he was to hope for Clelia's protection, if Tarquin should hear by any ill fortune that she was Daughter unto Clelius; for Sextus being not capable of that poli∣tique hatred which the King his father was, it was to be hoped that Clelia being very fair, and pleased him, he would defend her in case Tarquin should of∣fer either to hurt her or love her too much: for A∣ronces saw she was in danger of these two extreams; so as though he was very melancholy at the heart, yet he was forced to seem merry in the face, and though he was free from any licencious Debauche∣ry, yet he lived as if he were the greatest Libertine of all men upon earth. And since Tarquins design was not to take Ardes by force, but by hunger, the time was likely to be long, and Sextus brought into the Camp a way of life more voluptuous then in Rome, for they did nothing but feast continually from Tent to Tent, and from Quarter to Quarter: However there was a necessity of complying with his humour, though against the hair of ones own; and sometimes is is wisdom not to seem wise. Thus Aronces being both amorous and prudent, did comply with the times, and was at all these tumul∣tuous feasts of which Sextus was the Ring-leader, also he treated this Martial and merry crew, in his own Tent, and treated them in a manner so magni∣ficent as did amaze the Romans, and in such a neat fashion as made all the Grecians admire. Artimedo∣rus, Amilcar, and also Zenocrates did treat them in their turns, as men that knew how to goe through any thing they undertook. But Sextus mixing matters of love in all things, the discourse in all these feasts was commonly either upon Beauty, or the humours of women, either in commending or blaming of them. So as all this merry company was at Supper one night with the Prince Sextus; he began to chide Collatine, because his wife could ne∣ver be seen, though she had the reputation of the fairest woman in all Rome. For inded (said he un∣to Aronces, Artimedorus, Amilcar, Zenocrates, and Celeres though) Collatine be Nephew unto the King my father, and by consequence Lucrecia of quality to be known by all in Rome, yet she is known by none, but her Reputation which seems to be upheld by Enchantment; for since she will not see the Queen because she was once ill treated by her, she will not be seen in any place where her beauty may be judged of; if she do pass through the streets unto the Temple, her Head is always pulled down, and she never frequents any other place. If she do walk, it is in places so solitary as none ever use to come at them; and the truth is, Lucrecia is never seen but by five or six people, whom none ever sees: And yet for all this, she hath the reputation of being the fairest Woman that ever was seen in Rome. But to tell you truly, I do not believe it (added he and laughed) for if she were so fair as re∣ported, I am confident she would shew her beau∣ty, mauger all the Roman austerity, in spite of all the vigilancy of Parents, mauger Collatine himself and all his jealousie; for I must certainly conclude, that if she be fair, he must needs be jealous, since none ever sees his Wife. Oh Sir (said Collatine) you are extreamly unjust in accusing me of any jea∣lousie; and I were the most unreasonable Man li∣ving were I jealous of Lucrecia. I must tell you (re∣plied Amilcar) that a beauty solitary, and a soli∣tude voluntary, is one of the rarest things in the World; and therefore though you be not jealous, yet the Prince Sextus is very excusable in suspecting you to be so. For my part (said the Prince of Po∣metia) I know Lucrecia a little better than you do, and I am sure that the cause of her retiredness pro∣ceeds not from any jealousie in Collatine, but only from her own modesty and from a fancy she hath, that there ought to be a great difference between a fair Mistress and a fair Wife. For my particular (said Sextus) I am not of her fancy, for I think it fit a Wife should be the Mistress of her Husband, and that a Mistress never ought to be the Wife of

her Lover. The truth is (said Artimedorus) a Wife ought not to give over her gallantry towards her Husband, as soon as she is married; and a Mistress should be so familiar with her Lover as to become his Wife, by her little care she takes to please him. And yet it often happens so (replied Aronces.) I would have a Lady rule her Lover (said Amilcar) for if the Husband do cease loving as soon as she is mar∣ried, I would have the Wife cease being his Mi∣stress, and I would not have any such difference made betwixt Gallantry and Love as usually is. I do confess it (said the Prince Titus) for I cannot en∣dure that Men when they see any Ladies, should say, I could like such a Lady for my Mistress, but not for my Wife; and on the contrary, I could affect such a one for my Wife, but would not chuse her for my Mistress; for I conceive what becomes a Wife, be∣comes a Mistress; and what becomes a Mistress renders her to be a charming Wife; and I would have my Wife as charming as my Mistress; and I would not have my Mistress more Cocket then I would have my Wife. Then you would have her as austere as the Sibyls (replied Sextus) and that she be as solitary, salvage, imperious, critical, cen∣suring others, thinking ill upon the least conjectures, and melancholy; that she deprive her self of all pleasures, to have this onely, that she hath the re∣putation of a good Woman and when she will can give over the World. Oh Sir (replied the Prince of Pometia) Lucrecia is none of those; for she is ex∣cellent society though solitary, she is severe and ri∣gid onely to her self; she alwayes thinks well of o∣thers, and she maintains it neither good nor modest for any Women to suspect those of their sex in ge∣neral, of any great weakness; she never condemns pleasures in others, she puts a good construction up∣on every thing, she is not lumpish nor Melancholy; and if she were not solitary she would be adored by all the World. You love her Sister in law so well (replied the Prince Sextus) that you are not to be believed in all you speak to the advantage of Lucre∣tia. If a Husband may be allowed to commend his own Wife (replied Collatine) I would say, that the Prince of Pometia doth not slatter Lucretia; and that the affection he bears unto my Sister, doth not move him to speak against truth. For my part (said Sextus) I do not insist upon such critical for∣malities; and therefore Collatine, without any consi∣deration of being Husband unto Lucretia, I pray you tell me ingenuously, and impartially whether her beauty be comparable to the beauty of that fair Prisoner which you saw when the Vestals demanded her liberty? For my part I must profess unto you, that I never in my life saw any so fair.

The truth is, she is very fair (replied Collatine) yet I know not whether it be because I affect black beauties, better then the fair: But I profess unto you, that I think Lucretia as fair for a black beauty, as that prisoner is for a fair beauty: And of the two I would leave the fair and take the black. For my part (said Aronces) I should not do so; upon this the Prince Sextus having an extream desire to see Lucretia, did becken unto all the young Gallants to second his design, so as every one began to affirm that Lucretia was not so fair as reported. If she be so as she is represented (said Zenocrates then) I am sure she is not so fair as one I have seen in Sicily. For my part (said Artimedorus) I know one that will not yield unto her. For my particular (said Amil∣car) I have met with many Lucretia's, but I know onely one fair prisoner in all the World. Aronces had a good mind to say so also, but he durst not for fear of suspition; so as he let all the rest speak, who all confessed, that though they had Mistresses of their own, yet the fair Prisoner, was the fairest that ever was seen. As for the Prince of Pomctia, he did not say any thing against her great beauty, but only said that Lucretia and his own Mistress could not be compared together, because they were so opposite as two contraries could not be more, the one having fair hair, and grey eyes; and the other black hair and black eyes. Mean time, This feast which Sex∣tus made, having raised the spirits of Collatine to a jolly height, he was that time full of rallary; so as the Prince Sextus, beginning again to chide him for his pretended jealonsie, though he knew well e∣nough that he was not jealous, Collatine did rise up upon a suddain, and looking upon all the company. To make it appear I am not jealous (said he unto them) And to let you know that Lucretia does me∣rit all the reputation of beauty which she hath, I freely offer to take horse immediately, and carry you all unto my house. Collatine had no sooner said so, but Sextus ravished with joy, did take it at his word: So as though it was late, they all took horse, and went to Rome: so came to Collatine where Lu∣cretia was, who not expecting so great a company was working with her Woman, an excellent piece of work she made the business of her solitude. Howe∣ver being alwayes naturally handsome, though she did not think of seeing any that day, yet she was not in such a negligent dress, as did any thing take from her beauty; but on the contrary, her dress was very advantagious. So as all this Company making a great noise at their coming, and hearing that her Husband brought them, she prepared her self to receive them very well. So Lucretia leaving her work, she went to meet them, and not know∣ing that her beauty was the cause of this journey, she shewed it in its full lustre: for she had four slaves who walked before her with lights, which made it at first appear unto all that came, she merited all the reputation of beauty which she had: and that there was none but Clelia who could dispute with her for being the greatest beauty in the whole World.

The Prince Sextus was so blasted, that he stood dumb as he was the first time he saw Clelia; so as A∣milcar observing him, he jogged Aronces, who was very glad to see it, in hopes that perhaps his incli∣nation to Clelia would lessen, by his liking Lucretia. So as Amilcar (after he had asked Aronces pardon for the injustice, I was going to do his Mistress) he began to cry aloud that the fair prisoner was van∣quished; that Lucretia had got the victory, and that Collatine was the happiest man upon Earth. Zeno∣crates also did highly appland the beauty of Lucre∣tia. Artimedorus did the same. The young Sons of Brutus as much. The two young Aquilines no less. The Prince of Pometia asked every one what they thought; the Prince Titus said as others did; and Collatine himself in saying nothing, did yet im∣ply that Lucretia was never fairer then she was that night. All the while, this Wife and Modest Lady was so surprized at their expressions, and at their tumultuous commendations which they gave her, as she knew not what to think. Yet being of an ad∣mirable spirit, and not having forgot the mode of the World in her solitude, she did handsomely re∣tire.

But the Prince Sextus being charmed with the beauty of Lucretia as much as with Clelia, he was something deaf to the motion, and with Amil∣car began to make a long invective against solitude: For truly said Amilcar unto (Lucretia, whilst Collatine was talking unto some others whom he had brought thither) you are infinitely to blame for thus hiding as you do, the greatest beauty upon earth; for take in which way you will, solitude is good for no∣thing. Yes Sir, replied Lucretia, it is good to satisfie those who seek it and love it. But Madam, answered Sextus, those who do love it and seek, if they were as you are they ought not to love or seek it. 'Tis true (added Amilcar) for solitude will not let either beauty or virtue shew it self; and is good for nothing, but to give the World occasion to say that when the Wife is fair and solitary, her Husband is jealous. Though I do not expose my self unto the World, replied Lucretia, yet I do not think that any will say that Collatine is jealous. If they do not say so, replied Sextus, it is in your pre∣sence, when they can say nothing else but that you are the fairest person that ever was seen. But yet, said Amilcar, I would gladly know, what delights can solitude afford? Though no other, but to be sure they will trouble none (replied Lucretia) nor be troubled by any, yet this is a great pleasure; for these are two things which often happen unto such as expose themselves unto the World. Did I see in all your Chambers (said Amilcar) abundance of great and stately Mirrours, which would let you see your self every way, I should not then wonder what pleasure you could take in your solitude, for I am confident you would be infinitely pleased with looking upon your self: but that you should pass a∣way your life poring upon works, and that a piece of several coloured Tissue should take up your eyes and mind, this is a thing above my understanding. I know (added he) that a person who has some secret affection gnawing upon her heart which makes her apt to muse and study, she indeed may easily pass away whole daies in working upon some excellent piece, because that would be a handsome pretence for her entertaining her self, and talking unto none; but that a Woman of Spirit should find any delight in passing away her life with drooping eyes and hands busied in Works like Bees in their Hives; this is a thing which I cannot comprehend. Therefore I must conclude that those who pass a∣way their whole lives so, have either very shallow Spirits; or else have some secret cause of reserved∣ness which doth busie and divert them. For my part (replied Lucretia and blu••••'d) since I have no secret confederacy with any; It must be then con∣cluded that I delight in my works, because my Spi∣rit is very shallow. Oh no Madam; said Sextus, I can never believe that: But perhaps you have a fancy by this way to make all the World believe you have as much virtue as beauty: But Madam, let me tell you, after a long accustomacy unto this kind of life, you will not know how to enter into society again and commonly all your sage beauties, do make them∣selves the most miserable people in the World, by beginning a form of life too severe. But Madam, if you will follow my advice, you shall add nothing to the Roman austerity: Be not more severe then the Vestals; Quit Collatia, and return to Rome, and do not anticipate old age, by a living death: For so I must phrase solitude. For my part, replied Lucre∣tia, I think the life so infinitely sweet, as I cannot give it so terrible a name: And to tell you truly (ad∣ded she and laughed) I think the life so pleasant, as I assure you, I think this is the worst night I passed away ever since I became solitary at Collatia. Lu∣cretia spoke this with such a sprightly Air, as that it was as much as told the Prince Sextus it was late, and time to retire; so he left Lucretia with so much e∣steem of her, as all the company (except Collatine who took no notice of it) did plainly see she had pierced his heart.

The truth is, it was a thing not difficult to do; for the love of Sextus was only of sensual love, where∣in the mind was not much considerable. But at last all the company after they had left Lucretia, in her Chamber they rested themselves an hour; and such repast as hast would permit, they returned to the Camp: But in their return, Artimedorus, Amil∣car, Zenocrates and Celeres, who had a desire to ad∣vance Lucretia in the heart of Sextus, and so chase out Clelia, they did nothing else but commend the beauty of Lucretia, and envy the happiness of Calla∣tine. Also they told Sextus in a low voice, that certainly Lucretia with all her virtue was of a very passionate temper, that her eyes did speak as much; and that she was not so hard to be overcome as Cleli∣a, who was of a more cold temper: So as Sextus, whose nature was impetuous, abandoning his heart to the beauty of Lucretia, and not quite chasing out Clelia, he returned to the Camp, not knowing di∣rectly whether he was more taken with the black or the fair beauty. Truth is, since he had seen Lucre∣tia last it seemed she had the advantage of the other. Also hearing so many cry up the beauty of Lucretia his heart was the deeper wounded; for nothing does more blow the fire of a growing love then ap∣plauds of her who is the cause of it. As for Aronces, though he wished heartily that Sextus would love Lucretia rather then Clelia, yet he could get no fur∣ther expressions from him then that Clelia was less fair than Lucretia. So he returned to the Camp without almost speaking one word; and when they came near the Camp, he rid some twenty pa∣ces behind the rest, because he loved more to muse then mix with such tumultuous discourse, and he observed that all the company stayed; so as coming up to them, he saw one of the King of Romes Offi∣cers, who told the Prince Sextus, that there was come into the Camp an Envoy from the King of Clusium, who came from the King his Master, to advertise Tarquin, that the Prince his Son, who stole out of his Court was unknown in his Camp, and beseeched him that if it was so, he would seeure him, lest he should marry the daughter of a man who was his enemy, with whom he was in love; ad∣ding, that the Ladies name was Clelia, that she was the daughter of Clelius, that she was taken away from Horatius, and that she was lately come out. This (said the Envoy) was no sooner told unto Tarquin, but he imagined that the daughter of Cle∣lius must needs be one of those Ladies captives which were in Rome, and therefore I was sent in all hast with orders that they might be more strictly looked unto; for Tarquin remembring how earnest the grand Vestal was for the liberty of those captives he did not doubt but Clelia was one of them; and he seemed so incensed against her, though he knew not which was she, that he swore he would put her to death; though for no other reason then to hinder the

King of Clusium's Son from marrying her. But (said the Prince Sextus) does the King believe, that the King of Clusium's Son is in his Army? Yes, Sir (replied he, and whispered) for he told that En∣voy there was many strangers with you, whose mind might well become the Sons of Kings; so as this man does very impatiently wait for your return at your Tent door, to spy if any of those who are with you be Son to the King of Clusiam. Though Tarquins Officer spake this in a low voice, yet Aronces heard it, and heard it with unimaginable grief, yet he conceived that it was extreamly expedient for him not to discover his thoughts, and therefore set the best face he could upon the matter: when the Offi∣cer had left the Prince, and was gone away, he ob∣served that Sextus looked sometimes upon Amilcar, sometimes upon Celeres, and sometimes upon him; for he could not imagine Artimedorus or Zenocrates, two Sons unto the King of Clusium, because their Accent was purely Greek, and he knew very well that the King of Clusium's Son was not brought up in Greece. But desiring to talk of this with the Princes his Brothers though they seldome used to talk and converse together, he severed those from the rest, and rid some twenty paces before, not taking any notice of those who followed; for he did not think that the last thing which the King his Fathers Officer had told him, had heen heard; so as Aronces, clo∣sing with this occasion, he beckned unto Celeres, and staying some places behind, they rid softly, so as they were a hundred paces behind the rest when they entred into a thick and dark Wood. So as A∣ronces desiring so much liberty alone as to think what he should do, he took a little blind path way with Celeres, which after a hundred turnings and windings did bring them into a little solitary Valley, where there was four or five poor Shepherds cotta∣ges upon the side of a little Rivulet; no sooner were they there, but they stayed, and imagining that Sextus would send to seek them, Aronces look∣ed upon his friend with eyes so full of sadness, as was enough to melt a heart into sorrow. Now Ce∣leres (said he unto him) what say you now to the cruelty of my destiny? Fortune indeed is very cru∣el unto you (replied Celeres unto whom Aronces had told all he heard) for I must confess I know not what course you ought or can take. I can dye Cele∣res (replied he) and that's the most reasonable course I can take. Consider but my condition well and you will find that I have reason to do so; for as I gathered from the speech of the Officer, Tarquin does almost certainly know that the Daughter of Clelius, is in his Power, and he will be glad to know that Clelia is she that is the Daughter of his Enemy. Moreover if I do return to the Camp, I am sure to be a Prisoner, for I shall be known: If I do not re∣turn they will follow me, and which is most consi∣derable, I shall do an ill Office unto Clelia, since I can∣not return unto Rome: both you and I, and Amilcar also shall pass for cheats and impostors; for we have told Tarquin that you are Clelia's Brother. And yet in not going I see more danger towards her; fot per∣haps by talking unto Tarquin I shall stay his fury a∣gainst that admirable Lady. Your greatest com∣fort is (replied Celeres) that since Tarquin hath some inclination towards Clelia, certainly he will not treat her so cruelly. Oh Celeres (cryed out A∣ronces) what comfort can it be to see a Tyrant in love with ones Mistress? Yet I must confess that now I am angry that the beauty of Lucretia pleaseth Sex∣tus, more then the beauty of Clelia; for I know none fitter then he, to stand between her, and his Fathers fury. But alas unto what a pittiful condition am I brought, who for the safety of Clelia, must wish well unto my most insolent Rivals? As they were thus talking, they heard a great noise which made them look about; and they were no sooner turned, but they espyed coming out of a corner in this Val∣ley, the Prince of Numidia and Horacius who were fighting, and Herminius parting them, though they were both Rivals unto his friend, and though by their death he had been rid of two redoubtful ene∣mies.

This sight did so surprize Aronces thar as the state of his mind then stood, he knew not whether what he saw was true or no; for he could not imagine that Horacius should be so soon recovered. It is true that it well appeared, those two stout Rivals had not all their strength; for though they fought with abundance of animosity and courage, yet one might plainly perceive, that both of them were weak, es∣pecially Horacius; as for the Prince of Numidia it was long since he was well recovered of his Wounds, and therefore had time enough to gather strength, if his melancholy had been no hinderance. But A∣ronces and Celeres seeing this Combate, and seeing Herminius very busie in parting them, Aronces was in sufficient perplexity. However men of great Souls when they see others fighting, have but two wayes to chuse, either to part them, or to take side. Aronces not being able to take the latter of these wayes; because it was hard for him to chuse be∣tween two Rivals, and because he scorned advan∣tages, he went straight towards them with Celeres, whom he accquainted with his intention. But though they went as men whose intentions were to help Herminius in parting them, yet they did not at the first take it so, but recoyling back some paces, they turned both against Aronces, as against him that was most to be feared, and asked him, which of them two he would have to fight with him: But Aronces not hearkening to what they said, cryed out that it was not a time to fight and kill one another, when there might be some use of each other to deliver Clelia; but it was better to suspend their Animosi∣ties, as he would his, until she were free. He had no sooner said so, but he saw the Prince Sextus ap∣pear at the end of the Valley with all his Troops; for he seeing that Aronces did not follow him, he believed therefore that it was he who was Son to the King of Clusium; so as turning back, he for∣tuned to light just upon the place where these three Rivals were together.

Mean time, as things stood, since neither the in∣terests of Aronces nor Horacius was not to fall into the hands of Tarquin, they both of them took a way through the thick of the Wood, and Hermi∣nius followed them. But when Aronces saw that the Prince of Numidia stayed behind them, he hastily bid Adieu unto his friend and his Rival, and turned back, not being able to leave such a terrible enemy as the Prince of Numidia about Tasquin, lest though that Prince should not be so cruel as to put Clelia to death, yet he might be so unjust as to marry her un∣to that Prince. So as finding it more safety for her, to return to Tarquin, since his Rival was to be there: He went to Sextus. And when that Prince asked him who those were which rushed through

the Wood, out of his friendship to Herminius and generosity to Horatious, he said that they were men he knew not, and that as he met them he parted them, imagining that Sextus could not discern them, because their faces were turned the other way.

After this, Aronces presented outo him the Prince of Numidia though his Rival. After which, Sex∣tus taking Aronces apart, he asked him whether it was true, that he was Son to the King of Clusium? I have asked Amilcar, Artimedorus, and Zenocrates (said he unto him) who are all your friends, but they will tell me nothing; yet since I love you, I shall be glad to know it, that I might the better serve you. Aronces was now hard put to it; for considering the inclination which Sextus seemed to have to Clelia, he thought it no prudence to tell him who he was, since it was likely that e're long he would know Cle∣lia was the Daughter of Clelius, whom they would not have him to love. Yet the new inclination of Sextus unto Lucrecia, did take off that objection: and judging also that he could not long hide him∣self, he confessed that he was Porsenna's Son. He had no sooner confessed this, but Sextus blusht; and looking upon Aronces, tell me truly (said he) is this pretended Sister of Celeres, the Daughter of Clelius? I know she is, and therefore will not seek for the reason, why you would not say that Lucrecia seemed fairer in your eye then she. However, (added he, and would not give Aronces time to Answer) I will not advise you to put your self into the hands of the King my Father, unless you will hazard the life of Clelia, but I will promise you to protect her as far as I am able, and also to steal her away if Tarquin should come to the last extremities against her. And therefore when I begin to march steal you away from me the second time, and I will promise none shall follow you. Since what Sextus said, seemed to be very obliging, Aronces thanked him, and with∣out telling him precisely whether he would follow his Counsel, or not, they began to march; but in marching Amilcar being come to Aronces, he gave him an account of all passages: Afterwards march∣ing a little asunder from the rest, he began to exa∣mine the pitiful condition wherein they were, and their ir-resolution what course to take. For truly, said she, he who advises me to keep out of the hands of a violent Prince, he himself knows not what Ju∣stice or Generosity is; he seems to be in love with Clelia, he can love as many beauties as he can see, and consequently may love Clelia and Lucrecia both at once; he tells me of stealing away the Person whom I love, to save her life, and doubtless if he should steal her away, he would not give her unto me.

But on the other side, if I should put my self into the hands of Tarquin, I should be a Prisoner both to him and to the King my Father: I shall perhaps be only an unhelping Spectator of all those punish∣ments, which the Tyrant will inflict upon Clelia, and shall not have so much liberty as to die with her. But alas, if I should flie or hide my self, what can I do that way either for Clelia, or for my self? I durst not go to Rome and endeavour to deliver Clelia, I cannot go into the Camp and kill Tarquin if he in∣tend to put her to death; and which way soever I look, I see nothing but inevitable misery. As A∣ronces said so, and as Amilcar was going to reply, they came to a place in the Wood, where several ways crossed: So as Sextus turning aside his head, he made a sign unto Aronces, as who should say, this is the place where he should separate from him; but that which seemed to prompt him to a resolution, was it which made him more un-resolved, not being able to imagine that Sextus could have so much generosity, as to have no self end in the counsel which he had given him: So as staying in that place with Amilcar not knowing himself which way to wend, his Soul was tumultuously agitated with those various thoughts which Love did raise, as he could not stir a step either backward or forward.

The End of the First Part.